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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