A sermon, based on Genesis 28: 10-19 and 1 Peter 2: 4-9. Inspired by the writing John S. Dickerson's The Great Evangelical Recession, David K. Reynolds' Thirsty, Swimming in the Lake, Robert Farrar Capon's The Romance of the Wood, Mary Fleeson's Life Journey, Martin Lowenthal and Lar Short's From Opening the Heart of Compassion, and the Living Stones prayer and meditation book, published on behalf of The Pray Now Group.
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.
On a recent walk by the sea with my two dogs, and while trying not to be distracted by their crazy zoomies, splashing in and out of the water, or stealing someone’s beach ball or picnic, I found myself noticing the stones along the shoreline. Perhaps you have done the same?
Pausing to admire their shapes, colours, or the way the light glints off them when the tide recedes. Here in the UK, of course, we are not supposed to take them home with us, but that does not make them any less precious. They belong where they are, part of the bigger picture of the beach, shaped by waves and weather, by countless years of pressure and time.
Even in simply noticing them, we are invited to reflect. Because throughout Scripture, stones mark moments when people encounter God.
We heard earlier in Genesis how Jacob, weary and uncertain, laid his head on a stone and dreamed of angels ascending and descending, heaven touching earth. When he woke, he said, “Surely the Lord is in this place — and I did not know it.” That ordinary stone became a pillar, a reminder that God was with him, even in the wilderness.
And in our second reading, from 1 Peter, we were told that we too are “like living stones, being built into a spiritual house.” Jesus, the stone once rejected, is now the cornerstone. And through him, each of us, ordinary though we may feel, is chosen and precious, fitted into the building of God’s kingdom.
That is a powerful image, especially when we recognise the struggles the church has, and is, facing. Author and journalist John S. Dickerson writes that of the three building blocks of civil society resting on the foundation of life, perhaps the most colossal failures belong to the church itself. We are not only losing most of our children, he writes, but our missional efforts are not keeping pace with population growth. And in the midst of this, or as a result of this, the unified faith movement of the twenty-first century is splintering and fraying.
That may sound discouraging. And yet, here is the good news. God continues to build with us. Fragile though we are, uncertain though we may feel, he places us together as living stones, shaping us, smoothing us, making us part of something far greater than ourselves.
I invite you to listen to these words, a meditation from the Living Stones devotion and prayer book:
The stepping stones of life
are not measured by the ground beneath my feet,
but through
the love
and care
and nurture
of those who hold me in their thoughts
and treasure me in their hearts.
For they have been the ones
who fed me on my journey,
who helped me calibrate my compass,
who celebrated my every milestone,
who stood by me at every cross-road,
and wait to welcome me home at my journey’s end.
This is what it means to be part of the household of God: to be stepping stones for one another, companions on the way, fellow builders in God’s kingdom.
Another writer, David K. Reynolds, also describes walking along the beach and finding a rock that at first seemed beautiful and glistening because it was wet, but then dried into something very ordinary. He almost threw it away, until he noticed how it had been wonderfully smoothed by the sand and waves. A plain rock, ground down by the elements, but worth treasuring. He writes,
“They are my cousins, somehow, models of what I would like to become. But here I am now.”
That phrase — here I am now — reminds us that God works with us as we are. Like stones shaped by the sea, our rough edges are worn away by life, by experience, even by hardship. And yet, God treasures us as we are.
“If only every human being came with a treasure map,” reflects another meditation in the Living Stones prayer book:
A diagram that led you
to the ‘x’
that marked the spot,
and allowed the hidden treasure of each person
to pour forth
in all its glistening, golden wonder.
Hidden within the shifting sands
of humanity
are sparkling gifts and talents,
all worthy of a place
within the tapestry of each day.
You may have noticed the image here, which is a piece of art by Mary Fleeson, who offers a similar image in her poem “Life Journey,” inspired by a drawing of paths intertwining like threads in a tapestry:
Life journey winding,
Patterns undulating, overlapping
Weaving community.
Touch as you pass, smile,
hold the moment
As God holds you
in his heart.
Our lives cross and weave together. Each encounter leaves its mark. Each of us is a stone in God’s mosaic, sometimes rough, sometimes smooth, but always part of the pattern of his grace.
When Peter speaks of us as living stones, he is describing not only individuals but communities of faith. And the Church of Scotland’s Guild is a living witness to this.
For over 135 years, the Guild has been a movement of people, mainly women, but increasingly men too, coming together to worship, to learn, and to serve. Each member is a stone in a great structure of faithfulness, a structure that stretches across Scotland and far beyond, through projects and partnerships, through acts of quiet service and through bold commitments to justice.
Like those stones on the shoreline, shaped and smoothed by time, Guild members have carried and shared the faith through generations. The Guild has offered a place where people can find fellowship, encouragement, and a sense of belonging. It has been a stepping stone for many in their own discipleship: guiding, nurturing, and inspiring, often in ways that are unseen but deeply felt.
So as we celebrate the Guild today, we do not just look back with gratitude for its history, or even look around at what it is now. We also look forward with hope, trusting that God will continue to use the Guild as part of his building, a community of living stones, set together on the cornerstone of Christ.
Let us finish with this prayer:
Sometimes, Lord, it seems
my faith is mere gravel flying against the wind
of lovelessness and pain.
Yet You have chosen and placed me here;
laid Your grace deep within my being;
used my fragments in Your Kingdom-building plan.
I pray, Lord, that today
even my shakiest stones
might be a safe place for others to tread.
In Jesus’ name.
Amen.
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