I press on to make it my own
Lessons, Proper 22A: Isaiah 5:1-7; Psalm 80:7-14; Philippians 3:4b-14; Matthew 21:33-46
The vineyard parable in Matthew 21 is never gentle. Jesus takes up Isaiah’s old warning and places it squarely before the chief priests and elders: God’s vineyard has been entrusted to stewards who have forgotten both the Giver and the purpose of the gift. They grasp, they guard, they exclude, and finally they reject the very Son sent to reconcile them. The tragedy of the parable is not simply violence; it is the refusal to recognize that everything—land, life, covenant, mercy—was given so that God’s people might bear fruit worthy of love.
Paul, writing to the Philippians, knows this danger well. He refuses to imagine that he has “already obtained” the fullness of Christ or “already reached the goal.” Instead, he presses on—not out of anxiety, but because Christ Jesus has made him his own. That single line is the heartbeat of Christian perseverance. Paul does not strive to earn belonging; he strives because he already belongs. His life becomes a long, steady movement toward the One who has already embraced him.
Saint Francis of Assisi understood this movement with luminous clarity. Francis pressed on—not toward achievement, but toward Christ‑shaped simplicity, mercy, and joy. He relinquished status and privilege not as punishment but as a way of clearing the ground so that love could flourish and grow freely. He saw kinship where others saw hierarchy. He saw brothers and sisters where others saw strangers. He saw a world shimmering with God’s presence, a vineyard overflowing with possibility. And he believed the fruit God desires is always love, always mercy, always welcome.
These readings and Francis’s feast meet us with a gentle but insistent question: What kind of stewards are we becoming? Are we pressing on toward Christ because we know we belong to him? Or are we clinging to the vineyard as though it were ours to control?
This week – today – I will stand at the Rainbow Roots Festival to celebrate dignity, inclusion, and welcome, and I will carry these Bible narratives and the story of Francis with me. The festival’s very spirit echoes Francis’s wide‑open joy and Paul’s conviction that Christ has already claimed us. Rainbow Roots is its own vineyard moment: a chance to bear fruit that honors the God who delights in human diversity and gathers people of every background into one beloved community.
The parable warns against the temptation to become gatekeepers of God’s grace. The festival invites us to practice the opposite: to cultivate spaces where people are seen, cherished, and safe; to honor the image of God in neighbors whose stories differ from our own; to celebrate the beauty of human lives too often pushed to the margins. This is not a departure from the gospel—it is the gospel lived out loud.
Paul’s words remind us why this matters. “I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own.” When we know we belong to Christ, we can stop guarding the vineyard and start tending it. We can stop worrying about who deserves welcome and start practicing welcome as the natural fruit of grace—through daily reconciliation, Franciscan joy, honoring dignity, and pressing on in hope.
The vineyard belongs to God. The calling belongs to us. And the grace that makes any of this possible belongs to Christ, who has made us his own.
So how do we live this out?
Practice daily reconciliation—Recofnciliation is rarely dramatic; most days it looks like choosing patience over irritation, curiosity over defensiveness, and truth spoken with tenderness rather than sharpness. In families, workplaces, and parish life, this means slowing down enough to hear one another without rushing to judgment. It means naming hurt before it calcifies, and forgiving others before resentment becomes a habit. The gospel insists that repairing relationships is not an optional spiritual exercise—it is the daily craftsmanship of Christian maturity. Every small act of mending becomes a sign that Christ is still at work in us, pressing us toward the wholeness he desires for his people.
Cultivate Franciscan joy—Francis’s joy was not naïve; it was rooted in the deep freedom of knowing that he belonged to Christ. His delight in creation, in community, and in the simplest gifts of life flowed from a heart unburdened by comparison or competition. To cultivate Franciscan joy today is to practice gratitude deliberately—to notice beauty, to savor kindness, to celebrate the goodness of God wherever it appears. It is to let go of the myth that our worth depends on our achievement, and instead to rest in the sheer gift of being God’s beloved. Not as some escapist mentality; but in a way that gives us strength and resilience to face the world’s pain without losing hope.
Honor human dignity—Honoring dignity begins with seeing people as bearing the divine image, always worthy of respect and capable of receiving grace. It means listening to stories that differ from our own, standing alongside neighbors whose lives have been dismissed or diminished, and refusing to participate in systems or institutions that wound or exclude. Our presence at the Rainbow Roots Festival is a public witness to this commitment. It says that the church’s welcome is not theoretical; it is embodied. It is wide, sincere, and grounded in Christ’s own embrace of every person. When we honor dignity, we tend God’s vineyard with generosity, ensuring that no one is left outside the circle of care.
Press on in hope—Paul’s words remind us that Christian perseverance is not about earning God’s approval. We press on because Christ has already claimed us. Hope becomes the engine of our discipleship—the quiet, steady confidence that God is not finished with us or with the world. Pressing on means continuing to love when it would be easier to withdraw, continuing to serve when fatigue sets in, continuing to trust that God’s future is larger than our present. This hope is not wishful thinking; it is the fruit of belonging. Because Christ has made us his own, we can move forward with courage, tenderness, and joy.
The vineyard belongs to God. The calling belongs to us. And the grace that makes any of this possible belongs to Christ, who has made us his own.
As we celebrate Saint Francis, as we hear Paul’s encouragement, as we listen to Jesus’s parable, and as we join our neighbors at Rainbow Roots, may we press on with courage and tenderness. May we bear fruit that reflects the wideness of God’s mercy. And may our lives—individually and as a parish—become a living testimony that Christ’s welcome is real, expansive, and meant for all.
Comments