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What does it mean to speak about hope in a fearful and reactive world? In this week’s sermon from 1 Peter, we reflect on the call to always be ready to give an account for the hope within us, but to do so with gentleness and reverence. This message explores a way of living that is grounded rather than defensive, faithful rather than performative. A way of bearing witness through humility, courage, and quiet confidence in the resurrection. Faith after Easter is not only about what we believe. It is about the spirit in which we live and speak. Part of the Eccentrics: Keeping It Real After Easter series. Sermon by Rev. Amos J. Disasa. Subscribe for weekly sermons from First Presbyterian Church of Dallas. fpcdallas.org
What does it mean to belong to something larger than yourself? In this week’s sermon from 1 Peter, we turn to the image of living stones. Faith after Easter is not something we carry alone. We are being built together, shaped into something steady, shared, and full of purpose. This message explores what it means to find your place in a community that is still being formed. A life where identity is not self-made, but discovered in relationship with others. Faith is not just personal. It is communal. Something we are becoming together. Part of the Eccentrics: Keeping It Real After Easter series.
What does faith look like when life cannot be explained or resolved? In this sermon from 1 Peter, we encounter a difficult call to endure suffering that is not deserved. Not all suffering is the same, and not all of it can be fixed. Some of it must simply be carried. This message is a companion for those who have learned to expect only brief grace, who have not been able to reconcile with life, but find they must keep living anyway. It speaks to the quiet, daily work of continuing forward. Drawing on the witness of those who have endured unjust suffering, this sermon explores a faith that does not rely on resolution, but on presence. A faith that moves forward step by step, trusting that Christ walks in solidarity with those who suffer. This is not easy faith. It is a steady one. A faith that keeps going, even when the path is unclear. Part of the Eccentrics: Keeping It Real After Easter series.
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What does love actually look like in real life? In this sermon from 1 Peter, love is not described as a feeling, but as a posture. Something lived out in the body. Something that stretches us beyond instinct, comfort, and convenience. Drawing from the early church, this message explores a kind of love that does not come naturally. A love that reaches toward others without shared history, obligation, or guarantee of return. A love that must be chosen again and again. This is not easy love. It is stretched-out love. Love that exposes us, costs us, and calls us to remain open even when it would be easier to withdraw. Part of the Eccentrics: Keeping It Real After Easter series.
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What does it mean to have joy that does not depend on circumstances? This sermon explores a kind of joy that exists before proof, one that holds even in uncertainty and struggle. Drawing from 1 Peter, it invites us to consider how resurrection reshapes not just what we believe, but how we endure. Part of the Eccentrics: Keeping It Real After Easter series.

Easter begins in the dark, with people carrying spices toward a sealed tomb. The women in Mark’s Gospel are not certain, not hopeful, and not prepared for what they will find. They are simply walking. Along the way, they ask a question they cannot answer: who will roll away the stone? It hangs in the air, unresolved. And still, they keep going. This sermon explores the kind of faith that does not rely on clarity, certainty, or control. A faith that looks, from the outside, like poor planning. A faith that keeps moving even when the outcome is unclear. When the women finally look up, the stone has already been rolled away. The revelation was not something they created or solved. It was something they encountered. Easter is not only about what happened at the tomb. It is about the ongoing act of lifting our gaze, of seeing again, and of recognizing that new life is already unfolding, often before we are ready to perceive it.
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Good Friday confronts us with a different kind of violence. Not only the machinery of empire, but the quieter, more familiar force of anonymity. In Mark’s Gospel, the cross is surrounded by a crowd described only as “they.” No names. No responsibility. Just a chorus of passing voices. This sermon explores what happens when suffering becomes spectacle. When humiliation is carried out not by a single villain, but by a diffuse, indifferent crowd. The ones passing by have somewhere else to be. Their mockery costs them nothing. And yet, it is exactly this casual distance that allows the cross to happen. Against this backdrop, one figure is named. Simon of Cyrene. A passerby who is pulled into the story, forced to carry what he did not choose. In a moment shaped by anonymity, he becomes visible. Good Friday does not ask whether you would have volunteered for the cross. It asks something smaller, and harder. When you find yourself near someone else’s suffering, will you disappear into the crowd, or will you remain? You are not a they. You are known.
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The journey through gravity and grace comes to its final movement here. After gravity, affliction, attention, de-creation, and obedience, we arrive at what has been present all along: grace. Grace is not something we achieve at the end of the journey. It is what meets us in every stage, even when we are unfinished, uncertain, or resistant. It is not a reward for getting it right, but a reality that precedes us. This sermon reflects on what it means to receive grace rather than strive for it. To recognize that even under the pull of gravity, even in our unmaking, we were never outside its reach. Grace does not wait for completion. It meets us exactly where we are.
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After de-creation, something new must take shape. This sermon turns to obedience not as rule-following, but as a lived response to grace. In the Gravity and Grace series, obedience emerges after the self has been loosened from control and illusion. It is not forced compliance, but a form of listening that becomes action. A way of living that reflects trust rather than certainty. Obedience asks us to move without fully knowing, to respond without securing the outcome, and to follow where grace leads rather than where control feels safest. This is not about perfection. It is about posture. Learning to live in response to something greater than ourselves.
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After naming gravity, affliction, and attention, this sermon explores what happens when the self begins to loosen its grip on the world it has constructed. Drawing on Simone Weil’s theology, de-creation is not destruction for its own sake, it is the undoing of illusion, control, and self-centered narratives that keep us from reality. We spend much of our lives building a world that makes sense to us, one where we are at the center and everything confirms what we already believe. But grace does not reinforce that world. It dismantles it. De-creation is the slow, often painful process of releasing our need to control, explain, and secure ourselves. It is what makes room for truth, for others, and ultimately for God. Before we can be remade, something in us must be unmade.