We Love You Because You’re You

The 13th Sunday after Pentecost, Year A

Sermon for August 23, 2026

My friends, I speak to you today in the name of one God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen. Please be seated.

Good morning, Church of the Epiphany. Happy mid-August: we have the return to school and our backpack blessing next Sunday. The weather this month has been so nice… On Friday, I took the girls out for our first big bike ride out of the neighborhood - Nora got a new bike for her birthday - and I did notice some leaves starting to change color on the Kal-Haven Trail. High school football starts this week too. Fall is coming, everyone.

The bike ride with the girls on Friday was in exchange for a Sabbath morning date with the Mrs. – Lily stayed home to babysit her sisters – and Abbey and I did go see yet another movie downtown here. We’ve been to quite a few this year. I’ve preached with references to movies several times this summer, but I will not be preaching on the movie we saw, “The End of Oak Street.” Has anyone seen it yet? Not sure I can recommend that one.

Instead, I’m starting the sermon today with another reference to the new Spider-Man movie, the one that has already grossed more than $2 billion worldwide, breaking the all-time opening weekend record. I know this movie, and movies in general really… movies are not everyone’s cup of tea. If you’ve read Theo of Golden, I think you’ll see several sermon parallels there too, but I haven’t finished that book, so please, no spoilers for me.

Back to Spider-Man, again, without spoilers. If you know the franchise at all, you’ll know Peter Parker is a teenage boy, played by Tom Holland, who is bitten by a spider and receives superpowers. There are a few different movie iterations of this comic book story, but in the one we’re in now, Aunt May is his guardian and a key source of wisdom; she is played by Marisa Tomei. In this summer’s movie, Aunt May sits on Peter Parker’s bunk bed and shares some important truths when Peter is struggling with his powers, with who he is as a teenager and as someone relied on to save the world, or at least, to save New York City. The conversation plays a few times throughout the movie, in different pieces and in different ways, but in the climax of the movie, the ultimate battle near the end, Aunt May’s advice goes something like this... try to stay with me, ye comic-book movie haters:

“You think you don’t have to listen to me now that you’ve got powers? You know, this whole thing (life) can get really scary. You know that? …And things can change, like, very quickly, in ways that we can’t even imagine right now.” “I know...” Aunt May replies, “I don’t think you do know. You’re a really special person. And I would hope that that will always make you feel really great about yourself, but I know sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes you’ll be lonely. And sometimes, because you’re special, people can do dark, monstrous things to you. This is what I want you to know: you are beautiful, and the people who love you, we love you not because you’re special. We love you because you’re you. I want you to remember that… even when it feels like you’re totally alone. That’s your deepest responsibility. Never forget it, no matter how powerful you become.”

End scene, at least for us this morning. “We love you not because you’re special, we love you because you’re you. Never forget it.” This is a Mr. Rogers message too, yes? “There is no one else in the world like you, and I like you, just the way you are.”

It’s a feel-good message, but we have to admit that it is also a message that is counter to nearly all of our media and pop culture, all of the water we swim in. Instead, in our real world, everyone’s flaws are emphasized: we are held up in comparison to supermodels and pro athletes, to dynamic speakers and billionaires, in part so that we can be sold a “fix” for those flaws.

What tends to happen then is that we believe that we are not capable, we are not worthy. I’ve preached here time and time again that our God, and our church, believes that all are worthy of love, that all are welcome here in this place. But I have noticed this summer that while we may know we are welcome, many of us still struggle feeling worthy… worthy of love, worthy of any sort of position, even worthy of respect. This may be the remnant of some Catholic of Reformed guilt that we carry as baggage. It may come down to your parents’ parenting or generational or cultural differences or even social media, or it may indeed be a result of capitalist advertising. But, thanks be to God, Paul needed to guide and teach the church in Rome on this issue too, around two thousand years ago.

