The Message

When I was young, accumulating “stuff” was important to me.

I wanted to keep up with everything my friends had! When I earned an allowance, I was inclined to want to spend it right away on things.

Who here remembers the Beanie Baby craze?
​
The more Beanie Babies you had, the wealthier you were. It was like a currency all its own.
 
This guy is the epitome of wealth!

​I also collected CD’s, I just had to have a Tamagotchi, and, even though I didn’t ever play with dolls, I needed an American Girl doll because every other girl my age had one.
 
I did not grow up in a rich family, and yet the reality was, I was wealthy.
 
And, for a kid, accumulating the best “things” was a way to demonstrate my wealth, even if I would not have known that at the time.
 
Like everyone else at that time, I wanted more and better Beanie Babies because I thought that someday, they’d be worth something.
 
Turns out, that really never ended up being the case, except maybe briefly during the craze.
 
But the point is, it got to the point where I was only buying them because I thought they would have value in the future. I even bought some that I didn’t necessarily like, and eventually, these [cute] stuffed bean bags just sat on a shelf in my bedroom.
 
When I went away to university, they sat and collected dust.
 
Eventually, I came home at some point and threw them all into a plastic garbage bag and hauled them off to Goodwill for some other kid to enjoy.
 
Essentially, they were worthless. They weren’t worth actual money, and they didn’t bring me joy.
 
It was around this point in my life when I began to realize that very few “things” do, in fact, bring me joy.
 
Leaving for university was, more or less, a “rite of passage” into adulthood for me.
 
It also kicked off a lifetime of regular moves from one dwelling to another.
 
Sometimes, a move would involve changing cities, and once I even moved out of state. And of course you know that more recently, I moved countries!
 
I have moved almost every single year of my adult life.
 
With a rare exception here or there when I have stayed in a dwelling for two years, I have moved many, many times.
 
And, as most of you know, I am moving again, though I did not expect that to be the case.
 
Moving so frequently in my life helped me realize how little joy I actually get from “things.”
 
Sure, there is some joy when I buy something new, at least initially.
 
But guess what?
 
When you go to move, all the sudden, if you don’t need that thing, it has become a burden, not a joy.
 
You also learn quickly that the joy that things bring is fleeting. More often than not, when I go to move, I’ve forgotten I even have things that I don’t use regularly.
 
I will remember why I thought I just had to have the things.
 
But I quickly realize that after my initial purchase, the joy dissipated quickly and that thing, whatever it is, has likely not brought me any joy or served any other purpose since I bought it.
 
I have lived in Calgary for two years. When I moved here, I came with almost nothing.
 
Some of you may remember that other than the essentials I needed for my travel, the only things I came here with all fit into one U-Haul moving pod.
 
And yet, despite arriving here with almost nothing, I still took an entire carload of stuff to Goodwill the other day in preparation for my next move.
 
The point here is this: we live in a world in which accumulating things is a measure of status and wealth, and of course, accumulating money is too.
 
It is nearly impossible today not to fall into this trap.
 
We are surrounded by easily accessible and affordable “stuff” we don’t always actually need.
 
In fact, even the poorest of the poor in this country have access to resources to provide them with everything they need as long as they are willing to utilize the resources available to them.
 
I’m not saying that life isn’t hard for people – it is.
 
But in comparison to how the poor have lived throughout history, in our world, life is significantly better than it once was.
 
We all fall into the traps that 1 Timothy warns about because we cannot avoid them in today’s society.
 
1 Timothy says, “we didn’t bring anything into this world, and won’t take anything with us when we leave. So we should be satisfied just to have food and clothes. People who want to be rich fall into all sorts of temptations and traps. They are caught by foolish and harmful desires that drag them down and destroy them.”
 
I know I fall into this trap on a regular basis.
 
I have everything I need. I have access to far more than I need!
 
I’m leaving on vacation tomorrow. I had the means to access plane tickets, hotels, and a rental car.
 
I will be able to pay for food, likely at many restaurants while I am away.
 
I could pay for a variety of event tickets.
 
Now, don’t get me wrong – I do save for these things. And I don’t consider myself a wealthy person, especially compared to many other people in this world.
 
But my point is that I am wealthy, when you think of it this way.
 
Our culture causes us to believe that we are always living in scarcity mode – we never have enough.
 
We are constantly striving for more, no matter how much we have.
 
