A Sermon for the African Immigrant Congregation,
Aldersgate United Methodist Church
Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26
June 11, 2023
the Rev. Todd R. Goddard, Pastor
Rush United Methodist Church
Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26
As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, “Follow me.” And he got up and followed him. And as he sat at dinner in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting with him and his disciples.
When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?”
But when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.”
While he was saying these things to them, suddenly a leader of the synagogue came in and knelt before him, saying, “My daughter has just died; but come and lay your hand on her, and she will live.”
And Jesus got up and followed him, with his disciples.
Then suddenly a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his cloak, for she said to herself, “If I only touch his cloak, I will be made well.”
Jesus turned, and seeing her he said,
“Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well.”
And instantly the woman was made well.
When Jesus came to the leader’s house and saw the flute players and the crowd making a commotion, he said, “Go away; for the girl is not dead but sleeping.”
And they laughed at him.
But when the crowd had been put outside, he went in and took her by the hand, and the girl got up.
And the report of this spread throughout that district.

| Centering Prayer |
There are many joys to being a pastor.
I’m surrounded with great people who are passionate about faith.
I’m privileged to be invited into the great celebrations of life’s passages-
birth, baptism, confirmation, graduations, weddings, anniversaries, and deaths.
Indeed, I draw strength and courage
from many examples of experience, faith, and hope.
My faith is deepened through
your commitment and resolve.
There are many joys to being a pastor.
In recent days,
I’ve come to recognize
That my life swims in an ocean of God’s grace.
At a young age
I dipped my toe into the surf.
It was a loving God who caught a hold of me,
Pulled me through a life altering undertow
Into a life of
abundant love,
extravagant forgiveness, and
eternal salvation.
There are many joys to being a pastor.
I don’t take lightly other people’s pain or suffering.
But, quietly, privately,
I do delight in self-imposed guilt.
This is what I mean-
when I was a medic on the ambulance,
taking a drunk from a bar fight to the hospital,
teeth knocked out like spilled Chicklets,
cussing and swearing to beat-the-band,
to have another member of the crew say
“by the way, I’d like you to meet Reverend Goddard…”
I secretly delight in self-imposed guilt.
At the daily conclusion of Vacation Bible School
For 300 village children in Nicaragua,
We would team up
And hand out a small, sugar-coated roll
To each excited, squealing child.
To you or me
A roll would be
Just a roll.
To these children,
it was their daily bread.
I looked to
My fellow missionary traveler
Handing out rolls
And saw his face and tears when he
Realized he had enough spare money in his wallet
To feed 300 for a year.
Guilt has it’s place.
I realize guilt convicts.
I know that I’m unable
to sit on my holier-than-though, high horse for too long.
I put my pants on just like everyone else,
one leg at a time.
I know myself well enough
to recognize that
I am a sinner, no better, and no worse, than anyone else.
I have fallen short of God’s expectations and
I beg mercy and redemption before a benevolent, gracious God.
Guilty as charged.
Convicted of my sins.
I have no excuse,
Only confession.
There is no moral high ground here.
There is no pontifical, episcopal, or ordained protection
from the wages of sin.
Ordination doesn’t grant me a “Get out of jail free” card.
Neither is there safety
simply because you might be a Christian,
or in the failed attempt to lead a righteous life.
I applaud you for your effort;
but I know better.
Not only are we united by our common baptism,
but we are also united by our common sin.
Jesus said, “I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (Matthew 9:13)
I know that everyone of you is a sinner, because I am one, too.
Sinners come to church,
often led by the hand
by well-meaning parents.
Many do not come willingly.
Some may have put up a fight just an hour ago.
“I don’t want to go to church. Why do I have to go to church?
No one else from school is at church.
I hate church!”
But a rule is a rule,
so here you are,
arms folded,
brows furrowed,
determined not to get anything out of it.
“I’m here, but I don’t have to like it.”
Jesus said, “I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (Matthew 9:13)
Sinners come to church,
motivated by guilt or family pressure.
Out with friends last night until a late hour
– or early hour –
the incongruity between the party last night
and the service this morning is striking.
The posture is impossible to miss:
slouched rolled shoulders,
downcast eyes, queasy light headedness.
Thoughts are mostly “I just want this to be over with.”
