July 05, 2026
• Rev. Dr. Aleze Fulbright
"You Did It for Me!"- Hebrews 13:1-3 and Matthew 25:31-40
Every nation tells a story about itself. Sometimes those stories are found in history books.
Sometimes they are found in songs. Sometimes they are etched into monuments or engraved
upon our currency. They become the words we repeat until they begin to shape how we see
ourselves.
For those who still carry US currency (of if we remember what it looks like and what is on it),
{SLIDE 1} we will find four Latin words: E Pluribus Unum, which means “Out of many, one.” It
is a remarkable aspiration. People from different lands, different languages, different customs,
different stories, called to become one people.
Then, standing in New York Harbor, another inscription welcomes those approaching our shores,
mounted beneath the Statue of Liberty are words that have stirred hearts for generations:
{SLIDE 2}
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
{SLIDE 3} The New Colossus (co-lass-us), written by Emma Lazarus, a decedent of early
Jewish settlers in America, crafted the poem in 1883 in order to sell at an auction to raise money
to build the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty.
The Statue of Liberty, standing 305 feet tall, was a gift from the people of France. Called the
“Mother of Exiles” and recognized as a universal symbol of freedom and democracy. Placed
intentionally to stand specifically so that people on every ship would see the statue as the
gateway to America.
It is chronicled that from 1892-1954 over 12 million immigrants, which was 70% of the
immigrant population during that time were those seeking new life in these United States.
{SLIDE 4} “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, if
these statements make America great; defining the United States as a welcoming sanctuary and a
beacon of hope for immigrants; what is the problem today?
Why has the matter of immigration become another divisive issue for US? Why are there such
harsh restrictions to travel visas that ban certain countries from visiting, or even the assessment
of travel bonds of upwards to $15,000 that makes it impossible for some of our United Methodist
Bishops to travel here on business. This is not even to mention the erection of detention centers,
presented for public safety purposes, but reality these inhumane facilities are just another path of
profits for someone to become richer. The are court rulings that end temporary protection status’
for an estimated 350,000 Haitians and 6,000 Syrians subjecting them to potential deportation,
and the unsettling false claims that immigrants were eating pets, and taking our jobs
According to Pew Research from June 2025, that took US Census data, there is roughly 52
million immigrants, which represents only 15.4% of the US population. The data also states that
only 19% of immigrants are of the US workforce.
Lord, Have Mercy on US…I find it interesting that there is still debates regarding the category of
people called immigrants, when we have a noble stature, also referenced as, Liberty Enlightening
the World, as a symbol of freedom for many, and a light of hope for those who choose and or
desire to make this place their home.
So, whether our nation has always lived up to those words is a matter for historians to debate.
But this morning, I am less interested in whether the United States has fulfilled those promises
than I am in whether the Church and those who profess Christ has been equally as culpable.
Because long before there was an Ellis Island...Long before there was a Statue of Liberty...
Long before there was an American experiment...There was another kin-dom; Another people,
Another invitation.
The people of God have always been identified not by the strength of their walls but by the
wideness of their welcome. Scripture has always insisted that God's people make room at the
table. Israel was commanded to love the foreigner because they knew what it meant to be
foreigners in Egypt. Jesus spent His earthly ministry continually crossing the boundaries
respectable society tried to enforce.
Jesus touched lepers; Jesus spoke with Samaritans; Jesus welcomed children; Jesus dined with
tax collectors; Jesus forgave sinners. Jesus crossed every line humanity drew because grace
refuses to recognize the borders fear creates.
And so, we arrive at our two scriptural texts for the morning. {SLIDE 5} The first Hebrews 13:1-
3: Keep loving each other like family. Don’t neglect to open up your homes to guests, because by
doing this some have been hosts to angels without knowing it. Remember prisoners as if you
were in prison with them, and people who are mistreated as if you were in their place.
The writer of Hebrews brings this remarkable letter to its conclusion, after thirteen chapters of
rich theology about Christ's supremacy, priesthood, sacrifice, and faithfulness, one might expect
a grand theological crescendo. However, the writer begins this final chapter with a command that
sounds deceptively simple: “Keep loving each other like family.” The Greek word is
philadelphia.