I have been “poor” before – far poorer than I am now. My younger self would be thrilled to be where I am now.
 
And yet, even now, I find myself wishing I just had just a little bit more.
 
It’s always this way.
 
I just finished listening to an audiobook, and actually I enjoyed it so much and felt like I got so much out of it that I bought the actual book and started reading it.
 
The book is called “Everything Is Never Enough,” and it is an exploration of the Book of Ecclesiastes.
 
The ultimate point of the book is because we are constantly striving – always desiring more – we are never happy.
 
Let’s say, for example, that I desperately want to be able to buy a house, and I don’t feel like I’ll truly be happy until I can do that.
 
What happens when I finally get to a point where I can buy a house?
 
I’ll be happy for a little while, for sure.
 
But, inevitably, when I settle into home ownership, I will desire something else.
 
Maybe now, I want to remodel my kitchen, and I think if I can just do that, I’ll be happy.
 
And the cycle continues on and on forever.
 
No matter how much we have – no matter how much wealth, power, money, food and drink, friends, stuff, etc that we accumulate – we are always striving for more.
 
These are the traps that 1 Timothy warns about.
 
And Luke 16 brings the point home with a demonstration of the consequences that these traps bring upon us if we allow ourselves to fall too deeply into them.
 
The rich man in this story has become so consumed by his own life and this striving for more that he has lost empathy and compassion for the other.
 
When he died, he was caught in a miserable place, and when he asked to warn his family about it, Abraham basically said “look, this is all written in scripture and available for everyone. It is up to you to pay attention and learn from it.”
 
Oof – what a lesson for all of us. How often do we get so caught up in our own lives that we don’t even realize we are always striving for more and forgetting about the other?
 
Quite often, I’d say.
 
Before I end this sermon today, I want us to think as a congregation about these ideas and ask ourselves if it’s possible we are falling into these very same traps.
 
With my announcement last week about moving out of the parsonage, it will very likely mean we will be selling the parsonage.
 
Doing so will mean that our endowment fund will increase to over $1 million dollars again.
 
I don’t want to get into this conversation too much right now, but it does beg the questions:
 
At what point do we have enough?
 
Are we falling into this trap of constantly striving for more, accumulating wealth for the sake of accumulating wealth?
 
Do we need to think hard about how that money should be used to serve others beyond the walls of our own church?
 
There is much more that could be said about this, but for now, I would ask that we just mull it over.
 
And, I think the most important question we need to be asking is where God fits into the equation.
 
What does God think about if and how we should be utilizing our funds, and does God have any thoughts about how much wealth we should be holding onto?
 
I can’t answer these questions for the congregation.
 
But I would ask you each to be in prayer and conversation about it.
 
As you are, bring God in and lift it to God. What would happen if we let go of some control and asked God what God wants us to be doing?
 
These are difficult questions. But, our readings today remind us of the importance of asking these questions on a regular basis.
 
And, these are questions we should be asking of ourselves, too.
 
So, as we leave this space today, let us lift these questions to God and really begin wondering how we might involve God more deeply in questions of finances and stewardship.
 
May we give God the pleasure of knowing that we trust God in all things, and we surrender completely to God’s leading, both on matters of the heart and on matters of wealth and money.
 
As you go from here today, mull it over.
 
What is God asking of us? Where is God leading, and what do we see God doing here?
 
I hate to use this cliché, but “What Would Jesus Do?”
 
Let us wonder together with open hearts and open minds, and with grace, kindness, love and compassion. Amen.
 
Let us pray:
 
God of love, God who IS love, we thank you for your generosity and for your ongoing commitment to our care. Thank you for the blessings you have bestowed upon us, and thank you for guiding us to use those blessings according to your will. We ask that you continue to lead us as individuals and as a church. In your holy name, we pray. Amen.

​Young at Heart Message
 
Every year, Moravian Clergy celebrate Cup of Covenant. It is an opportunity for us to recommit to ministry and remember our ordination vows to study, pray, care for souls, preach, teach, and administer the sacraments.
 
In the Canadian District, because our clergy are spread out between Edmonton and Calgary and aren’t able to connect in person very often, we have an annual Cup of Covenant retreat at King’s Fold Retreat Centre.
 
That retreat happened this past week, so I had the opportunity to be with my colleagues, and, importantly, I had the opportunity to rest, read, and be present with myself and with God.
 
