Isaiah 2:1-5; Romans 13:11-14; Matthew 24:36-44;
The house lights have gone down. There is the whirr of the curtain being drawn back. A spotlight grows in intensity at center stage revealing a prophet. He begins to sing of a mountain, and of nations streaming to it willing to hear holy instruction and be judged by it, willing also to make peace with each other. These are the first words of Advent. As the song ends another sound rises. It is the first sound of Advent --- that of a blacksmith working at the forge hammering swords into plow blades and spears in to pruning tools.
How exhilarating, how noble, how hopeful, how dream-like, how improbable, how impossible.
If only it were to be. What world does the prophet live in? What hallucinogenic drug is he tripping on?
As the spotlight fades out on the prophet and he leaves the stage, an image is projected on the scrim at stage rear. The animation shows a barren level plain. Then the center of the plain begins to rise toward the sky and before you know it, there are hordes of people moving in mass towards the top of the now looming mountain. They are people of all ethnicities and races, the murmurs are in a multitude of languages. Except for the mountain, the crowd could have been Chicagoans celebrating the Cubs' long-awaited World Series victory. No one is pushing or shoving. Everyone is moving in an orderly fashion, ready to receive the instruction that will soon emanate from the holy place at the top of the mountain. Oh, how they long for this teaching. Some encourage others to get closer. Some help those for whom the travel is difficult. The excitement is building the closer to the mountain top the people get.
The people receive more than instruction, more than soft words meant to soothe, more than honeyed words meant lull long-deferred hopes. There are times of listening. Arguments are settled, disputes are ironed out, wrongs are adjudicated, and righteousness is displayed for all to see. All this will happen between individuals and nations - the extended tribal families with long histories of debilitating disputes. These are the only verbs with God as the subject. "God will judge" and God will "settle." All the other activity is seen with the people hearing and answering the call to come to the mountain and then what they do after hearing God's words and seeing God's word in action.
What are the people doing? They are making peace. How can this be? The only way they can make peace is because God has given the people justice. There can be no peace without justice. True justice can only come from God. Only when inequity is done away with can violence be taken out of the life equation.
Our world - near and far - teems with violence. A truck runs into a camper in Cynthiana. Two policemen are separately ambushed and killed in a Des Moines, Iowa, suburb. The long, unsolved disappearance of Jon Benet Ramsey is brought up in a docudrama. A football player is suspended for domestic violence.
All this justice and peace that the prophet proclaims just isn't going to happen. It will take more than the Cubs winning the World Series.
The prophet doesn't back down. He proclaims one result from the activity of the nations - peoples - accepting God's instruction and arbitrating judgment. That result is out and out disarmament. This new reality leads the a significantly greater capacity for all peoples to care for the land and care for each other. Since the reasons for envy, greed, resentment, retribution, and fear have been abolished, weapons are irrelevant. Since aggressions have been rendered absurd, resources once consumed for battle are available now for the provision of health, life, and communal growth. The image which the prophet presents text proposes a literal, material conversion of armaments. Instruments of taking life are converted to implements for sustaining life. The economy is converted. The world's curriculum is converted from learning war to learning the ways of God.
Some years ago, when Liberia was wracked with warfare, Christian youth gathered spent shell casings and fashioned them into crosses to remind them and the world that Christ turns death into life.
The indigenous culture of our geographical area tends to focus on this future horizon experience. Many African American spirituals also look to that day when the believer would be removed from the trials and tribulations of the present world. There is a depressing feeling that suffering cannot be avoided, that it must be lived through in order to receive the ultimate benefits of Christ, which cannot be participated in until people cross over into the realm of God's rule.
Isaiah doesn't go down that road. He is quite clear that the future does not begin next week, next month, next year, next decade, next century. God's future begins right now.
Come, house of Jacob,
let's walk by the Lord's light.
Whatever peaceable future there is to be, those who hear the promise are tasked with one responsibility: to walk toward the future, to walk "in the light of God," to walk "by" the light of God, to walk to "the light of God."
I know that you are all well-behaved. I didn't hear any titters, I didn't see any smirks. But didn't you want to do something like that when I read Isaiah's words - improbably words, impossible words? Given that we have been around a while and have experienced a lot in our years, and given all that we have had to put up with for the last number of months, we are hard-pressed not to break out in a full-throated guffaw at what the prophet envisions. Peace! Extinction of weapons! That's more far-fetched than the pie-in-the-sky promises of politicians: free college tuition, universal, single-payer health care, deportation of the illegal aliens who willingly accept a minimum wage pittance to do the jobs our neighbors are not willing to do, or a chicken in every pot or a Cadillac in every garage.