We’re going to leave the Old Testament and Gospel stories behind in the lectionary today to focus on what may be the most preachable message in the New Testament epistles. I often heard in seminary that we should try to choose the most difficult lectionary passage to preach; well, sometimes the easiest point needs to be emphasized too. Sorry professors.

Today, in Romans 12, we start with a direct appeal from Paul to the church in Rome, one you’ll hear as an offertory sentence in the Episcopal Church often; we use it here during Advent and Lent. “Offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God, which is your spiritual act of worship.” We know this is our call, we know that in light of the incarnation, crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension, the least we can do is devote our lives, all of them, to God and to the work of God’s kingdom, to loving everyone we meet. But that call is difficult, in part because of what Paul mentions in the next verse, because we are conformed to the world instead, not to the story of our faith, the story of love. Paul urges us then to be transformed by the renewing of our minds, by dwelling on God’s story, this love, every day, so we can discern what God may have for us. Again, this is a straightforward call. Do not let the world tell you your story, but look to the loving God of all creation, the God who gives us breath, for what is good, and acceptable, and perfect.

Then, Paul writes a message that I think Aunt May and Mr. Rogers would be proud to echo. This second paragraph, verses 3-8 of Romans 12, it can be used as a rebuke to those who need to hear it: “Don’t think of yourselves more highly than you ought.” But for those thinking of themselves as too lowly, too little, too unworthy, they can be much needed words of comfort and encouragement. “Think of yourself with sober judgment,” each according to the faith God has given you, for all of us have different gifts, all of us are members of the same body. Paul writes about this to the church in Corinth too: “In the Spirit we were all baptized into one body,” and “There are varieties of gifts… of activities… to each is given the Spirit for the common good.” But here in Romans, he writes specifically: “As in one body, we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another.” Each of us has something to offer, something to give, each of us has a purpose, a gift for one another, when we come together as a church.

Paul clarifies that each gift is different: the teachers need not worry about their gift to lead, the compassionate need not worry about their preaching, the givers should not worry about their prophetic words or extroverted evangelism. Each of us has a gift. This is not participation trophy affirmation; this is us recognizing that each one of us has value, has something to offer. We are not supposed to be identical puzzle pieces, lest the puzzle be very boring, if not impossible, to put together. Practically, here, I see this worked out every week at brunch: some are cooks, some are here for prep, some are here to clean, some are buy-a-couple-pies-at-Barden’s givers. If each of us was only a cook, brunch could not happen. If each was a priest, if each was an acolyte, if each was an usher, if each was a musician, if each was on altar guild… well, our services could not happen. But each of us has a role we can play to further this kingdom of God. And so, each of us needs to play it. We need your gifts, we need your participation, we all need all of you: lovely, worthy, wonderful you. That is true across this church and across our communities. It is true across every aspect of all of our lives. We need you.

Friends, then, this morning, the message is a simple one, but I know that some of us need to hear it more often than we do. You, yes, you, are special, you have something to offer this world that only you can offer. And to echo Aunt May again, “We love you because you are you” not only by what gift you give, but in who you are.  You are loved, by God, by the people in this room, by our entire community of Jesus-followers. This is why we are here of course, first and foremost, to love God and to learn to love each other, and maybe, if we have struggled with this in the past, to learn to love ourselves too, to see ourselves as God sees us. Yes, we are called to repent, we confess our sins here together each Sunday, we see and we turn from those things that keep us from love, but we do that in part so that we ourselves can love more easily, to see that we are loved more clearly.

Friends, visitors, members, newcomers, and everyone: God loves you, and we love you, because you are you, just the way you are, nothing more, nothing less. Therefore, present your lives as living sacrifices, holy, acceptable, and pleasing to God. Think of yourself with sober, clear, accurate, and ever-loving judgment: know that you are worthy and that you are loved. Then, may you all explore how you may be a gift to each other, a much-needed gift in this place and in our world. And finally, go then and love yourself, your neighbor, and your God abundantly and without end.

Amen.