Stories change how we see the world. A good movie can shift our perspective, revealing possibilities we never imagined. In “How to Train Your Dragon,” a young Viking named Hiccup discovers everything his village believed about dragons was wrong. These weren’t mindless monsters but intelligent creatures capable of friendship and loyalty. The film resonates because it captures a universal truth: sometimes those we consider adversaries can become our closest allies when hearts genuinely change.
Think about times you were completely wrong about someone. Maybe that difficult coworker who became a trusted friend after you understood their struggles. The family member whose choices frustrated you until you learned their story. These moments of shifted perspective echo what the prophet Jeremiah declared to ancient Israel: God would create a new kind of relationship, inscribing divine love directly on human hearts, turning opponents into family. Today we explore how this animated adventure illuminates one of scripture’s most revolutionary declarations about personal and community renewal.
Throughout “The Gospel on Stage and Screen,” we’ve discovered how contemporary stories reveal timeless spiritual truths. Chicago’s themes of reinvention connected with Jeremiah’s potter imagery, showing the crucial difference between surface performance and authentic change. We witnessed how God’s truth persists despite human attempts to destroy it, like the scroll that survived King Jehoiakim’s fire. Each story has revealed different dimensions of Jeremiah’s prophetic vision—the power of new beginnings, the persistence of divine truth, and God’s ability to reshape what seems permanently broken. Today, we discover Jeremiah’s most radical declaration: the new covenant that renews hearts from within, creating genuine community where conflict once reigned.
The movie’s pivotal scene unfolds in a forest clearing where Hiccup finds a feared dragon trapped and helpless. Viking tradition demands he kill it and prove his worth. But something shifts inside him. Looking into the creature’s frightened eyes, he sees not a monster but a fellow being in distress. Against everything his culture taught, he cuts the ropes and sets his enemy free.
This captures exactly what Jeremiah proclaimed in verse 33: “I will put my Instructions within them and engrave them on their hearts.” Real change doesn’t come from external pressure but from an internal shift so profound that compassion becomes more natural than violence. The story builds to show how this personal renewal affects an entire community, especially when Hiccup’s father witnesses the dragon protecting his son—shattering decades of assumptions in a single moment. The village that once organized around dragon-killing eventually rebuilds itself around dragon-partnership, showing how individual heart change can reshape entire social structures.
To understand these declarations from scripture more fully, we need their original context. Around 587 BCE, Babylonian armies surrounded Jerusalem. The temple faced imminent destruction, and God’s people would soon march into exile. Everything they understood about following God—the temple worship, sacrificial systems, laws literally carved in stone—seemed to be failing. People followed external religious rules, performed proper rituals, yet their hearts remained unchanged. Religion had become performance rather than renewal.
The failure went deeper than mere disobedience. The people had turned faith into a transaction—follow the rules, get the blessing. They missed the relationship God desired. Their worship became empty ritual, their sacrifices mere religious theater. The very covenant meant to draw them close to God had become a barrier, a checklist that replaced genuine encounter with the divine.
In this desperate hour, Jeremiah spoke revolutionary words about a new covenant. Unlike their current system based on external compliance, God revealed something radically different. Divine truth would be embedded into the very fabric of human identity—no more dependence on stone tablets or ritual perfection. God proclaimed, “It won’t be like the covenant I made with their ancestors,” signaling something unprecedented—not tweaking the old system but creating something entirely new. The declaration to “forgive their wrongdoing and never again remember their sins” offered hope beyond their wildest dreams: complete restoration, not just temporary forgiveness.
John Wesley, Methodism’s founder, understood this heart renewal as central to Christian faith. He taught extensively about prevenient grace—God’s love that reaches toward us before we even recognize our need. Wesley compared it to a gentle current in a river that begins moving you toward shore before you realize you need rescuing. This grace works like that moment in the forest when something within Hiccup was already changing, drawing him toward mercy instead of violence. Wesley believed God’s grace begins renewing our hearts before we consciously choose to respond, making genuine change possible for everyone.
Wesley also emphasized the means of grace—practices through which God’s renewing power flows into our lives. Holy Communion embodies the new covenant most powerfully. As we receive the bread and cup, we don’t just remember Christ’s sacrifice; we experience the covenant renewal Jeremiah promised. The sacrament writes grace on our hearts, not through magical ritual but through genuine encounter with the living Christ. Prayer, scripture reading, and Christian community all become channels through which God inscribes love more deeply within us.
But Wesley insisted this personal renewal must lead to social restoration. When hearts truly change, communities change. He called this “social holiness”—individual spiritual growth inevitably creates better relationships and more just communities. The new covenant doesn’t just save souls in isolation; it reshapes how we live together. God’s heart-writing work creates both inner peace and outward justice, personal devotion and social witness. For Wesley, you couldn’t have one without the other—authentic faith always moved from the heart to the hands, from the prayer closet to the public square.
