See, I Am Making All Things New - Called to Continual Transformation: We’re in this Together

“See, I Am Making All Things New - Called to Continual Transformation: We’re in this Together” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on September 13, 2020. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 37:05.

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Exodus 15:1-11, 20-21

1 Then Moses and the Israelites sang this song to the Lord:

“I will sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously;

    horse and rider he has thrown into the sea.

2 The Lord is my strength and my might,

    and he has become my salvation;

this is my God, and I will praise him,

    my father’s God, and I will exalt him.

3 The Lord is a warrior;

    the Lord is his name.

4 Pharaoh’s chariots and his army he cast into the sea;

    his picked officers were sunk in the Red Sea.

5 The floods covered them;

    they went down into the depths like a stone.

6 Your right hand, O Lord, glorious in power—

    your right hand, O Lord, shattered the enemy.

7 In the greatness of your majesty you overthrew your adversaries;

    you sent out your fury, it consumed them like stubble.

8 At the blast of your nostrils the waters piled up,

    the floods stood up in a heap;

    the deeps congealed in the heart of the sea.

9 The enemy said, ‘I will pursue, I will overtake,

    I will divide the spoil, my desire shall have its fill of them.

    I will draw my sword, my hand shall destroy them.’

10 You blew with your wind, the sea covered them;

    they sank like lead in the mighty waters.

11 Who is like you, O Lord, among the gods?

    Who is like you, majestic in holiness,

    awesome in splendor, doing wonders?”

20 Then the prophet Miriam, Aaron’s sister, took a tambourine in her hand; and all the women went out after her with tambourines and with dancing. 21 And Miriam sang to them:

“Sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously;

horse and rider he has thrown into the sea.”

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Romans 14:1-12

1 Welcome those who are weak in faith, but not for the purpose of quarreling over opinions. 2 Some believe in eating anything, while the weak eat only vegetables. 3 Those who eat must not despise those who abstain, and those who abstain must not pass judgment on those who eat; for God has welcomed them. 4 Who are you to pass judgment on servants of another? It is before their own lord that they stand or fall. And they will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make them stand.

5 Some judge one day to be better than another, while others judge all days to be alike. Let all be fully convinced in their own minds. 6 Those who observe the day, observe it in honor of the Lord. Also those who eat, eat in honor of the Lord, since they give thanks to God; while those who abstain, abstain in honor of the Lord and give thanks to God.

7 We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves. 8 If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. 9 For to this end Christ died and lived again, so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living.

10 Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister? Or you, why do you despise your brother or sister? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God. 11 For it is written,

“As I live, says the Lord, every knee shall bow to me,

    and every tongue shall give praise to God.”

12 So then, each of us will be accountable to God.

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Friday marked nineteen years since the lives of Americans were shaken to our core. As planes were flown into the Twin Towers and the Pentagon as well as the one that was crashed into a field, our entire country reacted as one as the single deadliest terrorist attack in human history hit our land the morning of September 11, 2001. Even today we remember the 3000 lives lost and the tens of thousands injured and the millions affected by the aftermath. Let us hold them in prayer through a moment of silence now.

…

That morning, nineteen years ago, our entire country – our people – us – reacted to a tragic and traumatic attack. And most of us remember that day with every detail. Whether we were at home or school or work, we remember that moment. Whether we heard it from a friend or the tv or the radio, we remember that moment. And whether we reacted in shock, sadness, horror, disbelief, or anger; we remember that moment.

I could ask any of you and most of you would remember where you were, how you heard about the attacks, and how you reacted. This painful moment is seared into the hearts and minds of our country. Think about that for a moment. What were you doing? How did you hear about 9/11? How did you react? The memories, no matter what they look like, are valid.

But I’ll confess something. I don’t remember the morning of 9/11 besides a few foggy, fleeting images here and there. I have a theory as to why that is but I’ll explain that later.

I do remember September 12, 2001 though. That day and the days that followed, our country came together in support of one another. People grieved with one another. A sense of togetherness surged through us. People who were angry were told their anger was valid. People who were sad were told their sadness was valid. People who were afraid were told their fear was valid. For a moment, people could be who they were and react however they reacted and yet we found unity and love for one another. The thing I remember most is that following September 11 was we were told we were in this together. We were told we weren’t alone. And I think for a moment in time, we fully believed that.

A harsh, humbling reality is great tragedy and trauma bring people together. Not always at first; but somehow, in a moment to follow, people; through hope, peace, love, and understanding; share in the unity as one community where everyone and all of their baggage is welcomed.

Our Exodus passage lifts up a moment of unity for our Israelites. Today we heard this song that they sang together! First led by Moses and then by Miriam! We all know the story of the Israelites as told in the book of Exodus. They were once slaves in Egypt. Moses, after being approached by God through a burning bush, takes up the call to free God’s people from their captors. Following miracles and plagues, Pharaoh decides to let the Israelites go from their servitude. But as the Israelites are approaching the red sea following their release, Pharaoh changes his mind and sends his entire army after them. Riders and horses, chariots and warriors pursued the Israelites. And when things looked most dire for the Israelites, God parts the great red sea, and the Israelites, led by Moses, Aaron, and Miriam, cross the dry land. Pharaoh and his army also then try to cross the parted sea... but while surrounded by water, God brings the water back crashing down and the entire army is destroyed. And the moment the Israelites are safe, they burst out in a united song. Before this moment, they felt afraid and angry and sad and in shock… and as we recount the stories of the Israelites as they wander in the wilderness, we know they will feel afraid and angry and sad and in shock again… but here, in this moment, they needed to remember that they were together; that they weren’t alone; that they were one community.

As I said, tragedy can bring people together. We saw it following 9/11. We saw it in the Israelites following the great fear as they crossed the red sea.

