Preached at Wayside Friends Church
May 3, 2026
Jesus Christ is alive and present to teach his people himself. This was a central teaching from the founder of Quakerism, George Fox. It came out of his own personal shattering experience of meeting Jesus for himself without the help of preacher or priest. (His experience was not the first of its kind in the world, to be sure, and it followed the pattern of mystical experience around the world.) He was convinced that God is present for each person, not just special people, and that God is speaking to individuals and to communities of believers. The central requirements are being open to hear and being willing to obey. Some branches of Quakerism have no pastors, only elders, and the pattern of worship is to sit in silence until someone is moved in the spirit to speak to the gathered congregation. Others, like the one we come out of, have pastors and the expectation that someone will deliver a sermon, preferably short, and that there will be a time we call open worship in which anyone moved in the spirit may speak to the congregation.
But sometimes people ask, “How do you know if it’s God speaking to you?” (I don’t plan to differentiate between the members of the Trinity in this sermon, and I plan to talk mostly about how Jesus spoke to people when he lived in Israel.) This is a legitimate question because the minds of humans are subject to physical and psychological pressures and indignities, and we cannot claim to control everything we think and feel. I, for instance, am accompanied through life by migraine, and sometimes when I’m working into one, I am weepy, irritable, chatty, and/or even funny, but eventually I am migraining. I sometimes see stars or pixels, I sometimes lose words out of my vocabulary, I sometimes fall asleep. So those things are not under my control.
Another problem we have is having sick consciences. We either feel shame and guilt where there is no fault of ours, or we feel no shame and guilt where we are at fault. In 1 John 3:18-20, the apostle advises us that we cannot just talk about loving our neighbor, but our love has to show up in what we do, how we work, in our real lives. (IRL) And our active love is how we know we are from the truth, and it gives us confidence in God’s presence. Then, if our conscience finds fault with us, blames and accuses us, we know that God is bigger and stronger than our conscience and understands everyone and the whole of everyone. If our conscience is clear as regards active love, then we have cheerful courage and can speak freely before God. How I understand this is that the nagging inner voice that shames and finds fault cannot be in control of our lives. John tells us in ch. 1 of 1 John not to hide our faults but every time to bring them right to God, tell God the truth, and God will wash us clean. And no voice can bully us after that, whether inside us or outside us.
Before we look at specific examples of how Jesus spoke to his contemporaries, we need to recognize that 1) not everything Jesus said or did is written down; 2) not every aspect of any one encounter is written down; 3) what was written down was from memory, not diaries, so events which left a trace of emotion or mystery, or events/stories that occurred more than once are likely to be included; and 4) almost nowhere is tone or facial expression specified. I do believe that the Spirit helped the writers remember, in addition to the way writing memories drags up more specifics and further memories. And I will not limit how the Spirit can illuminate any one passage to the individual, even if I don’t see it that way.
So here are the few encounters I want us to think together about.
The Rich Young Ruler
This one shows up in three gospels, from which I infer that it was surprising to the disciples. When this young man speaks respectfully to Jesus, and asks him what he can do to have eternal life, Jesus is confrontational rather than welcoming. Jesus says, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God.” I think that young man must have been taken aback. Then Jesus says, “If you want to enter into life, keep the commandments.”
Intriguingly, the young man says, “Which ones?” What might be behind this question? Perhaps his own self-awareness that he is not keeping all of them, and he hopes he’s keeping the right ones.
Jesus says, “These: no murder, no adultery, no stealing, no lying about another person; yes honoring parents, yes loving your neighbor as yourself.”
The young man says, “I have done these since I was a child. What do I still lack?”
And here is the heart of the confrontation. Jesus says to a person who believes he has been loving his neighbor, “Sell your possessions and give the money to the poor. You will have treasure in heaven. And come, follow me.”
What I want us to observe here is that 1) Jesus won’t be flattered, and 2) Jesus lets him make his case, and 3) Jesus doesn’t shame, and 4) Jesus is direct in pointing out the next step he needs to take.
The Woman at the Well
This is only in the gospel of John, who says that he is trying to cover things the others did not and also that it would be impossible to write everything Jesus said and did.
Jesus strikes up this conversation, as he sits alone by the well.
He says, “Give me a drink.”
She says, “You, a Jew, want a drink from me, a Samaritan?!”
