Ruth Greenaway-Robbins

A sermon for Trinity 18

Readings: Luke 18:1–8 | 2 Timothy 3:14–4:5 | Genesis 32:22–31

Sometimes the most powerful stories of faith are not the ones that take place in church buildings, but in city squares, on our streets, or at kitchen tables where people decide that giving up is not an option.

One of my dearest friends, a priest in the Episcopal Church in America, shared a piece with me this week written by Joyce Hollyday, editor for Sojourners magazine. She wrote a modern echo of Jesus’ parable in Luke 18, a parable of persistence lived out by mothers around the world, and I want to share it with you.

‘In 1976, a military junta seized power in Argentina. Men in unmarked cars began arriving at night, taking away anyone who spoke up for peace or justice. Thousands became “the disappeared.” Their mothers began to gather, day after day, in front of government offices, pleading for news of their children. When they were turned away, they wrote petitions. When petitions were ignored, they began a silent, illegal protest.

Every Thursday, they marched in a circle around Buenos Aires’ Plaza de Mayo, each woman wearing a white handkerchief embroidered with the name of her missing child. Despite beatings and arrests, they kept walking. Their vigil went on for years.’

‘Hollyday tells of women in South Africa doing the same, marching on Pretoria in 1952 under the cry, “You strike a woman, you strike a rock.” Of women in El Salvador fasting at the tomb of Archbishop Romero. Of mothers in Detroit banding together after their children were gunned down in the streets.’

“All these mothers,” she writes, “display the persistence of the widow in today’s gospel. They confront the unjust judges of today and invite us to join them in taking a stand for justice.”

And we have many of our own here in the UK. One who springs closest to my mind is Doreen Lawrence, the mother of Stephen Lawrence, who was murdered in London in 1993 in a racially motivated attack. To this day, Doreen and her family are seeking full justice, persevering year after year.

This is what perseverance looks like.
It is prayer in motion.
It is the heartbeat of faith refusing to stop.

Perseverance isn’t glamorous. It’s not the excitement of beginning or the joy of finishing. It’s the long stretch in between, when we keep going even when hope feels thin. But in Scripture, perseverance isn’t about sheer willpower. It’s about staying connected to the God whose love endures. It’s about allowing God’s Spirit to keep our hearts beating when the world feels heavy.

In Luke’s gospel, Jesus tells this parable “so that they might not lose heart.” I find that so deeply pastoral. Jesus knows what it is to grow weary, to wonder whether prayer still matters. And so he gives us this story: a widow who keeps coming to a judge who neither fears God nor respects people. She’s got no power, no status, no protection. But she has something stronger, the conviction that justice is possible. So she keeps showing up. Again and again. Until even the hard-hearted judge gives in.

Jesus says, in effect: If even an unjust man can be moved by persistence, how much more will God, who is love, hear your cry?
But here’s the deeper point: persistent prayer doesn’t change God’s heart – for God is unchanging, it is changes ours.
It keeps us open, awake, tender.
It stops cynicism from hardening us.
It keeps us participating in the work of justice rather than slipping into despair.

The widow’s prayer is an act of resistance. Her persistence says: I believe, and I know, things can be different. And that faith itself is revolutionary. Perseverance, in this way, becomes the defiant act of trusting that God’s justice will yet prevail.

The story of Jacob wrestling with God at the ford of Jabbok is another image of holy perseverance. In the darkness of night, Jacob wrestles with fear, guilt, and God, refusing to let go until he receives a blessing. By dawn he is limping, yet also renamed and renewed. This story reminds us that perseverance is not only about endurance in the face of external injustice, but also the courage to wrestle with God in our own inner struggle, to stay in the tension of prayer even when we do not understand, until grace meets us and transforms us.

We are in the midst of Black History Month here in the UK, and it reminds us how perseverance in the face of injustice has shaped our world. All those throughout time and history who have persevered and never given up, this is the heartbeat of perseverance that keeps pulsing. It is a rhythm that insists: God’s kingdom is coming.

It’s what has sustained generations of believers through slavery, segregation, colonialism, racism, and exclusion. It’s not naïve optimism, but a fierce hope grounded in the faithfulness of God.

Paul’s words to Timothy echo this same heartbeat:
“Continue in what you have learned and firmly believed … be persistent whether the time is favourable or unfavourable.”
He writes from prison to a young friend facing fear and confusion. Paul doesn’t say, find an easier path. He says, hold on to what is true. Keep preaching, keep praying, keep loving, even when the world isn’t listening.

That’s perseverance too, faith that endures through the unfavourable time. And in truth, perseverance doesn’t always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like mothers in the Plaza de Mayo. Sometimes it looks like a community quietly but persistently standing up to injustice. And sometimes it looks like a single person getting up to pray again and again, or showing kindness when no one notices.

All of it is holy work.
All of it keeps the body of Christ alive and breathing.

And here’s the thing, perseverance is not a solo act. The heartbeat of faith is sustained by the whole body of Christ:
by the prayers of others when ours run dry,
by the songs of those who have gone before,
by the stories of those still standing for justice today.

That’s why we need one another. That’s why we tell these and our own stories. Because remembering them strengthens our own rhythm of faith.

So perhaps we might ask:
Where are we being called to keep going, in prayer, in hope, in justice, even when it’s hard?
Where do I need others to help me keep the rhythm steady?
And who around me needs encouragement to persevere?

Jesus ends the parable with a question:
“When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”
And it’s important I think to say he’s not looking for perfection or impressive belief. He’s looking for that quiet, steady faith that refuses to give up, a faith that still prays, still hopes, still acts.

Because perseverance, in the end, is not about how tightly we hold on to God, but how steadfastly God holds on to us.
God’s love never gives up.
God’s justice never sleeps.
God’s heartbeat of grace keeps pulsing through history, through the Church, through us, sustaining, steadying, calling us onward.

So we continue to take heart.
Keep faith.
Keep praying.
Keep working for justice.
For the God who hears our cries is faithful still.