This sermon was originally preached in Savannah, GA on June 28, 2026 for the Fourth Sunday after Trinity. The lections were Ecclesiastes 1:1-11; Psalm 27; Luke 6:36-43; Romans 8:18-23. The guiding image for this sermon was Les Miserables and unbeknownst to me, the Savannah Bananas game the night before my sermon included a two-minute rendition of Valjean’s famous soliloquy, “Bring Him Home.” Thus, the Bananas are the featured image for this post instead of something more revolutionary.
The 8:00am service did not include Ecclesiastes and the space for the sermon was only 7-10 minutes. That sermon text and audio will be shared in a separate post because it was a fun homiletical exercise. What follows below is my longer sermon for the the full lectionary delivered at the 10:30am service.
Another Story Must Begin
In both the book and musical, Les Miserables, Victor Hugo and Claude-Michel Schönberg take us through the landscape of revolutionary France. In this harrowing tale, we are shown the meaning of loss and redemption,
Law and gospel,
Grace and mercy.
This dichotomy is best embodied by Jean Valjean, a man desperately seeking a new identity.
Valjean served 5 years of hard labor after stealing a loaf of bread to feed his sister’s child. He served another 14 because he tried to run. At the end of those 19 years, released on parole, he no longer knows who he is. He believes he is a slave to the law, known only by his prisoner number: 24601. Indeed, his parole papers bear “the mark of Cain” as a warning sign to all he meets.
It is the unexpected double-kindness of the local bishop which catalyzes Valjean’s search for a new identity.
In response to the gift of a hot meal, a place to sleep, and human kindness, Valjean punches the bishop and steals his silver. When the gendarmes bring him back, however, the bishop claims that he gave Valjean the silver. He even foists the precious silver candlesticks which Valjean neglected to steal upon his assaulter. The bishop calls Valjean to new life claiming he has bought his soul for God.
His journey toward transformation commenced, Valjean asks two big questions. He first asks himself: what have I done?
Like most of the modern world, Valjean has bought into the belief that he is nothing more than the sum of his sins, defined by his deeds, the product of his past. We live in a culture espousing that very same message.
He believes he must escape from the world of Jean Valjean by becoming someone else. As he commits himself to a new way of living, he believes that he must shed his own identity to be successful. He knows that his tormentor, Inspector Javert, will bring the swift, crushing arm of the law should he put a toe out of line.
But years later, after he has become the mayor of a town, Valjean is forced to reveal himself. Someone has been imprisoned under his name, under his very number, and if he doesn’t correct the mistaken identity, an “innocent will go to judgment in his place.” This is when he asks his second question: who am I?
He remembers that he has been saved, not by his own works or righteousness but by the grace and mercy of God operating through the Bishop.
God gave him hope when he had none;
Redemption and restoration when there was none;
And a future when he could see none.
His decision was made. The unveiling occurs before the judge, the court, and even Javert. Who is he? He is 24601. A sinner shown mercy, a ragamuffin redeemed by grace.
Our lections tell a similar story. It is a story of identity amidst the noise of this world, of transformation initiated and completed by God, of sinners being adopted as children of glory. More specifically, our passages show us how worldly “wisdom” ultimately falters at the foot of the cross.
The writer of Ecclesiastes begins, Vanity of vanities, vanity of vanities, it’s all vanity!
You will find some translations which say meaningless instead of vanity. You would be tempted into thinking the writer has been filled with existential dread, some form of early nihilism, and nothing matters. But the word he uses, hebel, is better translated as breath, vapor, or vanishing mist.
Rob Bell once illustrated the Hebrew word hebel as vanishing mist in a way I’ve never forgotten. He simply picked up a spray bottle…
It’s all mist. [Spray]
It’s all vanishing mist. [Spray]
The things around us. [Spray]
The things we chase. [Spray]
The money, products, cars, platform, social media, political parties, college football teams, and every other trapping you can think of…it’s all vanishing mist. [Spray]
And there is nothing new under the sun, the writer writes. It’s all mist based on mist and directed toward more mist. The best the world has to offer is fleeting, passing, vanishing.