Pastors often see it within families when a loved one is approaching death. You probably know one I’m talking about. One person is angry while another is sad; someone is nervously laughing while another can’t say a word. I’ve seen stress and grief divide families in those moments, but then, most of the time, they come back together as one family for the funeral. This has happened in my own family; I’m sure you’ve experienced this as well. Do you know what I’m talking about? Eventually people come back together.

I’ve been emphasizing this point of togetherness because, well, that’s the point of this sermon. We are called to be together, to be united together, especially following tragedy. And in this togetherness, everyone and all of their baggage is welcomed. No one is meant to be alone.

This togetherness is a beautiful and holy thing… and yet extremely difficult to accomplish. For some reason, our natural inclination is to divide ourselves, to disagree and to judge; to hold malice instead of mercy and resentment instead of forgiveness. Sure, we’re brought together following great tragedy but normally a tragedy has to happen first before that the togetherness happens, and no one prays for another tragedy so that we will be brought together, and rightfully so! So this togetherness can be difficult to accomplish.

I said earlier that I don’t remember the morning of September 11, 2001. I don’t know why; I just don’t. But I remember another tragedy from that year. Five months later, on January 18, 2002, Minot, North Dakota had a train derailment that caused ammonia gas to cover the city. I along with my family along with 40000 other residents had to emergently evacuate the city in the middle of the night. I remember that with full detail; every detail. But once again, I also remember that when it was safe to return, the community came together as one. No one was alone. We fully believed that we were in this together. Everyone and all of their baggage, including their baggage that happened because of this traumatic accident, was welcomed.

And Minot recently just made the news again. Last week Minot, for the very first time, flew a rainbow flag in support of the LGBTQ+ community from city hall underneath the American flag and the North Dakotan flag. However, the rainbow flag was mistakenly larger than the other two flags and that caused some problems. The rainbow flag, because it was out of code, was immediately taken down… but it was the fact that the rainbow flag was even displayed that opened a can of worms.

At a city council meeting following this, residents of Minot were allowed to voice their concerns for the size of the flag, but apparently no one in fact cared about the size. They cared about the flag. For over an hour, the city council and those tuning into the livestream listened to “concerned” residents because Minot’s rainbow flag meant soon that God’s wrath would come, that a person’s genitalia were being improperly glorified, that pedophilia would soon be legal, that the gay agenda was being forced on them, that this means we should also allow confederate flags and swastikas; that the rainbow flag harmed them; just to name a few examples.

But following that, I’ve seen my straight and cisgender friends and family who are residents of Minot speak in support of the LGBTQ+ community because that tragedy brought them together. They made sure members and allies of the LGBTQ+ community were not alone; that they too were in this together. And that the baggage of being publicly hated on for an hour during a government meeting was valid and they were still welcome in a safe, supportive community.

But the question is: why must a tragedy be the thing the calls us together in the name of something good? And the rest of the time we would rather be divided. Like why not live everyday like September 12^th or every day as united survivors or every day as a welcoming community. 

Roman Christians, like us, divided their community through arguments, judgements, and quarrels. They failed at the very thing they were called to be, which was a community. It was easier and more natural for all of them to bring each other down than to lift one another up. They judged one another; they ranked one another. They put each other on a pedestal of who was the better Christian, and those who were not “the most faithful” were shamed and brought even lower. It was the idea that someone’s faith could be made stronger if someone’s else faith was made weaker.

And as I said, the Roman Christians are just like us… or we’re just like them. We live in a “me first” society. For some reason, our human nature tells us to talk about own rights than our responsibilities to our neighbors. And not only that, even as Christians, we sometimes naturally believe and act that our neighbor’s responsibility should be in care for us so that we can exercise our rights. But that is not the identity of a community in Christ.

Last week we talked about everything we do should be done in the love for our neighbor. And if we do that and do it well, then we find our identity as a community. When we think of our neighbor, we open our community wider. When we welcome our neighbor, our community become bigger. And when our neighbor finds a place within our community, it more closely represents the body of Christ and the kingdom of God here on earth.

Now specifically, Paul addresses those who are strong in their faith to welcome those who are “weaker.” And it’s not to fix “the weaker” or change them or strengthen them, but rather, it’s to fix and change and strengthen the community that those who were “weaker” were not originally a part of. Because community of Christ is not one of certainty and exclusivity but rather one of diversity and inclusivity and a community that welcomes the “weaker” moves in that direction.

But I want to be clear on something as we talk about communities of diversity and inclusivity. While the love of God for God’s people has no limits, communities who lift up holy togetherness do have limits.

We can disagree within holy, inclusive, diverse communities. For example, some of us might disagree if we should be worshiping together in-person or online… and that’s okay because we’re all still worshipping our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer.

But if the disagreement is over our neighbor’s well-being, or rather, oppresses and compromises our neighbor’s well-being; then the Lord will graciously erect a limit to our own selfishness. For example, if a community hates a person or persons outside of their community, such as hating people of color or the LGBTQ+ community, God will bring a new community of togetherness that affirms these oppressed, beloved children. And this new community inclusive, diverse community will be the community with the identity of Christ.

In those moments, when new communities are raised and others are transformed, we turn to the Holy Spirit for guidance. The Spirit will be the light that shows the path to follow God’s desire for the good of others. After all, as God’s children and by God’s amazing grace, not only do we belong to God but also to one another. This is the heart of community; belonging to one another.

I’d like to think that over this summer, for many different reasons including some tragedy, our community has been transformed. And we’ll continue to be transformed. Are we more inclusive and diverse than we have been? Have we put our neighbor’s well-being before our own? And by our neighbor, I mean the people outside our community that we would love to welcome in to strengthen our own community? I’d like to think so!

But also, let’s not always have tragedy be the thing that brings us together and transform us into a stronger, more united community. Let’s lift this up at all times! We’re in this together. No one is alone. We are a community. We are meant to be together.