There's a new word coinage which has come on the scene lately - "alt-right." Depending on your viewpoint it denotes either a natural evolution in conservative politics or a particularly vile re-emergence of fascist white supremacy and all the evils and fears associated with it. We Christians need to deal with that. Unfortunately, faithful, followers of Christ, who carefully read scripture and who genuinely understand what they read, align themselves across the entire secular political spectrum. Each of us will need to stop talking with and listening to those who think like we do and start talking with and listening to those who think differently from us so that our conversations can be meaningful in contributing to the common weal of creation and to the greater glory of God.
These times are tense, because we are living smack dab in the middle of them. But they are not unique. Israel and Judah in the time of Isaiah and Judah in the time of Jesus were caught in a similar anxiety-ridden clash of philosophies and theologies. What Isaiah proposes, what Isaiah prophesies is another form of alt-worldview. For us as Christians today, Advent offers an alternative view of the reality in which we seem to live.
Advent is an alternative that says that power as we know it has no lasting strength; that the voices of politicians will be silenced by the songs of the angels; that our true Savior is a baby born in a smelly stable; that our brokenness will be healed by God's tender grace.
Advent is the time for alt-hope. Not hope that is based on power and threats, not hope which relies on how many weapons one has stockpiled or how many boots one can put on the ground; but hope which takes the hands of little children who fear their parents will be deported; hope which says we will be the safe places for people who are different in any way from us.
Advent is the time for alt-faith. Not faith that is grounded in some sort of 'Golden Age' romantically misremembered from the past, but faith which looks over the heads of the fearmongers to see God's grace erupting in our midst.
Advent is the time for alt-joy. Not joy that our side has won, not joy that is grounded in skin tone or wealth; but joy which is found in the confession that our God is doing something new in our midst. Advent is the time to journey into poverty, not our personal poverty as we overspend on extravagant gifts, but the poverty, the brokenness, the doubts of our world to find the places where God's joy is being birthed.
Advent is the time for alt-peace. Not the gritted teeth, pasted-on, pinched smile of "I'll tolerate you in public but I'll hate your guts and denounce you in private." Alt-peace is the humble recognition that whoever you are, wherever you came from, however old you are, whatever you have or haven't achieved in your life, 99% of our genes and chromosomes are the same and we are sisters and brothers.
Advent is time for alt-trust. Not trust in those who would bully us into doing things their way; but trust that is grounded in the promises made so long ago to prophets and psalmists, to teenage girls and grizzled shepherds, to children who were ignored by their society and to power-brokers who were weaker than their spreadsheets ever indicated.
Advent is about to break open our lives with its skewed way of looking at the future. That's God's vision, the true alternative vision. That's the impossibility of Advent. And it happens in us starting now.
Come, Advent, come!
The discussion of Advent as an alternative to present reality is based on "alt-Advent," posted by Thom M. Shuman, Sun, Nov 20, 2016 at 3:38 PM to midrash@joinhands.com.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2016 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
Sunday, November 27, 2016
Sunday, November 20, 2016
For the Glory of God
Luke 23:33-43; Jeremiah 23:1-6; Colossians 1:11-20
One of the great mysteries of Jesus’ crucifixion is his forgiveness of his accusers and those who carried out the death sentence. “Father, forgive them, for they don't know what they're doing.” The soldiers were following orders. Pilate was trying to keep the crowd under control. Herod was happy to pass Jesus back to Pilate and keep his puppet kingship in tact. The religious leadership were afraid of what could happen to their persons, their positions, their country, their faith if Jesus were to live. They believed they were acting for the glory of God and did what had to be done.
The onlookers goaded Jesus to anger. He responded with forgiveness. The authorities mocked him as the “King of the Jews.” Jesus showed that he was the king of all people. Jesus was taunted to save himself. He saved the criminal who hung next to him. Jesus turned evil into good. He lived as the Christ of God for the true glory of God.
Last year, Islamic State terrorists in Libya executed 21 Coptic Christians on a beach and videoed it for the world to see. Coptic Christians are the largest Christian community in the Middle East and one of the oldest in the world. They trace their church back to Saint Mark, who introduced Christianity in Alexandria, Egypt, a few years after Christ’s death and resurrection.
These Coptic Christians were taken hostage and executed because of their faith in Jesus Christ. The ISIS video of the killings was entitled, “A Message Signed with Blood to the Nations of the Cross” It was a message to Christians around the world.
Like the people involved in Jesus’ crucifixion, the ISIS soldiers did not know what they were doing. Instead of weakening the Christian faith, they strengthened it.
The 21 murdered men were construction tradesmen. All were Egyptians except for one. He appeared to have been a young African man, perhaps from Chad or Ghana.
Greek Orthodox bishop Demetrios of Mokissos reported that the executioners demanded that each hostage identify his religion. Under threat of death, they could have denied that they were Christians. But instead, each of the Egyptian Copts declared their trust in Jesus. Maintaining their faith in the face of evil, each man was beheaded.
