The Rev. Dr. Brandon Perrine
Easter 5A
John 14:1-14
May 3, 2026
They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. Awe came upon everyone because many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.
~o~
A devout old shepherd lost his favorite Bible while he was out looking for a wayward lamb. Three weeks later, a little lamb walked up to him carrying the Bible in its mouth. The shepherd couldn’t believe his eyes. He took the precious book out of the lamb’s mouth, raised his eyes heavenward and exclaimed, “It’s a miracle!” “Not really,” said the lamb. “Your name is written inside the cover.”1
In John’s Gospel, Jesus speaks often of himself as a shepherd to his flock. In today’s reading, he tells his followers that his sheep know his voice, and that he will lead them into abundant life. If you have ever wondered what became of Jesus’ flock once he was no longer physically present to lead them, our reading from Acts suggests that his little lambs eventually grew up.
The passage we read this morning describes a vibrant communal life: devoted to the apostles’ teaching, sharing possessions, caring for one another’s needs, eating together with glad and generous hearts, and welcoming new people day by day.
It sounds beautiful. It sounds hopeful. It sounds, perhaps, almost impossible. And yet maybe that is why the church has preserved this story. As with many biblical texts, the community described in Acts may tell us less about historical precision and more about theological possibility. Written decades after the events it describes, Acts likely reflects an idealized memory of the early church. But whether this account is exact history, sanctified memory, or hopeful vision is not the most important question.
What matters is what animated that community—and whether it might still animate the church today. Because in every age, people hunger for what is described here. People hunger for belonging. People hunger for purpose. People hunger for lives that are more than private, isolated, anxious striving. And in an age marked by loneliness, division, and carefully curated digital connection, this kind of shared life can sound almost revolutionary.
So what made that early community so compelling?
First, the community in Acts understood itself to be carrying on the work of Jesus: proclaiming good news, healing wounds, and setting free those crushed by oppression. They did not gather simply to admire Jesus. They gathered to continue what he started.
Second, the community practiced a radical sharing of resources. They reordered wealth and possession so that everyone had enough. Not because they were naïve. Not because they were perfect. But because they understood that no one thrives alone, and no one should suffer need while others have abundance.
Third, they were doing life together at the edge of time. This was a pivotal and precarious moment. Their leader had been executed. Their future was uncertain. In the verses just before today’s reading, Peter calls it “the last days.” Whether or not the world was ending, it must have felt that way. Many people know that feeling. When institutions fail. When violence rises. When the future feels fragile. When tomorrow no longer feels guaranteed.2
By aligning themselves with Jesus, his followers placed themselves in the crosshairs of an empire that had already crucified him. By proclaiming resurrection, they offered a bold challenge to Rome and to every power that depends on fear, violence, and death. They lived under pressure. Every day may have felt uncertain. And yet—They still shared. They still prayed. They still ate together. They still cared for the vulnerable. They still welcomed new people in. They leaned on one another even as the authorities leaned on them. And somehow, the movement blossomed. It was as if the danger surrounding them only deepened their roots and strengthened their resolve.
As I said a few moments ago, this account in Acts may well be idealized. Luke likely wrote from a mixture of inherited tradition, careful investigation, and holy imagination. Still, he had to explain something real: A movement once left shattered by crucifixion had become, within a few decades, a growing force throughout the Mediterranean world. Something sustained them. Something compelled them. Something made their life together beautiful enough that others wanted in. They were not perfect people. But they were a people who needed one another, forgave one another, and made room for one another. That kind of life has always been compelling.
Perhaps it was their devotion to the liberating work of Jesus. Perhaps it was their radical redistribution of wealth, power, and belonging. Perhaps it was the urgency of living at the edge of time—with the desire to change the world and the awareness that there might not be much time to do it. I suspect it was all three. They knew who they were. They knew what they were about.
And they knew the work was urgent. Might that still be the recipe for a growing, thriving, world-changing church in the twenty-first century? Might that still be the recipe for us— for New England Congregational Church? According to our 2023 Vision Statement, we are a forward-thinking, tradition-affirming congregation rooted in the life and teachings of Jesus, welcoming all to create authentic community.
We meet people where they are and commit ourselves to serving those who need it most as leaders in the community beyond these walls. And we see it already. We see it when meals are shared. When children are welcomed. When grief is held tenderly. When justice is pursued. When strangers become friends. When hope is practiced together. We know who we are. We know what we are about. And we know that Jesus’ dream of heaven’s realm—here and now, for all people—is an ambitious one. Still, we commit ourselves to leading change in our time and place. We have faith enough to begin. We have gifts enough to share. We have neighbors enough to serve. We have love enough to risk.
So tell me—What is there to stop us?
May we be the church we are called and equipped to be, for the sake of our world. Amen.
1 “A Sheepish Recovery,” Stewardshipoflife.org: https://www.stewardshipoflife.org/jokes/.
2 Jeremy L. Williams. “Commentary on Acts 2:42-47,” Workingpreacher.org, April 26, 2026: https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-ofeaster/commentary-on-acts-242-47-7.