One of the things I intended to do while I was at the retreat was a read a book called Divinanimality in preparation for this sermon. I hoped the book would give me some insights into the relationships we have with animals who walk the Earth and journey with us throughout our lives.
 
However, I began reading the book, and it was DENSE. It was deeply philosophical, it used big academic words that I found unnecessary for this topic, and it really didn’t resonate with me for this purpose.
 
And then, as I was sitting on a bench overlooking the river, listening to it babble as a bird sung its song nearby, I realized I don’t need a deep philosophical or academic discussion to help tell you what I already know about the divinity of animals.
 
I began thinking about my own relationship to animals in my life, and a flood of memories came rushing back – so quickly, in fact, that I felt an immediate need to start writing my sermon so I didn’t forget what I wanted to say about it, even though I was supposed to be on retreat!
 
My experience with animals began at a young age. In fact, I think it’s likely that animals have been a part of my life since the day I was born. And actually, it’s deeply, generationally ingrained in my family’s history.
 
Both my Mom and my Dad’s families were farmers in Wisconsin. By the time I was born, my Dad’s family was no longer actively farming so I never experienced their farm.
 
But my Mom’s family was still actively farming. As a matter of fact, my parents - and therefore my little helpless baby self – all lived together in the house my Mom grew up in on their family farm.
 
My Dad was an active partner in the farm for the first few years of my life, so being around animals – not just dogs and cats but livestock like cows and pigs – was natural for me and I felt at home in their presence.
 
I got to experience the disgusting joy of allowing a calf to suck on my fingers, creating a beautifully sticky, sloppy mess that you didn’t want to wipe on your clothes because if you did, you’d just transfer the sticky mess to another spot on your body later.
 
I got to walk through the stanchions in the barn, and I was strangely mesmerized by the milking process, the smell of the cattle, and the way their tails would flick around. Touching a cow’s nose is wet, but oddly satisfying.
 
I was also simultaneously fascinated by and fearful of the bull in the cage in the corner. I was told from a young age that bulls can be dangerous, and I shouldn’t get too close. But the poor guy just seemed so lonely!
 
When I was around three years old, my parents had to move on from farming for a variety of reasons, so we moved into town. My grandparents continued farming until I was in my early teens, so I still have tons of memories and joys of farm life, but my daily routine no longer included livestock.
 
Instead, my family eventually got cats, and then a dog. My young life was formed by these relationships to some extent, but it wasn’t until I was in my 20’s that I decided to get my very first dog who was completely mine and not a family dog.
 
And that dog – a beautiful Bernese Mountain Dog named Kodiak – was the dog that needled his way deep in my heart and really ignited my physical and spiritual journey with animals. Kodiak helped me see God in new ways through his joy and zest for life, his steady calm, his ability to love all people and all other animals he encountered, his stoic demeanor, and his adaptability to the chaos of my life at that time.
 
Kodiak moved with me every single year of his life to a new dwelling. He saw other dogs come and go from my life, he was integral in my learning process, and he lovingly supported me as I worked to become a professional dog trainer and, eventually, as I bought and ran a dog daycare.
 
Kodiak also helped me understand the beauty and the divinity of other animals.
 
I began to notice the squirrels, rabbits, birds, and other critters that somehow managed to survive city life.
 
I started to notice deer, opossum, raccoons, skunks, cows, and horses not as simply parts of the landscape, but as individual members of God’s creation that had purpose, joy, and beauty that was all their own.
 
I also began to notice when animals would appear in my life, and I started to resonate with a deeper meaning behind their presence.
 
I used to be an avid road biker, and one time I decided to bike from my home out toward the area where my grandparent’s farm was. As I biked past one farm, I saw out of the corner of my eye a large animal running alongside me.
 
I turned to look, and a cow was running the fence line, not unlike a dog that might joyfully bound alongside their human. This cow was just living its best life, happily galivanting along the fence in sync with my riding.
 
That cow brought me so much joy in that moment, and it was like a little “wink from God” – a reminder that God is not some far-off entity, but is in fact right there with us, bounding along playfully, joyfully, and with a presence that we too often forget to notice.
 
Similarly, I lived in the country shortly before I moved to Canada, and one of my dogs – Lyra, who is no longer with me – would ALWAYS have a line of cows following her when we walked past a nearby farm. The group of cows that lived in that pasture changed each season, but each new group of cows loved her just the same.
 