Bishop Demetrios described this crime as “a grotesque example of the violence which Christians face daily in Libya, Iraq, Syria and anywhere ISIS prosecutes its murderous campaign against anyone it deems an infidel.” But as horrible as these executions were, the story has an unexpected and inspirational ending.
The African worker who was with the Egyptians was not a Christian when he was captured. But when the ISIS terrorists challenged him to declare his faith, he replied: “Their God is my God.”(1)
What a statement! “Their God is my God.”
After hearing those words, the terrorists killed him. But in that moment, the young man became a Christian and Jesus said to him, as he said to the man on the next cross, “I assure you that today you will be with me in paradise.”
Bishop Demetrios concluded, “The ISIS murderers seek to demoralize Christians with acts like the slaughter on a Libyan beach. Instead they stir our wonder at the courage and devotion inspired by God's love.”
“Their God is my God.”
Are we living our Christian faith in such a way that people look at us and say, “Their God is my God”?
I came of age in the midst of the Vietnam War. At the time I was in the early stages of discovering faith. I believed in God and had join the church when I was 12. When I went to college I had embarked on a spiritual journey to discover what I actually meant when I said that. Freshman year I needed to choose between ROTC and Physical Education for a required course. I chose ROTC. Among the things we learned in that course was how to strip, clean, and reassemble an M1 rifle. That was neat from a mechanical standpoint. The PE or ROTC requirement was dropped for my sophomore year, but I signed up for ROTC as an elective because the book work was going to be military history. When I found out that the practical work was going to be learning to shoot the M1, I dropped ROTC.
As the Vietnam War continued and upheavals happened on many campuses – not mine, thankfully – I fantasized going to the chapel on Sunday morning and finding it barricaded with armed troops. The gnawing question – imaginary and improbable as it was – was what would I do? Would I just turn away or would I attempt to cross the armed line and enter the chapel for worship?
When the draft lottery was instituted I dreaded getting a low number and then having to decide to enlist, wait for the draft notice, refuse to go and go to jail, or try to become a conscientious objector. Had I gotten a low lottery number, would I have denied Jesus and meekly submitted to those who did not know what they were doing? Or would I have stood firm with a few others and said, “My God is their God”? My birth date drew an exceedingly safe number, so that question was never answered.
On this Reign of Christ Sunday the world is confronted by a king who dies on a cross. Jesus doesn’t save himself, he saves others. Rather than crying out in anger, he forgives the people who kill him. Then and now, Jesus brings good out of evil.
Even if Christ is hanging on a cross, he is the people’s king, to be seen by everyone. The criminal next to Jesus did this when he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” The young African man on the Libyan beach did this when he pointed to the Coptic Christians and said, “Their God is my God.”
Both the criminal and the young African man saw Christ as king. They grasped his power and trusted him to save them. In the face of death, they put their complete faith in a crucified Lord.
In telling my story earlier, it was not my intention to imply that my faith crisis was on the same level as that of the African man. But you and I know that we have faith crises. We face small spiritual deaths or triumphs frequently. Time and again we are left with the question: Are we living our Christian faith in such a way that people will look to us and say, “Their God is my God”?
The challenge for us is to speak in ways that reveal authentic faith and act in ways that show real courage and devotion. Only when people are inspired by what Christians say and do will they be willing to accept Christ as their king. Would we support and embrace a neighbor whom everyone else shuns because they aren’t “one of us,” physically, mentally, racially, academically, or some other difference? Or would we quietly acquiesce to the majority? Would we speak out to decry a majority held, obviously false, slanderous slur? Or we hold our tongue and keep our faith to ourselves? Whose God is our God?
Mzee Abdu of Kyambogo, Uganda, avoided Christians in his rural village. He and his wife were practicing Muslims and steered clear of the local church. But with a meager income, Abdu and his wife struggled to take care of their grandchildren. They sometimes went without meals, and they couldn’t fix their leaky grass-thatched roof hut.
The church noticed Abdu’s family and stopped in to offer them support. Abdu’s reservations toward Christians soon began to melt away. “This is a very special day to me,” he said. “It has been long since anyone has come to our home.”
After the visit, the pastor and other church leaders discussed how they could use resources in their community to help Abdu's family. They rallied the community to construct a new semi-permanent house with an sheet metal roof to keep the family warm and dry during the rainy season. Meanwhile, they helped Abdu’s grandchildren with scholarships to attend the church’s school.
