The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 7) – June 20, 2026

There are Sundays when the readings feel like a warm embrace… gentle, comforting, full of reassurance. And then there are Sundays like this one. Jeremiah is exhausted. The psalmist is drowning in shame and sorrow. Jesus speaks of division, struggle, and the cost of discipleship. Even Paul, in Romans, talks about dying before he talks about rising.

These are not easy texts. But they are honest texts. And sometimes honesty is the most pastoral gift Scripture can give us.

Because the truth is: There are days when we feel abandoned and alone, unable to find a way out of the wilderness that surrounds us. There are days when discouragement settles in our bones, when we wonder if we will ever really make ends meet, when we fear that no matter how hard we work, it will never be enough. There are days when grief steals our words, when isolation wraps around us like a heavy blanket, when despair whispers that we have been forgotten.

And on those days, our hearts cry out to God. And the good news of these readings is simple and profound: God listens. God pays attention. God does not turn away.

Jeremiah is often called the “weeping prophet,” and today we hear why. He feels deceived, overwhelmed, mocked. He feels like God has led him into a calling that is too heavy to bear. And yet, even in his anguish, Jeremiah says, “The Lord is with me like a dread warrior.”

He doesn’t feel strong. He doesn’t feel victorious. But he trusts that God is near. Jeremiah teaches us that faith is not the absence of struggle. Faith is crying out to God in the struggle.

Psalm 69 echoes Jeremiah’s pain: “I have become a stranger to my kindred… Answer me, O Lord, for your steadfast love is good.”

The psalmist feels isolated, misunderstood, rejected. But notice what he does with that pain: He brings it to God. He doesn’t hide it. He doesn’t pretend everything is fine. He doesn’t offer a polished prayer. He offers his heart… raw, honest, unfiltered.

And God listens.

In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus speaks words that can unsettle us: “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.”

He’s not calling for violence. He’s naming the reality that following him will sometimes put us at odds with the world around us—even with people we love. Living the gospel—living compassion, justice, mercy, truth—will not always be easy or popular.

But Jesus also says something else: “Do not be afraid. You are of more value than many sparrows.” In other words: You are seen. You are known. You are held. Even when discipleship is costly, even when life is heavy, even when the path is unclear, God does not lose track of you.

Paul, in Romans, brings the final word we need today: “If we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him.” Paul is not talking about physical death alone. He’s talking about all the little deaths we experience— the death of hope, the death of confidence, the death of joy, the death of certainty.

And Paul says: None of those deaths get the last word. Resurrection does. God listens to our cries not simply to comfort us, but to lead us toward life.

If we listen closely, all four readings whisper the same truth: You are not alone. God knows where you are. God listens to the cries of your heart.

When you feel abandoned, God listens. When you feel discouraged, God listens. When you feel lost, God pays attention. And because God listens to us, we are called to listen to one another.

To be the kind of community where no one’s pain is ignored, where no one’s grief is minimized, where no one’s fear is dismissed.

To be the kind of community where we help one another find the “cool, refreshing waters” we need to continue on the journey.

So what do we do with these heavy, honest readings? We let them give us permission to be honest too. We let them remind us that crying out to God is not a failure of faith… it is an act of faith. We let them remind us that God’s attention is not reserved for the strong, the cheerful, or the put‑together; God listens especially to the weary, the wounded, and the worn‑down. And we let them call us into deeper compassion for one another.

Because if God listens to us, then we must listen to each other. If God pays attention to our cries, then we must pay attention to the cries around us. If God refuses to abandon us, then we must refuse to abandon one another.

So today, hear this invitation: Bring your whole self to God: your joy and your sorrow, your confidence and your fear, your gratitude and your grief. Cry out if you need to. Whisper if you can. Let your heart speak.

Because God listens. God pays attention. God knows where you are.

And as we walk this journey together, may we listen to one another with the same tenderness, the same patience, the same compassion that God shows to us. Amen.