A Culture of Invitation

“A Culture of Invitation”

September 21, 2025 Cobleskill United Methodist Church, Pastor Anna Blinn Cole

Luke 15:11-32 

Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost 

A reading from the Gospel of Luke 15:11-32.  

11 Then Jesus[a] said, “There was a parent who had two children. 12 The younger of them said to his parent, ‘Give me the share of the wealth that will belong to me.’ So the parent divided their assets between them. 13 A few days later the younger child gathered all he had and traveled to a distant region, and there he squandered his wealth in dissolute living. 14 When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that region, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that region, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. 16 He would gladly have filled his stomach[b] with the pods that the pigs were eating, and no one gave him anything. 17 But when he came to his senses he said, ‘How many of my parents hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! 18 I will get up and go to my parent, and I will say, “I have sinned against heaven and before you; 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.” ’ 20 So he set off and went to his parent. But while he was still far off, his parent saw him and was filled with compassion, running and put their arms around him and kissed him. 21 Then the child said, ‘I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’[c] 22 But the loving parent said to the slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate, 24 for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate. 

25 “Now the elder child was in the field, and as they came and approached the house, there was music and dancing. 26 Calling one of the slaves, the elder child asked what was going on. 27 He replied, ‘Your sibling has come, and your parent has killed the fatted calf because he is back safe and sound.’ 28 Then the elder child became angry and refused to go in. Their parent came out and began to plead with the child. 29 But the child answered, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command, yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this other child of yours came back, who has devoured your assets, you killed the fatted calf!’ 31 Then the parent said, ‘Child, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this sibling of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’ ”

Yesterday was yard sale day in Cobleskill.  A major holiday in the calendar of thrifty people.   Also a major holiday in the calendar of young entrepreneurs who suddenly realize their closets are full of potential money-earned.  

My family took in the sights and sounds of yard sale day from the parsonage’s front porch where we had dragged many boxes worth of formerly beloved things out for the neighborhood to pick over.  

When the sales got slow in the afternoon, I began thinking about how I still had a sermon to write.  But since I was enjoying the afternoon with my family while not writing a sermon, I decided to ask June if she’d ever heard of the Prodigal Son story.   I went on to retell it to her.  It’s really a beautiful story of homecoming and welcome until it takes that shift at the end when you hear that the elder child came away from the whole thing feeling like it wasn’t fair.  With some help from the loving parent (who really is the hero of this story), we imagine the elder child came around in the end and returned to the party.  But it isn’t actually clear.

A few moments after telling the story, June leaned over to me from her chair and asked: “Are yard sales fair?”  She went on to say, “I mean, we’re trying to sell stuff that was basically worthless to us and other people give us their money to take away the stuff that was basically worthless to us.  How is that fair!?”  

I had not thought of it quite like that and previously to this moment I probably wouldn’t have connected yard sales to the prodigal son story at all.  So, let’s think for a moment about fairness.  

Are yard sales fair?  On one hand, we are putting out for sale things that have been well-loved and sometimes worn down because of that love and that use.  Because we’ve moved on and grown up, we no longer love these things the way we once did.  The faded rocking chair where I rocked a newborn June to sleep in the middle of the night.  The singing Olaf toy that once filled our house with songs… over and over and over again.  The thrifted cabinet my mom painted a salmon pink color to be a little kitchen for June’s play food and toy pots and pans. 

We put these well-loved and used items out because we no longer need them.  And yes, people do come and actually pay us money and take them away and it is a convenient way to move stuff along.  But also, there’s a factor in the equation that can’t really be evaluated as fair.  Because it’s bigger than fair or not fair. 

I dare say it’s about love.  

The love of an object with a story that leads us to not just throw those objects in the trash but to put them on our lawn with the hopes that someone else who loves objects with a past will take them into their homes and love them anew.  Like when the pregnant couple came and tried out the rocking chair and decided it would work for their growing family even though it wasn’t new but maybe especially because it was pre-loved.  Yard saleing turns traditional consumerism on its head because it’s not about fair values and brand newness.  I dare say it’s about love. 

Maybe the connection to our gospel reading is a bit of a stretch, but I guess this is what happens when the pastor spends their day yard saleing right before they eventually turn to their sermon preparation.  

But also, the story of the Prodigal Son is not about fairness, is it?  Nothing about it is fair.  Why did the younger child get their inheritance first, my daughter asked as I told her the story.  I don’t know.  That doesn’t sound very fair, does it?   Why did the older child stay at home when they could have also left?  I don’t know!  Why did the younger child make so many bad decisions with their money?  I don’t know… well, actually I think we all probably know what it’s like to make bad decisions with our money.   Why did the parent run toward the child after the child had made so many mistakes?  This is the real question at the heart of everything, isn’t it.  Why did the parent throw a party for the child who had left and not for the child who had always stayed?  

I dare say it’s about love.  And not just any love, prodigal love.  

If you look the word prodigal up in a dictionary it will say it’s an adjective that means spending money or resources freely and recklessly; wastefully extravagant.  It’s a word that is traditionally applied to the younger son, the Prodigal Son, who takes his inheritance and spends it freely and recklessly, wastefully even.  

But what if it was a way of also describing the parent in this story, who spends another kind of resource freely and extravagantly, love.  The elder child would have even called it reckless and wasteful.  Unfair!   

