That's Evangelism!

The Rev. Sara Warfield

Sermon & Rector's Report for the Annual Meeting

Scripture: Matthew 4:12-23

Last February, your Vestry gathered at St. James in Tigard with several other Vestries in the region to talk about our work and create a vision, an anchor, for the year ahead. And what kept coming up for us was this idea of marketing. We need better marketing—maybe something in the newspaper, maybe more creative digital marketing? What could we do to bring more people into the joy of St. Luke’s?

After this discussion went on for a bit, something clicked in my head. “You know,” I said to them. “There’s a theological term for what we’re talking about. It’s evangelism.” At the mention of that word, I saw apprehension and maybe a little fear flash across their faces.

And listen, I understand the apprehension. I understand the fear. That word used to make me flinch. Because so much of the Christianity that dominates our culture teaches us that evangelism means getting people to believe the “right” things so that they don’t go to hell. This usually entails attending a particular church with the “right” theology against all the other churches that have the “wrong” theology.

But that’s not what the word evangelism actually means. The gospel of Matthew today tells us what it actually means: “Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.”

Evangelism means to share the gospel, the good news, of Christ. No belief checklists. No threats of eternal damnation. Just the good news that Jesus taught, the good news for which he lived and died and rose again. And this means curing every disease and sickness of the body, like measles or polio or cancer, and every disease and sickness of the spirit, like greed or loneliness or oppression.

Yes, evangelism means fishing for people, as Jesus told Simon Peter and Andrew, but that means bringing the good news that each person needs, not forcing people to believe the same things as we do.

So our Vestry went into deep discernment about evangelism and made it our focus this past year. We knew we needed to reframe, redefine, reclaim, what it means for us. And this reframing moved us from one, unmoving, burdensome idea of evangelism and into a more open, flowing, and loving concept: moving from—a phrase many of you have heard many times—transactional to relational; and also from shaming to humility; from hell to belonging; from certainty to curiosity and mystery; from power over others to power with others; from us/them to we/the Body of Christ; from patronizing to vulnerability and trust; from isolation to community.

The Vestry started to realize that when we evangelize in those humble, compassionate, curious, equitable, and vulnerable ways, it’s compelling for others, it’s magnetic. When we live those things out loud, we become compelling. People want what we have. Not because we told them that they should want it, but because our joy and light is irrepressible. And who doesn’t want that kind of joy and light?

Jesus walked around with that kind of joy and light, and when he said “follow me” people dropped what they were doing and followed. Jesus didn’t threaten them or tell them that they must believe particular things in order to follow him, he simply let his presence be his invitation.

But here might be the rub: we must be willing to claim our faith, to claim Jesus, when people see our joy and our light. When people wonder why we seem lighter than usual, when they ask how we got through that particularly tough time in our lives, when they recognize a glimmer in us, we need to be willing to say: it’s my church, it’s God, it’s the Body of Christ.

Not because we need them to believe the same way or follow the same path, but because we need to be honest with ourselves about the joy and the light God gives us. What does it mean if we feel like we need to hide that?

"You are the light of the world,” Jesus tells us.

A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bushel. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Creator in heaven.

Now I know that learning how to freely and joyfully let that light shine can be hard when the people around you bristle at the mere mention of church or Jesus. They think the same things you thought—before you learned otherwise: that when Christians talk about their faith they’re trying to save your soul from hell—not to mention restrict women’s rights, ban other religions, and criminalize queerness.

Why? Because that form of Christianity is not only willing but very eager to claim and get loud about their understanding of faith. And when we’re quiet and hidden, we relinquish any power we have to shape how the public might understand Christianity differently—to understand that belief in Jesus is about belonging, not the threat of hell; it’s about love, not control.

So yes, I’m asking you to do something that might feel uncomfortable for many of you. Not necessarily immediately (unless you’re all fired up now, in which case I say go for it!). And not by yourself. And certainly not without practice and preparation.

That’s where St. Luke’s comes in. Because St. Luke’s is where we build up our joy muscles. It’s where we practice loving people who annoy us—yes, you are annoying to someone here at least some of the time, and so am I. It’s where we step into roles that might feel challenging and uncomfortable, but roles we feel God tugging us towards—and we can do that because it’s safe to try things in this place, and if we stumble, we help each other up and figure out how to step differently next time—and if we shine, there’s a whole community that’s so affirming and ready to celebrate.

I think of all the people who stepped into uncomfortable roles during my sabbatical. For example, in our mailchimp system—the software we use to send all our newsletters—there’s still a draft there called “Kathy’s Disaster – Ignore.” Because she took on our communications while I was away, and it took a disastrous draft or two until she got more confident.

Jack and Pete took on our Bible Reflection time and made it their own. It didn’t have to be what I did—they could step into their own gifts and light to nurture our community in a different way. Our Vestry led the Community Prayers every Sunday, each in their own unique way.

And Judy, your Senior Warden at least until the end of this meeting, filled my role in a number of ways I don’t have time to describe. And I know she was nervous. But when I got back, I almost went back on sabbatical and let her take over. She was a natural.

And here let me take a moment to really celebrate Judy’s two years as Senior Warden. Now every Senior Warden encounters challenging situations to some extent, and their leadership becomes especially critical in those moments. Judy walked us through two enormous challenges: our Sanctuary Resurrection in 2024 and my sabbatical last year. She held your fears about change and uncertainty, and she confidently held this community in my time away. And she was, quite appropriately, exhausted when I got back. So today begins a period of much needed rest.

