Sermon for St Edward’s, 26/4/26. Readings: John 10:1-10, Acts 2:42-end
I am starting with a word this morning, just one word. I don’t know if you’ve heard this word before, but it’s hiraeth.
It’s a Welsh word that’s becoming more widely used. It means a deep longing, a kind of homesickness, for a home or a time you were never part of, or can’t return to. A sort of nostalgia, but for something you never actually lived through. I said last week that I sometimes long for a simpler time. And I think this is what I’m experiencing, hiraeth.
Because when I read this passage from Acts of the Apostles, I feel just that. It’s one of my favourite passages, because I love the simplicity of the early church. You can almost sum it up in that one verse, Acts 2:42:
They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.
Teaching, being together, communion.
Perhaps I’ve got a sense of hiraeth for the early church.
No programmes, no PCC or General Synod, no committees, rotas, or overflowing inboxes.
Now, of course, I have to be careful not to romanticise it too much! The early church had its challenges too of course, disagreements, growth pains, moments of tension and more than one of them ended up dead. But still, at its heart, there is something beautiful and compelling about this picture.
And what I love most about it is the sense that they were all in it together. As we read,
Awe came upon everyone.
All who believed were together.
They had all things in common.
There’s a rhythm of shared life there. A sense of belonging and participation and mutual care. They all played a part.
And that is what church is meant to be: not something we attend, but something we belong to. We come as we are, as God has made us, with all our gifts and talents and preferences and passions, and we work together for the kingdom. We are building something together.
Today is Vocations Sunday in the Church of England. It’s a time to think about calling, to pray for those exploring ministry or ordination. And as always, if that’s something stirring in you, I’d love to talk with you.
The Meriam Webster dictionary defines vocation as a deep calling, a sense of purpose, often rooted in serving others. It originates from the Latin vocare (to call) and commonly implies a divine summons to religious life or a deep personal commitment to helping others. And yes, sometimes that’s about ordained ministry. But often, it’s about something wider: the way we live, the way we serve, the way we use what God has given us, and I will come on to that shortly.
When I was called to ministry, it was rather unexpected to say the least. Although I had grown up going to church, I didn’t have a real faith of my own until my 30s. In short, a builder working on our house shared his faith with me and it was the most astounding thing I had ever heard. After many conversations, over many weeks, he led me in a prayer to commit myself to Jesus, and it is still the best thing I have ever done. The next day I led Phil my husband in that same prayer, though I didn’t know what to say so I had to Google what to pray when you become a Christian!
A few weeks later, I felt this call to ordination. And honestly, I thought I was going mad. I assumed everyone must feel like that, but of course they don’t. Then I thought I was just being over-enthusiastic or arrogant. Then came the dreams. The people I didn’t know asking if I was going to be a vicar. The final straw was a double-glazing salesman coming to our house to talk about guttering and instead spent the whole time talking about calling. That, I think, was the point where I thought, ‘Okay… maybe this isn’t just me’.
In a few weeks time I will have been ordained 10 years. I can’t say those 10 years have been the easiest or the best, being a vicar is definitely not easy! but they have been the most fulfilled. They have been those in which I have felt I was doing what I was made to do, they have been those in which I have most closely walked with, and been led by, God, and I still feel like that.
For a long time, I wondered, ‘Why me?’ Misspent youth, all sorts of darkness in my past, I’d only just become a Christian, I felt I had nothing to offer. But the truth is, God calls all sorts of people. The church and indeed the CofE is vast and broad, people need God in so many different places and stages of life, and that means we need ministers and priests and pastors, who are vastly different and can reach all those people.
And almost everyone I’ve walked alongside in discerning a call has felt the same: ‘I’m not worthy’. And they’re right, none of us are. We’re just being obedient to that call from God.
So if you’ve ever felt even the smallest nudge, don’t dismiss it. Talk to someone. Explore it.
But as I said, vocation isn’t just about formal or licensed ministry. I believe it is also about how God has made each one of us. If you look at the Cambridge dictionary it gives an additional definition, it says (cut down)…
a type of work that you feel you are suited to doing… or the feeling that a type of work suits you
As I’ve said before, we are a wonderfully messy bunch, and that’s a good thing. We’re all different: different stories, different gifts, different passions. And that’s exactly how church is meant to be. That’s why, when people suggest new ideas or want to try something here, I rarely say no. Because each of us brings something. And together, we help one another grow and flourish.
Think of all the different voices we hear, those who lead, who pray, who read, who run groups and more. Each one helps us see God in a slightly different way. And over the next few weeks, while I’m on study leave, different people will be leading you. As I said last week, that’s not a gap, it’s an opportunity. An opportunity to learn, to grow, and maybe even to step into something yourself.
Because the early church didn’t wait until they were ‘ready’ or ‘qualified’, they simply brought what they had.
And most of them were not highly educated or rabbis, or rich, or influential, we know the first disciples were fishermen, a tax man, Jesus was a carpenter. The early church gathered united around their belief in Christ, in their difference, and they brought what they had.
And together, they became the church.
In our gospel reading, Jesus describes himself as the Good Shepherd. And if he is the shepherd, then we are the sheep. And sheep, despite their reputation, are actually quite remarkable. They nourish themselves from what’s around them. They stay together. They form strong relationships. They learn. They adapt. But most importantly, they don’t thrive alone. They need their flock.
If we are the flock, following the voice of Jesus together, then maybe this is a moment to ask:
What do I bring? What has God given me? What might God be calling me to in this season?
And maybe that sense of hiraeth, that longing for a simpler, more connected church, isn’t about going backwards, maybe it’s an invitation? Maybe it’s about paying attention to what we’re being invited into. Because the truth is, that kind of church, the kind we see in Acts, doesn’t just happen. It’s created, slowly and faithfully, by people who show up. People who say, ‘I don’t have everything, but I have this’. A bit of time, A listening ear., A willingness to help, A gift to share, A skill to offer And when those small offerings come together, something bigger begins to take shape.
Something that looks a little bit like that early church.
Over the next six weeks, I’ll be on leave. Not long after that, Paula will be on maternity leave. Things will look a bit different for a season.
And it would be easy to think, ‘Oh, things will just pause,’ or ‘someone else will step in’, but the early church shows us something different. Church doesn’t depend on one or two people. It never has. It depends on all of us.
So perhaps the question in these coming weeks is not, ‘Am I good enough?’ but simply: ‘What is mine to offer?’ Because it might not feel like much. It might feel small, or ordinary, or even insignificant. But in the hands of God, those small things matter. They always have. And who knows, what feels like a small step for you might be exactly what someone else needs. Might be exactly what helps this church grow, deepen, and flourish in this season. Might even be part of that abundant life Jesus speaks about, not someday, but here and now.
All of us bringing who we are, in our own unique ways. Because abundant life, the life Jesus speaks about, isn’t something we wait for. It’s something we build, together.
Amen
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