CAN YOU SEE IT?

September 7, 2025 • Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Scripture Lesson: Psalm 1 (NRSVUE), Isaiah 43:16-21 (adapted from NRSVUE)
Katie Reimer, Executive Director, World Day of Prayer International
Chair of Personnel Committee, Church of the Village

[You can view the full worship video recording at: https://youtu.be/DLWQpSxe3dw]

If you were here last Sunday, you might recall
that K did some rhyming to inspire us all.
And since my last name is Reimer, you see,
I thought I'd try some rhyming - so please bear with me!

Let me ask you this morning, with rhythm and beat:
Can you see the new thing growing under your feet?
When the world seems broken and change seems slow,
can you spot the new shoots beginning to show?

When the news makes you weary and hope feels thin,
can you see the new life about to begin?
When your church is in transition and nothing feels sure,
can you see the new thing that will help us endure?

The prophet Isaiah had a question like this,
he said "Look around you - there is hope in our midst!
God is changing hearts and minds, God is lifting up the queer,
it is sprouting right now, it is drawing near!"

So that's our question this morning, my friends,
can you see there is a way where the broken heart mends?
Can you see there is a path through the terror and the grief?
Can you see it? God's promise of relief?

Can you see it? That is what we'll explore today,
as we learn to persist along the way.

I want to tell you a story about someone named Helen Ryde. Helen got in their car one day to drive from their home in North Carolina to St. Louis, Missouri. The year was 2019, and the United Methodist Church was gathering for a Special Session of the General Conference following a breakdown in the previous General Conference in 2016.

You see, for decades, the United Methodist Church had discriminated against LGBTQIA+ persons. But growing acts of civil disobedience and pressure from advocates had begun to disrupt business as usual.

And so, in 2016, the UMC decided to call a Special Session of the General Conference in 2019 to address just this question.

As Helen got into their car that day, they knew that this 2019 Special General Conference might just be the moment when the church would finally change course. And so Helen decided to make the drive to North Carolina to St. Louis, Missouri, into a prayer pilgrimage. Helen stopped at 35 churches along the way. And at each church, Helen prayed and left a letter expressing their hopes for the UMC and their prayers for that congregation and for all the LGBTQIA+ people who had been present in that space over the years.

But the 2019 General Conference was devastating. Instead of moving towards inclusion, the delegates at that conference passed even more restrictive and harmful legislation against LGBTQ+ people. And after that long prayer pilgrimage drive, stopping at 35 churches, Helen watched the church they loved double down on discrimination.

And yet, Helen could still see it. Helen could still see that God was at work among the people called United Methodists, still calling a new thing into being.

Five years later, 2024, Helen was preparing for the next General Conference in April, this time in Charlotte, North Carolina. In a sermon called "Fools & Laggards," Helen shares the story of how, in February of that year, Helen decided to retrace that earlier journey of 2019 on a trip they were making from St. Louis back to their home in Lake Junaluska, North Carolina. And Helen drove the exact same route, taking the back roads to visit those same 35 churches.

But this time, Helen reached out to pastors and congregants along the way. This time, Helen carried not just letters, but leaflets from the Parents Reconciling Network offering support to families of LGBTQ+ persons. And this time, Helen even engaged in conversations with churches who were not affirming, planting seeds of love and possibility.

Helen Ryde could see it. Even after the devastating setbacks of 2019, Helen Ryde could see it. Helen could see that God was steadily, stubbornly, persistently changing hearts and minds.

I've been thinking a lot about Helen this week because we received the news that they unexpectedly passed away about a week ago. I only knew Helen for a short time - I met them at the 2024 General Conference in Charlotte, North Carolina, where Helen was organizing the Queer Delegate Caucus. Even after disappointments and setbacks, Helen was still working, still believing, still seeing the new thing that God was doing among us.

I’m going to invite Bailey to share a picture on the screen. Helen is the person the light blue shirt. And in that picture (yes, that’s Jorge next to them) you can see Helen amidst a crowd of people. This was right after that moment at the 2024 General Conference, when after decades of working, the UMC delegates finally voted to remove the harmful language against LGBTQ people. Look at Helen in that picture. You can see somebody who lived to see that moment after years of believing and hoping and working, despite those setbacks and disappointments along the way.

