You’re a saint

 

Today we celebrate All Saints Day—a feast not just about remembering, but about mission. It’s a day when the Church is called to say, “This is what we’re made for.” And here, in this patronal festival, we’re reminded that this church—this community—is part of that great group of saints. We are not just remembering saints today; we are called to become them.

There’s a story about Richard Wurmbrand, a Romanian pastor. He spent 14 years in prison under a brutal Communist regime—four of those years in solitary confinement, locked in a box underground. When he was finally released, his son asked him what he had learned. 

Wurmbrand replied, “I forgot much of the Bible. But I remembered three things: there is a God, Jesus is His Son, and love is the best way.”

That’s the gospel in its simplest form. And it’s the heartbeat of sainthood.

We often think of saints as distant figures, perhaps seen most clearly in stained glass windows—people like the gospel writers or sometimes St Paul or St Francis. But the Bible tells us something much more radical: saints are not defined by perfection, but by closeness to Jesus. 

We heard in our readings about Paul writing to the Ephesians (1:11-23) not to tell them off, but to encourage them: “You are God’s inheritance. You are sealed with the Holy Spirit. You are the body of Christ.”

Saints are ordinary people who let the extraordinary light of Christ shine through them…. There’s a story of a little girl visiting a church. She saw the stained glass windows and was told they represented the gospel writers, St Matthew, St Mark, St Luke and St John. She said, “Oh, I know what a saint is—a saint is someone the light shines through.” Of course, it was the perfect statement… and that’s our calling.

And that’s the heart of this festival of All Saints. We’re not here to admire saints from afar—we’re here to be reminded that we are saints-in-the-making. Not because we’ve earned it, but because God has called us, claimed us, and filled us with His Spirit.

The reading from Daniel (7.1-3, 15-18)  reminds us that earthly kingdoms rise and fall, but God’s kingdom endures forever. In a world of chaos, saints are people who live with confidence—not in themselves, but in the power of God. They are people who say, “Though the world struggles and seems in chaos, I will not be moved.”

Daniel’s vision is strange, even unsettling—beasts rising from the sea, kingdoms in turmoil. But the message is clear: God reigns. And His people—His saints—will receive the kingdom and possess it forever.

That’s not just a promise for the future. It’s a call to live differently now. To live as citizens of heaven even while walking the streets of earth.

And in Luke’s gospel (6.20-31) , Jesus changes the script from what was expected: the poor are blessed, the hungry are filled, the crying will laugh. This is not just nice words but it’s laying out a manifesto. It’s a call to live differently. To love enemies. To bless those who curse. To give without expecting return. To be saints in the streets, not just in our churches.

These are not easy words. They are radical, counter-cultural, and deeply challenging. But they are also really liberating. Because they remind us that sainthood is not about status—it’s about surrender. It’s not about being admired—it’s about being available to God.

And a key point of today’s message is that saints don’t just shine—they point others to the source of the light. Dr. David Livingstone didn’t preach at Henry Stanley. He simply lived with him. And Stanley said, “He made me a Christian, and he didn’t even know he was doing it.”

That’s evangelism. That’s sainthood. It’s not about pressure—it’s about presence. It’s not about argument—it’s about authenticity.

So perhaps we wonder sometimes what Christianity is really about, well - it’s not a religion of rules, but a relationship with Jesus. It’s not about being good enough—it’s about being loved enough. And you are. We all are.

God’s love is not reserved for the elite or the especially good. It’s poured out for the broken, the weary, the searching. And if you’ve ever felt like you’re not good enough for God—then we can recognise that none of us are. But Jesus is. And He invites us to share in His holiness.

That’s the miracle of grace. That’s the invitation of sainthood. 

So what is a saint?

A martyr in the early church perhaps?

Or a hero with a halo in a stained glass window?

Or: 

A grandmother who prayed for you?

A friend who forgave you?

A stranger who showed you kindness?

A saint is all of these. And more.

A saint is you. A saint is me. Not because we’re perfect, but because we belong to a perfect God.

And today, as we celebrate this church—its history, its people, its mission—we are reminded that we are part of something eternal. We are windows of grace. We are bearers of light. We are saints-in-the-making.

St Francis of Assisi once said, “It is not fitting, when one is in God's service, to have a gloomy face or a chilling look.” And he carried on, “While you are proclaiming peace with your lips, be careful to have it even more fully in your heart.”

That’s a challenge to all of us. Because sometimes we forget that joy is part of holiness. Sometimes we forget that peace is part of witness. Sometimes we forget that love is the best way.

But God hasn’t forgotten. And He hasn’t forgotten us.

The psalmist says (Psalmist. 149), “The Lord takes pleasure in His people.” It’s a wonderful thing to remind ourselves that God delights in us. Not because we’re flawless, but because we’re His.

That’s why we celebrate today. Not just to honour the saints of the past, but to awaken the saints of the present. To remind ourselves that this church—this community—is a place where the light of Christ shines.

And if you’ve ever wondered whether your life matters—whether your faith makes a difference, then remember: you are a saint. You are God’s holy person. You are a vessel of His love.

So let’s take seriously the words of Richard Wurmbrand: There is a God. Jesus is His Son. And love is the best way.

Let’s live like it. Let’s shine like it. Let’s invite others into it.

Because the world doesn’t need more noise—it needs more light. And we are called to be that light.

So today, as we gather in joy and gratitude, let’s recommit ourselves to the call of sainthood. Let’s be people who inspire, who encourage, who invite and point others to Jesus—not with pressure, but with presence. Not with argument, but with authenticity.

Let’s be people who live with joy, who walk in peace, who love extravagantly.

Let’s be saints. Amen.