And on This Rock I Will Build My Church ~ August 23, 2026

Proper 16a , 2026 Ginger Solaqua

It matters a lot in life where you stand. Or perhaps it’s better to say that it matters a lot where you build, where you construct your life.

This morning’s Gospel text reminded me of the saga of the Millenium Tower, a skyscraper built in the early 2000s in San Francisco. It was at one point the tallest residential building west of the Mississippi, forty something stories, spectacular edifice of concrete and glass.

However, as you might know, much of downtown San Francisco is built on landfill. After the gold rush, they sunk abandoned ships and then filled in with sand and rubble from the 1906 earthquake. The builders of the Millenium Tower thought they could, through a series of engineering innovations, build on top of this unstable and shifting ground without driving pilings down 200 feet to bedrock. Four years after opening to the public, every apartment in the building was sold or rented, quickly snapped up by famous athletes, tech entrepreneurs, and venture capitalists. Two years after that, the owners notified the public that the tower was sinking at an alarming rate, and worst, it was leaning. Cracks began to appear in windows and walls. Pedestrians had to dodge falling debris. After hundreds of millions of dollars in remediation, the problem is less severe, but the sinking continues, as does litigation. Most of the apartments have been sold at a loss.

It matters where you stand, and it matters where you build. There aren’t any shortcuts. We need bedrock under our feet, under the scaffolding of our lives, in order to withstand what comes our way.

In today’s Gospel reading from Matthew, Jesus asks Peter where he stands: “Who do you say that I am?”

There is something about Peter’s response that feels spontaneous, instinctive – like it’s not a considered intellectual assessment but rather the bubbling over of something he can’t contain: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” You are the Messiah – you are the One sent by God to save us. You are the son of the Living God – you, Jesus, are more than human, the divine Son of a God who lives and moves and acts in the world. You, Jesus, are the solution to everything, the gift of a God who is alive and loves us.

And to this spontaneous statement of trust, of truth – Jesus replies yes, yes you got it. That is who I am. And from now on, Simon, you are Peter which means rock. And on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it.

This is surprising because Peter, the Rock, is not particularly solid. Throughout the Gospels, Peter shows himself to be impetuous, judgmental, and easily confused. In Jesus’ moment of greatest need, Peter famously denies knowing him - three times. Peter is a rock not because he is perfect; not because he does everything right, but because he believes in, he trusts Jesus.

Now this short phrase, “on this rock I will build my church” has been parsed and argued over from the moment it was spoken to the present time. What exactly is the rock that Jesus is referring it – is it Peter himself? Does Jesus mean to give authority to Peter as the first church leader, and that authority gets handed down from leader to leader, from bishop to bishop, pope to pope, to the present time? Or is Peter’s confession the rock on which the church is built – is Jesus saying that the church is built on the belief that he is the Messiah and the Son of God?

I tend to think that this argument misses the point – which is that here, in this moment, Jesus is founding the church, placing it in the hands of believers, and putting its foundation on bedrock so that it cannot be moved, it cannot be shaken.

This bedrock is not any one imperfect person, not any one imperfect institutional version of faith. The bedrock is the Living God who loves us. The Bedrock is Jesus.  

Peter, for all his flaws, trusts in Jesus. He stands on bedrock.

And the church is built on the bedrock of trust in Jesus as well.

Today, all over the world, on every continent, in every country, in nearly every language known to humanity there are groups of Christians gathered to worship God. In beautiful chapels like this one, in great marble cathedrals, in humble homes, outdoors, in secret with curtains drawn. It has been over two thousand years since Jesus spoke these words. During this time, Christianity has ebbed and flowed, grown and changed. The church as an institution has opposed slavery and promoted it, started wars and ended them; served the poor and also crushed their hopes. We have sinned and we have been faithful. And through it all, the church still strives to be what God calls it to be. The church still stands

And so my question to you this morning is this: where do you stand? Where is your life built?

Have you built your life on ground that appeared solid but turned out to be sinking sand? We have all had those moments when we felt the ground move under us and learned that our foundations were not so solid after all.

Or is there some part of you that is grounded in the bedrock of trust in God?  As Episcopalians we sometimes struggle to talk about a personal relationship with Jesus. But the fact is that Jesus does ask each one of us the same question he asked Peter – who do you say that I am? And he’s not looking for an elegant, theologically correct response. He is seeking your instinctive response, that answer that bubbles up in you and cannot be contained. Do you trust Jesus? Do you know you that you are loved?

If this isn’t a question that you’ve considered, I encourage  you to take some time to do it. And know that you are not speaking with a God who is quick to judge who you are and what you think – but rather a God who delights in your exploration.

A couple of days ago Lizzie and I climbed Gap mountain in Troy. It’s not a big climb, but when we were standing on the top, I found myself exhilarated by the dizzying views around me in every direction– and yet I felt safe and secure, even with a toddler on my back, because of the solid rock beneath my feet. Steady, immoveable, for tens of thousands of years. I thought about something I’d read in a guidebook recently. The famous monadnocks of this area -these small and isolated mountains – are not rock that has been pushed up higher than the surroundings by geologic forces. Rather they are what remains when everything around them has been washed away. The monadnocks, these mountains, are harder, steadier, and more enduring than the soft and shifting soil around them.

On this rock, I will build my church. On the rock of faith, God will build our lives, and they will not be moved. So where will you build? Amen.