During a follow-up visit, Mzee Abdu and his wife asked if Pastor Patrick could lead them to receiving Christ as their personal Savior. “We want to accept your God. He has loved us so much! Our lives have totally changed since the day you came here. We had lost hope.”(2)
Rodger Nishioka is a Christian educator, former seminary professor, and now Director of Adult Educational Ministries at the Village Presbyterian Church outside Kansas City, Kansas. He is convinced that actions speak louder than words, and that Christian service provides new ways of knowing Jesus today. “Words are lovely,” he says, “but in the 21st century, when we have rhetoric everywhere, maybe people are paying attention to how you and I live, to what we do. Come on, church," he concludes, “maybe in the 21st century, folks are looking for believers who act for the glory of God.”(3)
People are looking for believers like the Coptic Christians on the Libyan beach and like the men and women of the Ugandan church. People who act not for themselves, but for the glory of God. Not for themselves, but for Jesus.
All of us are challenged to take actions that will cause people to look at us and say, “Their God is my God.” May we act with strength and integrity of when we are challenged, because the challenge is for Christ the king and for the glory of God.
(1) Demetrios of Mokissos. "ISIS is guilty of anti-Christian genocide." The Wall Street Journal, February 12, 2016, wsj.com.
(2) Adapted from “Actions speak louder than words: Hope in Uganda,” Bright Hope, May 24, 2016, www.brighthope.org.
(3) Nishioka, Rodger. "New ways of knowing." Westminster Presbyterian Church, Greenville, South Carolina, March 18, 2015, www.plus.google.com.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2016 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
One of the great mysteries of Jesus’ crucifixion is his forgiveness of his accusers and those who carried out the death sentence. “Father, forgive them, for they don't know what they're doing.” The soldiers were following orders. Pilate was trying to keep the crowd under control. Herod was happy to pass Jesus back to Pilate and keep his puppet kingship in tact. The religious leadership were afraid of what could happen to their persons, their positions, their country, their faith if Jesus were to live. They believed they were acting for the glory of God and did what had to be done.
The onlookers goaded Jesus to anger. He responded with forgiveness. The authorities mocked him as the “King of the Jews.” Jesus showed that he was the king of all people. Jesus was taunted to save himself. He saved the criminal who hung next to him. Jesus turned evil into good. He lived as the Christ of God for the true glory of God.
Last year, Islamic State terrorists in Libya executed 21 Coptic Christians on a beach and videoed it for the world to see. Coptic Christians are the largest Christian community in the Middle East and one of the oldest in the world. They trace their church back to Saint Mark, who introduced Christianity in Alexandria, Egypt, a few years after Christ’s death and resurrection.
These Coptic Christians were taken hostage and executed because of their faith in Jesus Christ. The ISIS video of the killings was entitled, “A Message Signed with Blood to the Nations of the Cross” It was a message to Christians around the world.
Like the people involved in Jesus’ crucifixion, the ISIS soldiers did not know what they were doing. Instead of weakening the Christian faith, they strengthened it.
The 21 murdered men were construction tradesmen. All were Egyptians except for one. He appeared to have been a young African man, perhaps from Chad or Ghana.
Greek Orthodox bishop Demetrios of Mokissos reported that the executioners demanded that each hostage identify his religion. Under threat of death, they could have denied that they were Christians. But instead, each of the Egyptian Copts declared their trust in Jesus. Maintaining their faith in the face of evil, each man was beheaded.
Bishop Demetrios described this crime as “a grotesque example of the violence which Christians face daily in Libya, Iraq, Syria and anywhere ISIS prosecutes its murderous campaign against anyone it deems an infidel.” But as horrible as these executions were, the story has an unexpected and inspirational ending.
The African worker who was with the Egyptians was not a Christian when he was captured. But when the ISIS terrorists challenged him to declare his faith, he replied: “Their God is my God.”(1)
What a statement! “Their God is my God.”
After hearing those words, the terrorists killed him. But in that moment, the young man became a Christian and Jesus said to him, as he said to the man on the next cross, “I assure you that today you will be with me in paradise.”
Bishop Demetrios concluded, “The ISIS murderers seek to demoralize Christians with acts like the slaughter on a Libyan beach. Instead they stir our wonder at the courage and devotion inspired by God's love.”
“Their God is my God.”
Are we living our Christian faith in such a way that people look at us and say, “Their God is my God”?
I came of age in the midst of the Vietnam War. At the time I was in the early stages of discovering faith. I believed in God and had join the church when I was 12. When I went to college I had embarked on a spiritual journey to discover what I actually meant when I said that. Freshman year I needed to choose between ROTC and Physical Education for a required course. I chose ROTC. Among the things we learned in that course was how to strip, clean, and reassemble an M1 rifle. That was neat from a mechanical standpoint. The PE or ROTC requirement was dropped for my sophomore year, but I signed up for ROTC as an elective because the book work was going to be military history. When I found out that the practical work was going to be learning to shoot the M1, I dropped ROTC.
