The Sacred Stitch: Mending God's World Together

A Sermon for the 16th Sunday after Trinity

Isaiah 58:7-12
In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

It is a joy and a privilege to stand before you today, not just as one congregation, but as a new family—a joint parish, born from the faithful histories of St. John’s here in King William’s Town and St. Crucis in Beacon Bay. We bring together different stories, different memories, different ways of doing things. And in the midst of this new beginning, it would be natural to ask: “Who are we now? What is God calling us to be?”

Our reading from the prophet Isaiah provides the answer with breathtaking clarity. It is a word for a people emerging from exile, a people trying to rebuild. And that is precisely our situation. We are not in exile, thanks be to God, but we are in a season of rebuilding, of forging a new identity. And God, through Isaiah, tells us that our identity, our light, and our future glory will not be found in mere religious observance, but in a particular kind of action.

The chapter begins with God chastising His people for fasting and seeking Him, while ignoring the needs of the oppressed. They wonder why God doesn’t see their piety. And God’s response is revolutionary: “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice… to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—when you see the naked, to clothe them?”

This is the context for our text today. God defines true worship not by what we refrain from, but by what we actively do for the sake of love.

And so, as this new parish, God speaks His call to us in three powerful images from our text.

First, we are called to be a People of Proximity.

Look at the verbs: “Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—when you see the naked, to clothe them?”

This is not charity from a distance. This is not writing a cheque and feeling good. This is up-close, personal, and often messy. It is seeing the naked and clothing them. It is looking your neighbour in the eye, recognizing their need, and entering into it. It is the incarnational ministry of our Lord, who did not save us from a heavenly throne alone, but came down, dwelt among us, and got His hands dirty in the muck and mire of our human condition.

For St. John’s and St. Crucis, this means our calling is not just within these walls. It is in the streets of King William’s Town and the neighbourhoods of Beacon Bay. It is about drawing near to the lonely, the struggling, the newcomer, the one who feels invisible. Our new, combined strength is not for ourselves, but to extend our reach, to get closer to more people, to be a church known for its proximity to pain and its willingness to touch it with the love of Christ.

Second, we are called to be a Conduit of Light.

God makes an incredible promise: “Then your light will break forth like the dawn… Then your light will rise in the darkness.”

Notice it doesn’t say, “If you build a beautiful church, your light will shine.” It doesn’t say, “If you have perfect harmony and no disagreements, your light will shine.” It says, “When you spend yourselves on behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will break forth.”

Our light—our witness, our attractiveness, our very purpose—is a direct result of our outward-focused love. A lamp hidden under a basket gives no light. A church turned in on itself cannot illuminate the darkness. But a people united in the mission of Christ-like service? That light is unstoppable. It will “break forth like the dawn”—it is powerful, beautiful, and points to the coming Son. As two congregations now one, our collective light has the potential to shine brighter than ever before, a beacon of hope across this community, testifying that the love of Christ is alive and active.

Finally, we are called to be a Sacred Stitch.

This is the most beautiful image for us today. God says, “Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins and will raise up the age-old foundations; you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls, Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.”

“Repairer of Broken Walls.” What a name! In the ancient world, a broken city wall meant vulnerability, chaos, and disconnection. The “Repairer” was a hero, one who restored safety, community, and wholeness.

This is our new name as a parish. We are not called to be the “Critic of Broken Systems” or the “Bemoaner of a Changing World.” We are called to be repairers. We are the sacred stitch, the ones God uses to mend the torn fabric of our society. We mend the walls between people, between races, between classes, between the hopeless and the hopeful. We restore the streets where people live, not with bricks and mortar, but with the gospel of reconciliation, with fellowship, with practical care, with the unwavering truth that in Christ, no one is beyond repair and no community is beyond redemption.

This is hard, holy work. It will require us to “spend ourselves,” as verse 10 says. It will require sacrifice. It will require laying down our own preferences for the sake of the greater mission. It will mean that sometimes, St. John’s must think of St. Crucis, and St. Crucis must think of St. John’s, and both must together think of the world Christ died to save.

But look at the promise that follows: “The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs… You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.”

My dear friends, as we begin this journey together, let us not ask first, “What do we get out of this?” Let us ask, “How can we, together, be God’s people of proximity? How can we be a brighter conduit of His light? How can we, with our combined gifts and passions, become the ‘Repairers of Broken Walls’ for our time and our place?”

For when this is our fast, when this is our worship, when this is our mission, then our light will break forth like the dawn. Then the glory of the Lord will be our rear guard. And we will indeed be called the Repairer of Broken Walls, the Restorer of Streets to live in—a well-watered garden, a life-giving spring, for the healing of the nations and for the glory of God.

Amen.