"Saving Eutychus" (April 19, 2026 Sermon)

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Saving Eutychus

Rev. Dr. Stephen M. Fearing

Guilford Park Presbyterian Church

Sunday, April 19, 2026

Text: Acts 20:7-12

Scripture

Acts 20:7-12

A Bizarre Story with Something to Teach Us

So, I may not be the best preacher in the world, but I can safely say I have never literally bored anyone to death with a sermon. And, interestingly enough, that is more than the Apostle Paul can say.

Today’s text is proof. My guess is that for most of you, the story of Eutychus is unfamiliar. You probably did not hear it in Vacation Bible School or Sunday School, and you may never have heard a sermon on it before. It is, admittedly, a bizarre story.

But I love bizarre stories in the Bible, because they give us the chance to see scripture in fresh and surprising ways. And this one has everything: a long-winded preacher, a sleepy young man, an open window three stories up, and a moment that begins almost like comedy before turning suddenly serious. It is, in other words, a preacher’s worst nightmare. But it is also a story that has something important to teach us about worship, attention, bodies, and what it means for faith to be fully alive.

It is, in other words, a preacher’s worst nightmare. But it is also a story that has something important to teach us about worship, attention, bodies, and what it means for faith to be fully alive.

Eutychus Is Us

Eutychus may have a name that strikes us as odd, but his character is one we all know well. He is every weary soul who has tried to pay attention when the body simply had other ideas. He is every student fighting sleep, every parent running on too little rest, every older saint whose energy is not what it once was. Eutychus is not strange. Eutychus is…us.

And we are tired. Tired of one absurd news cycle after another. Tired of schedules and responsibilities and bad news and hard conversations. Tired of being asked to carry more than seems bearable. Tired of living in a constant state of alert in a world that keeps hurling one relentless curveball after another.

So when we come to worship, we come craving something embodied. Something real. Something more than words alone. We come needing good news we can taste and touch, see and smell. We come longing not merely to hear about grace, but to encounter it with our whole selves.

We come needing good news we can taste and touch, see and smell.

The Window

I wonder if that was what Eutychus longed for that evening: an encounter with a grace that engaged all of his senses. But that night, only one sense is being fed: his hearing. Notice, Church, where he is. He is in the window. He is neither fully in nor fully out. He is in a liminal space, teetering between realities. From his window, Eutychus is caught between attention and distraction, between faith and fatigue, between belonging and isolation. And, if we’re honest, that window is where many of us live.

And so this story leaves me with a few questions. How can we save Eutychus before he slips? What weary bodies has God placed in our midst who need not just a grace they can hear, but a grace they can touch, smell, taste, and see? How can the church become a place where those in the window are welcomed to the center rather than left unnoticed at the margins?

Wiggly, Weary, Wondering Bodies

And on a Sunday when we are celebrating our church preschool, perhaps this bizarre story reminds us that the church is healthiest when it doesn’t require stoic attentiveness, but makes room for whole human beings - wiggly, weary, wondering bodies and all. After all, children understand something many adults forget: that the body is not an obstacle to worship. The body is where worship begins.

The body is not an obstacle to worship. The body is where worship begins.

How Faith Felt

I know this to be true because when I think back on church as a child, I do not remember many sermons. But I remember plenty of other things. I remember the feeling of the coarse rope in my hands when our church’s music director let me ring the bell in our steeple for the whole city to hear. I remember the smell of bacon in the church kitchen when I would wake up early on Tuesday mornings to help my dad cook for the men’s breakfast. I remember the clanging of cell doors as they shut when we would go to the local youth detention center to read scripture with other kids my age who had been forgotten by so much of society. I remember the flickering candles on Christmas Eve when we sang Silent Night before I went home, crawled into my bed, and waited for the wonder of the next morning. I remember the ground shaking beneath my feet at the booming “amen” chords at the end of Widor’s Toccata on Easter morning. I may not remember many of the words, but I remember how faith felt. I remember how worship sounded and smelled, and how it shook the floor beneath me. I remember that long before I could explain grace, I had already begun to experience it.

One reason my faith still matters so deeply to me is that the church did not leave me in the window, as Eutychus was. Yes, there were moments of boredom, as there are in every life of faith. But church was never meant to be an empty exercise in sitting still and zoning out. It was meant to call forth the whole self. It was meant to engage the whole person God created us to be. And maybe that is part of what this strange little story is trying to show us. If we want to save Eutychus before he slips, then we must become the kind of church that refuses to leave weary, wiggly, wondering bodies at the edge of the room. We must become the kind of church that welcomes them to the center, where grace can be heard, yes, but also touched and tasted, seen and smelled, lived and known.