This message of togetherness is for us. Because we have all strengths and we all have weaknesses. And we remember that our Savior and Lord, Jesus Christ, lived, died, and rose again for each of us. That right there is our call to be a community. So let’s be together; let’s do this together. Let’s open our doors, arms open wide to togetherness, community, the body of Christ, and the kingdom of God here on earth for all.

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirt; One God; Mother of us all. Amen.

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See, I Am Making All Things New - Called to Continual Transformation: Love Is the Fulfillment of the Love

“See, I Am Making All Things New - Called to Continual Transformation: Love Is the Fulfillment of the Love” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on September 6, 2020. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 33:48.

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Romans 13:8-14

8 Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. 9 The commandments, “You shall not commit adultery; You shall not murder; You shall not steal; You shall not covet”; and any other commandment, are summed up in this word, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” 10 Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.

11 Besides this, you know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; 12 the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light; 13 let us live honorably as in the day, not in reveling and drunkenness, not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarreling and jealousy. 14 Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.

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I had this unusual habit with my assignments and homework while in seminary. It actually started back when I was in high school, but it really developed while I was receiving my Master’s degree. If I had a big project due, you know; one of those projects that would take weeks and days and hours to do; I would spend my weeks and days casually approaching the assignment, nonchalantly brainstorming ideas and collecting research; I was cool and I was calm and life was easy and everything was just so laissez faire. … and then I would wait until the absolute final minute to actually finish the project. And when I say the absolute final minute to do an assignment, I meant the very last minute. Let’s say a paper was due at Monday at 9:00 AM; then I would set my morning alarm at 4:00 AM or 3:00 AM or even 2:00 AM depending on how long I thought my paper would take me to write, and there, for hours, I would let my fingers rapidly type the finished project as my brain would do its best to expediently put together all my thoughts and research that I had so coolly collected before days and weeks before.

And although the thought of doing work like that might freak some of you out (trust me, it also freaked me out at times); although the thought of doing work that like might freak us out, I will admit that it worked for me. It was the pressure of a looming deadline that brought out some of my best work. It was do or die; get the assignment finished or don’t. The pressure forced an urgency and a devotion that committed me to do work both efficiently and effectively. And somehow, maybe by the grace of God, it worked.

At this point, all of us are familiar with deadlines and pressures. And not just the small ones we experience here and there like finishing a project for school or work or getting the house cleaned before guests come over.

Y’all remember March 1^st? Our country went into a state of emergency, following states of emergency across the world. We had to reset ourselves like this. *Snap* Overnight. The way we did nearly everything was different. Schools and places of employment closed. And then students, workers, leaders, and administrators had to figure out how to do all of this in a completely new way. By the grace of God, some were able to do this quickly, saying let’s figure this out as we go. And running necessary errands added several more important steps to get them done, and somehow all of us got a little better with technology. One of my grandmas even got a smart phone for the first time during this time!

This urgent deadline hit some of us again with completely new pressures as children, youth, and adults returned to school this fall in a way that’s never been done before. And somehow; maybe by the grace of God and the hard work of many, many people; we’re making it work… or at least we’re all figuring it out together.

So we all have experiences now with urgent, important, and looming deadlines. Let me ask you to consider one more deadline.

Let’s say the return of Christ will 100%, for sure happen on October 6, 2020. One month from today. And I feel like I’m being pretty generous in the scenario here. I’m giving us all a month. But if you really want to feel the pressures; imagine Christ is coming two weeks from now. Or really, what if Christ comes tomorrow?

If we were to imagine our Lord and Savior  – the one that we claim to follow – coming to us in the very near future, would any of us feel the urgency to rearrange our priorities? Would we look at things any differently? Would we treat the people we encounter any differently?

So let’s keep imagining this. Christ is coming soon and the end of the world with it; what are you going to do? Quit your job? Hug your loved ones close? Travel the world?

Would we have more patience with teachers, administrators, store clerks, and other essential workers? Would we forget about the virus and just live our lives? What would we do when we see the person experiencing homelessness knowing the Jesus is right around the corner? And honestly, would we continue to say something like "well he shouldn’t have committed a crime" as another black man is shot and killed?

Christ is coming in a month; two weeks, a day – are we really going to continue to live our lives the way that we always have?

Okay, so I get it. This scenario is pretty difficult to imagine. We don’t know when Christ will return. None of us do… it could be a month from now or a day from now or generations from now.

Now Paul noticed the lack of knowledge of Christ’s return contributed to a spiritual indifference among the followers of Christ; especially in the church of Rome. The passage that we heard today is Paul trying to bring some ethical spiritual urgency back into the lives of the early Christians. And if we’re going to be completely honest with one another as we’re doing to do lately, speaking the truth in love, I bet Paul or some other apostle or messenger of the Lord would be trying to do the same for us; to bring some ethical spiritual urgency back into our lives.

Think about it: if Jesus returned in one month, what would be the role of the Church in these remaining days? What would be the role of First Presbyterian Church of Allentown and all of us?

If we found out today that Jesus was returning in the very near future, I’d like to think we’d change our ways like this. *Snaps*

We’ve had days and weeks and years and decades and generations to be cool, calm, and collected; coming to church for the feel good message of “Jesus loves me”.

But what about the other? The person that hasn’t heard or more realistically, hasn’t felt that message. In the looming deadline, with a sense of urgency and pressure, would we do everything we possibly can to make sure “the other” hears and feel the same message that we always have? 

A friend and mentor of mine, The Rev. Dr. Nina Peck Reeder – hopefully you’ve all met here once or twice she’s preached for us at the beginning of summer and back in January when I was installed as one of your pastors – Nina rightfully said on a recent Facebook post that Scripture could be quoted to justify a lot of terrible things: things just as slavery, war, capital punishment, the subjugation of minorities, the silencing of women, the denial of rights to the LGBTQ community, the absolute reign of the government – just to name a few. Oh… Nina is right!

