The Rev’d Ivica Gregurec

Sunday, 14 June 2026, Ordinary 11, Year A

Readings: Exodus 19:2-8a; Psalm 100; Romans 5:1-8; Matthew 9:35-10:8

We live in a world that often feels fragmented: divided by politics, inequality, loneliness, and fear. So often I almost despair at the inability of those responsible to try to bridge the gap and differences and act together for the common good. That then, in a polarised world or society, give oxygen for extreme opinions to enter into mainstream conversation, contributing to even further division. Consequently, many of us long for a sense of belonging, for a place where we are truly seen, known, and valued. Today’s readings speak directly to this longing. They reveal a God who does not stand at a distance but draws near, who calls us into a relationship of love, and who sends us out to share that love with others. It is a call to us as a Church, a call that we, if we are sincere, often fail, but which is ongoingly our goal and aspiration.

In Exodus, we hear God’s words to Moses: ‘You have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself’. This is not the voice of a distant deity but of a God who acts on our behalf, who rescues us from what enslaves us, and who invites us into a covenant of love. The people of the old Israel were not chosen because they were powerful or perfect. They were chosen because God desired to be in relationship with them. That is why that has become a model for God’s love for all humanity. And the same is true for us. God does not wait for us to have it all together before drawing near. We would then probably wait until the day of judgement – in the afternoon! God meets us where we are, in our brokenness, in our longing, and says: You are mine.

The response to this divine love is found in Psalm 100: ‘Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all you lands. Serve the Lord with gladness; come into God’s presence with a song’. This is not a call to forced happiness or empty positivity, but an invitation to worship with our whole selves, with our joys, our sorrows, our doubts, and hopes. The psalmist reminds us that we are not strangers or outsiders, but a people who belong to God. In a world where so many feel isolated or invisible, this is good news: You are not alone. You are not forgotten. You are God’s own.

This joy is expressed in the beauty of our liturgy, the sacraments, and the community we share. When we gather for worship, we are not just going through the motions. We are practicing belonging, reminding one another that we are part of something greater than ourselves. Whether it is in the quiet of personal prayer, the singing of hymns, or the sharing of the Eucharist, we are drawn into the presence of a God who delights in us.

In his letter to the Romans, Paul takes this idea further. He writes: ‘Since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand’. Justification is not about earning God’s love through perfect behaviour. It is about receiving God’s love as a gift, a love that transforms us from the inside out. This love is not just for our personal comfort; it is a love that spills over into our lives and relationships.
Paul goes on to say that ‘God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit’. This is not a love that we muster up on our own. It is a love that is given to us, a love that enables us to face the challenges of life with hope. In a world that often feels cold and indifferent, this is a radical claim: You are loved, not because of what you do or achieve, but simply because you are God’s. Similar sentiment expressed contemporary Franciscan author, Fr Richard Rohr, whose thoughts I shared this week in my reflection in the Parish Notices.

St Augustine of Hippo once wrote: ‘God loves each of us as if there were only one of us to love’. This love is not abstract. It is the love that meets us in our suffering, our doubts, and our struggles, and it is the love that sends us out to share that same love with others.
This love finds its fullest expression in the Gospel of Matthew, where we see Jesus ‘going about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness’. What moves Jesus is not indifference but compassion. The crowds are described as ‘harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd’. And Jesus responds not with judgment but with healing, not with exclusion but with inclusion.

Then, in a moment of profound trust, Jesus turns to his disciples and says: ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest’. He sends them out with a mission: ‘Proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near. Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment’’.
This is our mission too. In a world where so many are hurting, whether from illness, loneliness, injustice, or despair, we are called to be agents of healing and hope. This does not mean we have to have all the answers or fix every problem. I am, in fact, by nature distrustful of those who speak in great certainties and have all right (often simplified) answers on big questions. It means we are called to show up, to listen, to care, and to share the love we have received.

The Rev. Dr Sam Wells, an Anglican priest and theologian, vicar of St Martin-in-the-fields in London, who spoke last year at our Diocesan Ministry Conference, reflects on this mission in his book ‘A Nazareth Manifesto’. He writes: ‘The Church is not called to be a provider of religious goods and services but a community that lives out the story of God’s love in such a way that the world is drawn into that story’.
Wells reminds us that our mission is not about programmes or perfection. It is about living out the love of Christ in our everyday lives in our homes, our workplaces, our communities, and our world.

Let me leave you with a simple thought. The God we worship is a God who draws near, who calls us to belong, and who sends us out in love. This is a reality that shapes how we live, not just a wishful thought.
Think about the small, everyday acts of love that make a difference: the phone call to a friend who is struggling, the meal shared with someone who is hungry, the kind word offered to a stranger. These are not grand gestures, but they are sacred acts, ways we participate in God’s mission of healing and hope.

In the Eucharist, we are reminded of this mission. As we receive the bread and wine, we are nourished not just for our own sake but so that we might go out and nourish others. We are sent out as a people who belong to God and who are called to share that belonging with the world.

As we go forth today, let us remember that we are a people called by love, transformed by love, and sent out in love. We are reminded that we belong to God and to one another. And we are called to share that belonging with all who long for it.
In the words of St. Gregory of Nazianzus, an early Church Father: ‘The most powerful thing in the world is the love of God, which has no end and no limit’. This love is not just for us. It is for the world and we are the ones called to share it.

May we go forth as a people who know we are loved, who live with joy, and who share that love with all we meet.
Amen.