As the Vietnam War continued and upheavals happened on many campuses – not mine, thankfully – I fantasized going to the chapel on Sunday morning and finding it barricaded with armed troops. The gnawing question – imaginary and improbable as it was – was what would I do? Would I just turn away or would I attempt to cross the armed line and enter the chapel for worship?
When the draft lottery was instituted I dreaded getting a low number and then having to decide to enlist, wait for the draft notice, refuse to go and go to jail, or try to become a conscientious objector. Had I gotten a low lottery number, would I have denied Jesus and meekly submitted to those who did not know what they were doing? Or would I have stood firm with a few others and said, “My God is their God”? My birth date drew an exceedingly safe number, so that question was never answered.
On this Reign of Christ Sunday the world is confronted by a king who dies on a cross. Jesus doesn’t save himself, he saves others. Rather than crying out in anger, he forgives the people who kill him. Then and now, Jesus brings good out of evil.
Even if Christ is hanging on a cross, he is the people’s king, to be seen by everyone. The criminal next to Jesus did this when he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” The young African man on the Libyan beach did this when he pointed to the Coptic Christians and said, “Their God is my God.”
Both the criminal and the young African man saw Christ as king. They grasped his power and trusted him to save them. In the face of death, they put their complete faith in a crucified Lord.
In telling my story earlier, it was not my intention to imply that my faith crisis was on the same level as that of the African man. But you and I know that we have faith crises. We face small spiritual deaths or triumphs frequently. Time and again we are left with the question: Are we living our Christian faith in such a way that people will look to us and say, “Their God is my God”?
The challenge for us is to speak in ways that reveal authentic faith and act in ways that show real courage and devotion. Only when people are inspired by what Christians say and do will they be willing to accept Christ as their king. Would we support and embrace a neighbor whom everyone else shuns because they aren’t “one of us,” physically, mentally, racially, academically, or some other difference? Or would we quietly acquiesce to the majority? Would we speak out to decry a majority held, obviously false, slanderous slur? Or we hold our tongue and keep our faith to ourselves? Whose God is our God?
Mzee Abdu of Kyambogo, Uganda, avoided Christians in his rural village. He and his wife were practicing Muslims and steered clear of the local church. But with a meager income, Abdu and his wife struggled to take care of their grandchildren. They sometimes went without meals, and they couldn’t fix their leaky grass-thatched roof hut.
The church noticed Abdu’s family and stopped in to offer them support. Abdu’s reservations toward Christians soon began to melt away. “This is a very special day to me,” he said. “It has been long since anyone has come to our home.”
After the visit, the pastor and other church leaders discussed how they could use resources in their community to help Abdu's family. They rallied the community to construct a new semi-permanent house with an sheet metal roof to keep the family warm and dry during the rainy season. Meanwhile, they helped Abdu’s grandchildren with scholarships to attend the church’s school.
During a follow-up visit, Mzee Abdu and his wife asked if Pastor Patrick could lead them to receiving Christ as their personal Savior. “We want to accept your God. He has loved us so much! Our lives have totally changed since the day you came here. We had lost hope.”(2)
Rodger Nishioka is a Christian educator, former seminary professor, and now Director of Adult Educational Ministries at the Village Presbyterian Church outside Kansas City, Kansas. He is convinced that actions speak louder than words, and that Christian service provides new ways of knowing Jesus today. “Words are lovely,” he says, “but in the 21st century, when we have rhetoric everywhere, maybe people are paying attention to how you and I live, to what we do. Come on, church," he concludes, “maybe in the 21st century, folks are looking for believers who act for the glory of God.”(3)
People are looking for believers like the Coptic Christians on the Libyan beach and like the men and women of the Ugandan church. People who act not for themselves, but for the glory of God. Not for themselves, but for Jesus.
All of us are challenged to take actions that will cause people to look at us and say, “Their God is my God.” May we act with strength and integrity of when we are challenged, because the challenge is for Christ the king and for the glory of God.
(1) Demetrios of Mokissos. "ISIS is guilty of anti-Christian genocide." The Wall Street Journal, February 12, 2016, wsj.com.
(2) Adapted from “Actions speak louder than words: Hope in Uganda,” Bright Hope, May 24, 2016, www.brighthope.org.
(3) Nishioka, Rodger. "New ways of knowing." Westminster Presbyterian Church, Greenville, South Carolina, March 18, 2015, www.plus.google.com.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2016 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
Sunday, November 6, 2016
Share!
2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17
Step away from the calendar. You heard me. Close the calendar app on your phone. Zip up the Day-Timer. Turn the wall calendar to face the wall. Put out of your mind that the election ordeal will be over in three days and that the apocalypse will -begin (whichever Armageddon you are expecting – and it probably won’t be as bad as your think it will be). Let us forsake temporal time for a few moments. Let us repose in church time.
