2026-06-17
Brooke Strong
Sermon Text...
Sunday, June 14, 2026
Sent With Compassion - Pride Sunday
Rev. Michael Anthony Howard
Matthew 9:35-10:8/ Pride Sunday
35 Then Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness. 36 When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. 37 Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; 38 therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”
10 Then Jesus[a] summoned his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness. 2 These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon, also known as Peter, and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee and his brother John; 3 Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus and Thaddaeus;[b] 4 Simon the Cananaean and Judas Iscariot, the one who betrayed him.
5 These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: “Do not take a road leading to gentiles, and do not enter a Samaritan town, 6 but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. 7 As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’[c] 8 Cure the sick; raise the dead; cleanse those with a skin disease; cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment.
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Gerard Manley Hopkins begins his poem Pied Beauty with this line: “Glory be to God for dappled things. For things freckled and speckled. For things streaked and varied. For beauty that does not come in sameness.”
Hopkins is praising God for a world that is not flat, not uniform, not one shade, not one shape, not one pattern. A world dappled with difference. And I want to begin there today because Pride Sunday invites us to praise God not only for creation in general, but for the dappled beauty of human life. Different bodies. Different stories. Different names. Different ways of becoming whole. Different ways belovedness takes flesh. “Glory be to God for dappled things.”
And today’s Gospel begins with Jesus seeing the crowd. Not issues. Not categories. Not arguments. Faces.
A few years ago, I helped moderate a conversation at the Cleveland Film Festival after a screening of the documentary Mama Bears. In fact, tomorrow night we will be showing that same film here in our fellowship hall. The film follows conservative Christian others whose children come out as LGBTQ+.
What stayed with me was not a debate about theology or politics. What stayed with me was watching parents wrestle with a deeper question. Those of us who have transgender loved ones, especially loved ones who have suffered deeply with gender dysphoria, know this story all too well.
There comes a moment when the conversation stops being about an issue and becomes about a person. A beloved child. A beloved sibling. A beloved friend. And suddenly the question changes. Not, “What do I think about this?” But, “Can I see the person standing in front of me?”
I think that is where today’s Gospel begins. Matthew says, “When Jesus saw the crowds, he had compassion for them.” Before Jesus sends. Before Jesus commissions. Before Jesus gives instructions. Jesus sees.
Why I Am Preaching From the Pulpit Today? I am preaching from the pulpit today on purpose. Lately, I’ve been coming down to the table, because the table is where this Gospel keeps leading me. But today I need to stand here, because pulpits have power.
I stand here as a white, cisgender, heterosexual man, ordained in the church. That means my voice is heard differently, both in this room and out in the world. People with my social location have too often used pulpits to speak about queer and trans people, over queer and trans people, or for queer and trans people.
That is not what I am trying to do today. Today, I aim to speak with compassion. If this pulpit gives my voice power, then today I want to use that power to make room for voices that have too often been silenced.
The Sermon Map
So from this pulpit, I want to stay close to Matthew. Here is the path I want us to walk through the Gospel this morning.
1. Jesus sees.
2. Jesus proclaims the kingdom.
3. Jesus is moved with compassion.
4. Jesus names the harvest.
5. Jesus sends.
1. Jesus Sees
Matthew tells us that Jesus went throughout all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness. For nine chapters in Matthew, Jesus has been showing us what the kingdom of heaven looks like. He teaches. He heals. He touches the untouchable. He welcomes outsiders. He forgives sins. He restores bodies. He eats with the wrong people.
The kingdom is not first explained. It is embodied. And then Matthew says, “When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.”
Jesus does not see problems to solve. Jesus does not see categories to manage. Jesus does not see outsiders to tolerate. Jesus sees beloved people whose sacred worth has been wounded.
2. So, What Kind of Kingdom?
Now we need to be careful with this word: kingdom. Jesus sends the disciples to proclaim, “The kingdom of heaven has come near.”
In many progressive churches, including many of the hundreds of congregations I have visited across Northeast Ohio, it has become common to replace “kingdom” with words like “kin-dom” or “Beloved Community.”
That matters. The term “kin-dom,” often associated with the feminist and mujerista theologian Ada María Isasi-Díaz, emphasizes kinship and mutuality rather than hierarchy and domination. That language arose from real harm: exclusion, patriarchy, colonialism, and the misuse of religious authority. So this is not merely about vocabulary. It is about whether our language reflects the God revealed in Jesus.