But the Psalmist knows the richer truth, the deeper magic: life with the LORD is not mist. The salvation and goodness of the LORD are tangible, palpable, imperishable. Amidst the mist of life, the psalmist has learned that God’s presence is the most real reality there is and there is no reason to fear anything or anyone else.
God is the actor and mover;
God gives shelter;
God defends and protects;
God leads and guides.
The power of Psalm 27 is that while the psalmist is clearly experiencing and encountering difficulties, God is the one who is front and center. There is something important there for us, too: Even when the world rages and ravishes, God is there. God’s presence does not mean the absence of difficulties or trials or tribulations or mist. But God’s presence allows us to see the mist for what it is and to find joy and protection in God all the more.
The psalmist earnestly seeks God’s face because he knows that even if he is forsaken by his parents, orphaned and abandoned, God will take him up.
Psalm 27 and Romans 8 show us that the sufferings of this world are all mist. We have no one and no thing to be afraid of when we have God as our salvation, our glory, our shelter and stay.
Paul goes further than the psalmist on the idea of parentage. He says that our almighty and loving father has adopted us into his family, made us co-heirs with our sibling and savior, the only begotten Son, and in so doing he has redeemed us while we wait for the consummation of his kingdom.
You are a beloved child of God. Let me say that again so you can hear it and receive it: You are a beloved child of God. You may have come to church today not feeling worthy of God’s love based on your past or present, or perhaps not even knowing about God’s love.
What God says of you, over you, and about you defines who you are, not what you’ve done. If you are in him, he calls you beloved child; a daughter or son of glory. So do me a favor, turn to your neighbor and genuinely tell them: “You are a beloved child of God.” I’m not joking! Everyone should hear that good news, even the Episcopalians.
When we respond to God’s grace by seeking God’s face, we discover that we belong to him and are by his loved encased. As the incarnate Word, Jesus’ word over us is the last word.
All of this brings us to Jesus’ comments in Luke 6. Without the broader picture, we would be tempted to see this portion of the Sermon on the Plain as a form of works-based righteousness or as a morality checklist: do this, don’t do that; work harder; be better; eat your vegetables. This is the world in which we live and move and have our being and it is a world of mist.
But Jesus isn’t pushing an agenda of pseudo-spirituality. He’s proposing life in his kingdom as his kingdom people. We can dissipate the mist of striving, trying, earning, and working through participation in mercy, extending forgiveness, sitting at the Lord’s feet, and examining our own hearts.
While speaking to those gathered in the Galilean countryside, Jesus is identifying our current cultural context: judgementalism, withholding forgiveness, mocking mercy, only looking out for number one, dividing between us vs them, and only searching for faults in those around you. That sounds eerily familiar…
By this point in the sermon, though, Jesus has already given his blessings and woes (the beatitudes) and talked about loving our enemies. There is an inherent undertone of “this is the cost of discipleship” for the listeners. The people hearing this sermon are a people being called by grace. And when grace comes calling, it is an invitation into transformation.
At the beginning of Les Mis, Valjean is arrested by grace. By the end, he is transformed into a “man of mercy,” an agent of the same grace he was so powerfully offered. The one saved by grace now becomes a grace-filled hunter stalking his prey. Not to kill, but to redeem.
Javert’s fatal flaw is that he has been trained to see the speck in the eyes of everyone around him. There is no inner-reflection for him. The world is black and white and he is the arbiter of justice and morality.
We all know people like this…because we see them looking back at us in the mirror… And you thought I was actually going to throw other people under the bus!
We live the same way – we balk at Jesus’ comment about the log in our eye versus the speck in our neighbor’s…
I am a member of Alcoholics Anonymous and in AA we talk a lot about keeping your own side of the street clean and not worrying how messy someone else’s side is. And trust me, sometimes you can see the heaps and piles of junk on someone else’s side! This, I think, gets to the heart of Jesus’ message. The Pharisees, the Javerts…the you’s…the me’s…we all love to focus on other people’s sins, their problems, blessings ourselves while counting their crimes.