Before it became the name of a city, it described a way of life; brotherly, sisterly, sibling love. It
is the love that binds a family together. It is steadfast. It is enduring. It is the kind of love that
refuses to give up on one another. Notice the writer does not say, “Start loving.” It reads, “Keep
loving...” Apparently, the community had already demonstrated this kind of love. Earlier in the
letter, the writer praises them for standing with those who suffered, for sharing in the pain of
those who had lost property because of their faith, and for refusing to abandon one another
during persecution. They had lived faithfully.
But even faithful people grow weary. Even compassionate people can become tired.
Even churches known for generosity can slowly drift toward convenience. Perhaps that is why
the writer begins here: Keep loving. Don't stop now. Don't allow hardship to harden your heart.
Don't allow disappointment to diminish your compassion. Don't allow fear to silence your
hospitality. Then, almost without warning, the writer expands the circle. Not only should we love
one another... We are commanded to love the stranger.
The Greek word changes from philadelphia to philoxenia (philo-san-ea). One means the love of
family. The other means the love of the stranger. That single shift changes everything.
Most of us find it relatively easy to love people who think like us, vote like us, worship like us,
look like us, or live near us. But Scripture consistently pushes us beyond the boundaries of
familiarity. Biblical hospitality is making room for someone who has no place.
It is creating belonging where the world has created exclusion. It is opening doors that society
has closed. Hospitality, in the biblical imagination, is holy work because it reflects the very heart
of God.
Then comes one of the most intriguing verses in all of Scripture, in verse 2, "Do not neglect to
show hospitality to strangers, for by doing so some have entertained angels without knowing it."
For those familiar with bible stories, immediately, our minds travel back to Genesis 18. Abraham
is sitting beneath the oaks of Mamre in the heat of the day. Three strangers appear.
Abraham has no idea who they are. He doesn't ask for identification. He doesn't question whether
they deserve his generosity. He doesn't wonder whether helping them might inconvenience him.
He runs to meet them. He washes their feet. He prepares a feast. He offers rest beneath the shade.
Only later does Abraham discover that his ordinary act of hospitality had become a sacred
encounter with God. Just like the writer of Hebrews says...Don't miss that. Because sometimes
heaven arrives disguised as humanity. Sometimes grace knocks on the front door wearing dusty
sandals. Sometimes the holy comes wrapped in ordinary clothing.
But then...this is where our text from Matthew 25:31-40 comes into the conversation. Jesus takes
that Old Testament story and raises it to an entirely different level. Hebrews says...You may
entertain angels. {SLIDE 6} Jesus says...You did it for Me.
In Matthew 25, Jesus no longer says the stranger might represent God. Jesus says the stranger is
where He chooses to be found:
“I was hungry...”
“I was thirsty...”
“I was a stranger...”
“I was naked...”
“I was sick...”
“I was in prison...”
Matthew 25 is not a parable about being nice, it is a vision of the final judgment. The nations
stand before the King. The question is astonishing.
Not...How many Bible studies did you attend?
Not...How often did you sing?
Not...How many committees did you serve on?
Jesus asks something different.
Did you feed me?
Did you welcome me?
Did you visit me?
Did you clothe me?
Did you see me?
The righteous are confused, and asks…
“When did we see you?"
Jesus says...
“When you served the least...you served me.“
Notice He doesn't say...“They reminded me of me.“
He doesn't say...“They represented me.“
He says...That was me. Christ identifies Himself so completely with the vulnerable that our
treatment of them becomes our treatment of Him.
Let’s give that some thought…
Every hungry child. Every refugee. Every unhoused neighbor.
Every prisoner longing to be remembered.
Jesus says,
“That's where you'll find me.“
Not, “They reminded you of Me.” Not, “They symbolized Me.” Not, “They represented My
values.” Jesus says, “That was Me.” That changes the way we read Hebrews and frames a new
understanding of what it means to follow Christ. Hospitality is no longer merely an act of
kindness. Hospitality becomes an act of worship. Every encounter with another human being
carries the possibility of becoming an encounter with Christ, Christ-self.
