Breathing Under Water

Traci Hubbard                    May 31st, 2026

One Ash Wednesday, the pastor finished his sermon with these words, “Oh Lord, without you we are but dust.” As she paused for a dramatic effect, a small child’s voice was heard to say, “Mommy, what is butt dust?” Let’s say there are 250 people in a church service. One of the first things ministers learn is what they intended to say with every word in their sermon will be heard 250 different ways, and that’s not unfair. The minister is the channel through which the Spirit speaks to the listening and understanding of each heart.  That is grace and mercy, always more than what we deserve. When we ask the Holy to be fair, we are asking to receive what our thoughts and actions deserve.

There is something inside every one of us that loves the word fair. Children learn it before they learn how to make their beds. “Mom, that’s not fair!” “Dad, he got a bigger piece!” “Her cookie is bigger than mine!”

There are few things human beings love more than fairness. And there are few things human beings define more differently than fairness. You can test this at Thanksgiving dinner. One person says, “Fairness means everybody gets the same slice size  of pie.” Another says, “Fairness means I get more pie because I cooked.” Another says, “Fairness means Uncle Rob gets less pie because he started talking politics again.” We are deeply spiritual people until dessert is involved. And then Jesus tells this absolutely infuriating story.

A landowner hires workers early in the morning. They work all day in the blazing heat. Then more workers come at noon. More at 3 p.m. More at 5 p.m. These workers basically clocked in when the workday is almost over. And at the end of the day? Everybody gets paid the same. The all-day workers are furious. And honestly? Most of us are too. Because we don’t just hear this parable. We feel it.

The workers who labored all day are furious. Sweat dripping. Backs aching. Looking over at the guy who worked one hour and thinking, “Oh, this is going to be good. If he got a denarius, I’m sure to win the lottery.” But when they receive the exact same amount, suddenly the generosity of the vineyard owner feels offensive. Why? Because grace always looks unfair to the person comparing.

Jesus says the landowner replied, “Friend, I am doing you no wrong. Did you not agree with me for a denarius? Or do you begrudge my generosity?” That line in Jesus’ teaching story cuts deep because the issue wasn’t injustice. The issue was entitlement. The workers who had been out in the field all day forgot something important, which is none were owed the vineyard job in the first place. And folks, neither are we. Everything we have is grace. The air in our lungs? Grace. The presence of the Spirit? Grace. Forgiveness? Grace. Another morning to wake up? Grace. Grace meets each one of us after we have lied, envied, judged, gossiped, failed to keep our word, pretended to be someone we are not, or made assumptions and lived as if they were true.

Some of us might think or even say, “I’ve worked harder, or I’ve sacrificed more, or I’ve been faithful longer, or I’ve carried this church financially or with my leadership, or I’ve done everything right.” And then somebody else walks in late and they are messy, chaotic, spiritually undercooked, and they receive the same grace, the same dignity, the same welcome? Seriously? How is that fair? Richard Rohr teaches grace offends something in us. Which is precisely why Jesus tells the story.

I read a story about a man who nearly drowned during a scuba lesson. The instructor told him, “If you panic underwater, don’t try to breathe like you do on land. Trust the oxygen tank.” But panic took over. The man ripped out the regulator and tried to breathe naturally underwater. Which, as it turns out, is a terrible strategy. Now, before we judge him, many of us are doing the exact same thing spiritually. Grace is underwater breathing. The economy of God is very different from the economy of scarcity, comparison, and merit that our ability to understand this is nil and we are oblivious to our energy in our lives and in our community of faith is still trying to breathe the old way.

In some situations, many of us might find ourselves thinking, worth must be earned, love must be deserved, blessing must be proportional, and acceptance must be competitive. All the while the Spirit is saying, “Nope Traci. Darlin’, you’re underwater now.” The kin-dom, the Spirit of LOVE, does not run on merit spreadsheets and it is not impressed by educational degrees The heart of the Holy, the energy of the kin-dom, runs on grace. And grace feels unfair to people fixated on earning.

