Jeremiah 23:1-6; November 23, 2025; Christ the King Sunday
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“The Lord is our righteousness.” – Jeremiah 23:6
That was actually the original title of my sermon, as evidenced by the slides here. And it was a good title. Strong and true. Lifted straight from scripture. But as I kept reading the text, another set of words stood out to me. Another title altogether.
Unfortunately, I was unable to stop the bulletin from printing in time. Oh, I called Tina and attempted to do so, but the printer is like God of the office, none shall get in its way once in the genesis of creation. But if I could have stopped it, I would have changed the title of this sermon to: “Nor shall any be missing.”
Nor shall any be missing.
A collection of words that we find in verse four of our text. A verse that, I imagine, has deep and profound meaning for all of us here.
Nor shall any be missing.
You hopefully don’t need me to remind you that this Thursday is Thanksgiving. And I imagine that around many of our Thanksgiving tables, some will be missing.
Maybe it will be due to disagreements about parenting, or just comments and resentments that have built throughout the years… or maybe it will be due to political differences, to philosophical differences, to ethical differences… or maybe, some will be missing will simply due to the fact that they have moved across state lines, country borders, oceans, and seas… or, maybe it will be because they have signed a lease on another shore with God in Heaven: those who have died, and have left an empty seat at our table, so to join the Lord and Creator at His.
Nor shall any be missing.
But, right now, some are and will be.
Two weeks ago, I shared with you that my family had experienced some significant heartache. That there had been a death of an uncle, and an expected death of a child.
This past Saturday, my family went to New Jersey for my Uncle Leo’s memorial service. I was able to read a psalm and offer a short testimony about his three-dimensional life. Both of his daughters gave eulogies. And they were honest, addressing how they saw him similarly, loved him fiercely, though experienced him differently.
They alluded to how politics had in a way divided the family and was behind empty seats, missing faces, and broken traditions. But that perhaps, in death, and in the occasion of it, we had all been offered a chance to reconcile it. To come together again. For, after all, that’s what our Father would want in Heaven.
For, nor shall any be missing.
And then, two days ago, on Friday, my cousin Christine buried her daughter, Adeline. Who was 7. Less than a year after losing her husband, Ed, Christine laid to rest her first born child, my first cousin once removed.
Adeline came into this world with a rare genetic condition known as CMMRD and was diagnosed with brain cancer at age 3. From the start, it must have been so confusing and devastating in ways that I just cannot fathom. Adeline was a fighter though. Even as a toddler. To that end, her family created a website and social media page called “Adeline Prevails” where friends were able to follow her story, her journey, and hopefully therein find their own prevailing inspiration.
And Adeline, wow, did she inspire. She was made Honorary Police Chief of Hillsborough for a day. As well as their Honorary Mayor. Strangers and nurses befriended her, and the good priests and parishioners of Mary Mother of God baptized her in unyielding love.
The service was as beautiful as you could imagine, and also, as terrible as you wouldn’t want to. There were lots of hugs, and many more tears. And as we stood around the cemetery in silence, my Uncle Barry, who I hadn’t seen in years, came up by my side, and there, reunited, we watched as Adeline’s sister, Scarlett, age 2, laid a flower on her sister’s remains, and said what I thought I heard as: “bye Adeline…”
Bye Adeline.
And as I gave into that great despair and felt this sort of paralytic remorse come over me for Scarlett, for Christine, and for all those whom I love, I remembered the great love with which we have all been loved, and remembered that like Adeline, Jesus prevails.
Jesus prevails, my friends, for long ago, he prevailed over the cross and the grave, so that we all might trust that with him we will rise together in the life to come. Eating, laughing and dancing together in the Great Thanksgiving to come, where none shall ever be missing again.
Whereas death and other so-called kings have sought to break us and scatter us, Christ the true King, our Righteous Branch, our Friend, and Good Sheperd, has sought to find us and fix us, so to welcome and unite us as citizens of His Kingdom; so that in His home and at His table, we not only have a seat to be filled, but bread to be broken, with strangers, and loved ones, who wait for us with open arms.
So let it be.
Amen.