I had four dogs in my home at the time, and Lyra was the only one the cows would follow like this. There was just something about her that they seemed to connect to. And, if I’m being honest, I connected to that same part of her, and she connected in a similar way to me.
 
Lyra just had a way of reading my emotions and empathizing with me that no other dog I’ve ever lived with has been able to do. And I think those cows saw that in her, too.
 
I could go on and on about the animals that I have shared my life with, and the animals that I have encountered in the natural world, and I am sure you all have stories about them too.
 
We seem to know intuitively that animals were created by God for a purpose, and that purpose is not simply to serve humans.
 
The Message
 
God loves animals as he loves humans, and animals are deeply grounded in God’s love and care. There must be truth to this statement because we see it over and over again if we pay close enough attention.
 
Job 12 states, “if you want to learn, then go and ask the wild animals and the birds, the flowers and the fish.”
 
This text is ancient, and yet there is incredible wisdom in this statement. If you want to learn what God has done, any of the animals can tell you, probably in a deeper and more complete way than any human can.
 
So why wouldn’t we trust the experience of animals with regard to God? I believe that they actually know more about God than we can know. Why?
 
Animals don’t overthink God. In fact, they don’t think about God like we do at all. They don’t analyze what scholarly articles or theologians say about God. They don’t listen to what pastors with degrees say about God. They don’t philosophize so much about their own relationship to God that their words become incomprehensible, like the book I tried to read.
 
Animals experience God. Animals know God in a deep, profound, rich way that we often struggle with. But there are some people who have been able to tap into this energy.
 
Jane Goodall is a common example. She knows what most of us could hardly imagine about the relationship of animals to God and our own spirituality. In 2021, she received the Templeton Prize, and in her speech, she said, “In the rainforest I learned about the interconnection of all species, each with a role to play. I felt a strong spiritual connection with the natural world.”
 
Those of us who share our lives with pets often know about a deeper connection to the divine that occurs when we are present with our pets.
 
One of my favorite books is part of the Wrinkle in Time series by Madeleine L’Engle called A Swiftly Tilting Planet. In the book, there is a threat of nuclear war, and the family is essentially fighting the powers of evil to prevent the nuclear war from happening.
 
The family had recently lost their dog from the two prior books, Fortinbras, and one of the main characters, Meg, explains in the book that the dogs in their family just seem to show up on their doorstep. In that fashion, a dog shows up on their doorstep in the midst of the nuclear war chaos.
 
The dog’s name, they decide, is Ananda, which another main character, Charles Wallace, explains is Sanskit and means “That joy in existence without which the universe will fall apart and collapse.”
 
This family knows the importance of animals to life, to spirituality, to joy, and to our continued existence as a species on this Earth.
 
Ananda becomes an important conduit for Meg as Meg and Charles Wallace stay connected across space and time via a form of telepathy. Ananda strengthens their connection through touch and through her warmth, her breath, her beauty, and her Spirit.
 
L’Engle, the book’s author, was deeply Spiritual and also a devoted Christian. The beauty with which she is able to relay the significance of animals to human spirituality is profound.
 
Those of us who have experienced this type of relationship with our pets or with other animals know the truth of her writing. Scripture knows the truth of these relationships, too.
 
Animals are mentioned throughout the Bible so many times that I own a book which documents every instance of a mention of animals in Scripture. And, it is a thick book.
 
Jesus himself is referred to as the "Lion" and the "Lamb,” which symbolizes His dual nature. The Lion of the Tribe of Judah represents Jesus’ power, sovereignty, and victory over evil. The Lamb of God signifies Jesus’ humility, gentleness, and sacrificial atonement for humanity's sins.
 
Even in the time of Jesus, there was an awareness of the significance of animals to our lives and to the existence of the world. Just recently, we heard a passage in which Jesus talks about Sabbath rest and ensuring that the oxen are watered, even on the Sabbath.
 
Humans throughout history have recognized the importance of animals in service to humans, but there is also often a deeper connection that goes beyond service to humans.
 
We can see and understand that animals have feelings and emotions, though they are often expressed differently than ours.
 
For example, I know Kanyon well enough to know that he’s fearful of new people and can be stressed in new situations. We thrive in life together because I respect his feelings and his behaviour, and we have come to an agreement about how we will live together in this life.
 
