Bright ideas, simple reflections — a little light for every step of the way.
What do you do with a bunch of old sermons? Turn them into a blog – refined, condensed, made for today’s world – feel free to use as written, or as fodder for your own message. It’s For you! No permission needed or credit given. (Please scroll down for previous posts)
Sermon for Sunday, January 25, 2026 Follow Me Third Sunday after Epiphany / Lectionary 3
Readings for the Day: Isaiah 9:1-4, Psalm 27:1, 4-9 (1), 1 Corinthians 1:10-18, Matthew 4:12-23
Grace and peace to you, in the name of the One who is our light and our salvation—Jesus Christ. Amen.
Some of you will recognize this right away:
🎶 Rocky Mountain High… Take Me Home, Country Roads… Thank God I’m a Country Boy! 🎶
John Denver.
While some of my friends were listening to hard rock and heavy metal, my soundtrack leaned more toward John Denver, Carole King, the Carpenters—music that told stories, music that lingered. And ever since then, whenever I hear Jesus say to Simon Peter and Andrew, “Follow me,” my mind still drifts to that old John Denver song:
🎶 Follow me where I go, what I do and who I know… 🎶
If we’re honest, hearing those lyrics now, decades later, they sound a little… intense. Maybe even needy. A bit clingy.
And that raises a fair question for today’s gospel:
When Jesus says, “Follow me,” does that sound demanding? Intrusive? Unrealistic?
If those words came from just another human being, we might be right to hesitate. But this invitation doesn’t come from just anyone. It comes from Jesus—God-with-us. The light that shines in the darkness. The Word made flesh.
This is God saying, “Follow me.”
And that matters.
In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus shows up along the Sea of Galilee and calls working people—fishermen, laborers, folks with calloused hands and responsibilities—to leave what they know and follow him. And remarkably, they do. They put down their nets and walk away.
We tend to romanticize that moment, but let’s slow it down. Those nets weren’t hobbies. They were livelihoods. Security. Identity. Putting them down meant risk. Uncertainty. Change.
What if they had said no?
What if they had said, “Not now”?
What if fear had won?
History would look very different.
But here’s the thing: history isn’t finished. God is still calling. And I’d argue that in our moment—this complicated, divided, anxious time—Jesus’ call to follow may be more urgent than ever.
“Follow me” doesn’t mean abandoning common sense or responsibility. It means re-centering our lives around God’s purposes rather than our fears.
Isaiah speaks today about light breaking into deep darkness. Paul pleads with the Corinthians to stop tearing each other apart. Jesus proclaims good news and healing in a hurting world. All of these readings point to the same truth: God is calling people not just to believe something, but to live differently.
So what are the “nets” we’re being asked to put down?
For many of us, they’re not literal. They’re emotional. Spiritual. Cultural.
Nets of fear—fear of scarcity, fear of change, fear of the future.
Nets of anxiety—constant worry fueled by headlines and 24-hour news cycles.
Nets of resentment—old hurts that harden into bitterness and division.
Nets of “we’ve always done it this way”—that keep us from imagining what God might be doing now.
And Paul reminds us today that these nets don’t just entangle individuals—they fracture communities. “Be united,” he says. Not uniform. Not identical. But grounded in Christ, not in competition or fear.
Following Jesus means trusting that God is at work beyond our comfort zones.
Notice that Jesus doesn’t call the fishermen to become someone else. He says, “I will make you fish for people.” In other words: You already have what you need. I’ll show you how to use it.
That’s good news for us.
You don’t have to be younger, louder, or more tech-savvy to follow Jesus.
You don’t have to have all the answers.
You don’t have to start over.
God has already shaped you—through your experiences, your joys, your losses, your faithfulness. Jesus simply invites you to let those gifts serve love, justice, healing, and hope.
And maybe that old John Denver song gets it right after all—not as a demand, but as a longing born of love:
“I’d like to share my life with you and show you things I’ve seen…
To have you there beside me and never be alone.”
That doesn’t sound needy.
That sounds like grace.
So hear Jesus’ words today not as pressure, but as invitation.
Not as guilt, but as possibility.
“Follow me.”
Lay down what binds you.
Trust the light.
Walk toward love.
Let us pray.
God of light and life,
You call us to follow—not away from the world, but deeper into it, carrying your hope. Help us put down the nets that weigh us down and take up the life you offer. Teach us to trust, to love, and to walk faithfully in your way.
In Jesus’ name we pray.
Amen.