Church time follows a consistent cycle. We begin with Advent, a time for waiting on the coming of the King, both as a baby born in the manger and as the eternal King of Glory. Advent is followed by Christmas and Epiphany, during which we celebrate the physical arrival of the King as flesh and blood and watch as his luminance grows in the expanding revelation of his nature and ministry.
At the apex of that divine revelation the world begins to realize that the persona Jesus projects is in radical conflict with the cozy ways of the world. From that point Lent spirals down to the what is supposed to be the world’s crushing blow against all that Jesus represents. But with a swift appellate court decision, God overturns the verdict of the world with the Easter resurrection of the Lord and Savior. For seven weeks Christ tutors his followers in knowledge and faith until the wildfire driven Holy Spirit races through Jerusalem inflaming the Pentecost Church.
We celebrated that six months ago, but these days are part of the season after Pentecost, a time when we learn what it means to be a Christian in this world. The story arc of Pentecost rises with all the great stories of Jesus. About halfway through, around the beginning of September, as fall’s wispy hints start to appear, there is a shift. The focus begins to move from the here and now to the future and beyond, to the culmination of the great creation which started when God breathed, “in the beginning.”
As the season of Pentecost winds down, these last weeks look forward to the day when we will no longer be in this world. The readings talk about the end of the ages and will conclude in a couple of weeks celebrating the enthronement of Christ in never-ending glory. While Advent uses similar readings to face the promise, the final readings of the church year look the frightening uncertainty of the end of days squarely in the face.
Paul’s second letter to the Thessalonians addresses that time. Most of us would rather not discuss the end times; the language of eschatology (last things) is difficult even for theologians. Which images are literal, which are figurative? When should we be concerned about the prophecies? Were the warnings written for our generation or some future generation, or has it all happened when no one was paying attention? Who is the lawless person? Was this a character in the days of Paul or someone yet to come? (Remember, we are in church time; no fair dropping out and going to your favorite political commentator.)
Another question rises. Will the coming of Christ be a physical return or spiritual? Some people insist they have the answer. There are perfectly acceptable arguments from many different points of view. People argue about what is true. They argue about what they think is true. They argue for what they want to be true. And they argue about details in order to camouflage fear, anxiety, ignorance, insecurity. No wonder most Christians would rather not discuss these things.
That doesn’t stop Paul. He writes to the Thessalonian believers the message that really matters: God loves you and God chose you to be fruit, sanctified by the Holy Spirit and called by the Gospel to obtain the glory of Christ. Paul also reminds his readers (aren’t we fortunate to get copied on his letter?) that while God is the one who chooses, sanctifies and calls, we, who are the recipients of God’s choice, sanctification, and call, are called to faith. It is up to us to believe. No one can believe for us, not even Jesus himself. The scriptures are clear: our eternal life is not dependent on anything we do in this world, but on the grace and mercy of God lived out in Jesus Christ.
If we imagine that after crossing paths with Jesus our life can continue on as if nothing happened, we missed something. We didn’t just miss the fine print, we missed the bold print. Eternal life is completely different from temporal life. (No, we aren’t ready to go back to our calendars yet.)
Let’s hear again something that Paul says:
Not only do we get to possess – obtain – the honor and glory of Christ through faith, we get immersed in it, we get to share it.
The take-away on this is that Jesus is not a penny-pinching miserly savior who begrudges just enough grace to clear our names. Jesus is lavish, profligate with his grace. He throws open the doors of the kingdom, runs to the end of the drive and says, “You and you, come on in!” He grabs us by the arm and ushers us through the entryway, goes to the first hospitality station and grabs a plate full of grace and a goblet full of mercy. He says, “This is for you. Partake. Go back for seconds. What is mine is yours.”
No more begging. No more eking out an existence. This is life in its fullest. And it is ours. We get to share in it, to claim it, to wallow in it. That’s Christ’s earnest desire. He doesn’t want to be alone in the kingdom. He wants to share it with all his best friends.
Share. That’s what it’s all about. And that’s why we take time this first Sunday in November to remember people who have shared the faith of Christ, shared his love and mercy, shared his righteousness and justice with us and with countless others through their lives. We have been so blessed to have been sisters and brothers in faith with these people. They are part of the living legacy of faithfulness that links us with Christ and the first believers and which we in turn will transmit to generations after us.
Our lives have been lived on the shoulders, the legacies – known and unknown – of generations who lived long before us. Our legacies will be laid down on top of theirs. We will never know the legacy that those after us have received from us. What we will know is what it is like to stand in the presence of God, to stand on holy ground, to hear God’s voice with our own ears and see the eternal glory.