And many of you who share your lives with animals likely have come to know a similar relationship with your pets. There is a richness that comes from learning to speak a language that is foreign to us.
 
For verbal humans, we can struggle to speak in ways that do not use words, and yet animals require exactly this from us. We must learn to observe and communicate differently than what we are naturally inclined to do.
 
And in that learning there comes deeper understanding. And there is also a spiritual richness of experience that comes from this understanding.
 
We are raised in a culture that insists that we learn about God. We are more unfamiliar with the concept of experiencing God. Animals, on the other hand, are completely experiential.
 
We can learn from them as much as they can learn from us. Tapping into the nature of animals and learning to experience God and spirituality instead of trying to wrap our heads around it can be freeing and fruitful.
 
So, as we move into our time of blessing the animals who are present here today, may we seek to experience our faith, our spirituality, and our relationship with God differently.
 
May we come to know God through experiencing God, through the experience of Jesus Christ on Earth, and through the animals that God created to share the beauty of the Earth with us.
 
As we go from here, may we open our eyes to God’s beauty in all its forms and rest in God’s Love and Joy. Amen.
 
Let us pray:
 
Faithful God, help us to experience Your love, Your grace, and Your joy through new and different ways of being in the world. Thank you for the gift of each and every creature on this earth, from ants to zebras and everything in between. Thank you for gifting us with the responsibility to care for, protect, and learn from the creatures that inhabit our world. In humility and love, we pray. Amen.

Young at Heart Message

Imagine, for a moment, that our sanctuary has been transformed.

Instead of sitting in comfortable seats, we are standing in the Garden of Eden.

If we take a look around, we can imagine that we see beauty and wonder all around us – trees, plants, flowers, butterflies… maybe even a rainbow in the distance.
​
The instructions we’ve been given are simply to care for this amazing world.
 
Looking around, however, you realize that in order to do that, you’re going to need to dig into the earth with your hands.
 
That’s OK, it sounds like a wonderful way to ground yourself and be one with God and God’s creation.
 
So you begin to harvest seeds from the plants around you, and dig holes with your bare hands.
 
This works well – you’re able to plant enough seeds to sustain yourself and your partner.
 
Imagine, now, that it’s no longer just you and your partner here in the Garden. You now have a family – let’s say, six kids.
 
You need to plant a lot more seeds to grow enough food for yourselves and six children.
 
The grounding you felt when you first started planting and harvesting now feels onerous in between caring for and raising children, sheltering, and trying to survive.
 
Looking around again, you see that there are some things you could use for tools to help dig and then harvest faster and more efficiently.
 
Yes, you lose that grounding connection to God’s earth, but you gain time to care for your family.
 
Now let’s fast-forward in time. Imagine you are Noah, and you’ve been asked to build an ark so that you can weather a mighty storm. You certainly can’t do that with just your bare hands.
 
Luckily, humans have developed tools since Adam and Eve were alone in the Garden of Eden, so you have hammers, nails, tables, saws, and a myriad other tools at your disposal to help you build such a large ark.

​Let’s fast-forward once more to the era of Christian history when John Hus and Martin Luther were living.
 
Individual, non-clergy people were not allowed to have their own Bible, and especially not one written in their own language.
 
These reformers were intent on changing that. And, with the development of the printing press, the Bible was rapidly made available to average people in their own language.
 
Church leaders were not able to keep up with how quickly people were able to get access to the Bible. I can only imagine how many of them thought the world was going to be destroyed.
 
Likewise, with the development of steamboats, steam engines, airplanes, and other vehicular technologies, Christians were suddenly able to travel far and wide preaching the Word of God as missionaries.
 
Similarly, medical and public health technologies have since made it possible for faith-based organizations like the Moravian mission in Ahuas, Honduras to provide life-saving medical care.
 
And, of course, in our own sanctuary today, we have access to screens that allow our worship services to be more accessible to those with hearing or visual impairments.
 
Additionally, we have access to microphones and musical instruments to amplify our worship services. We have a coffee maker that makes fellowship time more enjoyable.
 
We have a contraption that easily boils water so we don’t need to use pots for hot water for tea.
 
I could go on and on about the technological developments that have propelled ministries around the world forward into our current time.
 
And, of course, it is hard to imagine going back to a world which doesn’t have all of the technology that we have today.
 