In the outpouring of messages about Helen on Facebook over this past week, it has become clear to me that Helen could see the new thing God was doing long before that amazing moment. Even when 2019 devastated so many of us. Even when Helen ran across churches along the way from St. Louis, Missouri to North Carolina who were not affirming.

When God was asking Helen Ryde along that painful journey - "Can you see it?", Helen's answer, again and again, was yes. Yes, I can see it.

Helen's story brings us directly to the heart of what Isaiah is asking us to see.

I want to look again at those words from Isaiah before we jump too quickly to answer that question "Can you see it?"

So let’s listen again to those words from God, as recorded in Isaiah:

"Do not remember the former things or consider the things of old.
I am about to do a new thing;
now it springs forth; do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert."

So the first challenge God gives is this: "Do not remember the former things." Don't look back.

And I think that this might be the hardest part of all. Because we are people who carry trauma in our bodies. We remember the ways things have gone wrong before.

When someone says "trust the process," our nervous systems remember every time the process failed us.

When someone says "just have faith in institution," our bodies remember every time institutions betrayed us.

When someone says “just give him a chance” about a man who bragged about sexual assault and still got elected president of the United States, many of us want to curl up and weep.

God is asking us to do something that feels almost impossible: to not let the former things determine what we can see in this present moment.

I don’t think that this is about pretending that trauma didn't happen or bypassing the healing process. In fact, going through the healing process is the way we can see other things emerge. I think it’s about not letting that trauma and pain have the last word. It’s about not letting past wounds be the only lens through which we can see the present.

The second claim God makes is this: "I will make a way in the wilderness."

God promises to make a way. But it’s important to note that God does not say "I will end the wilderness." God does not say "I will pick you up and rescue you from that wilderness." But God says "I will make a way through it."

God's promise is not that the hard times will disappear overnight. God's promise is that there will be a path forward, even through the most barren and hostile terrain.

This is crucial for us to understand because we live in a culture and a time that promises quick fixes and instant transformation. We want the deportations to stop immediately. We want trans kids to be safe tomorrow. We want our church finances to be resolved by last Tuesday.

But Isaiah is telling us that God's timeline isn't our anxiety's timeline. God makes a way, but that way is not magic, and that way is not a Hallmark movie.

And then God makes the most audacious claim of all: "The wild animals will honor me, the jackals and the ostriches; for I give water in the wilderness, rivers in the desert."

The wild animals? Really? Even the wild animals will honor God's work? Even the forces that seem the most chaotic and destructive will ultimately serve this transformation? Really?

But yes, that is what God is claiming: that the path through wilderness is so comprehensive and so persistent and so relentless, that eventually even the most vicious among us will find themselves participating in the flourishing of life.

This does not mean we sit back and wait for hearts to change. It means we trust our work of building beloved community. It means that we persist in showing up for justice, in disrupting white supremacy. It means that we refuse to let hatred have the last word. All of this is how God makes ways through wilderness. And sometimes, in ways we can't predict or control, even the opposition ends up serving the cause of love.

The question Isaiah is asking us is this: Can you see this kind of transformation happening, even when it's gradual, even when it's partial, even when it requires more faith than you think you have?

So how do we learn to see like Helen? How do we develop the spiritual vision to recognize, and then participate in God's slow, persistent work of transformation?

Let me share some examples of what this looks like - starting with the United Methodist Church itself.

The UMC's journey towards removing harmful language against LGBTQ+ persons didn't happen overnight. It took decades of people like Helen engaging in civil disobedience. It took countless conversations in church basements. It took years of painful General Conferences. It took hundreds of clergy coming out of the closet and risking their credentials. It took thousands of more clergy willing to risk their careers to perform same-sex weddings. And it took countless laypeople refusing to let their churches exclude them, their children and their neighbors. The victory we celebrated in 2024 was the result of this persistent and stubborn work that kept growing like grass through concrete.

Can you see it?

The same is true for another historic decision that the UMC just made. In that same 2024 General Conference, the UMC adopted a resolution calling for divestment from the government bonds of Israel, Turkey, and Morocco due to their prolonged, illegal military occupations of Palestine, Northern Cyprus, and Western Sahara. And just last month, in August of 2025, Wespath - the UMC's investment agency - announced that they would fulfill this divestment resolution, making the United Methodist Church the world's first major Christian denomination to divest from Israeli government bonds.