While Judy rests, others will continue ministries they launched in 2025: Lainey and Jennifer brought our Children’s Ministry back to life in January. Kathy relaunched Spiritual Reflection after worship. Suzy Peterson rekindled Just Lunch for the ladies. Nathan Reinhart led Lenten Labyrinth Walks. Each of these meant leaning into uncertainty: Will it resonate with our community? Will it be sustainable? Will anyone show up?

But of course you did. You always show up for each other—which is also to show up for yourself. You don’t send your kids to children’s ministry just for their own spiritual development. Letting others tend to them allows you to tend to yourself.

That’s another discomfort we lean into here: letting ourselves receive care, receive nourishment when we’re going through a tough time. I know our Care Team has been present for so many people and families this year: meal trains for Alicia and Scott when Julia was born, for Adriane and Sho and Jack when Dean was born. Tending to Casey and Faith as Casey declined. And I can’t name all the times I know of when someone quietly recognized someone else struggling and made it a point to sit next to them at Coffee Hour or drop them an email or pop in for a visit or leave some soup on their porch. I often tell people who are in a really hard place that their St. Luke’s family has their backs, and I can tell them that because I know it’s true.

A less pressing but still nagging discomfort, at least for some of you, was our move to Breeze where our directory and giving records are managed. I know a lot of you don’t love figuring out new things on the computer, but you did! And now you’re connected. And not without a little help from Ali.

Oh yeah, we hired Ali to be our Office Administrator. Is it the best decision your priest and wardens ever made? I don’t know, maybe. It’s certainly up there. She has absolutely transformed our office and administration. Not only that, she is a bright light to anyone who calls or walks in. I don’t know if she calls herself a Christian, but Jesus shines through her. She just makes things easier for all of us.

But that’s another part of leaning in: going out of our way to make things easier for someone else. That’s why we started baking gluten-free bread so that more people could eat of the same body without worrying about their safety. It’s why we have a paid Audio/Visual guy to make sure everything goes smoothly for our Zoomers—and Riley has grown into that job and definitely now knows more than anyone else about that whole setup.

We did make his job a little harder and some of you very uncomfortable when we moved the chairs for Lent. We worshiped looking at one another, confessing our sins to God and one another, listening to one side of the nave sing to the other. Did some of you face forward towards the altar anyhow? Was there a little confusion every time we took communion? Yes—and we leaned into that, too—rolled with the waves and laughed along the way.

If worship numbers offer any proof of the effectiveness of our evangelism, and I’m not sure they do, but they’re a place to start, we’ve been pretty effective. In 2024 our average attendance was 58 people, including Zoomers. In 2025 it was 69.

But I think even more solid proof is the commitment we saw people make to God and to this community. We had two very different baptisms this year. After an in-depth catechumenate with the Cathedral and conversations with me, Chris Neal was baptized on Easter Day. And then at the end of August we woke up and baptized a somewhat confused Stevie Ray Smykowski. Chris committed himself and Lea and Joelle committed Stevie to their faith in Jesus, and we all committed ourselves to supporting them in that faith.

Tracy Hughes, Nathan Reinhart, ShayLyn Quick, Roz Acosta, Shawn Rivera, Jorge Sandoval, and Mike and Connie Storkel all formally joined St. Luke’s in 2025, committing themselves to giving their gifts to and risking vulnerability with this little corner of the Body of Christ. With them, Roberta Peterson, Linda Simmons, and Cheryl Rickerd all re-committed to doing the same.

And you as a community also made a very powerful, tangible commitment to this parish with your financial gifts. For 2024, this community pledged $129,000, which was amazing. And then for 2025, you pledged $146,000. And for this year, you pledged $159,000 for the work and thriving of this community. In our modern culture, our values are most powerfully expressed by how we use our resources. This St. Luke’s community continues to show how valuable this church is to them—through your gifts of money and, as illustrated over and over again in this sermon/report, through your time, skills, and care.

There are the people who steadfastly offer their gifts week after week on Altar Guild, playing music, cleaning up the yard, tending to the building, managing our finances, delivering food to Zarephath, and on and on. I wish I could mention every name, but if I did we’d be here until tomorrow. But I beg you, please read the full Annual Report to really get a sense of all it takes to make St. Luke’s what it is.

I know many of you stretch to give as much as you do. You risk money, energy, and love here when you could give it elsewhere or simply hold onto it. But you lean in, willing to make yourself maybe just a little uncomfortable in order to nurture this church home that nurtures you and so many others.

And that nurturing, that care is so critical, especially now. In 2025, I talked from this pulpit about some of the devastation that was carried out, that continues to be carried out, by our government in our names—the mass detainings, the destruction of life-saving institutions, the dehumanization of so many of our neighbors, so many of us. Throughout this past year, we held each other in our anger and despair, and we pledged together to let those difficult feelings move us into action and connection. We continued to lean into our discomfort for the sake of learning how to love our neighbors more deeply, more fully.

That’s how we fish for people. By bearing witness to how God’s love is being withheld from our neighbors, and fighting for them. By finding out how God’s love is lacking in their lives and walking with them to help them to see and understand and feel worthy of that love, so that they can let it in.

Which means that we must be willing to get curious about others, to find out what the good news of Jesus looks like for each person. And to meet them there.

That’s what you practice here. Those are the skills you hone here, with one another through all our different ministries. You practice feeling annoyed and moving through it to love anyhow. You practice leaning in to God’s call for you, risking feeling uncomfortable, trusting that if you stumble, this whole community has your back, stepping into your unique gifts, gifts no one else can offer, so that we may all thrive.

St. Luke’s may be where your faith starts, but it’s not where it ends. When you take those practices out into the world, people will be drawn to you. They’ll want that joy that shines through you. And when you tell them that it is Jesus who guides you in this way of being, well, that’s evangelism. Amen.