Abundant Life in the Pasture of the Kingdom of God
The Fourth Sunday of Easter, Year A • April 26, 2026
Acts 2:42-47 • 1 Peter 2:19-25 • John 10:1-10 • Psalm 23
In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Those first days of the Church were uncharted territory. A small group of believers, numbering about a hundred and twenty, gathered in Jerusalem, among them, the twelve apostles, Mary the mother of Jesus, perhaps some of those other people named in the Gospels and some whose names are not known to us.
As children of the light, those who knew the power of Jesus resurrected and ascended, they also knew they could not face the days ahead alone. No matter, for Jesus promised to send them the Holy Spirit, the comforter, the encourager. And send he did—the wind blew, the flames flickered, and the Spirit spoke through them.
Peter addresses the crowd that forms to witness this strange occurrence. Through his preaching, which we’ve heard over the last few weeks, he speaks about the identity of Jesus and of the promise that await all who follow him: “Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. The promise is for you and your children and for all who are far off—for all whom the Lord our God will call” (Acts ii.38-39).
And they do. They enter the waters of baptism—the same waters we entered whenever and wherever we were baptized—and shared in that one baptism for the forgiveness of sins. Scripture says that on that day, the day of Pentecost, three thousand people were baptized.
But you have heard it said, and you know, that baptism is not the end of the journey but rather the beginning. These newly baptized understood that too, and what we hear from the Acts of the Apostles today is the record of how this first generation of post-resurrection Christ-followers lived out their baptismal vocation, how they entered into that new life in Christ to which they had committed themselves in the waters.
These new believers are the first followers of Jesus who hadn’t known him personally, hadn’t walked with him, hadn’t met him after his death and resurrection. But that doesn’t prevent them from getting to know Jesus—just as it doesn’t prevent us, two thousand years later. St. Luke, the author of the Acts of the Apostles, tells us that they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching.
I imagine the new believers, being so convicted as they were by their experience of Pentecost, of Peter’s preaching, and of their own experience of forgiveness in baptism, that they had a lot of questions. Perhaps they sat at the feet of the apostles and of Jesus’ mother, listening to their stories, their recollections of what Jesus had said and done—who Jesus was. I imagine that many of the stories they were told are the stories that have made their way down to us: stories that were passed down from generation to generation, stories of the promise made available to all people in the person of Jesus. I wonder which stories helped them understand Jesus the best; how different are they from the Scriptures that we hold most dear?
Luke goes on to say that the newly baptized joined in the breaking of bread and the prayers. As a student of liturgy, I imagine that Luke is describing the liturgical pattern of this coalescing community, and it’s hard for me not to compare it to our patterns of worship. Hearing stories, eating bread, singing prayers: how different was their experience of worship to ours?
Luke also says that these new Christ-followers shared in fellowship. The Greek word is koinonia, which we often translate “communion.” It is that deep relationship that we share by virtue of our baptism, our participation in the one Body of Christ. It is that abundant life that Jesus describes in today’s Gospel, the pasture to which he is both the gate that invites entrance and the shepherd that leads us in. Koinonia is expressed and lived out in myriad ways, and I think that each of the actions that Luke goes on to describe is one of those ways.
The apostles continue to perform signs, causing a spirit of wonder to fall upon everyone. But perhaps most importantly, the nascent Church begins to live her life as one community. People sold their possessions so that the poor would have enough and that they could hold them in common. They spent time together both worshipping God in the temple and sharing meals in one another’s homes. And by doing all this, they gained the goodwill of the people around them, so much so that God added to their number those who were being saved.
This is the kind of community that people want to be part of. One where values and even things are held in common. One where people enjoy spending time together. One where everyone has enough to eat. One where others feel literally inspired to join—called by the Spirit to see what’s going on and take that next step.
I wonder how different we are from the first Christians. We too have been called by the Spirit to die to self and be raised to new life in Christ through the Sacrament of Baptism. We too have vowed to continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, the breaking of bread and the prayers. We too have promised to order our lives so that we may proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ (cf. The Book of Common Prayer, 304-5).
For us as for them, these commitments come out of our shared faith in Jesus, the Messiah, crucified and risen and ascended for our salvation. The lives they live in response to the Gospel are so rich, so abundant, that others cannot help but be attracted. Their lives are rooted in simplicity, but the kind of simplicity that makes room for gladness and generosity. Their lives are full of the richness of Psalm 23: green pastures, still waters, overflowing cups, being pursued by the goodness and mercy of God.
I wonder how God is calling us, as St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, to be more like these first Christians. How can we more fully respond to the Gospel truth that is within us, to live lives grounded in the abundant life of the Spirit and guided by the Good Shepherd of our souls? How can we run from the strange voices of this world that seek to steal and kill and destroy, but run towards the one who calls each of us by name? How can we dwell together in deeper and deeper unity, anchoring ourselves with teaching, fellowship, breaking bread, and prayer?
The Church is still in uncharted territory. We do not know where the Spirit may yet lead us, but we know that we are knit together for that journey, bound into one flock with one Shepherd. And we have our pattern and example in the first Christians, who committed themselves to a common life. And we are not left comfortless, having been sealed by the Holy Spirit and having the mark of Christ inscribed on our hearts. Our way, then, is to face what lies ahead not only with inward faith and resolve, but with outward joy and gladness and hope in the abundant life that is promised for us by Jesus Christ the Good Shepherd, our Savior and Lord, to whom be honor and glory, world without end. Amen.
~The Rev. Charles Martin