Because honestly… scripture has been used to justify all of those terrible things for generations.. because all of those things have been a part of the church’s history; our history…

And when any of those things were questioned about whether these things that were once justified might actually be terrible, there was always a pushback. “But this is what scripture says!” – “But this isn’t what God wants!” – “But the church shouldn’t talk politics!” – “But I would rather hear the same feel good message that I have always heard; that Jesus loves me!”

Here’s the good news! Jesus does, in fact, love you. And me. And the other. There’s the feel good message of today.

Here’s the message we need to wrestle with: The church has a responsibility to be “political.”

Because everything that was mentioned above – you know, like slavery and the silencing of women – was one time and maybe still is considered political. And it was the responsibility of the church to talk about it then and it is the responsibility of the church to talk about it now. Because it’s more than just political; it’s the gospel.

But once again, the good news: this could be and should be done in love, especially in the love for the other. Now that’s really the gospel.

When reinstating this sense of spiritual urgency to the church of Rome, Paul restates what Jesus said is the second greatest commandment which sums up all the other commandments: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” And good thing Jesus makes it pretty easy for us that when we do the second greatest commandment of “Loving our neighbor as ourselves,” we also do the greatest commandment of “Loving God with all of ourselves.”

But let’s be clear on what it means to love our neighbor.

This means we love the person who isn’t us; we love the person who is different than us. To love our neighbor means to love the strangers we will encounter and the ones we never will. To love our neighbor means to love the person we don’t understand and to love the person we don’t always like. To love our neighbor means to love the person we don’t agree with; to love our neighbor means to love the person who doesn’t think or feel or look like us. To love our neighbor means to love our enemy. And to love our neighbor doesn’t mean it’s just in the words we say, but it’s also in the actions we take. To love in both word and deed.

As a predominantly white church, it is our responsibility to love our neighbor of color.

As a predominantly straight and cisgender church, it is our responsibility to love our LGBTQ neighbor.

As a church that has a long history of having a majority of male pastors, especially only male head of staffs; well, it’s about time we have some female leadership up in here and we better love on her too!

Politics influence the shape of society and how people like us, and especially those different than us, are treated. It is our responsibility to fulfill the law of the Lord in all things; and thanks be to God, that love is the fulfillment of that law. That’s the Gospel!

Christ might not be coming tomorrow or next month, but can we still act with the urgency and pressure that this is our responsibility to love our neighbor right here and right now. And yeah, there are some political things that we need to get done, right here and right now. After all, Paul reminds us as readers of Romans 13, Christ’s return is nearer now than when we first believed; that it’s nearer now than it was yesterday. By the grace of God, let’s get to loving. By the grace of God, let’s get to fulfilling the law. By the grace of God, let’s get to work. Amen? Amen.

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Attribution: Indiana, Robert, 1928-. Love (four ways), from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=55272 [retrieved November 1, 2021]. Original source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/unlistedsightings/2383631294/.

 

See, I Am Making All Things New - Called to Continual Transformation: This Can Be Better

“See, I Am Making All Things New - Called to Continual Transformation: This Can Be Better” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on August 2, 2020. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 31:55.

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Haggai 1:1-8, 1:15b-2:9, 2:20-23

1 In the second year of King Darius, in the sixth month, on the first day of the month, the word of the Lord came by the prophet Haggai to Zerubbabel son of Shealtiel, governor of Judah, and to Joshua son of Jehozadak, the high priest: 2 Thus says the Lord of hosts: These people say the time has not yet come to rebuild the Lord’s house. 3 Then the word of the Lord came by the prophet Haggai, saying: 4 Is it a time for you yourselves to live in your paneled houses, while this house lies in ruins? 5 Now therefore thus says the Lord of hosts: Consider how you have fared. 6 You have sown much, and harvested little; you eat, but you never have enough; you drink, but you never have your fill; you clothe yourselves, but no one is warm; and you that earn wages earn wages to put them into a bag with holes.

7 Thus says the Lord of hosts: Consider how you have fared. 8 Go up to the hills and bring wood and build the house, so that I may take pleasure in it and be honored, says the Lord.

15 In the second year of King Darius, 1 in the seventh month, on the twenty-first day of the month, the word of the Lord came by the prophet Haggai, saying: 2 Speak now to Zerubbabel son of Shealtiel, governor of Judah, and to Joshua son of Jehozadak, the high priest, and to the remnant of the people, and say, 3 Who is left among you that saw this house in its former glory? How does it look to you now? Is it not in your sight as nothing? 4 Yet now take courage, O Zerubbabel, says the Lord; take courage, O Joshua, son of Jehozadak, the high priest; take courage, all you people of the land, says the Lord; work, for I am with you, says the Lord of hosts, 5 according to the promise that I made you when you came out of Egypt. My spirit abides among you; do not fear. 6 For thus says the Lord of hosts: Once again, in a little while, I will shake the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land; 7 and I will shake all the nations, so that the treasure of all nations shall come, and I will fill this house with splendor, says the Lord of hosts. 8 The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, says the Lord of hosts. 9 The latter splendor of this house shall be greater than the former, says the Lord of hosts; and in this place I will give prosperity, says the Lord of hosts.

20 The word of the Lord came a second time to Haggai on the twenty-fourth day of the month: 21 Speak to Zerubbabel, governor of Judah, saying, I am about to shake the heavens and the earth, 22 and to overthrow the throne of kingdoms; I am about to destroy the strength of the kingdoms of the nations, and overthrow the chariots and their riders; and the horses and their riders shall fall, every one by the sword of a comrade. 23 On that day, says the Lord of hosts, I will take you, O Zerubbabel my servant, son of Shealtiel, says the Lord, and make you like a signet ring; for I have chosen you, says the Lord of hosts.

