Sermon Based on St Luke, Chapter 16, verses 1-13
+May the words of my mouth and meditation of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen
Have you seen Paddington 2? It’s one of my favourite films, and I love the books too.
If you’re unfamiliar with it, dear Paddington finds himself, through no fault of his own, in prison, wrongly accused, and separated from the family who loves him. And yet even there, he never loses his endlessly upbeat spirit. He treats everyone with dignity, with his unfailing ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ with marmalade sandwiches and polite optimism, slowly transforming even the hardest of characters. It’s the spirit Aunt Lucy sums up so simply by saying: “If we are kind and polite, the world will be right.”
And we see exactly what Aunt Lucy means in that unforgettable laundry scene. With the very best of intentions, Paddington slips a red sock into the wash with all the grey and white uniforms, when the cycle ends, out they come, every single one of them, bright pink. The whole prison suddenly clothed in candy-floss stripes.
2 / 7For a moment the inmates glare at him, their faces stern and unimpressed. But Paddington, ever himself, simply says, “I think they look rather cheerful,” and carries on with his gentle optimism.
It’s a small thing, almost nothing at all, just one little red sock, and yet it colours the whole place with unexpected brightness. And that’s where the gospel meets us today. Jesus says, “Whoever is faithful in very little is faithful also in much.” In other words, the little things matter. A single action, however small, can colour the world around us.
Faithfulness isn’t only about the grand gestures. It’s about the everyday choices we make when no one is watching; the hidden kindness, the quiet perseverance, the steady hope that can bring light even into the greyest of places. And yet we know that life is not always neat or fair. It isn’t always like a Paddington film where a red sock can brighten the whole prison. Kindness, while powerful, doesn’t take away every sorrow or undo every burden. It doesn’t stop all that life can throw at us. The world is not always ‘right,’ even when we long for it to be. But it is in those very moments - in the gap between how life is and how we wish it were - that faithfulness matters most. For it is there, that small acts of love and steadfastness become signs of God’s presence, reminders that even when the world feels wrong, God’s faithfulness endures.
3 / 7
Now, we should be honest. Today’s gospel isn’t the easiest one to make sense of. This parable of the dishonest manager has puzzled Christian thinkers for centuries. Why does Jesus tell a story about someone who cheats his master, and then appear to commend him? The greatest theologians have written page after page trying to explain it, and they don’t all agree.
But perhaps that’s not the main point for us here today. At its core, Jesus is saying something simple and practical: the little things matter. “Whoever is faithful in very little is faithful also in much.”
The manager in the story, for all his flaws, recognises a moment of crisis, and acts. He doesn’t bury his head in the sand. He doesn’t sit and do nothing. He takes what he has - small though it is - and tries to shape a better future. And Jesus turns to us and says: don’t overlook the power of the small. Because if we learn faithfulness there - in the hidden places, in the quiet decisions, in the unseen kindness - then we will be ready for the bigger challenges when they come….because they invariably will and do come.
4 / 7It’s a bit like that modern piece of wisdom you sometimes hear: if you want to live a good life, start by making your bed in the morning. It sounds trivial, but it’s about how the little things shape the bigger things. A made bed leads to a tidier room. A tidier room leads to a clearer mind. And a clearer mind helps us to face the world.
Faith is much the same. A whispered prayer while the kettle boils. A visit to a neighbour who’s lonely. A loaf of bread left for someone in need. These may seem small, almost nothing at all, but they root us in God’s way of love. And I was reminded of this at the very first funeral I took here in the benefice. Friends and neighbours quietly turned out with jam jars filled with flowers from their gardens. Just a jam jar. Just a handful of blooms. But there were so many that they lined the whole church path, creating an avenue of love and beauty for the grieving family to walk through as they came to church. A simple act, almost nothing at all, and yet it spoke more powerfully than words. That’s what faithfulness looks like: small offerings, multiplied into something holy, carrying hope where it’s most needed.
Because the truth is, if life unfolds as it does, one day we will be that person in need of the kind word, the gentle prayer, the quiet act of love that reminds us we are not alone. We are all, sooner or later, carried by5 / 7the faithfulness of others. None of us are spared the weight of sorrow, or the moments when life feels too heavy to bear.
And this community knows that only too well. As we gather here today, many are carrying sadness, illness, worry. Many feel, as someone said to me this week, ‘battered’ by all that life has thrown at them. Faithfulness doesn’t mean denying that pain. It doesn’t mean putting on a brave face. Sometimes faithfulness is simply turning up. Sometimes it is letting others carry us when we cannot carry ourselves.