At the same time, we all acknowledge that all of these technologies that we have access to are simultaneously helpful, but also leave complicated legacies.
 
I preach every Sunday using my cell phone as my “index cards.” It would take me much longer to prepare for Sunday worship if I had to write out actual index cards every week.
 
I mention all of this because, “from antiquity, Christianity has provided a theological framework that embraces the complexity of technology.” (Timothy Dalrymple, “Made in Our Image,” Christianity Today, July/August 2025)
 
Two weeks ago, those of you who were here got to listen to two short sermons – one written by me, and one written by ChatGPT.
 
I asked those of you who were present to fill out a feedback form stating which sermon I wrote, and which one ChatGPT wrote.
 
We talked a little bit about Artificial Intelligence (AI) last week, but I think it’s worth discussing the results of that experiment and exploring these concepts a little more deeply, especially as they relate to our faith and our daily lives.
 
So, without further ado, here are the results of the experiment:
 
The Message
 
14 people, or 39% believed that I wrote the first sermon on Hebrews 13: 1-8, 15-16.
 
21 people, or 58% believed that I wrote the second sermon on Luke 14: 1, 7-14.
 
And one person couldn’t tell the difference and checked both sermon 1 and 2.
 
Interestingly, the people who believed that I wrote the first sermon mostly weren’t really sure which one to choose – they couldn’t really tell for sure.
 
Some people said they just thought the first one reflected my style more. These people also were, in general, more gracious about the use of AI for worship services.
 
Several believed there are useful applications for it, and some of these people expressed that they in fact have used it themselves on occasion.
 
The people who believed I wrote the second sermon were FAR more certain that AI wrote the first one, and had far stronger opinions and assumptions about the use of AI in sermon writing and worship services.
 
Some people in this group said they prefer the more personal, human touch that AI can’t provide.
 
Some in this group were gracious about the use of AI as well, but most were pretty adamant it should not be used.
 
The people in this group chose sermon number two as the one I wrote because it felt like it went deeper, it was more geared toward the congregation or your individual needs, and because it seemed to have a more distinct message.
 
A few people simply said they don’t believe AI is appropriate for a sermon. Sermon number two was more compassionate from this group’s perspective.
 
So, which one did I write?
 
I wrote the first sermon on Hebrews 13, and AI wrote the second one.
 
This experiment was incredibly interesting to me. I’ll share my own experience and thoughts on it with you because I think this is an extremely important conversation.
 
First of all, it was hard for me to write a shortened sermon that felt complete and got to the heart of the matter.
Secondly, I did have to eliminate any personal stories that might give away which one I wrote.
 
Third, it was frustrating that I spent probably an hour writing my short sermon, and ChapGPT took 30 seconds to write its sermon.
 
As I mentioned last week, I didn’t change anything about the ChatGPT sermon. I copied and pasted it directly.
 
So, all of that said, it produced what seems to have been an actually quite well-written, applicable, even compassionate sermon in 30 seconds with no editing, and the majority of people believed I wrote it.
 
Mine took significantly longer, wasn’t perhaps as robust or “compassionate” feeling, and to many people, it felt disjointed.
 
And truthfully, it felt disjointed to me, too, especially compared to the one AI wrote. But I wasn’t sure how to fix it. And, I was surprised at how well-written the AI sermon was.
 
Peaching each of these sermons was also hard. The first one was easier for me to preach because I had written it. The second one was harder because it used verbiage I wouldn’t normally use.
 
And because I didn’t write it myself, I had to focus harder on the words I was saying so I didn’t lose track or make mistakes.
 
But, that’s still the sermon most of you thought I wrote. And those of you who said sermon 1 weren’t really sure, which tells me that the ChatGPT sermon was not all that bad of a sermon.
 
Now, that said, if I were to use ChatGPT to write a sermon again, I would do some editing to make it fit with my own style, to add my own flourishes, etc.
 
But, I can understand the appeal of using it at least as a starting point. It could save tremendous amounts of time, leaving pastors open to do more of the human-facing work that we never seem to have enough time to do.
 
I’m admittedly surprised by my own experience using this. I’m not going to say I’ll use it all the time, or perhaps even ever again. I did not use it at all today, for example.
 
But, what if I actually am doing you a disservice by not at least considering the possibilities?
 