The workers in the vineyard aren’t starving because they were lazy. In the ancient world, day laborers waited in the marketplace hoping someone would hire them. If nobody picked you, your family didn’t eat. So, when the landowner keeps returning for more workers throughout the day, Jesus paints a picture not of efficiency, but compassion. The landowner sees people still standing there at 5 p.m. and asks, “Why are you still here?” And they say, “We are still here because nobody chose us.”

Every time I read this story, that line in the story breaks my heart. Why? Because there are people all around us who secretly believe no one chose them, no one wanted them, no one noticed them, and no one thought they mattered. Folks, the kin-dom of LOVE keeps moving toward the people left standing in the marketplace. Love’s heart always moves towards the overlooked, the latecomers, the exhausted, the ones with complicated histories, the ones who missed opportunities, the ones who don’t look churchy, and the ones who arrived late because life has wounded them. What does the Spirit say to all of these? “You too. Come.”

Now here’s where the reflection gets uncomfortable. The first workers were happy until other people were blessed too. That’s the trap of entitlement. Entitlement is gratitude that has lost its memory. At first, the workers were thrilled to have any work at all. But once comparison entered the story, blessing became insult. Friends, this still happens. We pray for abundance until somebody else receives it. We celebrate inclusion until it includes people we dislike. We sing “all are welcome” and then quietly begin adding footnotes, “Terms and conditions may apply.” Some church people can become experts at grace for themselves and merit for others. Some of us may think, “Well yes, LOVE forgives me because my mistakes are nuanced and complicated.” But forgiveness for others? “Oh no, their stuff is all about their terrible choices.” And then Jesus gives the haunting line, “Are you envious because I am generous?” Some translations say, “Is your eye evil because I am good?” In other words, “Has your vision become distorted by comparison?” Folks, comparison is spiritual seawater. The more we swallow it, the thirstier we become.

Is it possible that some of us secretly want LOVE to grade on a curve. We want divine calculus that gives gold stars for punctual saints, bonus points for Team and Council meetings, and extra credit for volunteer hours doing the same ol’ thing no one else signs up to do. Jesus describes the heart of Eternal LOVE as one who pays people enough to live. Not because they earned equal wages, but because everyone deserves dignity. This changes everything. The vineyard owner wasn’t distributing rewards. He was ensuring survival. And suddenly the story stops sounding irresponsible and starts sounding radical. As John Shelby Spong said, it sounds like loving wastefully. When we read this parable from the heart of the Holy, it becomes a story not about divine accounting, but about human enoughness.

That’s the gospel. That’s the good news. We have been created with free wills and each flesh wrapped soul is invited to the table of kin-dom living. And for many, sadly, this is deeply offensive to the ego. Ego wants wages. Grace gives gifts. Ego says, “I deserve.” Grace says, “You are beloved.” Ego says, “Life isn’t fair.” Grace says, “No. It’s merciful.” And folks, consequences for our choices are also forms of grace and mercy because they are invitations for us to show up, own up, and grow up into LOVE.

Friends, mercy is not unfairness in the cruel direction. It is unfairness in the healing direction. Now, progressive faith sometimes gets caricatured as “anything goes.” This story is not moral laziness. Grace is never indifference. The vineyard workers still enter the vineyard. They still participate. They still join the work of healing the world. The difference is this, we, the vineyard workers, do not earn belonging by working. We work and serve because we already belong. This is the difference between fear-based religion and liberating spirituality. One says, “Perform so the Divine will love you.” The other says, “You are loved. Now go live like someone who knows it.”

Maybe our invitation today is simple…Stop trying to breathe underwater with lungs built for another world. Stop inhaling comparison. Stop swallowing resentment. Stop measuring your worth against someone else’s timeline. Because the kin-dom of LOVE is not a leaderboard, it is a vineyard. A vineyard where there is enough grace for the early arrivals and the latecomers. Enough mercy for the exhausted and the eager. Enough love for the saints and the skeptics. May we leave this place grateful, walking in the gifts of mercy and grace. May it be so, amen.