A Church that Empowers
Una iglesia que empodera
Ephesians 4:11–16
Preached by
Rev. Dr. Marvin Lance Wiser
Eden United Church of Christ
Cherryland, CA
08 Nov 2026
Two years ago, on the Sunday after Election Day 2024, I stood in this pulpit and said that we would have to learn from our collective stories and drink deeply at the well of our shared wisdom: creating community, building coalitions, working together for the common good.
Church, we have been busy doing just that. Amen?
I was sick as a dog Tuesday night—and just as well, because I would have broken a leg jumping around the house. We have witnessed a watershed election, one that invites comparisons with the political upheaval following Watergate more than half a century ago. And beyond the shifting balance of power, we have witnessed something extraordinary: doors opening that, for generations, remained closed. The last time Kansas had sent a Democrat to the United States Senate was before they sent Dorthy to Oz. And Mississippi—they're still a counting in Mississippi, so I'll let Nina Simone finish that line.
Let's hear it for the women! Keisha Lance Bottoms in Georgia: the first Black woman elected governor in some 250 years of this nation's history. Much thanks to Stacy Abrams. Deb Haaland in New Mexico: the first Native American woman elected governor of a U.S. state. Peggy Flanagan of the White Earth Nation: the first Native American woman elected to the U.S. Senate. And how about the men: Abdul El-Sayed, the first Muslim elected to the Senate; Chris Pappas, the first openly gay man elected to the Senate. And the first elected Latine governors of California and Texas, Xavier Becerra and Gina Hinojosa.
You know, some folks say "DEI" like it's a curse word. I hear Missio Dei—the mission of God, who has always been gathering every tribe and tongue to the table. This understanding of God and God’s inclusive mission is very different from the pseudo-Christianity that we’ve seen dominate the news cycles the past decade. One occupied less with nationalist tattoos and livestreaming executions, and one more about following a barefoot rabbi who gave us two commandments: love God and love neighbor. Amen?
But notice this: none of those firsts fell from the sky. Every one of them stands on generations of people who were taught, mentored, organized, and equipped, drinking deeply at the well. It takes generations of community to open the door wider. Which brings us to Ephesians.
Verses 11 through 16 are a single sentence in Greek. I know that's hard to hear for all our grammarians, but it's the truth—talk about a run-on sentence. The writer refuses to put a period between who teaches and why. The list of gifts and the call to grow up are welded together.
Notice the shape of the list. It moves from wide to narrow, from breadth to depth. Apostles are the sent ones; they go out from region to region. At the other end are pastors and teachers—didaskaloi—who stay. They are embedded in a community, engaged in ongoing instruction and discipleship. They go deep.
And what is their purpose? Not to perform all the ministry themselves. Not to become indispensable authorities upon whom everyone depends. They are “to equip the saints for the work of ministry.” The word is katartismos— preparing or training. In the Gospels its root describes fishermen mending their nets. The teacher mends the net so that you can go fishing.
The author of Ephesians assumes that every Christian is part of the building process. Not a few professionals and a crowd of spectators. Every one of us.
Estas elecciones del martes pasado nos dejaron muchos momentos históricos: la primera gobernadora afroamericana, el primer senador musulmán, el primer senador abiertamente gay, la primera senadora indígena, y los primeros gobernadores latinos de California y Texas.
¡Qué bueno que estaba enfermo esa noche, porque si no, me hubiera roto una pierna de tanto brincar de alegría!
Claro, estos cambios no entrarán en vigor hasta el próximo año, pero tenemos la esperanza de que el nuevo Congreso pueda frenar muchas de las políticas dañinas de esta administración fascista.
Pero ninguno de estos logros cayó del cielo. Detrás de cada uno hay generaciones de personas que enseñaron, acompañaron, organizaron y prepararon a otros para liderar. Y eso nos lleva a la carta a los Efesios.
Los pastores y maestros están arraigados en sus comunidades. Acompañan, enseñan y ayudan a otros a crecer en la fe. No es hacer todo el trabajo ellos mismos, ni que todos dependan de ellos, sino, como dice, “preparar al pueblo de Dios para la obra del ministerio.” La palabra griega significa «capacitar». En los Evangelios, la palabra describe a los pescadores remendando sus redes. El maestro prepara la red para que tú puedas salir a pescar.
La carta a los Efesios nos recuerda que todos somos parte de la construcción de la iglesia. No solamente los pastores y unos cuantos líderes, mientras los demás observan. Todos participamos. Cada uno aporta sus dones. Y así, como dice la Escritura, todo el cuerpo, unido y trabajando en armonía, “crece y se edifica en amor.”
Then comes the hard middle: "We must no longer be children, tossed to and fro and blown about by every wind of doctrine, by people's trickery, by their craftiness in deceitful scheming."
We know those winds: failed policies of fear and division blowing through our neighborhoods and across the phones in our pockets. Maturity here isn't about age or polish. It is about becoming a people who protect one another from deceitful persons and false information, and who do it by "speaking the truth in love."
