City Church San Francisco

Psalm 73

John 21:15-19

May each step root us deeply in the loveliness of the present moment. May the twists and turns on the way encourage us to be ever open to the new in our lives. May the still point at the center keep us mindful of that sacred place in our own inner being. May the path outward and beyond empower us to radiate peace and justice to all. May the labyrinth journey weave in us a sense of everlasting connectedness with the great journey of life.         — adapted from Barbara Bailey, RSHM

Take a centered breath. Breathing in 1, 2, 3, 4 and out 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6again Breathing in 1, 2, 3, 4 and out 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6and again Breathing in 1, 2, 3, 4 and out 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6Take a gentle moment and consider what salvation looks like in your life today. Ask yourself...What might salvation look like in your life today?Where must I ask for forgiveness? Where am I withholding it?What repair is mine to make? What expectation must I release to God?Now, let us speak this gentle invitation from Bishop Tutu:God forgives unconditionally. So can weThe thief on the cross still dies on his crossBut forgiveness will set his spirit free.And what of you and me, standing on the ground with our piles of hurts mounting so high?Will we die a thousand deaths before we die?Yearning for revenge, will we die of that thirst?Will the rage that fills us be the stake on which we burn?Will we stumble over every resistance placed in our way?Remain mired in the misery of it all?Or will we take the chance that we might break freeby following this path where it leadsPast the whys and lies about how it cannot be.Here is our chance to break free.

In his book, The Wounded Healer, Henri Nouwen wrote that “Compassion is born when we discover in the center of our own existence not only that God is God and man is man, but also that our neighbor is really our fellow man.”

 Matthew 5:38-42

We've been taught that forgiveness means forgetting, excusing, or automatically rebuilding trust. This week at City Church SF, we untangle those myths — forgiveness isn't denial, it isn't saying the harm didn't matter, and it isn't the same as reconciliation, which demands safety, truth, and willingness from everyone involved.Instead, we explore forgiveness as an act of reclamation: a refusal to let injury define who you are, a refusal to let resentment write your story, and a refusal to hand your future over to whoever or whatever hurt you. This is a conversation for anyone carrying old wounds and wondering what healing actually requires.

The Hebrew midwives embody the best of what we celebrate at Pride: creative resistance, campy mockery, loving courage, and defiant hope to operate in the in-between space and bring forth life in the face of death. Pride is an occasion for us both to remember how far we have come and to strengthen ourselves for the work we have ahead, with joy and celebration and a love that will never let us go.

A leper. A paralyzed man. A tax collector.Three people on the margins. Three encounters with Jesus. Three moments that rewrite the rules.In Mark 1:40–2:17, Jesus doesn't just heal — he challenges everything his community believed about who belongs, who's forgiven, and who gets a second chance. No one's status is too low. No one's sin is too great. And no one is so far gone that they can't begin again.Jesus is expanding the theological imagination of the people around him — and ours.

 Galatians 5:16-26

Galatians 3:1-9, 23-29

Galatians 1:13-17, 2:11-21

Luke 14:15-24; Romans 12:9-13

 Acts 8:26-39

Who Will Be A Witness?Rev. Joshua JalandoonIn this sermon on Acts 6:1—7:2a, 44–60, we follow the early church as it wrestles with growth, conflict, and calling—and encounter Stephen, whose life and death embody what it means to bear witness.What does it look like to testify to truth in the face of pressure, injustice, and misunderstanding? And who gets to be a witness in the first place?This message invites us to consider how ordinary people are shaped into courageous witnesses—not by having all the answers, but by being rooted in a bigger story.

Pastoral Resident Amelia Hamiter guides us through Luke 24:13-35,

Scripture: John 20:1-18 (CEB)

What kind of king arrives not with power, but with humility? Not on a warhorse, but on a borrowed colt?In this Palm Sunday reflection, Rev. Emily McGinley invites us to notice the contrast between the parades we expect and the one Jesus actually leads. Drawing from Zechariah’s vision of a peaceful ruler and Luke’s account of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, this sermon explores a kingdom that refuses domination and instead speaks peace to the nations.As crowds shout and cloaks cover the road, we’re reminded that this is no ordinary procession—it’s a quiet disruption of empire, a declaration that hope does not come through force, but through love, justice, and courage.And if we’re paying attention, we might hear it still—the echo of voices, even stones, crying out for a different way.Scripture: Zechariah 9:9–12a; Luke 19:28–40

There is so much more to the story of the Prodigal Son then we have been led to believe.

Sermon Title: …In this week’s message, we reflect on the parable of the rich man and Lazarus from Gospel of Luke 16:19–31—a story that confronts the distance we often keep between comfort and suffering.Drawing from a recent gathering of the Reformed Church in America and the witness of the Belhar Confession, Rev. Emily McGinley explores what happens when followers of Jesus refuse to ignore the voices and experiences of those who have been harmed. Through the words of Jesus and the history of a confession born during apartheid, we’re invited to ask: What does it mean to truly listen? What might change in us if we hear the stories of those whose suffering has been easy for us to overlook?This message invites us to slow down, listen deeply, and consider how the gospel calls us toward compassion, repentance, and a more honest love of neighbor.