And that, my friends, did not happen overnight. It was the result of years of persistent work by United Methodists, by United Methodists for Kairos Response, responding to the call from Palestinian Christians. It took fifteen years of church-wide education, grassroots mobilization, countless conversations, and refusing to let the church ignore the suffering of Palestinians. Small steps over decades of persistence.

Can you see it?

And here at Church of the Village, if we have the eyes to see it, the new thing is sprouting all around us.

Because of the amazing work of our Nominations committee, led by Pastor Alexis, our Trustees have three new amazing leaders step up in the last few years - Duane, John Wesley, and Kelsey - all bringing fresh perspectives and energy to the important work of caring for our building and resources.

Can you see it?

Rod Kennedy has started conducting oral interviews with people in this community to help amplify and tell the story of God's transforming work over the decades in this very place.

Can you see it?

In the past month, I've had meals with Ashley and with Liz, two new people who started coming here in July and have quickly become part of this faith community. And just last week, Ashley sang in the choir for the first time. And this week, Liz is in the choir for the first time, and singing a solo later in the service.

Can you see it?

After working for years to get a written agreement in place with the Red Door Place - the feeding ministry that was birthed from the love of Church of the Village members - we finally have that contract signed and a stronger relationship between our organizations.

Can you see it?

After years of praying for support for our Stream Team, with Sarah Witman carrying the load for so long, Olive Brinker came out of nowhere, joined the team and then transitioned into the coordinator role, giving Sarah the relief she needed after so many years of doing that work.

Can you see it?

I know how tempting it is to think that these things all feel small in the face of the genocide of Palestinians, and mass deportations in the United States. I know it’s tempting to say that these things are insignificant in the face of the systematic erasure of trans lives. I know it’s tempting to feel like these things are not enough when democracy itself seems to be hanging by a thread.

But what if the problem is not that these signs are too small, but that we've been trained to think that transformation only counts if it's dramatic and immediate? What if dismissing these signs of life as "not enough" is actually missing how divine transformation usually happens?

The work of God can appear dramatic and immediate at times, but the journey to those moments is slow and steady and persistent and stubborn. Like the grass growing through the sidewalk that keeps going despite the formidable concrete. Like the ocean waves that wear down boulders over centuries.

The work of God is not dramatic. It is not fast. But it is relentless. It is stubborn. It is persistent. And when we learn to see it, we’ll discover that the new thing is already growing all around us. And once we can see it, we can join it. And here’s the remarkable thing - when we join it, we actually become the way through the desert.

Today is the beginning of a new worship series called “Becoming the Church We’re Called To Be.” In this series, we will be hearing from many lay preachers in our community. Each preacher will bring a different lens - a unique way of seeing what God is already doing among us. I don’t know about you, but I am excited for the next two months, for the vision that is unfolding for such a time as this.

In times like the ones we are facing, it's natural to want God to work faster. We want the suffering to end immediately. We want our church to be financially sustainable by next week. We want the political nightmare to be over tomorrow.

But God does not promise to end the wilderness overnight. God promises to make a way through it. Rivers in the desert. A path through the wasteland.

Not around it. Not past it. Through it.

And this way-making happens not through dramatic interventions but through the persistent sprouting up of life in unexpected places.

It happens through queer United Methodists’ decades-long struggle for transformative change. It happens through people joining the choir and stepping up to lead a team. It happens through our Trustees finding new energy. It happens through oral histories being recorded. And it happens through feeding ministries finding their footing.

The question for us is whether we can trust it. Whether we can trust God’s persistent and relentless work in this world. Whether we can see that transformation that unfolds slowly, that requires patience, and that builds relationships rather than headlines. Whether we can persist when change feels too small and hope feels too fragile.

Helen Ryde and so many other queer and affirming United Methodists could see it. We kept showing up, we kept organizing, we kept trusting that God was making a way.

And every single act of persistence, every choice to keep showing up, every decision to trust the slow work of love - all of this participates in God's making a way through the wilderness. We don't have to wait for the outcome to be part of the transformation. We have to become the way.

So let me ask you once more, as we close this time,
Will you refuse to let darkness steal our rhyme?

What do you see? When hope feels delayed?
What do you see? The path being made?
What do you see? In small acts of care?
What do you see? In love that we share?

Will you join it? The new thing to come?
Will you join it? Although the work is never done?
Will you join it? In this work of repair?
Will you join it? Show the world that we care?

Copyright (c) 2025 - Katie Reimer
All rights reserved.