August 24, 2025 (Creation Time 2) This sermon holds the intersection of my work as a nature therapy guide and my love for congregational life in Cowansville.
Scripture readings
Jeremiah 1:4–10: Jeremiah lays the foundation for our sacred identity. God knows us, calls us, and equips us for the work we are meant to do.
Isaiah 58:9b–14: Isaiah reminds us to tend to ourselves and to honour the true Sabbath, a space for restoration, care, and compassion.
Luke 13:10–17: Luke tells the story of the bent-over woman, showing Jesus embodying the true spirit of Sabbath through healing and freedom
Reflection on Luke 13: The Bent-Over Woman and Sabbath Restoration
Somewhere in the crowd that day, there was a woman who had been bent over for eighteen years.
Luke tells us that she couldn’t straighten up at all.
Eighteen years of looking at the ground.
Eighteen years of being seen only in profile, never face to face.
Eighteen years of carrying a weight, perhaps physical, perhaps emotional, perhaps both.
We don’t know her name. We don’t know her story in detail. But we know this: Jesus saw her.
In the middle of teaching, he stopped. He called her over. And without her asking, he set her free.
Immediately, she stood tall again.
Imagine the first breath she took in that new posture, the way the air would have filled her lungs differently. Imagine looking people in the eye for the first time in almost two decades.
And of course, not everyone was happy about it.
The synagogue leader was upset because it was the Sabbath, and healing counted as work.
But Jesus reminded them, and us, that the Sabbath is not about rigid rule-keeping. It’s about restoration. It’s about setting things right.
Jesus didn’t stop to measure whether the bent-over woman had done everything “right.” He didn’t ask if she had prayed enough, worked hard enough, or followed every law.
He simply saw her, called her over, and restored her.
To him, the healing of a human soul mattered more than the perfection of a law.
And this is the God we meet in today’s scriptures:
The God who tells Jeremiah, “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you.”
The God who, through Isaiah, invites us to honour the Sabbath not by chasing perfection, but by tending to what is fragile, like a garden that needs watering, or a wound that needs care.
The God who meets us like the tree outside this window: rooted, quiet, steady, always there.
This is the God who calls us to rise, to be restored, and to live from that place of sacred belonging.
As we rise from this moment together, I invite you to carry the message of today with you in a tangible way.
At the back, you’ll find a basket of small blessings, pinecones, stones, or leaves, each carrying a quiet reminder that you are rooted, growing, and not alone.
Take the one that speaks to you, and let it walk with you into the week ahead.
A word of gratitude
After I moved to Cowansville last fall, I followed my heart into this community, and met you.
A church filled with strong, determined women.
You have been my medicine. You’ve inspired me as I’ve started my own next chapter.
I’m a big believer in daily habits, in the quiet, consistent things we do to nourish our souls. But like the bent-over woman, sometimes we also need to be out there, moving through the world, so that we can cross paths with people and moments that bring healing.
Sometimes we stand a little taller simply because someone sees us, really sees us, and reminds us that we are more than the weight we’ve been carrying.
The bent-over woman’s healing began the moment she heard her name on Jesus’ lips. That was the turning point, not just the laying on of hands, but the moment she realized she had been noticed, called, and welcomed into wholeness.
And the same is true for us.
Every day arrives with an opportunity to rise, to take even one small step toward what matters, to follow the tug of our dreams, to choose the path of healing over the path of perfectionism.
So here’s the invitation:
Look for the God who is already looking at you with love.
Step toward the places and people that help you straighten up inside.
And when you see someone else bent low, be the one to call their name.
Because in the end, the work of God is not only to lift us, it’s to teach us how to lift each other.
Amen.
Nature-based practice
Before I was a nature therapy guide, I worked in the church, as many of you know.
And though my path has evolved, my love for God’s creation has only deepened.
Nature, to me, is a sacred companion. It reflects the goodness of creation, what theologian Matthew Fox calls Original Blessing.
It has always been there for me: honest, healing.
Today, I’d like to offer you a simple taste of what I now call nature connection.
It’s not complicated.
It’s the practice of bringing your full attention to the living world around you, and remembering that you are part of it.
Not separate. Not less than. Included.
This is a way of stepping out of worry or rumination, and stepping into the fullness of now.
Let’s try it together.
Take a slow breath.
Let your gaze rest softly on one tree outside the window, or on one of the flowers here in the sanctuary.
Notice its shape, the stretch of its branches or stems.
Has it weathered storms? Lost leaves or petals? Reached toward the light?
Now bring your awareness inward.
Notice the breath in your body.
The weight of your feet on the floor.
The play of sunlight and shadow in this room.
And once again, return your attention to the tree or the flower.
If it could speak, what might it say?
“You too are allowed to grow tall.”
“You are rooted in something deeper than fear.”
“You are not alone.”
Breathe with that knowing.
Let it settle in you like rain into your roots.
Amen.
Blessing
As you go from this place,
may your roots deepen, into love, into rest, into the sacred ground of who you really are.
May you notice the trees,
the light on your path,
the quiet invitations to rise again.
Go, not bent by burden,
but standing tall in the grace that holds you, always.
May God’s great love lead us.
Christ’s great compassion compel us.
The Spirit’s song uplift us, this day and forevermore.
Amen.
Threads to carry into the week:
You are resilient, and you are worthy of restoration. Healing can begin when you are truly seen and when you allow yourself to receive care, one doable step at a time. You are included in creation; a simple daily nature pause can remind you that you belong, and that you are not alone.