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As some of you may know, before starting my call here at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown as the Pastor for Youth and Faith Formation, I served a church called Sunnyside Presbyterian Church as one of their Associate Pastors. Sunnyside is located in South Bend, Indiana.

Now the South Bend area has a population of about 200,000, including the neighboring towns of Granger and Mishawaka. And in that area, while I lived in South Bend, there were five Presbyterian Church (USA) churches. Five churches in our denomination. There is Sunnyside, where I served, which has about 600 members. There is First Presbyterian of South Bend, which once upon a time had 1500 members like us and now has about 300. There is First Presbyterian of Mishawaka; they have had a consistent membership of about 100. There is Westminster Presbyterian, on the north side of town, that five years ago had 150 members and now has about 50 members. And there is…. There was Memorial Presbyterian Church that when I started at Sunnyside had about 20 members and when I left Sunnyside, Memorial closed their doors for good. Memorial Presbyterian Church of South Bend, Indiana closed their church. After 115 years of ministry, they were no more.

For a church to close in the PC(USA), it doesn’t just happen over night. Even this requires the work of the Presbytery and a committee. And this committee meets for months. Can you imagine that? To serve on a committee knowing the heartbreaking goal is to do all that is necessary to close the church. A place and a body in which weddings and funerals were held; a place of history of Sunday school and choir, a place where people grew up, and a place where families and friends were formed, a place where people gathered to worship their Creator.

I didn’t know much about Memorial Presbyterian when they were open as a church except I would have to drive by their building as I would go to-and-from one of my friend’s houses.

On the day Memorial Presbyterian closed for good, they changed the sign on their front lawn one last time. As I was driving to my friend’s house that evening, I read the sign and the words made me cry. Actually shed tears. And to be honest, when I was writing this sermon and thinking of this memory, I cried again.

When Memorial Presbyterian closed their church, they changed their sign to these words.

“God has big plans for this church.”

That was their parting message.

“God has big plans for this church.”

I think I get so emotional when I think about this message from a church that I knew nothing about because I love the church – I love God’s church – and I bet you love God’s church too… and all of us hear that God’s church is dying. But this message – “God has big plans for this church” – from a church that just closed its door is full of sadness… and its full of hope.

You know, the people of Israel also at one point closed their church.

The book of Haggai is the second shortest book in the Old Testament. It’s two chapters long. In our readings from today, you heard three of our youth read the opening passage to the book, a middle passage of the book, and the closing passage of the book. Basically, you heard the entire book of Haggai. And there’s one message that Haggai the prophet preaches to the people: “Rebuild the temple!”

See, at this point in Israel's history, the people and its cities had been taken captive by Babylon. Jerusalem was plundered and burned. The Temple, that was built under Solomon’s rule, was destroyed as well. Eventually in history, Babylon fell to king Cyrus of Persia....and after some 70 years in captivity the people were set free and allowed to return home. God then charged Cyrus to rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem.

But! Though God had made it clear that the Temple was to be rebuilt and even though God had set things in order for this task to be completed... the people had other plans. Instead of working on the Temple, the people went about their daily lives and sought to fulfill their wants and desires. King Cyrus nor the people ever rebuilds the temple during his reign. And this is where Haggai comes in.

There’s a new king – King Darius – and he appoints Zerubbabel as the governor of Judah and Joshua as a high priest. Haggai goes to Zerubbabel and Joshua with a message on his tongue from God: “Rebuild the temple!”

Now like many prophets of old and even prophetic words today, people at first opposed the prophet’s message. They opposed Haggai’s message. They didn’t want to do it. They were so caught up in themselves and what they thought was best for them that they didn’t think of each other, their community, or their God. The question was, “Why build God’s home when we can build our own homes..?”

And so they put it off; they put off God’s command. They actually respond by saying “Now it not the time to rebuild the temple!” even though God has been saying for decades “Build the temple now.”

So to get their attention, God calls for a drought over the land, ruins their crops, and destroys their houses. God tears the people away on what they were focusing on so they could focus on what God intended them to focus on. And yes, it probably brought them some pain and discomfort, and I’m sure the people were really angry. But in their grumblings, they finally did what God called them do to. To rebuild the temple as a home to God and a place for a community to gather in love, grace, and worship. God had big plans for that temple, for that church that was once completely destroyed.

But here’s the catch. As the people begin their work on rebuilding the temple, God promises to them that this temple will be better than the former temple. And although these people are a new generation and never witnessed the old temple and couldn’t compare the two temples, historians could. And when comparing the two temples, their size and their craftsmanship, historians say the second temple was nowhere near the former glory of the first temple… so how was it better?

It wasn’t in the building.. it was in the people. It was in the message. It was in the newness. It was in the transformation.  The people had returned to their Lord.

And so God blessed them. And the people entered into a time of prosperity; in crops and in wealth; they grew. And Zerubbabel, the governor of Judah, was also blessed. He was chosen… and from him and his offspring, generations later, comes Joseph, the earthly father of Jesus.

I think about us and our church.. and our world. I know addressing a global pandemic and taking a stand on racism and the loss of a head pastor has caused a great shift for us. I know we’re in some pain and discomfort… and I know some of us are angry. I know this. We know this. And however you are feeling is valid.

But remember this: what did God through Haggai say to God’s people when they were angry after their lives experienced a great shift? When their own homes were destroyed? God said listen to me, do what I say, and it will be better for all of you.

Now more than do we need to let go of our individual ambitions and listen to God. God is calling us to rebuild too. Ministry will not be the same as it was before COVID; it won’t be the same now that we’ve finally taken a necessary stand on racism, and it won’t be the same once we have an interim pastor. And that’s okay. It’s actually a good thing! Listen to God’s promise! It will be better… even if it looks completely different.