So today we give thanks for those who have gone before us in the last year, those who have left something of God and something of themselves in our lives. Nadia Bolz-Weber writes that we all are accidental saints. She says:
Jeanne Barron
Max L. Russell
Betty. L. Jenkins
Louise Netzley
Marlene Voorhes
Helen Heinmiller
Let us pray.
For those who walked with us, this is a prayer.
For those who have gone ahead, this is a blessing.
For those who touched and tended us,
who lingered with us while they lived,
this is a thanksgiving.
For those who journey still with us
in the shadows of awareness,
in the crevices of memory,
in the landscape of our dreams,
this is a benediction. (Jan Richardson)
God of the ages:
We praise you for all your servants who have done justice, loved mercy and walked humbly with you.
We praise you for apostles and martyrs and saints of every time and place, who in life and death have witnessed to your truth and love.
We praise you, O God, for all those who answered your call to preach the Good News of the Gospel and to administer your Sacraments of grace and love, and for those who devoted their lives to teaching your Word.
We praise you, O God, for those who showed compassion to the least, feeding the hungry and clothing the naked, welcoming the stranger and offering mercy and forgiveness to those who have gone astray.
We praise you, O God, and we especially honor the memory of those individuals of this congregation who have lived among us and shared their faith in personal ways, who have finished the race and now live eternally in your presence.
We honor the memory of those who have graced our lives at other times and in other ways – those whose names we lift up before you in the silence of our hearts.
Hear our prayers, O God.
For all the saints who from their labors rest, we praise you, O God.
We praise you and we thank you in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
(1) Cited by Christina Berry in a sermon, “Accidental Saints,” delivered October 30, 2016, at First Presbyterian Church, Sterling, Illinois. Posted on www.midrash.com, 10/29/16, 3:44 p.m. CDT.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2016 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
Step away from the calendar. You heard me. Close the calendar app on your phone. Zip up the Day-Timer. Turn the wall calendar to face the wall. Put out of your mind that the election ordeal will be over in three days and that the apocalypse will -begin (whichever Armageddon you are expecting – and it probably won’t be as bad as your think it will be). Let us forsake temporal time for a few moments. Let us repose in church time.
Church time follows a consistent cycle. We begin with Advent, a time for waiting on the coming of the King, both as a baby born in the manger and as the eternal King of Glory. Advent is followed by Christmas and Epiphany, during which we celebrate the physical arrival of the King as flesh and blood and watch as his luminance grows in the expanding revelation of his nature and ministry.
At the apex of that divine revelation the world begins to realize that the persona Jesus projects is in radical conflict with the cozy ways of the world. From that point Lent spirals down to the what is supposed to be the world’s crushing blow against all that Jesus represents. But with a swift appellate court decision, God overturns the verdict of the world with the Easter resurrection of the Lord and Savior. For seven weeks Christ tutors his followers in knowledge and faith until the wildfire driven Holy Spirit races through Jerusalem inflaming the Pentecost Church.
We celebrated that six months ago, but these days are part of the season after Pentecost, a time when we learn what it means to be a Christian in this world. The story arc of Pentecost rises with all the great stories of Jesus. About halfway through, around the beginning of September, as fall’s wispy hints start to appear, there is a shift. The focus begins to move from the here and now to the future and beyond, to the culmination of the great creation which started when God breathed, “in the beginning.”
As the season of Pentecost winds down, these last weeks look forward to the day when we will no longer be in this world. The readings talk about the end of the ages and will conclude in a couple of weeks celebrating the enthronement of Christ in never-ending glory. While Advent uses similar readings to face the promise, the final readings of the church year look the frightening uncertainty of the end of days squarely in the face.
Paul’s second letter to the Thessalonians addresses that time. Most of us would rather not discuss the end times; the language of eschatology (last things) is difficult even for theologians. Which images are literal, which are figurative? When should we be concerned about the prophecies? Were the warnings written for our generation or some future generation, or has it all happened when no one was paying attention? Who is the lawless person? Was this a character in the days of Paul or someone yet to come? (Remember, we are in church time; no fair dropping out and going to your favorite political commentator.)
Another question rises. Will the coming of Christ be a physical return or spiritual? Some people insist they have the answer. There are perfectly acceptable arguments from many different points of view. People argue about what is true. They argue about what they think is true. They argue for what they want to be true. And they argue about details in order to camouflage fear, anxiety, ignorance, insecurity. No wonder most Christians would rather not discuss these things.
That doesn’t stop Paul. He writes to the Thessalonian believers the message that really matters: God loves you and God chose you to be fruit, sanctified by the Holy Spirit and called by the Gospel to obtain the glory of Christ. Paul also reminds his readers (aren’t we fortunate to get copied on his letter?) that while God is the one who chooses, sanctifies and calls, we, who are the recipients of God’s choice, sanctification, and call, are called to faith. It is up to us to believe. No one can believe for us, not even Jesus himself. The scriptures are clear: our eternal life is not dependent on anything we do in this world, but on the grace and mercy of God lived out in Jesus Christ.