Why?
Because it keeps the focus off of us!
Because it keeps my misdeeds in the dark;
Because it keeps me out of the spotlighted hot-seat!
So we fake it until we make it, hoping the focus is on someone else.
Instead of smoke and mirrors, it’s all vapor and mist. [SPRAY]
We live in a world where it’s all mist, where it’s vain vanities and fleeting flashes in the pan, pandering to the incessant insistence of anxious avoidance, distracting ourselves to death or anesthetizing our anxieties.
For those with the eyes to see and ears to hear, our passages give us a rich theological progression. Adopted children become disciples of the teacher and then ultimately witnesses to the truth.
Transformation is initiated and completed by God, not us. We undergo a powerful transformation because grace and mercy are working on us simultaneously,
Preveniently,
Overwhelmingly,
Relentlessly.
When Valjean is on the cusp of his transformation, he belts out: Another story must begin!
What’s the story? It is the story of God at work in your life. It is the end of human striving and vanishing mist. It is realizing that our efforts and attempts to better ourselves, to numb ourselves, to save ourselves are as meaningless and minute as the mist of the bottle.
Paul has been ramping up for this moment, clearing his throat through the first seven chapters in Romans. He has been laying out the case for his audience that in a criminal courtroom, we will always be found guilty without recourse or recompense for our sins. We were enemies of God, all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, and the wages of sin is death. But now, in chapter 8, as he turns the screw of his argument toward his glorious revelation in 9-11.
But Paul says that, in Christ, the final courtroom is not criminal but adoption. And there the Judge does not pretend we are not guilty. He declares whose we are.
Criminal court says, “Guilty.”
Adoption court says, “Mine.”
The great riches granted to those who belong to Christ are graciously given through the means of adoption as daughters and sons of glory.
The temptation, however, is to try and earn our inheritance, to strive for our standing, to achieve the very gifts which have been granted us through Christ.
In an interview this week after scoring two goals in the World Cup, Cristiano Ronaldo boldly exclaimed, “I truly believe that God helps those who work hard.”
Friends, there is nothing like that which appears in the Bible.
Whether it’s the idea that God helps those who helps themselves;
Or that a little bit of grit and determination will save you;
Or that hard work leads to just rewards from God;
The Bible tells a completely different story.
It’s a story where God is the main actor, where God does the work of salvation, where God transforms us through his grace and mercy. It’s a story of the God who always loved you and who went to the cross bearing our sin and shame.
We are not saved by what we have done.
We are saved by what God has done for us in Christ.
We are saved by who God says we are.
The Gospel tells the story of transformation and redemption. And when that transformation happens, the story doesn’t end there. The Gospel was never only about personal salvation. It was always about being Christ’s witnesses as agents of reconciliation and ambassadors of the good news in a world desperately in need of hope, of a future, of God.
Saul becomes Paul on the road to Damascus and then he travels all over creation sharing the news of God in Christ. The demoniac is healed and he becomes an evangelist in the Decapolis. Mary and the women are changed by the resurrection and become the first preachers of the good news.
And then there’s you.
Me.
Us.
If we have received the grace and mercy of God;
If we have said no to the mist of this world;
If we have said yes to the scandalous foolishness of the cross;
Then the call is to share it with others, to tell about it, to make sure every woman, man, and child you meet knows that they too can be adopted into God’s great and glorious family.
Maybe you’ve come to church today because you are searching for your identity. Maybe you are looking for a place to belong, believe, and become who God created you to be. If that’s you, I pray that you would accept the free gift which God so graciously offers.
For those in Christ, will you join in God’s search and rescue mission? Will you be his witnesses? Will you be ambassadors of his grace and ministers of his mercy?
The mist and meaninglessness of this world is groaning for the hope, redemption, and transformation which only God can bring. There are countless women and men who believe they are the sum of their sins, defined by their deeds, the product of their past – go and tell them what God has done for them and what God has said about them. Amen.
Porter C. Taylor 