And finally, the whole body, "joined and knit together by every ligament," as each part works properly, "promotes the body's growth in building itself up in love." Building itself up. The word is oikodomē—the building of a house. The body builds itself. Our siblings in the movement say it plainly: el pueblo salva al pueblo—the people save the people. That isn't a slogan that replaces grace. It's a description of how grace moves: through every joint, every ligament, every part doing its work. How’s that for a wave?
bell hooks, in Teaching to Transgress, imagined "education as the practice of freedom"; a formation that helps people find their voice, exercise agency, think critically, and take part in transforming their world. She reminded us that "no education is politically neutral." Teaching either produces dependency or it produces agency; conformity or freedom. The church has done plenty of both.
Popular education teaches us that people's experience belongs in the learning process. Good teaching helps people name what they already know, connect it with new tools, and turn knowledge into action. As Paulo Freire put it, "Liberating education consists in acts of cognition, not transferals of information."
Learning can itself be a redistribution of power. Remember Acts 6? The Greek-speaking widows were being overlooked in the daily distribution. The apostles didn't fix it from on high. They told the community to choose leaders from among themselves. Those who had been overlooked became the ones entrusted to lead.
hooks wrote, "The classroom remains the most radical space of possibility in the academy." What if the church became the laboratory of possibility? What if Las Compañeras gatherings, our not-yet-realized youth room, our Bible studies were not just programs, but places where leaders are formed?
Where someone who came seeking assistance discovered the confidence to advocate for others? Where a young person who once sat quietly in the back of the room discovered their voice? Where those who have been told their whole lives that they have little to contribute discover that they have something invaluable to teach?
La educadora bell hooks decía que la educación no es neutral políticamente, debe ser una práctica de libertad. No solamente transmitir conocimientos, sino ayudar a las personas a descubrir su voz y transformar su comunidad. Paulo Freire nos enseña eso en su pedagogía de los oprimidos.
Recordemos Hechos capítulo 6. Cuando las viudas de habla griega fueron olvidadas, los apóstoles no hicieron todo ellos mismos. La comunidad eligió nuevos líderes. Compartieron el poder para fortalecer a todos.
¿Y si nuestra iglesia fuera también un lugar donde formamos líderes? En Edén tenemos buenos ministerios, gracias a Dios. Alimentamos, acompañamos y servimos. Pero Jesús no solamente servía; también preparaba a otros para continuar su misión.
Las Compañeras y los ChYLIs ya nos muestran cómo hacerlo. ¿Cómo podemos llevar ese aprendizaje a toda nuestra iglesia? Tomando un paso más con una formación de liderazgo para la iglesia entera y la comunidad.
Que la iglesia Edén sea conocida no solamente por sus buenos ministerios, sino por las personas que ayuda a crecer, liderar, y transformar. Una iglesia donde todos tenemos dones, todos tenemos voz y juntos nos edificamos en el amor de Cristo.
Eden, we have good ministries. Thanks be to God. But the question before us now is bigger: do we form people who can lead? Are we ready to lead? For the church to be a place of formation?
There's a difference between a church that provides good ministries and a church that forms people who can lead.
Both matter. Feeding the hungry, accompanying immigrants, caring for families, and meeting immediate needs are sacred ministries. Jesus never suggested otherwise. He met immediate needs, but he also took the time to go deeper, and form leaders.
What if our ministries didn't end with the services we provide? What if they also cultivated the knowledge, relationships, confidence, and shared power that enable people to transform the conditions affecting their lives? Mending nets so others might fish.
Las Compañeras and the ChYLI program may be more than successful programs. They may contain a pedagogy Eden needs to learn from. What has the ChYLI program taught us about how people become leaders, and how might we embed those practices throughout the whole body?
This matters because of who we are. In the United Church of Christ, authority doesn't flow down from a bishop. It rests with the gathered congregation, living in covenant with one another and the wider church. Our polity is a wager that local ordinary saints, equipped and trusted, can discern God's will together. But that wager only pays off if we are actually equipping one another.
What are we called to deepen? And what are we called to create?
Perhaps investing more intentionally in the leadership of people already among us, and creating new pathways for sustained engagement, mentorship, shared decision-making, community organizing, and spiritual formation and discipleship.
Church, the purpose of opening a door isn't simply to invite people inside. It's to make room for them to belong, to contribute, to lead—and eventually to open doors for others. And perhaps that is the church Christ is calling us to become. Not simply a church known for the good work it does, but a church known for the people it empowers.
A church where every gift matters, every voice has a place, and every generation helps prepare the next.
A church that continues to grow, until the whole body, joined and knit together, builds itself up in love. May it be so. Amen.
bel hooks, Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom, (New York: Routledge, 1994).
Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed, 30th Anniversary Edition (New York: Bloomsbury, 2014).