These ancient declarations and contemporary stories converge powerfully in our daily lives. In personal struggles, we often feel caught between others’ expectations and what our hearts know is right. Family expectations may conflict with our growing faith understanding. Workplace pressures push us toward choices that compromise our values. Social demands pull us away from what we sense God calling us toward. Jeremiah’s message that God inscribes truth on hearts rather than enforcing external compliance gives us permission—even courage—to follow divine leading when it differs from popular opinion.
Family relationships often replay old patterns year after year. That relative you strategically avoid at holiday gatherings. The sibling relationship fractured by wounds that won’t heal. The parent-child dynamic stuck in criticism and defensiveness. Sometimes we need dramatic moments to realize our assumptions about family members are completely wrong. The new covenant declaration that “they will all know me” suggests God can give us fresh eyes to see relatives we’ve written off, opening possibilities for healing we never imagined possible.
Here in McPherson, divisions poison longtime friendships over politics, generational gaps create misunderstanding in churches, and economic tensions keep neighbors from genuine connection. I’ve heard of people who have been friends for decades stop speaking over election signs in yards. I’ve seen young families leave churches because they felt judged by older members, while those same older members felt abandoned and misunderstood. Our community’s economic diversity—from struggling families to successful business owners—creates invisible walls at school events and community gatherings.
God’s declaration to “never again remember their sins” invites us to imagine relationships beyond our current conflicts. What if former political opponents could work together for community good? What if generational wisdom and youthful energy could strengthen rather than threaten each other? What if economic differences became opportunities for mutual support rather than sources of resentment? The new covenant makes these “what ifs” into real possibilities.
The good news is that God specializes in writing love stories where adversaries become partners. Just as the film moves from fear through understanding to genuine friendship and community renewal, the entire biblical narrative reveals God’s persistent work to turn opponents into family. Christ embodies this new covenant perfectly, demonstrating divine love that chooses mercy over violence, understanding over force, and restoration over revenge.
Through Christ, we experience what Jeremiah envisioned—God’s instructions imprinted on our hearts rather than imposed from outside. The cross reveals how seriously God takes this heart-writing mission, while the resurrection demonstrates that this new covenant creates entirely new possibilities. Death becomes life, opposition becomes partnership, broken communities experience restoration beyond imagination. The Spirit continues this renewing work today, creating internal motivation for love rather than external pressure for compliance.
That powerful moment when Stoick witnesses the dragon protecting his son helps us feel the weight of Jeremiah’s declaration: “they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest.” This isn’t merely intellectual knowledge but heart-deep recognition that changes everything. Through Christ, we experience this same revolutionary moment when we realize God’s love exceeds our assumptions and extends even to those we’ve labeled opponents.
We live in the “already but not yet” reality of God’s kingdom. We glimpse moments of complete restoration—reconciled relationships, healed communities, renewed hearts—while living in hope for the full healing that’s coming. We experience real change while awaiting complete fulfillment.
This week offers specific opportunities to practice new covenant living. I invite you to choose one practice that resonates with your current situation:
First, identify one challenging relationship—someone you consistently avoid or clash with at work, in your family, or in the community. Take the initiative this week to listen more than you defend. Ask a genuine question about their perspective instead of proving your point. Practice curiosity about their story rather than judgment about their choices. Remember, every person carries wounds and wisdom you know nothing about.
Second, when facing conflict, experiment with gentle methods. Whether it’s family tension over holiday plans or workplace disagreement about procedures, try offering something positive before addressing problems. Search for common ground before highlighting differences. Choose understanding over being understood. Notice how gentleness often accomplishes what force never could. This isn’t weakness—it’s the strength of secure love.
Third, watch for renewal opportunities within yourself. When making assumptions about someone’s motives—that driver who cut you off, that relative who made the comment, that neighbor whose politics frustrate you—pause and ask God for divine perspective. Notice defensive reactions and consciously choose different responses. Each moment of choosing grace over grievance writes God’s love a little deeper on your heart.
Finally, create space for restoration in one broken relationship. Reach out to someone involved in past hurt—not necessarily to resolve everything immediately, but to take one small step toward the healing God makes possible. Sometimes a simple “I’ve been thinking about you” opens doors we thought were permanently closed. Even if they don’t respond as hoped, you’ve participated in God’s reconciling work.
Stories—whether ancient prophecies or animated adventures—help us recognize God’s ongoing work in our world. The covenant continues: God inscribes love on willing hearts, creating possibilities for reconciliation we never imagined. This remains God’s persistent, revolutionary work among us today.
Will you pray with me? Renewing God, inscribe your love on our hearts so deeply that mercy becomes our instinct and grace our default response. Help us see opponents as potential partners, and give us courage to take first steps toward the reconciliation you make possible. Through Christ we pray. Amen.
In crafting today’s sermon, I employed AI assistants like Claude and Apple Intelligence, yet the ultimate responsibility for its content rests with me. These tools offered valuable perspectives, but the most influential sermon preparation hinges on biblical study, theological insight, personal reflection, and divine guidance. I see AI as a supportive aid to enrich the sermon process while ensuring my own voice in proclaiming the Word of God.
Rev. Andrew Conard 