What We Carry
As the United States marks 250 years since the signing of the Declaration of Independence, this sermon reflects on the stories we tell and the truths we often forget. Through Rebekah’s courageous “yes” and Jesus’ invitation to rest, it explores a freedom rooted not in certainty but in God’s promise. It is an invitation to give thanks for our country while placing our deepest hope in God’s kingdom.
The Glimpses of Grace podcast is a ministry of Grace Episcopal Church in Gainesville, Georgia. We are passionate about supporting the spiritual growth of souls, and we hope these sermons and conversations meet you where you are and enrich your soul as we all continue to make meaning in the world today.
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Transcript
This weekend marks 250 years since the signing of
the Declaration of Independence.
Anniversaries. They tell stories.
Stories of lives. Stories of marriages. Stories of nations. Stories of churches. We remember who we have been, who we imagine ourselves to be… who we hope to become.
But over time, with the continued telling of stories,
those stories tend to become polished.
We remember courageous moments more easily than contradictions. Achievement takes center stage over failure.
Heroes are celebrated, and others are forgotten.
That is true of all stories.
Remember the family picture we imagined a couple weeks ago? The untold stories behind the smiles and matching outfits?
But Scripture has little interest in polished stories.
Genesis 24 is often remembered and read as a love story.
But isn’t it really a story about trust?
Abraham’s servant tells the story of his long journey, his prayer, and his encounter with Rebekah at the well.
He trusts God’s hand in the ordinary moments of travel, of conversation. Then, when Rebekah’s mother and brother ask, “Will you go with this man?” Rebekah answers, “I will.”
No questions. We don’t read anything about worry or anxiety. Those who have read Genesis know better than to believe she’s joining a perfect family.
Abraham’s family has already experienced grief, deception, rivalry. Rebekah is saying yes not to perfection, but perhaps to promise.
That matters as we celebrate 250 years.
Every nation asks its people to believe in its promise.
Every generation learns to tell its story in ways that sustain that promise.
Scripture seeks to ask, “where is God calling you?”
Covenant with God is larger than any tribe, any empire, any nation. But Abraham’s descendants will forget that.
The people of Israel will forget. Rome will forget.
Every powerful people eventually forgets that God’s dream
cannot be contained inside the borders humans create.
In Matthew, Jesus describes people who cannot be satisfied:
“We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
we wailed, and you did not mourn.”
John the Baptist was too intense, too unsettling.
Jesus was too joyful, too vulgar and unserious, too inclusive.
The problem is not John. The problem is not Jesus.
The problem is a generation that has already decided what God must look like. So Jesus says,
“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, I will give you rest.”
With the arrival of this holiday weekend, we hear a lot about
independence and freedom.
Notice what Jesus offers: rest, repose, refreshment.
This is a different vision of freedom.
This is different from the visions of autonomy that we tie to independence. Because the truth is that we all wear a yoke:
the yoke of success.
the yoke of shame.
the yoke of proving ourselves.
the yoke of addiction.
the yoke of national identity.
even the yoke of trying to be the perfect parent, a good Christian.
Nobody in this room walks through life without carrying something. But what burden are we willing to let shape us?
250 years?! I think we can give thanks. It’s worth celebrating.
But 250 years holds a lot of stories.
No nation—not Rome, not the United States—
can bear the weight of our hope.
The first Christians did not gather around confessing, “Rome is our salvation.” Nor did they gather around the confession, “Rome is evil.”
They gathered, in wonder, around one whose life, death, and resurrection brought them hope.
That frees us to love our country without worshiping it,
to question and critique without being hateful or dejected,
to work for its flourishing without confusing it with God’s kingdom.
Which brings us back to Rebekah.
Because God still asks us to leave what is familiar.
God still asks folks to trust promise more than seeking certainty. God still asks creation to become part of a larger story.
“Will you go?”
The road is never clear. The future, as our human brains make sense of it, isn’t guaranteed. And, sure, that can make us weary. But Jesus still says: “Come to me.”
Release the burden of pretending our stories are uncomplicated, or believing that the right leader would make everything right. Because Jesus offers something different: rest.
A kind of rest that makes people free enough to tell the truth. Free enough to love a neighbor.
Free enough to hope.
That is a deeper kind of (inter)dependence…
a deeper freedom from the things that keep us from belonging to one another, and from belonging to God.
Amen.
The Rev. Dr. Brandon Nonnemaker
July 5, 2026