Jesus said, “I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (Matthew 9:13)
Sinners come to church,
motivated by good intentions and true desire,
only to experience troubling thoughts.
Sin that’s deep, dark, and carnal.
Have you ever had a dirty thought during worship?
I have.
In the midst of sacred worship,
a thought turns to something that you are not supposed to think about,
and I certainly am forbidden to say.
Hormone driven thoughts lead to shame and fear
that God might be eavesdropping.
“Oh, my goodness! What’s wrong with my filthy mind?!”
Jesus said, “I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (Matthew 9:13)
Sinners come to church,
filled with new ideas,
calling into question
what is taught
and what they used to believe.
Youth challenging authority- Shocking!
Perhaps they don’t believe in God after all.
Perhaps this is a sham, a lie, a farce and no one should be here.
Organized religion is nothing more than organized crime.
It’s all a bunch of hooey!
Despite a newfound freedom to question,
most remain slaves to sin,
and like everyone else,
love to roll in the muck
with the pigs.
Jesus said, “I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (Matthew 9:13)
Sinners come to church,
upright and proper,
heads of the household,
respected members of the community,
who put on their Sunday’s best,
hoping to reflect an unblemished exterior.
But deep inside, all are wondering.
Wondering about those marriage vows.
Break them?
Who would know?
Wondering about children.
Is it right to bring innocent children into this world?
Who better to raise a bunch of sinners than sinners?
Wondering about …
the IRS return,
the little white lie on the timecard, or
the office supplies that make their way home.
Jesus said, “I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (Matthew 9:13)
Sinners come to church,
Elders pushing a walker or sporting a cane.
Middle aged …
Many have put on weight,
balding or graying,
divorced, depressed, or simply disillusioned.
starting to become a little ragged around the edges.
Life isn’t turning out like
What was expected thirty or forty years ago.
Youthful indiscretions securely vaulted and locked away in the past.
Aches and pains,
behind closed doors, belching (farting) and
belly-aching about every new twinge or pull,
all-the-while failing to follow the doctor’s advice.
A little too much wine with dinner,
a credit card overextended,
growing anxieties,
grown up kids who won’t move out.
Good old,
middle of the road,
over-insured, middle-aged sinners.
Jesus said, “I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (Matthew 9:13)
All kinds of sinners walk through the door of the church.
Some walking slowly,
stooped with age,
others running,
giggling, and paying no attention
to what anyone else might think.
Some have lost the sin of ambition, and
in its place are yielding to the sins of
despair, disappointment, resentment, or finality.
Some sinners come to church
wearing shoes made by children in sweat shops,
wearing clothing that is made by virtual slaves in developing world countries.
Some ate breakfast this morning
Mindful of those who have no breakfast,
While others come to know the injustice of global food distribution.
My consumption comes at the expense of others.
When I eat,
I force hunger on others.
Some sinners care …
but do nothing.
Other sinners could care less.
Jesus said, “I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (Matthew 9:13)
I’m the first to admit that
the biggest sinner might be the preacher,
the one who leads,
the one who does all the talking,
the spiritual shepherd of the flock.
It is far easier to do as I say,
not as I do.
Some may lift the office to a higher plane,
but I know that reverend is nothing more than a title,
and it doesn’t cut too deep.
We all come and close the door behind us.
There is no one without sin.
Not a one.
No one bears any more guilt than anyone else.
When it comes to sin
Size doesn’t matter.
We’re all in this together.
And Jesus walks into our life and says,
“Follow me, sinner. Follow me.”
Jesus Christ came into this world to save sinners!
“And suddenly
a leader of the synagogue came to Jesus.”
Jesus Christ came into this world to save sinners!
“And suddenly
a woman reached out and touched his garment.”
Jesus Christ came into this world to save sinners!
And suddenly,
oh, so suddenly,
you and me,
we find our voice.
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,
that saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost,
but now am found,
was blind but now I see.”
“I’d like to come and dine at your table today,”
the Savior says, point directly at us.
So, gather we must,
around this table of God’s grace.
There is plenty of room for every sinner.
Make sure we make room for the Savior.
Would you just take a look
at the company Jesus keeps?
Outrageous …
Scandalous …
Amazing …
… just like God’s grace
The Word of the Lord,
as it has come to me.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.








