20 July 2025: Ordinary 16 Year C
Lectionary Texts: Amos 8:1-12; Psalm 52; Colossians 1:15-28; Luke 10:38-42
Below, you will find a story and a shorter version (less than 300 words) that could be used as a newsletter reflection. Some sermon topics and ideas based on the Sunday lectionary readings are also included.
The story will be based on one of the topics, which will be identified, and my sermon topic will also be identified.
Crumb and Punishment: You Are Toast
Based on Amos 8:1–12 – A vision of summer fruit and judgment.
They always said the church had the best coffee in town.
You could smell it before you hit the doors—something rich and dark and impossibly smooth. There was a sign in the foyer that said, Welcome to Abundance Fellowship. We’ve been expecting you.
No one expected him.
He wasn’t on the roster. He wasn’t wearing a name badge. He walked in just as the lights dimmed and the pre-service slideshow rolled. In one hand, he carried a reusable shopping bag. In the other, a toaster.
He didn’t speak to the greeters. He didn’t scan the QR code. He just found the second row—dead centre—and sat down. Right in front of the sound desk. Right in front of someone’s carefully placed handbag. She glared. He smiled.
The countdown hit zero. The band launched into the opener—something with a fog machine, thumping bass, and hands lifted just high enough to be reverent but not sweaty. People clapped. The screens beamed confidence. A drone camera fed a live flyover of the auditorium onto the side walls.
He plugged the toaster into the floor socket beneath his seat.
And waited.
The first worship block ended with a rousing bridge and the lights sweeping the crowd in a sort of soft spiritual interrogation. Then came the welcome.
Pastor Trent bounded up in skinny jeans and a microphone headset. “Welcome to the table! Welcome to abundance! We are a people of joy, of overflow, of breakthrough!” He paused for applause, then added: “And if this is your first time here, welcome home.”
The man in the second row lowered a slice of bread into the toaster.
It clicked audibly.
Pastor Trent froze.
Someone coughed.
The lights stayed up, waiting for a cue.
“Uhh…” Pastor Trent chuckled. “Well. That’s… creative. We do have toast in the café after the service, sir.”
The man didn’t reply.
But the toaster did. It began to hum, the smell of heating coils threading itself into the ambient coffee aroma. A few people near him shifted uncomfortably.
The sermon started. It was titled “Fully Charged: Living in God’s Power Grid.” Slides flashed. Illustrations flowed. There were circuits, batteries, extension cords, and a carefully animated animation of the Holy Spirit as a plug-in light.
The bread began to brown.
No one could focus.
It wasn’t just the smell—it was the waiting. The anxiety of knowing something small was about to pop, but not knowing when.
Then: Ping.
A perfectly golden slice of toast jumped into the air and landed on a paper napkin the man had brought with him.
He didn’t eat it.
He held it up.
High.
As if presenting an offering.
Pastor Trent faltered mid-sentence.
The man stood. Quietly. Calmly. Toaster in one hand, toast in the other.
“I bring a message,” he said. His voice was rough, like gravel soaked in honey.
Security moved.
He raised the toast like a communion wafer. “You are the toast,” he said.
People laughed. Nervously.
“You think you’re the ones making it. Feeding others. Nourishing the world. But you’re not the ones buttering bread for the hungry. You’re the toast. Crisped on the outside, hollow in the middle. You’ve been sitting in the slot too long.”
Security reached him. He stepped forward onto the stage before they could grab him.
“This church was built to feed. But you’ve turned it into a breakfast show. And you’re not the hosts. You’re what’s being served.”
“Sir, please…” Pastor Trent tried.
“God gave me the toaster,” the man said. “And said, ‘Look: it is done. Browned, brittle, puffed up. Ready to crumble.”
The band quietly unplugged their guitars.
“You sing about fire,” the man said, holding the toast up again. “Well, you got it. You asked for refining. You got toasting. And now you’re golden brown, thinking that means glory.”
He paused.
“But here’s the thing about toast: it only has a moment. One moment when it’s just right. After that? It’s burnt. Blackened. Inedible. Trash.”
Someone shouted, “Okay, that’s enough!”
He looked at them. Not angry. Not smug.
Just… toasted.
“God doesn’t want burnt offerings,” he said. “And this toaster doesn’t have a dial.”
Two ushers flanked him.
“I’ll go,” he said, stepping off the stage. “I’ve delivered the message. You can sing now. Or whatever it is you call that thing.”
He walked back up the aisle, toaster swinging at his side. Just before the doors, he turned.
“Oh,” he said, “And don’t worry—I left the second slice in. You’ve got one more chance.”
