Reformation Sunday
October 26, 2025

Sermon

Camille Cook Howe
Pastor

Psalm 46
Hebrews 12:1–3

The interesting thing about the letter to the Hebrews is that we do not know who wrote it. We do not know where it was written. And we do not know to whom it was written. Usually with the epistles, the letters in the New Testament, we know at least one of those things. Mostly what we know about this letter is that the recipients were having a very difficult time — so difficult, in fact, that many were thinking of giving up their faith and leaving Christianity all together. New Testament scholar Tom Long says, “The [Author] Preacher is not preaching into a vacuum; he is addressing a real and urgent pastoral problem, one that seems astonishingly contemporary. His congregation is exhausted. They are tired — tired of serving the world, tired of being peculiar and whispered about in society, tired of the spiritual struggle, tired of trying to keep their prayer life going, tired even of Jesus.”

If you had a church in that situation — demoralized, exhausted, and disillusioned — what would you do?

In 2010, I arrived in Washington, D.C., as the new pastor full of ideas and youthful energy for leading a historic church. At one of my first Session meetings, I offered them my best version of a pep talk about the future and what we would do together. One of the elders, with tears in her eyes, spoke up and said, “But you don’t know what we have been through.” They had been through a very painful chapter as a church. They had had a pastor from Scotland who was with them for more than twenty years, and they loved him, and he loved them. Then a new pastor came, and he did not work out at all. They had to go through the painful process of letting him go. Then an interim came and tried to move them forward, but their finances had been damaged, their ego had been hurt, and their hope for the future was sorely shaken. I arrived on the scene, and many of them were not ready for new pastor energy, or a pep talk from someone they didn’t know, or for rebuilding work and visioning exercises. These people were weary and grieving. A church that is demoralized, exhausted, and disillusioned — what do you do

Do you hire a consultant? Do you reorganize your committee structures? Do you host a workshop on interpersonal communication skills? Do you plan a church retreat? Do you order extra donuts and hope the sugar will change the mood? The author of the letter to the Hebrews did none of those things to get the people to be steadied in their faith. What he did instead was that he spoke to them in complicated and theologically nuanced ways about the person of Jesus. He wrote about the life and works of Christ, and he explained the meaning of the gift of salvation. He appealed to the very foundation of the faith for the Christian heart and mind, which is the love of God embodied in the person of Jesus.

The letter is full of descriptions of faith, and reasons to have faith, and examples of those who have kept the faith. It is a book about faith in Jesus written for the purpose of restoring faith in Jesus. Would it work? Could it work? It needed to work.

In the Great Depression, President Roosevelt said, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” This was his definition of courage. But this was also an attempt to instill courage in people. Hebrews does the same thing. It offers the famous definition of faith: “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” But the definition was not just a lexicon term; it was intended to be an activator of the word itself.

Now there is nothing worse when you are going through something difficult to have someone say something that feels trite and cliché. And “Keep the faith” can be such a phrase. When someone is really facing a situation that is shaking their beliefs to their foundations, something is impacting them so deeply that their core tenets are being rocked, then saying “Keep the faith” feels callous, shallow, and flippant. Keep the faith is not what the author is saying to the Hebrews.

Rather, the author is saying, look to Jesus if you are weary with the weights of the world. Truly look to him, examine his life, listen to his words, consider his sacrifice, ponder the resurrection.

Look to the One who was the author and perfector of faith in God.

Look to the One who was mocked and shamed and beaten but did not abandon his convictions.

Look to the One who was deeply hurt by people and still could find a way to forgive them.

Look to the One who always welcomed and advocated for the stranger, the outcast, the grieving, and the sick.

Look to the One who proved that he so loved God’s world even to his final moments on earth and beyond.

“Look to Jesus” is the message for those who are struggling. We often look in the wrong places for something to believe in, for something to cling to, for something to provide comfort, for something to give us meaning. I liken this to back in the day when sports teams were picked by everyone lining up and two team captains would go down the line, taking turns picking the choice players. The strong, the tall, the fast, the popular kids all got picked first. At the end, the rest of the kids got selected to the teams and joined the lineup feeling less than great about themselves. I hope they don’t do this in school anymore, but they certainly did it when I was in gym class. Well, this is what I think it is like for us when we are trying to find things to provide us with faith and comfort and reassurance: we pick the wrong things first. I’ll pick Fox News. I’ll pick CNN. I’ll pick wine and beer. I’ll pick excessive scrolling on social media. I’ll pick overeating, overworking, oversleeping, overthinking. And when I run out of things to try then maybe, just maybe, I’ll pick Jesus.

And Jesus was there all along, waiting patiently; Jesus was there to be the definition of faith and to activate our faith.

Minnie Louise Haskins’s famous poem that is often read at New Years, reads:

I said to the man
who stood at the
gate of the year,
Give me a light that I
may tread safely into the unknown
And he replied
Go out into the darkness and put your
hand into the hand of
God, that shall be to
you better than a light
and safer than a
known way.

Faith is believing that there will be a Light for our Way even when darkness seems so present and so common. Faith is believing that the Light of the World will guide us even when the path is unclear. Faith is believing in redemption even when the world feels so lost and broken. Faith is believing in eternal life even when giving into despair seems more obvious. Go into the darkness, with assurance of the things you hoped for, that the Light of the World will guide you, hold you, save you — that is the definition of and the work of faith for the Christian.

Christian author Frederick Buechner said, “Faith is better understood as a verb than as a noun, as a process than as a possession. It is on-again-off-again rather than once-and-for-all. Faith is not being sure where you’re going but going anyway. A journey without maps.”

Go out into the
darkness and put your
hand into the hand of
God, that shall be to
you better than a light
and safer than a
known way.

The author of the letter to the Hebrews described the journey of faith as a running race. “Let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, as the author and perfector of our faith.” I like this image of the life of faith, because we know that running races comes in different shapes and lengths and terrains. It is not prescribed for us what our lives will look like or what we will be required to endure in our own lives of faith. Will they be hard? Will they be easy? Will we be healthy? Will we face sorrow? Will we find love? Will we achieve? Will we struggle? It does not say, it is not prescribed, and yet the Light shines on so that we can run with perseverance the race that is set before us.

Many years ago, when I was working in London, I brought Communion to a church member who was very sick and nearing the end of his life. His wife showed me to his room, and when I arrived the nurse was setting up a blood transfusion to give him renewed energy in his struggle. As I administered the Sacrament of Communion, I was overwhelmed by the image of the infusion. Life-giving blood, given freely for this man that he might be sustained a bit longer on his journey. And I was saying the holy and familiar words to him about the bread of life and the cup of salvation — the gifts of God for the people of God, Light in the darkness, Love for the journey, sustenance for the race that is before us.

Go out into the
darkness and put your
hand into the hand of
God, that shall be to
you better than a light
and safer than a
known way.

I do not know what your race looks like, I do not know how your faith feels right now, I do not know all that you carry with you this day, but I do know that the One who is able to prevent you from falling can and will sustain you. I know that God’s love is strong enough to hold you, and God’s grace will light your path.

I repeat to you the same words spoken to our ancestors in the faith: “Let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the pioneer and perfector of faith. May you not grow weary in your souls or lose heart.” Bless you on the race you run this day. Amen.

Sermon © Fourth Presbyterian Church