Jesus and the “Let Them Theory”
The cross is where the full force of holy love confronted the world’s sin—and did not turn aside…

The cross is where the full force of holy love confronted the world’s sin—and did not turn aside…
Listen to Pastor Chris Tuttle’s sermon at St. John’s Park Slope
The faith Jesus gives us frees us to give, stills our fears, and leaves tomorrow in God’s hands…
Christ didn’t wait for me to grow out of my self-concern. He died for me in the middle of it. And even though I return to it again and again— he loves me still…
Jesus doesn’t tell these stories to explain away unanswered prayer. He tells them to anchor us in who God is—when the silence shakes our trust.
Jesus didn’t wait for us to be focused, quiet, and full of devotion. He came while we were still anxious, distracted, and fuming over someone else’s behavior. It was when we were furthest from where we should’ve been – that he drew near…
While we were busy drawing lines, Christ crossed the road to reach us…
Traveling light isn’t a strategy—it’s a posture. One that says: our authority isn’t in what we bring, but in the Word we bear…
He would rather take the fire upon himself than let it fall on us…
The One who cannot be controlled has come not to overpower us, but to be with us—and for us…
Today is Trinity Sunday, and let’s be honest: the Trinity can feel like the ultimate abstraction. But what we believe about Jesus can be the difference between trying to earn love and learning to trust it…
At Pentecost, the Spirit rushes in like a mighty wind. Not to erase Babel, but to redeem it. The rift we couldn’t fix—God does…
Prayer is asking for what we do not have and cannot create. When Jesus prays for us, he's asking the Father to do what only God can do — to make a way out of no way…
The Ascension isn't a departure at all—it's the fulfillment of the Incarnation. In Jesus, God became human. In the Ascension, humanity is taken up into God…
real transformation rarely begins when we treat it like a test to pass. It begins when we realize we don’t have to change to be loved. We are loved already. And that—paradoxically—is what makes change possible…
How has Jesus loved them? He’s just washed their feet. Including Judas’s. He’s fed them all, including the ones who will abandon him. Peter will deny him three times before sunrise. The rest will scatter. Jesus knows this—and he loves them still…
We don’t hear the Shepherd because we’re good at searching. We hear him because he’s already come looking for us…
The Resurrection doesn’t erase Peter’s past. It transforms it. The place of his greatest shame becomes the place of his greatest calling…
This morning’s Gospel picks up where Easter left off. Mary Magdalene: “I have seen the Lord.” But they don’t respond with joy. They lock the doors. They’re afraid—of the authorities, yes. But maybe also of what Mary’s words could mean. To the Romans, Jesus was an insurrectionist. To the religious leaders, a blasphemer. To the disciples, he had been everything—and they had failed him…
"The Resurrection gives birth to hope—a living hope—resilient enough to withstand the pull of nihilism, apathy, and despair. The kind of hopelessness that creeps in when we contemplate oblivion—when we fear that nothing means anything at all. Our God has acted—and he promises to act again. He will bring evil, suffering, and loss to an end, once and for all. And this is the greatest hope..."
In the Passion accounts of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, we encounter Jesus as profoundly human—a suffering servant burdened by grief and despair. We see his agony, his tears, his desperate plea as he faces betrayal and abandonment. And we mourn for him—not only for what he suffered, but because we know he endured it all for us. Yet when we turn to John’s account, sorrow doesn’t take center stage. Instead, Christ’s divine majesty shines through…
Jesus didn’t just give us a model of service. He stooped to wash the feet of sinners—feet that would flee in fear, feet that would deny him by a charcoal fire, feet that would falter and doubt. He washed them all. And he washes us still.
Palm Sunday doesn’t just tell us what happened to Jesus. It tells us the truth about ourselves. And yet—thank God—it doesn’t stop there. The service doesn’t just reveal our complicity in the world’s brokenness. It shows how far God will go to meet us in it.
Mary’s extravagant love foreshadowed Christ’s—poured out on the Cross, overcoming the stench of death just as her perfume erased the odor of Lazarus’ tomb…
The good news of the gospel is that Christ died for the ungodly—not just for the obviously self-destructive but also for the subtly sanctimonious. The challenge for older-brother types like me is this: will we cling to our self-righteousness like a weapon, or will we lower our defenses, unclench our fists, and step into the celebration?
If you catch yourself, like the disciples, believing you’re better than others, repent — Jesus died for Pharisees too. And if you’re weary, burdened by suffering, or crushed under the weight of your own mistakes, know this: you are not abandoned. Christ dwells with us, even in the wreckage of our fallen towers…
If Herod is a fox—scheming, grasping, ruling by fear—then Jesus is a mother hen, gathering, shielding, laying down his life in love. One takes life; the other gives it. And the best part? This mother hen spreads her wings not just for the chicks, but for the foxes too. For Herod. For us…
Our faith will be tested. We’ll feel the pull to hoard, to control, to chase comfort at any cost. And if we’re honest, we won’t always resist. But take heart—our failures don’t have the final word. Despite our faithlessness, God’s faithfulness endures—absolving, restoring, and strengthening us to begin again…
Christ laid down his life for us before we ever thought about repenting…
“We do not serve an aloof God—or one who merely knows our pain. We follow a compassionate Lord who stepped into our deepest grief—and can be trusted to undo it…”