And then he was gone.
No one moved.
No one clapped.
The toast sat on the stage under the spotlight, golden and silent.
The café served muffins that day instead.
Crumb and Punishment: You Are Toast
Based on Amos 8:1–12 – A vision of summer fruit and judgment.
They always said the church had the best coffee in town.
You could smell it before you hit the doors—something rich and dark and impossibly smooth. There was a sign in the foyer that said, Welcome to Abundance Fellowship. We’ve been expecting you.
No one expected him.
He wasn’t on the roster. He wasn’t wearing a name badge. He walked in just as the lights dimmed and the pre-service slideshow rolled. In one hand, he carried a reusable shopping bag. In the other, a toaster.
He didn’t speak to the greeters. He didn’t scan the QR code. He just found the second row—dead centre—and sat down. Right in front of the sound desk. Right in front of someone’s carefully placed handbag. She glared. He smiled.
The countdown hit zero. The band launched into the opener—something with a fog machine, thumping bass, and hands lifted just high enough to be reverent but not sweaty. People clapped. The screens beamed confidence. A drone camera fed a live flyover of the auditorium onto the side walls.
He plugged the toaster into the floor socket beneath his seat.
And waited.
The first worship block ended with a rousing bridge and the lights sweeping the crowd in a sort of soft spiritual interrogation. Then came the welcome.
Pastor Trent bounded up in skinny jeans and a microphone headset. “Welcome to the table! Welcome to abundance! We are a people of joy, of overflow, of breakthrough!” He paused for applause, then added: “And if this is your first time here, welcome home.”
The man in the second row lowered a slice of bread into the toaster.
It clicked audibly.
Sermon Topics and Ideas
- The Ripe Fruit Was You All Along †
- Amos 8:1–12 – A vision of summer fruit and judgment
- Flip the imagery: What if we are the fruit? Sweet, overripe, and spoiling in complacency or overindulgence. Amos becomes not just a prophet of doom, but a fruit inspector.
- Explore how the people think they are producing a good harvest—rituals, offerings, songs—but from God’s view, the basket is spoiled.
- Draw on the voice of a market vendor who sees the fruit starting to rot, unseen from the outside.
- Push: Who gets left hungry when our fruit never reaches the table?
- How to Grow a Green Tree in a Burnt Forest
- Psalm 52 – A condemnation of the powerful and a promise of flourishing for the righteous
- Preach from the perspective of the “green olive tree” in verse 8, growing in a temple full of corruption.
- Use irony: The Psalm seems full of fury, yet the tree just quietly grows.
- Reflect on being planted, even when the soil seems poisoned by deceit and power.
- Challenge: Are we truly planted in God’s house, or do we just decorate its front steps?
- The Cosmic Christ and the Church That’s Bored
- Colossians 1:15–28 – The supremacy of Christ and the mystery revealed
- Contrast the grand theological poetry (“firstborn of all creation”) with the average church bulletin (“Tuesday: craft group”).
- Preach from the imagined voice of a disillusioned parishioner—“If Christ is this big, why is the church so small?”
- Highlight the mystery that was hidden and is now revealed in us.
- Invite a re-centring: not in programmes, plans or perfect liturgy—but in the indwelling Christ.
- Twist: What if the church seems small not because Christ is absent, but because we’ve locked him in the storeroom?
- Martha Was Right (Mostly)
- Luke 10:38–42 – Mary and Martha
- Take Martha’s side—but don’t let her off the hook.
- Preach from the perspective of someone who has always served, always been dependable, and always overlooked.
- Explore the injustice that Jesus appears to scold her, but then question what Mary might be modelling: not passivity, but radical presence.
- Offer the reconciliation: What if the Fellowship of God is built when Martha and Mary each bring their full selves—one in service, one in listening—together?
† The story above is based on this Topic
‡ My sermon will be based on these Topics/ideas
Other Lectionary Resources
These resources are based on the lectionary readings.
- A Sermon for every Sunday – FREE lectionary-based video sermons by America’s best preachers for use in worship, Bible study, small groups, Sunday school classes, or for individual use. All you do is push the button.
- Laughing Bird – a gift to the wider Church from the South Yarra Community Baptist Church in Melbourne, Australia. Has several sermons, prayers and the lectionary bible readings.
- The Lutheran Church of Australia – A worship planning resource that includes many parts of the service, including song selections, sermons, visual arts, children’s resources, and others.
- Lectionary Liturgies – A full liturgy for each Sunday based on the lectionary readings for the week. These are liturgies that I prepare for the congregation I serve and make available to others.
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