But this story is bigger than being fair.  And Jesus knows that.  It’s why he tells it.  This story is bigger than one parent and two children.  This is a story about God, and not just any God.  A Prodigal God.  A God who loves us extravagantly and recklessly, not just when we’ve never strayed and always stayed, but even and especially when we’ve been gone a long while.  Even and especially when we think we don’t deserve it.  Even and especially when we’re at the end of our rope.  The Prodigal God keeps the porch light on waiting for us again and again, never giving up hope that one day we’ll all come home and in that place, at that homecoming, will be the biggest and best party you could ever imagine.  

A few years back when we were dreaming about what we wanted our purpose and mission to be about here at Cobleskill UMC following the season of pandemic, it was pretty clear that the people of this church wanted to be people of radical, extravagant love.  To all people in all circumstances no matter what.  We adopted a statement of radical welcome (it sits inside a picture frame out in our hall) and the crux of it goes like this: 

“We acknowledge that we live in a world of profound social, economic, and political inequities. As followers of Jesus, we commit ourselves to the pursuit of justice and pledge to stand in solidarity with all who are marginalized and oppressed.  We affirm that all people are created in the image of God—and as beloved children of God, all are worthy of God’s love and grace. We welcome the full inclusion of all people in the life and ministry of Cobleskill United Methodist Church as we journey toward reconciliation through Christ. We know that including all people, with all our diverse experiences and understandings, with all our anxieties and doubts, and with all our past pain, enriches our ministries and sets us on a shared trajectory toward greater love.”

A thanksgiving to Hannah Lasher, one of our young adults who put those beautiful words together after our discernment process.  From this larger statement we crafted the mission statement:  Beloved. Belong. Be the difference.  

It starts with love and it ends with love.  But not a love that is transactional.  A love that says if you do this and say that you will be loved.  It’s not a love that’s fair.  It’s not a love that makes transactional sense.  It’s a kind of love that is prodigal.  Extravagant and reckless.  You don’t get what you think you deserve.  You are loved, full stop, for who you are and who you are becoming and who we will be together when you are here.  

It's not an accident then that with the first part of our mission statement being BE LOVED, that we as a church prioritize events that show reckless and prodigal love to our neighbors.  A Block Party for no reason at all but just to say you are loved with food and music and a bouncy slide.  A Halloween Hollow for no reason at all but just to say you are loved with free coffee and a roof-top candy chute.  Potlucks every month where the feast is wide and the tables long.  Pancakes on Ash Wednesday and worship services where everyone is welcome in all their ages and differences and uniqueness.  We have tried to shape the life of our church around moments of hospitality and prodigal welcome.  This is not an accident.  This is who we were created to be.   

If you’ve ever come into the office on a weekday you will be greeted at our front desk by a smiling face.  This is also not an accident.  Paige Bulmer has filled the role of Office Manager for several years now and the welcome she gives to visitors embodies our mission of prodigal love.  But what you may not know about Paige is that at every opportunity she has, she strikes up a conversation of getting to know a little more about the person in front of her and more often than not, that conversation moves toward an invitation.  “You know, you are welcome to come back and visit us on a Sunday morning.  We have a great worship service.  Children are always welcome.  The choir sounds amazing.  It’s very casual and also very meaningful.”  I often just hear snippets, but I’m struck by the enthusiasm with which she translates her welcome into a posture of invitation.  This is a place where you are welcome.  Right now in this moment, but also in each part of this community’s life.   Each day, in her own way, she’s dispelling the notions that still linger in many people, that church is not a place where they’re welcome.  

Now I can talk about Paige without embarrassing her because she’s not with us in person today, likely watching online.  But I did ask for her permission before I told this story.  But the truth is, we all have this capacity to break down the barriers of what people think about whether they are welcome at church or not.  Sometimes the stereotype is that churches are all about fairness and transactions.  If I dress a certain way, I’ll be welcome.  If I say a certain thing, I’ll be saved.  If I pray a particular way, I’ll fit in.  If I’m just good enough, I’ll eventually be ok.  

For many people outside of these walls, church is still a conditional, transactional place.  A place where they may have been hurt.  A place of which they may be skeptical.  A place of betrayal.  A place of hypocrisy.  

We are working hard here to be a different kind of church.  A church of inclusion.  A church of questions.  A church of many generations all mixed up together in gentle chaos.  A church of coming as we are and working together to be better people.  And also a church of parties because we’re human and they’re always a reason to celebrate.

But for many people, the only way into this amazing church will come through your personal invitation.  There is not a billboard big enough in Schoharie County to match the power of your personal invitation. There is not a commercial snazzy enough on the internet to match the impact of your words of welcome to someone you know who would find this church to be a soft landing place of prodigal love.   We can put a sign in our yard bigger than Taco Bell and still it will not matter as much as your personal invitation.  

I’ve said it before and it’s worth saying again.  On average, it takes five times inviting someone to something before they actually decide to come.  Five times!  That means you almost have to be … annoying!   In a gentle and loving way, of course.  Perhaps the better word is persistent and determined.  Passionate about why this faith community matters to you and why you want it to matter to others in your life, too.  

Today’s sermon has been about the lost and found.  The lifecycles of yard sales and one family’s losing and another family’s finding.  The seasons of a young adulthood making decisions they regret followed by a porch light left on and a parent waiting patiently with love.  The Prodigal-ness of our God who loves extravagantly and inspires us to do the same.  And the power we have to open the door to this love for those who have not yet known.  You are loved.  We are loved.  Beloved is our name.   This is our mission, this is our calling, this is our God.  Now let’s start inviting people into this great love. 

Peace and Grace,

Pastor Anna