Even Jesus knew this. On the night of his arrest, in the garden of Gethsemane, he asked his friends to stay awake with him, to watch and pray. He longed for their companionship, for their small act of faithfulness in his hour of need. And though they faltered, the Father’s love held him fast.
The writer Maya Angelou once said, “Try to be a rainbow in someone else’s cloud.” Just a rainbow, - not the whole sky, not the sun and moon, just a glimpse of colour that breaks through grey. That’s what those jam jars were: small rainbows of hope, on a day of grief. That’s what a kind word or a whispered prayer can be for someone who is struggling. Even6 / 7Paddington’s red sock in the wash became, in its own way, a rainbow in a grey place, colouring the prison uniforms with unexpected brightness.
Small things, almost nothing at all, and yet they can turn heaviness into hope. A rainbow in a cloud, a jam jar of flowers, a red sock that colours the grey. And if all else fails - as sometimes it invariably does – love - steadfast and certain - remains. Love that endures when words fall short. Love that waits quietly at the bedside. Love that will not let us go. Love means that in the face of all we cannot change, all we cannot fix, all we cannot carry on our own - we are carried. Carried by the prayers of others. Carried by the kindness of strangers. Carried by the everlasting arms of God.
And so we return to Jesus’ words: “Whoever is faithful in very little, is faithful also in much.” In him we see what this looks like, for he was faithful in all things - in the small acts of kindness, in the touch of healing, in the blessing of children, in the breaking of bread - and he was faithful in the great act of love, giving himself for us on the cross. And when his own time of trial came, in the garden of Gethsemane, he longed for the faithfulness of his friends - for their prayers, their presence, their watchful companionship in the night. They faltered, as we all do. But the Father’s love held him fast, and his faithfulness did not waver.
7 / 7And here, at this table, that faithfulness meets us again. Just bread. Just wine. Small things, almost nothing at all, yet in Christ, they become everything. Signs of his love for us. Pledges of his presence with us. Food for the journey that still lies ahead.
So may we go from here attentive to the little things: to the jam jars, to the rainbows, to the red socks. May we dare to believe that faithfulness in the smallest of acts, can open the door to God’s great love. And may we find, when life is hardest, and the shadows are longest, that Christ himself is faithful still - the one who carries us, the one who loves us, the one who will never let us go.
Amen
+May the words of my mouth and meditation of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen
Have you seen Paddington 2? It’s one of my favourite films, and I love the books too.
If you’re unfamiliar with it, dear Paddington finds himself, through no fault of his own, in prison, wrongly accused, and separated from the family who loves him. And yet even there, he never loses his endlessly upbeat spirit. He treats everyone with dignity, with his unfailing ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ with marmalade sandwiches and polite optimism, slowly transforming even the hardest of characters. It’s the spirit Aunt Lucy sums up so simply by saying: “If we are kind and polite, the world will be right.”
And we see exactly what Aunt Lucy means in that unforgettable laundry scene. With the very best of intentions, Paddington slips a red sock into the wash with all the grey and white uniforms, when the cycle ends, out they come, every single one of them, bright pink. The whole prison suddenly clothed in candy-floss stripes.
2 / 7For a moment the inmates glare at him, their faces stern and unimpressed. But Paddington, ever himself, simply says, “I think they look rather cheerful,” and carries on with his gentle optimism.
It’s a small thing, almost nothing at all, just one little red sock, and yet it colours the whole place with unexpected brightness. And that’s where the gospel meets us today. Jesus says, “Whoever is faithful in very little is faithful also in much.” In other words, the little things matter. A single action, however small, can colour the world around us.
Faithfulness isn’t only about the grand gestures. It’s about the everyday choices we make when no one is watching; the hidden kindness, the quiet perseverance, the steady hope that can bring light even into the greyest of places. And yet we know that life is not always neat or fair. It isn’t always like a Paddington film where a red sock can brighten the whole prison. Kindness, while powerful, doesn’t take away every sorrow or undo every burden. It doesn’t stop all that life can throw at us. The world is not always ‘right,’ even when we long for it to be. But it is in those very moments - in the gap between how life is and how we wish it were - that faithfulness matters most. For it is there, that small acts of love and steadfastness become signs of God’s presence, reminders that even when the world feels wrong, God’s faithfulness endures.
3 / 7
Now, we should be honest. Today’s gospel isn’t the easiest one to make sense of. This parable of the dishonest manager has puzzled Christian thinkers for centuries. Why does Jesus tell a story about someone who cheats his master, and then appear to commend him? The greatest theologians have written page after page trying to explain it, and they don’t all agree.
