       ![The steeple of the Memorial Church](/sites/g/files/omnuum7126/files/styles/hwp_21_9__1920x825/public/2025-02/160725ChurchCalArt4.jpg?itok=rG9ZvXzh) 

 



 

#  Seventh Sunday after Pentecost 

 





July 29, 2025

 

 



 

*Gracie Paterson (she/they)*  
*A 2025 graduate of Boston University's School of Theology*  
*Candidate for Ordination in the Presbyterian Church (USA)*

*(The following is a transcript of the service audio, July 27, 2025)*

   ![Visiting Preacher Gracie Peterson](/sites/g/files/omnuum7126/files/styles/hwp_1_1__100x100_scale/public/2025-06/Gracy%20Peterson.JPG?itok=ZLnAewDD) 

 

My name's Gracie Paterson. It's a pleasure to worship with you all on this Sunday. Today's sermon is called Audacity, but first, would you join me in a word of prayer? Oh God, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, for you are a rock, our redeemer.

I want to start by telling you all about a frankly epic summer job that I've landed this year. I've recently graduated from seminary over at Boston University across the river, and I think a lot of us recent grads or soon-to-be grads daydream about what their first job title after school will be. For us seminarians, a lot of us go from being ministry interns to associate pastors or nonprofit coordinators or maybe chaplains in training. But me, I like to think I've scored big in the post-graduation job department. This summer I get to be the director of outdoor games at my home church's summer kids camp. I was pumped. Being the PE enthusiast that I am, I took my preparation for the job pretty seriously. Maybe too seriously. I made an inventory of all the gear that we had. I planned games across the different age groups for a few weeks at a time, and I filled my journal with lists of quick and easy games that I could use in a pinch.

Then week one of camp rolled around, and it turns out that well-made plans and good intentions are no match for a group of preschoolers. Play will happen in whatever form the kids want it to, no matter what the grown-ups had in mind. So I came to understand quickly that the Director of Outdoor Games job was not actually so much about directing games, but tending to the children's needs and, more often, their requests. Now, I didn't sweat this too much because I am sincerely moved by these kids, and I wanted to be open and attentive to them. Their joy and their silliness uplift me. Their earnestness and simple wisdom inspire me. The requests move me too, though in a different way. Occasionally, they move me to feel admiration for their persistence, but they can also move me to annoyance if I'm being honest.

I thought I had prepared for all the games we were going to play this summer, but nobody can prepare you to do well in the kindergarten question game. Amen, parents?



 

 

 

 Harvard Memorial Church · Gracie Paterson - July 27, 2025 | Sunday Sermon 

 



 

 

 

That game might be the most exhausting of them all. So, for your entertainment, here are some questions that I've received from my campers so far this summer, some several times over. Are you a boy or a girl? Are you from the olden times? Who made you the PE teacher? Can I have another snack? Can you pull me in the toy wagon? Can we go to the playground? When can we go to the playground? Can you get that ball in the tree? Can I ride this bike with no hands? Can we play something else? Can we play this every day?

The thing about the question game is that you don't really have the option to opt out. When your kids need your attention, they will get it. They have no issue interrupting whatever it is you were doing before, and they don't usually take no for an answer, and if they can't get your attention one way, well, they'll try a different tactic. They're shameless about it. Audacious, even. Most times, I perceive that the grown-ups don't have the patience for it. We are quick to shut down the question game as disruptive when really it's us who needs the break. It's for the sake of our convenience that we wish that they would just stop asking and just listen to us. But today, I'd like us grown-ups to take some time to find the virtue in a little bit of childish audacity.

Today's text from Luke's Gospel is commonly called the Parable of the Persistent Neighbor or the Parable of the Friend at Midnight. A better name might be the Parable of Shameless Audacity because shameless audacity is actually a closer translation to the Greek word used to describe this neighbor as persistent. The midnight visitor is not just persistent in his request. He is shameless about it. The lateness of the hour and whether or not his neighbor is sleeping are not concerns for him. Without a second thought, the shameless neighbor asks for what he needs, not unlike a preschooler.

Jesus invites his audience to imagine themselves in the shoes of this shameless neighbor, and this probably wasn't too much of a heavy lift for those he was speaking to directly. Because back in Jesus' day, it was common for travelers to move through towns and villages during the middle of the night, and it was also customary for residents to accommodate these travelers no matter what hour they arrived. Hospitality was a much higher virtue than convenience. If anything, the most audacious thing about this whole story to Jesus's audience would've been that the neighbor didn't have anything to offer the traveler in the first place.

But since Jesus' time, it seems that the value of convenience has gone up above just about everything else. We have a world available at our fingertips, algorithms that anticipate and cater to our needs and our desires, and technologies that are available today that we couldn't even conceive of a decade ago. All of these things have made our lives easier in some way, but what happens when ease becomes a virtue in itself? What happens the more we shy away from the hard stuff? Even the simply inconvenient stuff? Seems to me that we are becoming increasingly intolerant of the inconveniences in our lives.

Even when those inconveniences come in the form of our neighbors’ complaints, this intolerance manifests in many ways. It looks like gradually weakening bonds within families, neighborhoods, and congregations. It looks like legislation that criminalizes homelessness to punish people for not taking their suffering out of sight. It looks like loud public shaming rituals and quiet private shame.

It even looks like being hesitant to name your own needs. God forbid you are too audacious in your requests. All of this is not good news when it comes to our commitment to loving our neighbors as ourselves, but it makes the good news of this parable all the more potent. Jesus says that God is like the one who opens the door to the audacious midnight visitor. In a world where convenience is king, we know that God is the attentive one who responds, not the one who opts out. God plays the question game and doesn't tire out. Today's first lesson showed us God playing the question game with Abraham who asked over and over for mercy on behalf of the righteous. Like any good parent, God is moved by what their children want, what they need. When it comes to God's children, there is no request too audacious. That's what it means to be a child of God.

Today's scripture is ultimately a lesson about prayer. Prayer is our question game with God. Some of us are already bold prayer warriors, ready to talk to God on a moment's notice. God bless you. Bless you. Others of us are more unsure. What is the right way to pray anyway? This is God we're talking about. Should we be sure to start with our thanks and praise before we get to our needs? How much is too much to ask of God? What if we don't hear back in the way that we want? Jesus has given us a general outline of what prayer can look like with the Lord's prayer, but his strongest point in this text that I would argue is that it's the persistence of prayer that matters the most. It's the audacity to keep the God of the Universe on the line.

A more convenient world won't make our problems and our needs disappear. A more convenient world simply hides its needs better. The needs are there, and I'll venture to say that they're only multiplying. The longer we seek convenience instead of doing the hard work to address our needs, the deeper our need becomes. Becomes an existential, audacious amount of need. Thankfully, we have the help we need to do the hard things. God is listening right here and right now. God is ready by us. God desires to be moved by us. But what is it you need? What is it you need that feels too frivolous for God? What do you need that you wish you didn't need at all? What is it you need that you have kept from those who care for you? When you think of that need, I invite you to join me in offering them to God in a moment of holy silence. Do you have it? Let us pray. God, in your mercy, hear these prayers of your children. Pray that you have the audacity to keep asking.



 

 



 

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