If we imagine that after crossing paths with Jesus our life can continue on as if nothing happened, we missed something. We didn’t just miss the fine print, we missed the bold print. Eternal life is completely different from temporal life. (No, we aren’t ready to go back to our calendars yet.)
Let’s hear again something that Paul says:
God called all of you through our good news so you could possess the honor of our Lord Jesus Christ. (2 Thess. 2:14)We are a materialist people, so that verb ‘possess’ resonates with us. And Paul wants it to. What does it mean? Let’s look at several other translations.
- New Revised Standard Version: “For this purpose he called you through our proclamation of the good news, so that you may obtain the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ.
- The Message: This is the life of the Spirit he invited you to through the Message we delivered, in which you get in on the glory of our Master, Jesus Christ.
- New Living Translation: He called you to salvation when we told you the Good News; now you can share in the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Not only do we get to possess – obtain – the honor and glory of Christ through faith, we get immersed in it, we get to share it.
The take-away on this is that Jesus is not a penny-pinching miserly savior who begrudges just enough grace to clear our names. Jesus is lavish, profligate with his grace. He throws open the doors of the kingdom, runs to the end of the drive and says, “You and you, come on in!” He grabs us by the arm and ushers us through the entryway, goes to the first hospitality station and grabs a plate full of grace and a goblet full of mercy. He says, “This is for you. Partake. Go back for seconds. What is mine is yours.”
No more begging. No more eking out an existence. This is life in its fullest. And it is ours. We get to share in it, to claim it, to wallow in it. That’s Christ’s earnest desire. He doesn’t want to be alone in the kingdom. He wants to share it with all his best friends.
Share. That’s what it’s all about. And that’s why we take time this first Sunday in November to remember people who have shared the faith of Christ, shared his love and mercy, shared his righteousness and justice with us and with countless others through their lives. We have been so blessed to have been sisters and brothers in faith with these people. They are part of the living legacy of faithfulness that links us with Christ and the first believers and which we in turn will transmit to generations after us.
Our lives have been lived on the shoulders, the legacies – known and unknown – of generations who lived long before us. Our legacies will be laid down on top of theirs. We will never know the legacy that those after us have received from us. What we will know is what it is like to stand in the presence of God, to stand on holy ground, to hear God’s voice with our own ears and see the eternal glory.
So today we give thanks for those who have gone before us in the last year, those who have left something of God and something of themselves in our lives. Nadia Bolz-Weber writes that we all are accidental saints. She says:
“Without higher-quality material to work with, God resorts to working through us for others and upon us through others. Those are some weirdly restorative, disconcerting shenanigans to be caught up in: God forcing God’s people to see themselves as God sees them, to do stuff they know they are incapable of doing, so that God might make use of them, and make them to be both humble recipients and generous givers of grace, so that they may be part of God’s big project on earth, so that they themselves might find unexpected joy through surprising situations.”(1)Let us now remember these people whom God has used to bless us and bless the Christ’s church:
Jeanne Barron
Max L. Russell
Betty. L. Jenkins
Louise Netzley
Marlene Voorhes
Helen Heinmiller
Let us pray.
For those who walked with us, this is a prayer.
For those who have gone ahead, this is a blessing.
For those who touched and tended us,
who lingered with us while they lived,
this is a thanksgiving.
For those who journey still with us
in the shadows of awareness,
in the crevices of memory,
in the landscape of our dreams,
this is a benediction. (Jan Richardson)
God of the ages:
We praise you for all your servants who have done justice, loved mercy and walked humbly with you.
We praise you for apostles and martyrs and saints of every time and place, who in life and death have witnessed to your truth and love.
We praise you, O God, for all those who answered your call to preach the Good News of the Gospel and to administer your Sacraments of grace and love, and for those who devoted their lives to teaching your Word.
We praise you, O God, for those who showed compassion to the least, feeding the hungry and clothing the naked, welcoming the stranger and offering mercy and forgiveness to those who have gone astray.
We praise you, O God, and we especially honor the memory of those individuals of this congregation who have lived among us and shared their faith in personal ways, who have finished the race and now live eternally in your presence.
We honor the memory of those who have graced our lives at other times and in other ways – those whose names we lift up before you in the silence of our hearts.
Hear our prayers, O God.
For all the saints who from their labors rest, we praise you, O God.
We praise you and we thank you in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
(1) Cited by Christina Berry in a sermon, “Accidental Saints,” delivered October 30, 2016, at First Presbyterian Church, Sterling, Illinois. Posted on www.midrash.com, 10/29/16, 3:44 p.m. CDT.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2016 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
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