The Saints Keep Showing Up

By Kay Rackley | All Saints Sunday Reflection

Scripture: Luke 6:20–30

What if sainthood isn’t about perfection, but presence?

All Saints Sunday is one of those church days that often gets wrapped in gold. We honor the spiritual heroes of the past — those whose lives left a mark on the world and on our faith. But over time, we tend to smooth out their rough edges, wrap them in halos, and place them safely behind stained glass.

And if we’re honest, we might find ourselves saying something like:
“Wow, they were amazing… thank God I don’t have to be like that.”

But in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus doesn’t talk about saints as people to admire from a distance. He speaks directly to his disciples — flawed, ordinary, real people. People like us.

And he starts not with guilt or advice or spiritual goals — but with blessing.

Not a reward, but a reality

"Blessed are you who are poor.”
“Blessed are you who are hungry.”
“Blessed are you who weep.”
“Blessed are you when people hate you…”

These aren’t merit badges for spiritual achievement. They’re not promises for a future reward.

They are present-tense declarations — performative words that call a new reality into being.

Jesus is saying:
Right here, right now — even in your pain, even in your poverty, even in your exclusion — you are not forgotten. You are seen. You are blessed. God is with you.

That’s not sentimental. It’s revolutionary.

Reversing the world’s value system

Our culture blesses the successful, the strong, the wealthy, the self-made.
But Jesus flips the script.

In Luke, there’s no spiritualizing — no “poor in spirit,” no “hunger for righteousness.”
He speaks of real poverty. Real hunger. Real grief. Real exclusion.

And then he adds:

“Woe to you who are rich… who are full… who are laughing now…”

This isn’t about guilt. It’s about awakening.

Jesus isn’t cursing wealth. He’s cautioning us: comfort and power can numb us to what matters. They can dull our ability to love deeply, to act with compassion, to depend on God.

The blessing isn’t in being poor.
It’s in knowing your need — and letting that need open you to God’s grace.

So what is a saint, really?

Joan Chittister puts it simply:
“Saints are not perfect people. Saints are simply people who keep showing up for the work of love.”

That’s the heart of it.

To be a saint is not to be flawless.
It’s to be faithful.

To keep choosing mercy when retaliation would be easier.
To show up for peace, even when you’re tired.
To keep loving, even when it’s not returned.

In the second half of his sermon, Jesus says:

“Love your enemies.”
“Do good to those who hate you.”
“Bless those who curse you.”
“Pray for those who abuse you.”

This isn’t about being passive. It’s a bold, imaginative refusal to let violence, fear, or despair shape us.

The story of the scorpion

There’s an old story that gets at this beautifully.

A holy one was walking along the flooded banks of a river and saw a scorpion clinging to a branch just inches above the water. The holy one reached out to rescue it — but each time they did, the scorpion stung their hand.

A passerby called out, “Why do you keep trying to save that creature? Don’t you know it will just sting you?”

And the holy one replied, “Of course I know. But just because it’s the scorpion’s nature to sting doesn’t mean I should abandon my nature to save.”

To be a saint is to act from your truest nature — even when the world stings.

Saints aren’t in the past — they’re in the mirror

We need to stop outsourcing sainthood to the past.
Sainthood isn’t about achieving some spiritual status.
It’s about showing up — again and again — with love.

If you’re grieving, or struggling, or exhausted — and still trying to love people well…
You’re already participating in the Dream of God.

If you’re resisting cynicism, choosing compassion, and trying to walk humbly in this messy world…
You’re already living the beatitudes.

You don’t have to wait to become a saint.

Just keep showing up.