Preschool Grace

And neighbors, on this Preschool Celebration Sunday, I thank God for the holy work our preschool does here. Long before these children can explain grace, they are already experiencing it here. They experience it in the love of teachers who kneel to meet them at eye level, wipe away tears, tie shoes, redirect big feelings, sing songs, read stories, and tell them again and again: you are safe, you are loved, you belong. Tricia and I know this personally. Hazel Grace and Winnie have both been blessed by Ms. Becca, Ms. Mary, Ms. Michelle, Ms. Heather, Ms. Sarah, Ms. Carrie, Ms. Beth, Ms. Cassidy, Ms. Jasmine, and so many others who have helped shape them into the amazing young women they are becoming. And for that, we are deeply grateful.

And I know there are parents here today who are tired. Tired because parenting is holy work, but it is exhausting, too. Tired because the world is heavy, and you want so badly for your children not just to grow up and get by, but to grow up with a living faith. A faith that makes them resilient. A faith that makes them compassionate. A faith that teaches them to seek justice, to love mercy, and to trust that the goodness of God is stronger than the fear of this world. So hear this: when you bring your children here, when you let them wiggle, wonder, sing, and ask questions, when you place them in the care of this community, you are not wasting your time. You are planting seeds of grace. You are helping save Eutychus before he slips. Because every time we welcome a child, every time we make room for a young family, every time we draw someone in from the window and remind them that they belong at the center of Christ’s love, we are doing the work of the gospel.

Every time we welcome a child, every time we make room for a young family, every time we draw someone in from the window and remind them that they belong at the center of Christ’s love, we are doing the work of the gospel.

Bringing People to the Center

Jesus said, ‘Let the little children come to me,’ and that is what we do here at Guilford Park. We make room. We open our arms. We bless the wiggles. We trust that Christ is already at work in the bodies, questions, laughter, and holy energy of these children. In just a few moments, we will pray not only with our words but with our whole bodies, because that too is part of our witness: that faith is not merely something to be explained but something to be experienced. Thanks be to God for a church that does not leave people in the window. Thanks be to God for a preschool that helps bring children to the center. And thanks be to God for Jesus Christ, who still gathers us up in grace, holds us close, and brings us alive again.

Thanks be to God for a church that does not leave people in the window.

In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, may all of us, God’s children, say: Amen.

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Stephen Fearing

Stephen was born in 1988 in Cookeville, TN, where his parents met whilst attending Tennessee Tech. Shortly after, they moved to Dalton, Georgia where they put down roots and joined First Presbyterian Church, the faith family that taught Stephen that he was first and foremost a beloved child of God. It was this community that taught Stephen that it was OK to have questions and doubts and that nothing he could do could every possibly separate him from the love of God. In 1995, his sister, Sarah Kate, joined the family and Stephen began his journey as a life-long musician. Since then, he has found a love of music and has found this gift particularly fitting for his call to ministry. Among the instruments that he enjoys are piano, trumpet, guitar, and handbells. Stephen has always had a love of singing and congregation song. An avid member of the marching band, Stephen was the drum major of his high school's marching band. In 2006, Stephen began his tenure at Presbyterian College in Clinton, SC where he majored in Religion and minored in History. While attending PC, Stephen continued to explore his love of music by participating in the Wind Ensemble, Jazz Band, Jazz Combo, Jazz Trio, as well as playing in the PC Handbell ensemble and playing mandolin and banjo PC's very own bluegrass/rock group, Hosegrass, of which Stephen was a founding member (Hosegrass even released their own CD!). In 2010, Stephen moved from Clinton to Atlanta to attend Columbia Theological Seminary to pursue God's call on his life to be a pastor in the PC(USA). During this time, Stephen worked at Trinity Presbyterian Church, Silver Creek Presbyterian Church, Central Presbyterian Church, and Westminster Presbyterian Church. For three years, Stephen served as the Choir Director of Columbia Theological Seminary's choir and also served as the Interim Music Director at Westminster Presbyterian Church. In 2014, Stephen graduated from Columbia with a Masters of Divinity and a Masters of Arts in Practical Theology with an emphasis in liturgy, music, and worship. In July of 2014, Stephen was installed an ordained as Teaching Elder at Shelter Island Presbyterian Church in Shelter Island, NY. Later that year, Stephen married the love of his life, Tricia, and they share their home on Shelter Island with their Golden Doodle, Elsie, and their calico cat, Audrey. In addition to his work with the people who are Shelter Island Presbyterian Church, Stephen currently serves as a commission from Long Island Presbytery to the Synod of the Northeast and, beginning in January of 2016, will moderate the Synod's missions team.