How is using AI to research and compile data for a sermon different than the sometimes hours or even days that I spend reading, researching, and looking for information that’s on the internet or in books so that I can create an informed sermon?
 
I am still using information created by other people, but I have to do the leg work of finding the information, reading it, compiling it, sifting it, etc. What if AI could do that for me, saving me hours of work each week?
 
Is it not a disservice to you all to potentially create more time to do the human-facing work that I need to do and love to do as a pastor?
 
In the same article by Timothy Dalrymple that I referenced earlier, he states, “As with many other technologies, the power [AI] possesses for good is proportionate to the power it possesses for destruction.”
 
As with any tool or new technology, we have a responsibility to learn how to use it responsibly.
 
As Christians, we must factor this responsibility into everything we use.
 
Social media, as we know, can be destructive, but it can also help connect people across the world. Families that have moved cross-country or globally can easily stay connected through social media.
 
Zoom allowed us to connect during COVID when people were mostly staying at home.
 
For my part, I think I need to continue to better understand this new technology.
 
I think that like all new technology, it has the potential to do some amazing things. And it also has the potential to be incredibly harmful.
 
It is up to us to determine if and how we might use it responsibly.
 
In our reading today, Paul acknowledges our very human tendency to assume things, confirm our own biases, and dig our heels in on certain issues only to realize later that perhaps we were mistaken, or didn’t fully understand.
 
Paul, as we know, before he became “Paul” was “Saul,” a passionate and even aggressive opposer of Jesus Christ and the movement he was part of.
 
Paul could have hidden this fact from people. He could have been ashamed of his prior behavior or embarrassed that he had denied Jesus previously.
 
But instead he says “I used to say terrible and insulting things about him, and I was cruel.”
 
He admitted that he was wrong – as difficult and painful as that is.
 
Paul modeled for us incredible humility. And, more importantly, he reminds us of the grace that Christ offers all of us.
 
That grace that Christ offers is with us no matter what.
 
We receive Christ’s grace whether we are aggressively, staunchly opposed to something, or whether we are open to embracing something.
 
Paul says, “God had mercy on me and let me be an example of the endless patience of Christ Jesus.”
 
Based on the results of this experiment, I wonder how many of us need to re-evaluate our assumptions about AI’s ability, or even its potential value in contributing to a decent sermon?
 
Many of us, myself included, have clear biases and assumptions that AI is bad, or that a sermon written by AI could not possibly be compassionate, individualized, or flow well.
 
I suspect that most of you who thought I wrote the second sermon had these biases going into the experiment, thus causing you to assume that AI’s sermon would sound robotic, unfeeling, or uncaring.
 
In reality, the one I actually wrote is the one that many of you thought was less compassionate, more disjointed, and less cohesive.
 
I went into this experiment with the exact same biases and assumptions. I assumed that AI’s would have a less “human” feel, too.
 
So when it produced that sermon, I was surprised, too. And humbled, because I realized that it was likely people would guess the wrong sermon.
 
In what ways do we need to humble ourselves like Paul? In what ways do we need to gently open ourselves to possibilities?
 
These questions apply to me as much as to any of you.
 
I am not sure how I feel about this new technology. I have my own hesitations, my own uncertainties, and, clearly, my own negative biases.
 
And yet, I am willing to humble myself and open myself to Spirit’s movement, in all the ways that happens.
 
So, may we humble ourselves before God.
 
May we avoid assumptions and certainties and instead soften, bow, and let God lead.
 
The only way to move forward in any aspect of life – whether that’s new technology, educational opportunities, embracing new spiritual practices, or any number of other things – is to humble ourselves and trust that God will lead.
 
We acknowledge that this is true in other ways, and I don’t see why it wouldn’t also be true now.
 
May we move forward together in community, in loving kindness, with open hearts and open minds, and with cautious optimism.
 
And may we continue to help each other see new ways of thinking and being in the world, as Christians throughout history have always done and will continue to do in perpetuity.
 
Amen.
 
Let us pray:
 
God, forgive us when, like Paul, we dig our heels in when we are faced with something we do not yet understand, or something that is pushing against our own assumptions and biases. Help us to open our hearts and minds to new possibilities and evaluate these things in an open and honest way. Perhaps we will come to the same conclusion, but help us do it in prayer so we can listen for your guidance and support. In your holy name, we pray. Amen.