On 3rd May 2026 it was a privilege to listen to this sermon delivered at Evensong by Tim Harrold, St. Paul's Licensed Lay Minister. The sermon articulates the idea that God is with us and not for us. I consider the concept is of fundamental importance inter alia to understanding theology underpinning the pursuit of social justice and assisting those in need. Tim has agreed kindly to the sermon's publication on this blog.
A Sermon for Evensong
Zechariah 4:1–10; Revelation 21:1–14 (NRSV), in conversation with Samuel Wells
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
This evening, I want to introduce you to one of my favourite contemporary
theologians, Samuel Wells. He is the vicar at St. Martin’s in London and the
author of over 40 books. There is one theme in particular that consistently runs
through many of his books which is very relevant to tonight’s readings. Samuel
Wells argues that traditional theologians have frequently been captivated by
the notion of “for” – invariably they see God and Jesus as working or being
“for” us, dying for us, rising for us and this is both wrong and decidedly
unhelpful. It makes our relationship with God a transactional one leading to all
sorts of problems. Instead, we need to focus on the more lasting gift of his
working “with” or ultimately being “with” us. As will become apparent, our
readings impact very differently through the lens of “with” and not “for”.
Let us begin with Zechariah. The people are rebuilding the temple after exile.
The task feels fragile, uncertain, and small. Into this, God speaks:
“Not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit, says the Lord of hosts.”
(Zechariah 4:6, NRSV)
We often hear this as reassurance that God will act for us—achieving what we
cannot. Certainly, that is the traditional historical theological position. Samuel
Wells invites us to hear something deeper: God’s Spirit is not simply a force
applied on our behalf, but the very presence of God with us in the work itself.
In his book God Companions, Wells reflects on how God’s primary desire is
not to fix things from a distance but to accompany us—to be alongside us in
our vulnerability, our incompleteness, our “day of small things.”
And so that phrase from Zechariah takes on new depth:
“For whoever has despised the day of small things shall rejoice…” (Zechariah
4:10, NRSV)
Why should we not despise small things? Not because they will one day
become impressive, but because God is already present within them.
God is with us in the small congregation, the quiet prayer, the unnoticed
kindness. The Spirit is not waiting for greatness; the Spirit dwells in the
ordinary.
Too often we imagine God as one who steps in dramatically—solving, rescuing,
intervening. But it’s this that can so easily become a source of tension
whenever we feel that God went AWOL and didn’t answer our calls or did not
prevent some deadfall calamity from hurting us.
The vision of Zechariah suggests something gentler and more enduring: a lamp
continually fed with oil, a steady, sustaining presence.
God with us.
And this brings us to Revelation.
John’s vision is often read as a promise of what God will do for us at the end of
time. But again, notice the emphasis:
“See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will
be his peoples, and God himself will be with them.” (Revelation 21:3, NRSV)
The fulfilment of all things is not simply relief from suffering, but
relationship—God dwelling with humanity.
In another of Well’s books, A Nazareth Manifesto, Wells explores how the life
of Jesus reveals this very pattern: God does not stand apart, dispensing
solutions, but enters fully into human life—sharing meals, forming friendships,
walking alongside others. Salvation, in this vision, is not merely rescue but
presence. The cross is not a sacrifice that appeases God’s righteous wrath or a
conquest that defeats our last enemy. It’s a vision of a God whose purpose is
to be with us more intimately, more permanently, more comprehensively than
we can imagine. God is so committed to be with us, that Christ is willing to
endure even crucifixion to embody that ultimate commitment to be with,
So when Revelation continues:
“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and
crying and pain will be no more…” (Revelation 21:4, NRSV)
we are not simply being told that suffering will be removed, but that God will
be with us in such a complete way that all that diminishes life is overcome by
that presence. There will be nothing left for God to do for us, we shall fully be
God’s companions. God is with us through the very worst of life and in the very
separation of death – in, through, and beyond.
The theology of “with” insists that the method and goal of God in creation,
incarnation, and salvation are the same.
So what does this mean for us, here, at Evensong?
It means that our hope is not only that God will act for us in the future, but
that God is already with us in the present.
With us in the small things.
With us in the unfinished work.
With us in our joys and in our sorrows.
It means that prayer is not merely asking God to do things, but becoming
attentive to God’s presence.
It means that the Church is not simply a place where things get fixed, but a
community learning to be with God and with one another.
And it means that when we face difficulty or uncertainty, we are not waiting
for God to arrive—God is already here.
“Not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit.”
“See, the home of God is among mortals.”
These are not separate messages. They are one: God’s Spirit is God’s presence,
and that presence is with us now, even as it draws us toward the fullness of
the new creation.
So let us not despise the day of small things. For in those small things, God is
with us.
Let us not imagine that salvation lies only ahead of us. For even now, God
dwells among us.
And as we go from this place tonight, into the quiet of the evening, may we
become more aware of that presence—beside us, within us, among us.
Not God for us.
But God with us.
Amen.
