Preached on Sunday, November 2, 2025, All Saints’ Sunday, at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral, Little Rock.

“May you know the immeasurable greatness of [God’s] power for us who believe.” (Ephesians 1:19)

Power: that’s what we’re talking about when we celebrate the saints of God. When we celebrate the saints we are celebrating power.

But what kind of power are we talking about here?

We’re talking about the power to make the world a different place, a place that more clearly and closely resembles the Kingdom of God, where the poor are made rich, where the hungry are filled with good things, and where the mourners are filled with laughter. Notice, then, that this is not the power of the world, which keeps to itself and stores up for its own gain. No, this is a different kind of power, which gives more than it receives. This power loves the enemy. This power does good to those who hate, blesses those who curse, prays for those who abuse. 

This is the power of the saints. Empowered, the saints of God make the world a different place, and they do so each in their own way. As the hymn has us sing, “one was a doctor and one was a queen and one was a shepherdess on the green,” and so on. The vocations are many—as many as there are people in this room—but the effect is always the same: making the world a more faithful reflection of God through the power they uniquely possess.

Okay, then. Where does one get this power?

This is where we get tripped up when we celebrate the Communion of Saints each year. For you see, we like to think that we gain the power of the saints from ourselves. That is, we like to think of saintly power as human power, that the saints are who they are because of what they do.

We like to think of the saints as a kind of “super-breed of believers, a race of genetically modified Christians who grow to gigantic proportions and undertake feats of spiritual heroism that we mortals couldn’t possibly aspire to.” Or we think of the saints as possessing some “awesome moral purity which sets them apart from the rest of the human race––unapproachably and almost embarrassingly upright figures whom we may admire,” and may even put in stained glass windows, “but cannot hope to emulate” [1]. Either way, we think of saintly power as a human power, as if to say, being a saint is all about mustering up as much goodness as we can from ourselves.

And what’s so wrong with that? Well, because at the end of the day, such thoughts keep the saints at a distance. Such thinking makes the saints super human––that is, beyond humanity. It thinks of the saints as something that we ourselves couldn’t possibly be, and therefore, something altogether different from us. The saints are not folk just like me.

But no. When we Christians sing “the saints of God are folk just like me,” we mean it: not a super-breed of believers, not a race of genetically modified Christians, not spiritual super heroes, and not perfectly moral people, not something we couldn’t possibly be.

So no, the power of the saints is not a power we find within ourselves. And in fact, nothing could be further from the truth. Rather, the power of the saints is about being infused with God’s grace. That is, the power of the saints––if there is any power for the saints to have!––is nothing less than the power of God.

To be a saint is to know of one’s insufficiency. To be a saint is to know of one’s own limitation. To be a saint is to know of one’s own dependency. To be a saint is to know that power––the only power that can make a difference!––comes not from ourselves but from God.

The power of God given to His saints, therefore, is built up in us in the life of making ourselves vulnerable to the shockingly good news of the Gospel: that, with God, all things are possible. Humility and repentance––these are the watchwords of the saints! For it is in humility and repentance––the every day activities of the Christian life––that we trust in God’s goodness working through us. Or as Ephesians puts it, “[God’s] power for us who believe.”

If we’re honest with ourselves, that’s tough news. It’s easier––and a whole lot comfier!––to think of the saints in that other sense. It’s easier to think of the saints not as folk like us, but as those morally perfect ones, those spiritual super heroes, that super-breed of believers, that race of genetically modified Christians. When we think of the saints that way, it keeps sainthood at a distance and it gets us off the hook. We can celebrate the saints etched in colored glass around this Cathedral while leaving the work to them––not taking it on for ourselves. Our annual celebration of the saints is a reminder to each of us that this is not a calling for a select few, but for all of us.

And to my ears, that’s remarkably good news, because each of us has a claim to this power. Each of us finds our place in the Communion of Saints––not because of what we can do but because of what we’re willing for God to do through us.

It begins in Baptism, as we do this morning. And it continues with coming to Church each Sunday, praying each day—even if just for a little while—reading the Bible, repenting for our shortcomings, keeping ourselves open to God’s Word to us. For parents of the baptized, it continues with taking kids to Church and to the nursery and to Sunday school, even on the tough days––in fact, especially on the tough days! It’s a lot less exciting than some of the heroics of the saints of old, but that’s just the point. Sainthood is a slow burn. Saintliness is much more ordinary than we like to think. Sanctity is much more common than we care to admit. For the saints of God are folk just like you and me, opening ourselves to God, being empowered to do the impossible. 

So, I pass along these words from Ephesians to each of you here today and especially to Randall, Henry, and Virginia and their parents and godparents all of you––all of us!––called to be saints: “I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe.” In His Name we pray. Amen.

[1] John Webster, “The Way of Holiness,” in Confronted by Grace: Meditations of a Theologian (Bellingham: Lexham Press, 2015), 169.