But I sometimes worry we have become so quick to change the language that we skip the wrestling. We replace the word before we confront the imagination behind it.
And Scripture itself is suspicious of kings. In 1 Samuel 8, when the people ask for a king, the prophet Samuel warns them: This is what kings do. They take. They accumulate. They dominate.
Long before modern liberation movements raised concerns about power, the Bible itself was already deconstructing the mythology of kingship.
So our task is not merely to replace the language. Our task is to let Jesus convert our understanding of it. To ask why Jesus continued to proclaim the Kingdom of God while overturning every expectation of what a kingdom should be.
The king rides a donkey. The throne becomes a cross. The crown becomes thorns. The ruler becomes a servant. The lion becomes a lamb.
Matthew’s phrase, Basileia tōn Ouranōn, “The Kingdom of Heaven,” is not a sanctified version of empire. It is God’s alternative to empire. It is not domination. It is compassion. It is not the triumph of the powerful. It is the healing of the wounded. It is not the rule of the strong over the weak. It is the reign of the Lamb.
3. Compassion in the Body
So, “kingdom” needs some flesh on it. If the kingdom is not domination, then what is it?
Matthew gives us the answer: Compassion. But compassion is not just niceness. It is not sympathy from a safe distance. Matthew’s Greek word is splagchnizomai (splangkh-NEE-zo-my). It comes from the inward parts. The guts. The viscera.
Matthew is not saying Jesus had a polite feeling. Matthew is saying Jesus saw the crowds, and their suffering entered his body. The holy appears not as thunder, not as a throne, not as a crown, but as compassion moving in the body of Jesus.
And this is where Pride Sunday tests whether we have understood the Gospel. If we say “kingdom of heaven,” but our language does not help us see people who are harassed and helpless, then we have not yet understood Jesus.
If we say “beloved,” but some people’s bodies, names, families, safety, and dignity are still up for debate, then belovedness has not yet become compassion.
Be forewarned, our compassion might turn some people away. The church can survive losing people who are offended by compassion. But the church cannot survive becoming hard-hearted in the name of keeping everyone comfortable.
So from this pulpit, I want to say clearly: Your belovedness is not up for debate. Your sacred worth is not waiting for permission. You are not a problem to be solved. You are not an issue to be managed. You are not a category to be tolerated.
You are beloved of God. And compassion is what belovedness does.
5. The Harvest of the Hurting
So then, Matthew’s Jesus changes the image. He says, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few.” This is not a church growth slogan. This is not recruitment language. This is not Jesus saying, “There are so many people to collect.” In an agricultural world, harvest meant life. It meant hunger, bread, survival, labor, table.
The harvest is plentiful because the hurting is plentiful. There are so many broken hearts. So many wounded bodies. So many silenced voices. So many people who need someone to remind them of their true worth. So much holy healing waiting to happen.
The harvest of the hurting is plentiful. And then Jesus tells them to pray for workers — and immediately makes them the answer to their own prayer.
6. Sent With Compassion
Jesus calls the twelve and sends them. They are not sent because they are impressive. They are not sent because they have mastered the theology. They are not sent because they have earned their place. They are sent because compassion cannot remain private.
Jesus gives them authority to heal, to restore, cleanse, raise, and to cast out what torments and diminishes life. And he tells them: “Freely you have received; freely give.” That is table language. At the table, we receive freely. In the world, we give freely. The table is where the kingdom becomes edible. The table is where belovedness is remembered. The table is where grace is received freely. The table is where the world God dreams becomes tangible… so visible you can taste it. But that table does not stop at the edge of the sanctuary.
7. The Table Widens
The table widens. The workers are sent. The kingdom comes near. At the table, belovedness is received. In compassion, belovedness becomes bodily. In the harvest, belovedness becomes work. In the sending, belovedness becomes public.
So today, we go… We go as people sent with compassion. We go not to speak over, but to make room. We go not to win an argument, but to bear witness to belovedness. We go, not because the world is easy, But because it is hard… because the harvest of hurting is plentiful. “Glory be to God for dappled things.”
For the freckled and speckled beauty of creation. For bodies and stories and names. For all the ways belovedness takes flesh. For the face in front of us. For the Christ who meets us there. The kingdom of heaven has come near. And compassion is what belovedness does.
Amen