He says, “If you knew the gift of God and who I am, you would have said, ‘Give me a drink.’ and I would have given you living water.”
Let’s pause here to see what might be going on. I don’t think she’s going to start any conversation with a Jewish man, so Jesus begins, very directly.
But she’s a bit spiky, or at least shocked, that he would speak and take water from a Samaritan woman, and she says so.
Jesus says, “You have no idea what’s going on here or who I am or what I’m here to do for you.” This seems to me to be a confrontational response to her spikiness.
She changes tactics. “Sir, you have nothing to draw up water with. Where will you get living water.” At least now she’s polite, but she’s certainly skeptical. “Are you greater than the patriarch Jacob, who gave us this well, and drank from it himself, along with children and livestock?”
Jesus replies, “Whoever drinks this water will thirst again, but whoever drinks of the water I give will have within them a fountain of water springing to everlasting life.”
I still hear a hint of skepticism in her reply. “Sir, give me this water, so I don’t thirst anymore and have to come to this well to draw water.”
Jesus says, “First, bring your husband here.” And she says, “I have no husband.” Now Jesus is getting personal, as he did with the rich young ruler.
“You speak truth, you have no husband, because you’ve had 5 and now the one you have is not your husband.”
Jesus is direct again. Jesus does not shame, but I suspect he uncovers some shame for her, shame that may explain her spikiness, her defensiveness, her evasiveness in their conversation.
So she tries to deflect one more time. “Sir, I perceive you are a prophet. What is your opinion about where we should worship, here on this mountain or in Jerusalem?”
Jesus says, “Woman” (which is how he also addressed his mother), “believe me, not long from now people will not be limited to worshipping the Father here or in Jerusalem. You Samaritans worship a vague idea of God, whereas we Jews at least know whom we worship. But soon true worshipers will worship anywhere and everywhere, in spirit and in truth. These are the kind of people the Father is seeking. God is spirit, and those who worship God must worship in spirit and in truth.”
She says, perhaps defending her lack of knowledge), “I do know that when God’s chosen one comes, he will tell us all things.” Jesus says, “I who speak to you am God’s chosen one.”
And she runs to town and brings the whole town back to see if this man is indeed the Christ, this man who told her everything she’d ever done.
I hope you can see how Jesus moves this conversation closer and closer to the bone, not so as to make her miserable, but so as to make her honest. She flatters, spars and parries, as one does when one is ashamed. But when she caves in, she isn’t shamed. Instead, she is set free. Her feet have wings to spread the gospel that the Chosen One is right outside of town by Jacob’s well.
When Jesus promised his disciples that he would send the Spirit of Truth, who would guide them into all truth, I think it was more about two kinds of truth: the truth about ourselves, learning to be honest and open with God and with others; and the truth about God, learning that God welcomes our honesty with forgiveness and instruction, and meets our openness with God’s own open-hearted love.
I used to think that God spoke to me through my fear and shame, that I could never be good enough, and that I would easily slip through God’s hands because of my ignorance and my errors. As God taught me to trust in God’s character and love, I came to hear God speaking differently.
After about a decade of semi-forgiveness of a deep wrong done me, I heard God say, “You can do better now.” And I said, appropriately, “You are right, I can. Please forgive him. I let him off the hook.” I found a new freedom in that moment that persists to this day, even though occasionally the pain resurfaces. There was no shaming in that voice, and I wasn’t required to weep and wail for my previous insufficient efforts.
Just a couple of weeks ago, I heard God say, “You don’t need to swear so much. I notice that it makes you more rather than less angry.” And I said, appropriately, “You’re right. I’ll work on that.” Again, direct, not shaming, no threats, just a truthful observation. (BTW, I will tell you honestly that it was just a couple of the swears, not all of them, that I’m working on.)
I conclude that we can recognize that God is speaking to us when the voice is neither shaming nor condemning but instead is direct and on point. We can choose to reject it or to open ourselves to it, admitting in honesty that God is right, and taking the steps God prescribes.
Someone asked me to describe how I sensed God asking me to share something in open worship, and I replied that it was how I imagine feeling if a lion was getting near me—I feel alert, maybe in awe, a little apprehensive, and appreciative. That any of us can sense God approaching us personally and can share out of our honest relationship and understanding at God’s request is such an honor, such a grace.
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