And yes, there will be pain and there will be discomfort and there will be anger. But let’s use it for good. And let’s remember that even in our pain and anger; God is still with us.

Don’t give up on us; don’t give up on this church; don’t give up on God. You, my friend, are a member of this community. And you, yes you, are needed here.

This church can be better… if we put the work in. And I know this congregation; we will put in the work. Our church will be better.

The building where Memorial Presbyterian called home is now home to a church called Redemption City Church. And while that’s great, I don’t think that’s what they meant when they put those words up on the day they closed. Rather, it was a message of hope for all who drive by, knowing that the Church cannot die and that a community full of history, legacy, and love will live on.

God has big plans for our church. Thanks be to God for that. Amen.

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A general view of Memorial Presbyterian Church

during the second to last service on Sunday, June 16, 2019.

See, I Am Making All Things New - Called to Continual Transformation: The Prophetic Call to Return

 “See, I Am Making All Things New - Called to Continual Transformation: The Prophetic Call to Return” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on July 12, 2020. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 34:40.

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Isaiah 55:10-13

10 For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,

    and do not return there until they have watered the earth,

making it bring forth and sprout,

    giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,

11 so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;

    it shall not return to me empty,

but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,

    and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

12 For you shall go out in joy,

    and be led back in peace;

the mountains and the hills before you

    shall burst into song,

    and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

13 Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress;

    instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle;

and it shall be to the LORD for a memorial,

    for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.

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Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

13 That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. 2 Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. 3 And he told them many things in parables, saying: “Listen! A sower went out to sow. 4 And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. 5 Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. 6 But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. 7 Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. 8 Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. 9 Let anyone with ears listen!”

18 “Hear then the parable of the sower. 19 When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what is sown in the heart; this is what was sown on the path. 20 As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; 21 yet such a person has no root, but endures only for a while, and when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, that person immediately falls away. 22 As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the lure of wealth choke the word, and it yields nothing. 23 But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.”

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I recently came across a comic strip – yes, a comic strip – I recently came across a comic strip that started with these words in its first panel: “Reading about anti-racism doesn’t make you an anti-racist.”

“Reading about anti-racism doesn’t make you an anti-racist.”

I stopped. These words had caught my attention. Mostly because I came across the comic strip on Tuesday of this week, which means that it immediately followed the end of the 21-Day Race Equity Challenge, where I had literally been reading as well as watching and listening to anti-racism resources for the last 21 days. And its something our community of faith invited each of you to participate in as well. Over the course of three weeks we invited you to read, watch, and listen to anti-racism resources so that we all could be better, more supportive, more educated advocates to our black, indigenous, and people of color neighbors. Which basically means something like we invited you to read anti-racism resources so we could all become anti-racist.

But this comic strip said otherwise: “Reading about anti-racism doesn’t make you an anti-racist.”

So yeah, I stopped. For those of you who did the 21-Day Race Equity Challenge, would you have stopped to check out this comic if you saw these words? For any of you, if you saw these words, how would you respond to its claim?

I’m going to be honest. For a brief second, I was slightly offended because I had put in the work for 21 days. I was reading anti-racism resources, and this claim seemed like a direct attack against that.

I should also tell that this comic strip is one of those virtual, online comics in which you have to swipe through each panel. So I’m still on the first panel, the one that started with the claim, “Reading about anti-racism doesn’t make you an anti-racist” and because those words caught my attention and because I’m a little offended, of course I’m going to check out the rest of the comic.

I swipe to see the second panel. It’s the image of a white guy holding his phone with the caption, “My defensive response was immediate.” And this guy in the comic is thinking to himself, “Is this putting people down for reading about anti-racism?” – Okay, the comic was spot on with my own reaction… pretty good, right?

I swipe again now onto the third panel, and the white guy is trying to make sense of it. He decides to replace the word “anti-racism” in the first claim with the word “mountain-climbing.”

So on the fourth panel it reads, “Reading about mountain climbing doesn’t make you a mountain climber.”

Well dang! If that ain’t true! The rest of the comic, panels five through nine, then explain the claim that was made in the first panel. In summary, it states that yes, you can read about something, whether mountain climbing or anti-racism, but to actually be those things, you must go through a whole series of actions and experiences that lead you to actually doing that thing. This series of actions include expert advice, trial and error, humility, setbacks, and regular practice.

And while I’m sure all of us would agree that reading about mountain climbing doesn’t make us mountain climbers, I think some of us would initially argue against the first claim, like I did for a moment, that reading about anti-racism doesn’t make us anti-racist. And that’s because racism is nuanced with over 400 years of social conditioning (at least in our country), which means for each of us, whether we like to admit it or not, are taught from our youngest of years to get set off by the word “racism” and our immediate reaction to claim that we ourselves are not racist. This is especially true for us white people.

The comic ends with this point: don’t let your immediate defensive response to something you don’t want to hear prevent you from even listening to the entire conversation.

If it brings you any comfort, we’re not the only ones who build up a wall when we hear something we don’t want to hear.

Over the next few weeks, in Sunday worship and in our daily prayer services, we’re going to be hear from the prophets of the Old Testament and their prophetic words.

In the Bible, to be prophetic means to speak words or ideas that God has given specifically to you. In the Old Testament, especially in the prophetic books, prophecy is most prominently a way of calling the people of God back to a righteous religious and ethical life. This was no easy task for the prophets. Many openly lamented the fact of what was required of them as prophets.  It was a difficult, even painful, life because the prophet would inevitably conflict with a world that does not acknowledge the identity and demands of the one true God. In other words, to be prophetic meant preaching to a society that instantly becomes defensive and angry over and over again because their comfortable status quo is challenged. Sound familiar to the comic?