No wonder John Wesley {SLIDE 7} insisted the gospel of Christ knows of no religion, but
social; no holiness but social holiness. Faith working by love, is the length and breadth and
depth and height of Christian perfection..
Holiness is social because God is social. God created human beings in God’s image to be
relational creatures. We become fully human when we share in the relationships God initiates
with us through the people God places in our way. Social holiness is the practice of obeying
Jesus’ commandments to love God with all your heart, soul, and mind, loving your neighbor as
yourself, and loving one another as Christ loves. When Wesley says that holiness is social, he
means that the depth of your love for God is revealed by the way you love whom God loves.
Our culture often encourages sympathy from a distance. Jesus calls disciples into solidarity.
That is far more costly. It is also far more transformative. And perhaps that is exactly what the
Church needs to hear this weekend. Because it is one thing to celebrate freedom, it is another
thing to ask who is still waiting to experience it.
It is one thing to celebrate independence. It is another thing to notice those who remain isolated.
It is one thing to celebrate abundance. It is another thing to recognize those who still wonder
where tomorrow's meal will come from. The Gospel never allows celebration to blind us to
compassion. Instead, gratitude becomes the very reason we extend compassion to others.
Because grace received always becomes grace shared.
There is an old preacher story that has been in circulation for a while. The story goes, a pastor
who was preparing for worship one Sunday morning. Outside the church sat a man whose
clothes were worn. His hair was tangled. He carried everything he owned in two plastic bags.
Several worshippers quietly walked around him. Some smiled politely. Most hurried inside.
The pastor later learned that the man had been sitting there not because he wanted money. He
simply wanted someone to acknowledge that he existed.
One member finally sat beside him. Asked his name. Shared breakfast. Listened. Prayed. Weeks
later the man said something unforgettable. "I don't remember everything she said. I remember
that she treated me like I mattered."
While that story may be fictious to enhance this message, the question {SLIDE 8} who are we
becoming for the sake of Christ? Are we becoming people whose first instinct is welcome?
People who notice those others overlook? People whose politics never become more important
than their compassion? People whose opinions never silence their mercy? Because the Kin-dom
is not built by drawing tighter circles. The Kin-dom grows every time love draws a wider one.
CLOSE
As I close, this weekend, millions of Americans in these United States, have stood beneath
fireworks and celebrated freedom. Some have sung patriotic songs, waved flags, gathered with
family, and remembered the ideals upon which this nation was built. Some have repeated those
familiar words, E Pluribus Unum, “Out of many, one.” Some have admired the words etched
beneath the Statue of Liberty: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to
breathe free...”
Those are beautiful words. But I wonder how many times Christ has walked into our lives
disguised as someone we were too busy to notice. I wonder how many times we have prayed,
“Lord, where are You?” while Jesus was standing right in front of us wearing the face of a
neighbor, a refugee, an immigrant, a prisoner, a child, a lonely senior, a struggling family, or
someone whose story was different from our own.
Christ waits for us on sidewalks, in hospitals, classrooms, prisons, in detention centers, shelters,
nursing homes, break rooms, and around neighborhoods. That is why Jesus says, “Whatever you
did for the least of these...” Not because He wants us to feel guilty. But because He wants us to
discover where He lives.
Siblings, the Church is at her best when she remembers that every person who walks through
these doors—and every person we meet after we leave them—bears the image of God and is
worthy of dignity, compassion, and love.
The world has become very good at drawing lines. Lines between races. Lines between political
parties. Lines between neighborhoods. Lines between rich and poor. Lines between citizen and
immigrant. Lines between those who belong and those who do not.
But Jesus spent His entire ministry erasing lines. At the Cross, He stretched out His arms wide
enough to embrace the whole world. And every time the Church stretches her arms in the same
way, she looks a little more like her Savior. That is the sermon, not immigration, not
politics…INCARNATION!
And, our calling is beautifully simple: {SLIDE 9}
Love without ceasing.
Welcome without fear.
Serve without applause.
See without prejudice.
And every time we chose mercy over indifference...every time we chose compassion over
convenience...every time we chose welcome over suspicion...every time we chose love over
fear...Jesus says, “You did it for Me.”
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
Amen.