Preached on Sunday, October 19, 2025, the Feast of Dedication, at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral, Little Rock.

On this Feast of Dedication, this 141st anniversary of Trinity Cathedral’s first service on October 19, 1884, I preach on a verse from our passage from 1 Peter:

“Like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house” (1 Peter 2:5a).

One of the best parts of my job as a priest of this Cathedral is the many opportunities I have to bring people into this Cathedral for the very first time, often during the week when nobody’s around: a bright-eyed newly-engaged couple looking for a place to marry; a grieving family planning a funeral for a parent or grandparent who worshipped here; just two weeks ago I opened the doors for a couple of siblings in their 70s who worshipped here one Christmas Eve with their grandparents as small children, but hadn’t been back since; and back in the summer, I showed in a stonemason who had helped with one of the renovations of the campus many years ago, but who had never been inside the Cathedral before.

And each time I bring someone into this Cathedral for the first time, their reaction is priceless. Some of you have probably seen this reaction before: their eyes go up, taking in the arches and the ceiling and the windows; then they walk around, finding all of the hidden spaces that that just seem to keep coming, like the chapel and the bell tower; and then they slow down, realizing that there are countless details to discover, like the kneelers, or the plaques, or the cross from Coventry Cathedral at the west end, or the hidden creatures in the north window, or the fruits of the Spirit painted on the Baptistry molding. Their reaction is priceless.

And each time I bring someone into this Cathedral for the first time, after a while, I find myself saying the same thing: “if you think this place is something now, you should see it on a Sunday morning.” And of course, I say that because that’s when all the people are here; that’s when this Cathedral comes alive.

That sort of “aliveness” is what Peter is getting at in his first letter. Instead of seeing the Church primarily as a structure––arches and windows and kneelers and plaques––Peter looks beyond the visible form and points us toward the living Church: a living, spiritual house, constructed not from a dead and inert pile of bricks, but from the living, breathing body of Christ’s people. And so it is for us today: Trinity Cathedral’s true form is found in all of us, the living stones, gathered, animated, and sustained by Jesus Christ, our cornerstone. When we’re all here, this place comes alive.

Now, that all sounds nice, but what does it actually mean? What does it actually look like to be a living Church built from living stones? 

In one way, most visibly, it looks like what we do in this place. Peter’s letter calls this being “a holy priesthood,” offering “spiritual sacrifices”––what we usually call “ministry.” Everyone has a ministry, and when we’re all here, this place comes alive because of our many ministries: preparing the Altar space; arranging flowers; singing in the choir; reading the Bible; leading our prayers; carrying a cross, or a torch, or a banner; swinging smoke; ringing bells; serving the chalice; greeting newcomers; leading children’s liturgy; feeding the hungry; clothing the naked; visiting the lonely; praying with the sick; bringing the Bread and Wine to those who cannot gather with us; delivering flowers to those who need a pick-me-up; supporting those in grief; teaching a class; planning a party; leading a committee; crunching numbers; tending to a balance sheet. All of this is what it means to be living stones, to where this Church—this Cathedral—is built up by our ministry, our “spiritual sacrifices.”

But far more than any of that, far more than what we do, a living Church of living stones looks like what God does. What makes this place a spiritual house, a living Church of living stones, is what God the Master Builder has done for us. All of us come here with the rough and ragged edges of our stoney lives, and we are chosen and found to be precious by God Himself, “called out of darkness into His marvelous light,” giving us a place to belong in the building up of His Holy Church.

“Once [we] were not a people, but now [we] are God’s people; once [we] had not received mercy, but now [we] have received mercy.”

Once we were unto ourselves, but now, we are grafted in God’s family through Baptism. Once we were weak, but now, we are sustained by the Bread and Wine. Once we were weary, but now, we are freed from the bondage of sin. Once we were lost, but now, we are guided and directed and taught––all because of what God has done for us here. To be a living Church of living stones is to have found our life not because of what we do but because of what God has done for us here. And that’s what we celebrate today.

Now, it would be all too easy to celebrate ourselves today––especially this year of all years. After all, we’ve had a great year.

We have a number of new members spanning all ages. We’ve celebrated more weddings this year than in past years. We’ve celebrated more baptisms this year than in over 10 years. Attendance continues to rise. Participation in Christian Formation for all ages continues to rise. Koinonia continues to bless children and families. Our Early Childhood Education Program was recently named “2025 best childcare center ” in the Democrat Gazette. We reinaugurated our Insights Lecture Series. We have Bach’s organ music each and every Wednesday at lunchtime. We welcomed the Interfaith Center as a neighbor on our campus. Our Broadway Community Garden continues to flourish, even through a hot summer. We had nine Cottage Gatherings this fall. New ministries are emerging. And all the while, we took $350k of debt off of our balance sheet. We’ve had a great year.

But if we take today as a chance to celebrate ourselves, we miss out on the main point. The main point is this: we are being built up by God; not building ourselves, but being built up by God.

And that’s crucially important, not because it’s a spiritually-gilded humility, but because it’s a reminder that God is active in our lives. When our celebration today becomes less about us, and more about God, we can expect the very same God to move in our own lives in the days and years to come. And so, we have to keep our attention fixed on God, He Who “called us out of darkness into His marvelous light.” Our task today is to focus on what God has done so that we might look for what God is doing now and what God will do in the future. Or in the words of 1 Peter, our task is to be built up by God, like living stones.

A spiritual house like this one––built up by God as it is––does not get built up overnight. Even when the doors of this Cathedral first opened for worship on October 19, 1884, this Cathedral was not complete––and in a way, it still isn’t, and it never will be. God’s house is always being built up. For you see, when God is the builder, each stone matters; not one is unnecessary. The youngest, the oldest, the strong, the frail, those bursting with gifts, those who can barely manage the next step, and those whom we don’t yet even know—all are needed, all are holy, all belong, being set and placed upon Jesus Christ, our cornerstone. Now for 141 years, God has built up this house, and this very day, God is continuing to build it up for generations yet unborn––can’t you feel it? The work we do and––most importantly!––the work God is doing in us is building up this most holy place, fashioning for Himself and for us a true house of prayer for all people. Amen.