There are prophets throughout all of Scripture, in both the Old and New Testament, from Elijah to John the Baptist. If you have a Bible near you, I want you to open it up to the Table of Contents. At the end of the Old Testament, you’ll see 17 books, starting with Isaiah and ending with Malachi. These books are the stories of 16 prophets, and the prophetic words they spoke on behalf of God.

You’ll notice there are 17 books but 16 prophets; that’s because Lamentations, listed as the third book in the series of 17, is actually a prophetic, poetic text that accompanies the words of the prophet Jeremiah.

The first four books, not including Lamentations, are the four major prophets: Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Daniel. They are the major prophets because their stories are longer than the other 12 prophets, who, because their stories are shorter, are known as the minor prophets: Hosea through Malachi.

Today we heard from one of the major prophets, Isaiah. In the four verses, we heard Isaiah’s prophetic words to the people of Israel, words that come from the mouth of God through Isaiah as the prophet.

This specific text is one of comfort for the people, which is not like all prophetic texts. This particular text offers the people a poetic vision of restoration. It tells through ecological imagery that God’s word is refreshing, abundant, life-giving like the cool dampness of the rain or the greenness of a landscape, or the taste of bread in our mouths. It’s beautiful, right?

The difficult message of this passage is actually the context in which the people of God find themselves. This passage is one of restoration, but it’s the restoration of the people of God from their exile. And the exile itself is a painful, difficult brokenness that the people experienced.

But now, God tells the people, it's time for them to make their return.

I don’t think exile is a unique experience for the people of scripture. Many people are experiencing the COVID-19 pandemic as an exile from the usual structures and necessities of life. For African-Americans, whose first enslaved ancestors were forced here more than 400 years ago, the persistent realities of institutionalized racism make the United States an ongoing site of exile. And literal exiles—refugees who’ve been forced away from their homelands by violence or lack of opportunity—face continued abuse in today’s xenophobic climate. And as white people, our exile is our contribution to the exile of others.

And now God is telling us to return from exile. Through prophetic words and deeds, we know it’s our time to return.

This means providing better resources with more access to our lower-income neighbors, some of which might be experiencing homelessness, during this time of global pandemic. It means being adamant about ending institutionalized racism by first acknowledging that it’s a reality and then using our privilege to fix a broken system. It means treating our immigrant and refugee neighbors with love, compassion, and hospitality no matter what a secular law says. And for us white people, to return from exile means we must stop exiling others out of fear, anger, and defensiveness due our perceived loss of power, control, and privilege.

These are actions we must take. We must act on returning from exile.

To hear and receive these prophetic words of returning, to hear the restorative Word of God, we must let our comfortable status quo be challenged without becoming instantly defensive and shutting down the conversation.

To be prophetic in the 21^st century, especially in our country, means we must confront our broken system; a system that is made of kind, compassionate, caring people – people like you and me – and acknowledge the disconnect between us as kind, compassionate, caring people and our ruthless power we enact together as a society against people on the margins of society. To be prophetic today, we must acknowledge that even the best of us – good-natured people – have let our institution do the sinning for us.

This is the difficult task of return. This is why the people of God – you and me – struggle with the prophetic call to action.

What is our role in the Parable of the Sower, the story we heard in the Gospel of Matthew. We’re not the sower – that’s God. We’re not the seed – that’s the Word of God. Our role is the soil. We are the soil.

God wants to plant the Word of God – including the Prophetic Word of God – into our hearts. And if we are hardened or defensive, if we have no place for the seed to take root or for it to grow freely, then the Word of God will die before it even has a chance to bloom.

Are you ready to receive the Word of God? Are you ready to return from exile? Are you ready to put your thoughts into actions?

The Word of God can grow within each of us. Thanks be to God. Amen.

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Title: Life in the Promised Land.

Description of Image: Division into North and South. Judah, the remnant in the bottom right. Exile and return in the two blue streaks. Table View Methodist Church in Cape Town, South Africa, celebrates a theological and symbolic journey through the Bible through simple, yet meaningful stained glass. They were designed by Rev. Angus Kelly in 2018 and installed by Anika Van de Merwe of Silverstain Stained Glass Studios in Advent 2019.

Attribution: Life in the promised land., from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=57295 [retrieved November 1, 2021]. Original source: https://tableviewmethodist.blogspot.com/p/bible-story-windows.html.

See, I Am Making All Things New - Called to Continual Transformation: Suffering into Hope

“See, I Am Making All Things New - Called to Continual Transformation: Suffering into Hope” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on June 21, 2020. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 37:33.

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Romans 5:1-8

1 Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, 2 through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. 3 And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, 4 and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, 5 and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.

6 For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. 7 Indeed, rarely will anyone die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die. 8 But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.

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Do you live your life by a mantra?

You know, a motto, a goal, a direction, a guide? The things we post in our homes or the things found on our bookmarks or the things we tattoo on our bodies?

Do you live your life by a mantra?

I want to hear some of yours. Will you take a moment? Will you share a mantra in the Facebook comments? One that you use in your own life. Will you share it with your friends here at FPC Allentown?

Examples: growing up, my family had the serenity prayer hanging on one of our walls: “God grant me the serenity; To accept the things I cannot change; Courage to change the things I can; And wisdom to know the difference.” That’s a good life mantra.

I know Gandhi’s famous quote is another good one: “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.”

How about “Life is what you make it.” Or “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Practice makes perfect? Carpe diem? How about “No Regrets?” How about “Do or do not, there is no try.” Shout out to Yoda for that one.

What about “Laughter is the best medicine?” I like that one.

Even Scripture gives us good mantras to live by:

“Love your neighbor as yourself.” -Mark 12:31

“Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” -Joshua 1:9

“Do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with your God.” – Micah 6:8

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” –Philippians 4:13

Or even just: “Jesus loves me. This is know.”