And sometimes we need to be reminded that we are needy and are inherently communal beings. And that's enough.

"Naming our biases matters. Not so we gain theological omniscience, but because it’s become all too easy to domesticate Jesus. When our projections slide into misrepresentation, we lose the ability to tell the difference between Jesus of Nazareth and the counterfeits versions of Jesus that simply affirm our instincts, rather than challenge them."

In our Pastoral Resident, Amelia Hamiter's sermon this past Sunday, we sit with Luke 10:25–42 — holding together the story of the Good Samaritan and the tension-filled moment between Martha and Mary. Two familiar passages. One shared thread: compassion.Through the parable of the Samaritan, Jesus expands our definition of neighbor and redefines mercy as costly, embodied action. Through Martha’s overwhelm, we see what happens when service untethered from presence begins to drain us. Together, these stories invite us to wrestle with a hard question: How do we remain compassionate without burning out?We explore compassion fatigue, the limits of our capacity, and the difference between urgency and intentional love. What if the invitation isn’t to do more, but to root our service in a different posture? What if mercy flows best from a place of grounded presence rather than anxious striving?Whether you feel like the Samaritan on the road, Martha in the kitchen, or the weary traveler in need of care, this conversation makes space for honest reflection about loving well — and sustainably.

Ash Wednesday invites us to tell the truth: life is fragile, often unfinished — and yet we are deeply loved.In this contemplative gathering, Held in the Ashes, we lean into the tenderness of this sacred day. Through scripture, poetry, silence, and song, we remember our mortality while rooting ourselves in belovedness. Even as we hear the ancient reminder, “from dust you came…,” we also receive the promise of a love that does not loosen its grip.Featuring music including We Are Loved by The Avett Brothers, this service creates space to slow down, breathe deeply, and be honest — about grief, about limits, about hope.Ashes are offered with words of blessing.All are welcome — whether full of faith, full of doubt, or somewhere in between.Come as you are. Remember you are dust. Remember you are loved.

In Luke 7:1–17, we see a faith that amazes Jesus and a compassion that stops a funeral procession. This message explores the authority of Christ, the power of humble faith, and the hope that meets us even in our deepest grief.

This past Sunday, Rev. Emily McGinley invites us into deeper connection through Luke 5:1–11, weaving the scripture together with reflections from her recent time standing in solidarity alongside other clergy in Minneapolis.

Jesus returns to His hometown full of the Spirit, welcomed at first—then rejected just as quickly. In Luke 4:14–30, we witness the turning point where admiration gives way to offense, and the mission of Jesus collides with human expectations. This sermon explores why familiarity can breed resistance, how grace challenges our assumptions, and what it means to follow a Messiah who refuses to be contained. A call to examine our hearts when God moves in ways we don’t expect.

Made For LoveLuke 3:15–16, 21–23a; 4:1–14What does it mean to know who you are—and whose you are—in a world that constantly questions your belonging? In Rev. Emily McGinley's sermon, we follow Jesus from the waters of baptism into the wilderness, where his identity is named before it is tested. Luke tells us that Jesus is both God’s beloved Son and deeply rooted in human history—and it is from this grounded sense of identity that he faces temptation, empire, and distortion of purpose. As modern forces like algorithms, capitalism, and exceptionalism whisper their own versions of the devil’s promises, this message invites us to re-center our lives around a deeper truth: we are not made for performance, exclusion, or domination—we are made for love.

What obstacles are between you and being able to just be with God?

What if silence isn’t a punishment—but an invitation?In Luke 1, Zechariah’s long season of silence finally gives way to song. But before his voice returns, something deeper happens: God is already at work, forming hope, preparing redemption, and teaching him to see the present differently.Rev. Joshua Jalandoon's sermon invites us to reframe silence—not as God’s absence or disapproval, but as an aid that helps us pay attention to what God is doing now. In a world that rushes to fill every quiet moment, we explore how love breaks the silence not by erasing it, but by revealing its purpose.A reflection for anyone waiting, listening, or learning to trust that God is still speaking—even when words fall away.

Short and sweet, a homily inviting us into this advent season to step into joy.

In this week’s sermon, “One Way to Help,” Rev. Emily McGinley begins with a story of a walk through the Tenderloin with the San Francisco Night Ministry and a simple truth offered there: “People fall on hard times and it’s not their fault. This is one way for me to help.” From that moment, we turn to John the Baptist—accidental spiritual icon—calling out crowds chasing spiritual highs instead of real transformation, yet still offering an invitation: there is time, it is not too late, and who you’ve been doesn’t have to determine who you can become. We reflect on baptism as a ritual of beginning again when life feels heavy or directionless, and we return to the Tenderloin question: What’s one way I can help?

In this week’s message, our Pastoral Resident, Amelia Hamiter, explores with us what it means to find hope in the shadow of empire. Scripture reminds us that while dominant powers insist on telling us who matters, what’s required, and which stories are “real,” God disrupts that narrative in the most unexpected way—not through palaces or positions of authority, but through a voice crying out in the wilderness.