But perhaps that’s not the main point for us here today. At its core, Jesus is saying something simple and practical: the little things matter. “Whoever is faithful in very little is faithful also in much.”
The manager in the story, for all his flaws, recognises a moment of crisis, and acts. He doesn’t bury his head in the sand. He doesn’t sit and do nothing. He takes what he has - small though it is - and tries to shape a better future. And Jesus turns to us and says: don’t overlook the power of the small. Because if we learn faithfulness there - in the hidden places, in the quiet decisions, in the unseen kindness - then we will be ready for the bigger challenges when they come….because they invariably will and do come.
4 / 7It’s a bit like that modern piece of wisdom you sometimes hear: if you want to live a good life, start by making your bed in the morning. It sounds trivial, but it’s about how the little things shape the bigger things. A made bed leads to a tidier room. A tidier room leads to a clearer mind. And a clearer mind helps us to face the world.
Faith is much the same. A whispered prayer while the kettle boils. A visit to a neighbour who’s lonely. A loaf of bread left for someone in need. These may seem small, almost nothing at all, but they root us in God’s way of love. And I was reminded of this at the very first funeral I took here in the benefice. Friends and neighbours quietly turned out with jam jars filled with flowers from their gardens. Just a jam jar. Just a handful of blooms. But there were so many that they lined the whole church path, creating an avenue of love and beauty for the grieving family to walk through as they came to church. A simple act, almost nothing at all, and yet it spoke more powerfully than words. That’s what faithfulness looks like: small offerings, multiplied into something holy, carrying hope where it’s most needed.
Because the truth is, if life unfolds as it does, one day we will be that person in need of the kind word, the gentle prayer, the quiet act of love that reminds us we are not alone. We are all, sooner or later, carried by5 / 7the faithfulness of others. None of us are spared the weight of sorrow, or the moments when life feels too heavy to bear.
And this community knows that only too well. As we gather here today, many are carrying sadness, illness, worry. Many feel, as someone said to me this week, ‘battered’ by all that life has thrown at them. Faithfulness doesn’t mean denying that pain. It doesn’t mean putting on a brave face. Sometimes faithfulness is simply turning up. Sometimes it is letting others carry us when we cannot carry ourselves.
Even Jesus knew this. On the night of his arrest, in the garden of Gethsemane, he asked his friends to stay awake with him, to watch and pray. He longed for their companionship, for their small act of faithfulness in his hour of need. And though they faltered, the Father’s love held him fast.
The writer Maya Angelou once said, “Try to be a rainbow in someone else’s cloud.” Just a rainbow, - not the whole sky, not the sun and moon, just a glimpse of colour that breaks through grey. That’s what those jam jars were: small rainbows of hope, on a day of grief. That’s what a kind word or a whispered prayer can be for someone who is struggling. Even6 / 7Paddington’s red sock in the wash became, in its own way, a rainbow in a grey place, colouring the prison uniforms with unexpected brightness.
Small things, almost nothing at all, and yet they can turn heaviness into hope. A rainbow in a cloud, a jam jar of flowers, a red sock that colours the grey. And if all else fails - as sometimes it invariably does – love - steadfast and certain - remains. Love that endures when words fall short. Love that waits quietly at the bedside. Love that will not let us go. Love means that in the face of all we cannot change, all we cannot fix, all we cannot carry on our own - we are carried. Carried by the prayers of others. Carried by the kindness of strangers. Carried by the everlasting arms of God.
And so we return to Jesus’ words: “Whoever is faithful in very little, is faithful also in much.” In him we see what this looks like, for he was faithful in all things - in the small acts of kindness, in the touch of healing, in the blessing of children, in the breaking of bread - and he was faithful in the great act of love, giving himself for us on the cross. And when his own time of trial came, in the garden of Gethsemane, he longed for the faithfulness of his friends - for their prayers, their presence, their watchful companionship in the night. They faltered, as we all do. But the Father’s love held him fast, and his faithfulness did not waver.
7 / 7And here, at this table, that faithfulness meets us again. Just bread. Just wine. Small things, almost nothing at all, yet in Christ, they become everything. Signs of his love for us. Pledges of his presence with us. Food for the journey that still lies ahead.
So may we go from here attentive to the little things: to the jam jars, to the rainbows, to the red socks. May we dare to believe that faithfulness in the smallest of acts, can open the door to God’s great love. And may we find, when life is hardest, and the shadows are longest, that Christ himself is faithful still - the one who carries us, the one who loves us, the one who will never let us go.
Amen
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