Rooted in Jeremiah 31 and Christ the King Sunday, we reflect on a God who doesn’t abandon abandoned places. A God who hops fences, returns after rejection, and keeps planting hope where others see waste. This is not the king of culture wars, influence, or perfection—but the king who washes feet, gathers the dismissed, restores soil, and renews lives.

Kat Armas, a Cuban American write, speaker and theologian, generously preached this past Sunday - reading a story and answering questions from her new book "Liturgies for Resisting Empire."Armas holds a ThM from Vanderbilt Divinity School and dual MDiv and MAT degrees from Fuller Theological Seminary, where she received the Frederick Buechner Award for Excellence in Writing.

From 1 Kings 17:1-16Elijah is called to be part of something greater. Listen to this story now and meditate on how Elijah was not called because he is perfect but because he is faithful. He believed in God’s project, even if everyone else had abandoned it. And in that belief, Elijah came to understand the God of his ancestors with an even greater depth. What does this story mean for us?

What does it mean to actively engage in a moral courage to believe and live out a moral imagination? An imagination that call us to God's invitation to abundance—the wild, illogical belief that there's enough for everyone.

A vision bigger than any one dream. A courage that dares to imagine something more for all of us. This episode invites us to stretch beyond what’s right in front of us, to believe in a future where human dignity isn’t a privilege but a shared reality. It’s about dreaming wide, building not just structures—but communities that last.

What happens when prayer becomes both a cry and a declaration? In 1 Samuel 1–2, Hannah’s personal deliverance becomes more than her story — it becomes a signpost pointing to who God is: the One who remembers the forgotten, lifts the lowly, fills the hungry, and humbles the proud.

"This work, this thing we do through City Hope — This is the redefined fast that the prophet Isaiah speaks of:“Is this not the kind of fast I have chosen?To loose the chains of injustice, and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?”“Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter— when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?”Isaiah is not describing a ritual. He is describing a revolution of compassion. Not a performance for God—but a life poured out for others.This redefined fast—this courageous calling—is our promise. This redefined fast is a redefined life. A Christ-centered life.“Then your light will break forth like the dawn…”“Then you will call, and the Lord will answer…”“Then your people will rebuild the ancient ruins…”“You will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.” - Rev. Paul Trudeau

In a time when uncertainty can feel overwhelming, how do we practice remembrance that fuels resilience and hope? This sermon explores the power of collective memory, the importance of ritual, and how looking back can actually equip us to step faithfully forward.Listen in as we reflect on what it means to “remember forward” in our own lives and communities today.

Do you trust in the goodness of God?

We belong — not because of perfection or performance, but because we are cherished.Cherished belonging means we are bound to God and to one another, woven into a garment of grace and love that cannot be unraveled. Even in our brokenness, we are not discarded — we are gathered, mended, and held together by mercy.

This week’s sermon features a special guest from Open Door Legal, inviting us to reflect on the mandate of government through a Jesus-centered lens. How does faith shape the way we see authority, justice, and responsibility in public life? Join us as we explore what it means to hold government accountable while embodying Christ’s call to mercy, truth, and justice.

In our last sermon based off of Howard Thurman's, The Inward Journey, we dive into the wisdom of Ecclesiastes with special guest speaker Amanda Samuel. Together, we explore the call to remember our Creator, the fleeting nature of life, and what it means to seek God with authenticity and depth. Amanda brings fresh perspective and spiritual insight, helping us reflect on how the pursuit of God shapes our daily choices, our hopes, and our inner journey.

As we continue our series inspired by Howard Thurman’s The Inward Journey, we turn toward the longing for peace—in our lives, our communities, and our world. Alongside Thurman’s wisdom, we listen to the voice of poet Pádraig Ó Tuama, who closes one of his poems with a simple but profound refrain about choosing love again and again. In a world filled with conflict and division, we ask: What does it mean to let peace begin in us, shaped by the daily choice of love?

We’re all searching for something to give our lives meaning — but what happens when the “treasures” we chase can’t love us back? In this message, we explore the ancient wisdom of Ecclesiastes and the piercing words of Jesus to uncover where true fulfillment is found. Whether you’re chasing success, comfort, or romance, the quest for love points us somewhere deeper, richer, and eternal.

Continuing our series inspired by Howard Thurman’s The Inward Journey, we explore the deep human longing to feel complete. We confront the truth that neither wealth nor recognition can satisfy the soul’s deepest needs. Thurman invites us to look inward, discovering that true fulfillment grows from connection, compassion, and a life anchored in God.

We return to our sermon series inspired by Howard Thurman’s The Inward Journey, turning our attention to Ecclesiastes 4:1-12. Together, we explore how Thurman’s insights call us inward — toward a grounded faith — so we can move outward with courage, resilience, and hope.

This week’s message is a little different — instead of one preacher, you’ll hear from a panel of our high school students fresh from their immersion trip to Memphis. They share stories, moments that moved them, and how walking the streets of history and service shaped their faith. From civil rights landmarks to conversations with local leaders, their reflections will challenge and inspire you to see God’s work in unexpected places.