Do you live your life by a mantra? Did you share it with others?

I do; I live my life by a few. Small phrases that direct the way I want to live my life. I think of them as goals. Guiding practices that keep me on track to a life that I think God has destined for me. I even think they provide a sense of structure when everything else may be chaotic, like life so often is.

And I want to share one of mine with you. One that is odd and unique and maybe dark and possibly a little weird.

A mantra of mine is: “Some day this pain will be useful to you.” “Some day this pain will be useful to you.”

This mantra of mine actually comes from the title of a movie that I watched in 2012, which actually comes from a book with the same name: “Some day this pain will be useful to you.” Now the movie itself was subpar – we’re talking a 9% out of 100 on Rotten Tomatoes – and I haven’t read the book, so I don’t have much to say about either of those – but the title! The title is so good, and something that was revolutionary when I first heard it. You see, I’ve made mistakes and I’ve done my best to learn from them. And I’ve experienced hardships and traumas, and they have shaped me. Some of those hardships came from being an open member of the LGBTQ+ community. I also know that those specific hardships have made me simultaneously a stronger and more empathetic pastor and person.

That pain I once experienced; it has become useful for me today. Do you know what I am talking about? How some things, especially the difficult things, have helped us grow as people? Can you relate to any of this? I hope to actually hear from you. Write it in the comments. Send me an email.  Have you experienced a time of pain or suffering and has the experience, although hurtful at the time, somehow made you stronger, more compassionate, more empathetic, more motivated, more humble, more hopeful? More connected to other humans who also have experienced a similar pain?  Or even just more connected to any human who is currently experiencing any type of pain? 

Here’s why this is on my mind:

2020 marks the ten-year anniversary of me graduating from high school. And at the beginning of this year, a friend and I, to reflect and possibly celebrate this past decade, we decided to create an order of ranking for each year. From the worst year – 2012, same year that movie title came out and maybe why I attached to it so much – to the best year – for me, tied between 2017, 2018, and 2019. And we both said that 2020, above all the other years, was going to be the absolute best year; it was gonna be OUR year!

And it’s not. Out of the past decade, 2020 is not the best year. 2020 is not even at the top of the list. Honestly, 2020 falls towards the bottom. Do you agree? And honestly, not for any individual, personal reasons for me although that might not be true for you. 2020 is at the bottom of the list for all the corporate reasons.

Wildfires in Australia. Earthquakes and wars in the middle east. Locust swarms in East Africa. The worst and largest humanitarian crisis in the history and the war currently happening in Yemen. 

A global pandemic. A national emergency. Several months of stay at home orders. Over 100000 related deaths. The economy is taking a hit; small-business and their owners are definitely taking a hit. People are arguing about whether they need to wear their mask or not while other are cut off from their families and friends and loved ones. Some are dying alone in hospitals and nursing homes; some have died alone.

And of course, the killings of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd which has lead to violent riots, more acts of assaults and arrests, more polarizing stigmas about people of color and police officers. Tensions are extremely high, and it feels like as a country we are being forced to choose one side over another instead of working together. Good individual police officers are being tore down because of their line of work, and even worse, people of color, are still being assaulted, lynched, and killed.

And last, this month of June, this Pride month and the anniversary of the Pulse massacre, the number of transgender women of color is disproportionally high and now all transgender people worry about their medical care. And I have to ask: when is gender a death sentence?

And for our church; Jack has been gone for three Sundays now and as a community of faith we are feeling angry or sad or confused or divided. And it’s sometimes difficult to see the problems of the world when it seems we have problems right here.

So yeah, I’m gonna say it. This year – 2020 – is toward the bottom of my decade list. This year is terrible. We need to say it for what it is. This year is full of pain and suffering. And I say this as a white, American, healthy, educated, cis-gender, Christian, privileged male. So, imagine how much pain and suffering is happening for everyone who is not any of those things. Because when I say I’m privileged, it’s not about what I have gone through in any other moment; privilege is about what a lot of us don’t have to go through or will ever have to go through, like a lot of things that have happened in 2020 alone.

But some day this pain will be useful to us, right?

One last area of pain and suffering; in the lives of our young people. 2020 was supposed to be their year. Especially for our graduates, college and high school alike. They experienced their last day of school without knowing it was their last. Along with it they missed the last year of spring sports, musicals, award ceremonies, senior prom, and baccalaureate including walking the stage, flipping the tassel, tossing the cap, and the endless graduation parties.

Sure, they took pictures at home in their caps and gowns and some received yard signs. They celebrated together virtually through ZOOM parties and streaming ceremonies. Some received future employment and others were accepted into the next phase of their educational plans. And that’s all very exciting and great, but it’s not the same. For those of us who experienced all of these moments in person, we know it’s not the same. Our young people know it too.

So yeah, our young people are experiencing their own pain and suffering along on top of the pain and suffering of the world. And we should be empathetic to what this year has done to them. And! And we should be following with what their doing with their pain and suffering. Because they’re not sitting in it; I can tell you that much.

This summer we been preaching a series called, “See, I Am Making All Things New - Called to Continual Transformation.” And so far, this sermon has been all about pain and suffering. I’ve been naming it, maybe to some of our dismay, but I think we have to name it. So let’s name it. Let’s admit it as a reality. Let’s agree that it’s present. Let’s agree that to some extent, we all feel it. And let’s agree that there are definitely others out there who are feeling this pain and suffering a lot worse than we are. Are we in agreement? I still want to hear from you. Are we in agreement? Use those comments.

Now let’s talk about what we do with that pain, and how we let it be transformed.

When Paul writes about suffering in Romans, he actually frames it in the context of hope. And here, the hope that Paul writes about is not about wishful thinking. It’s not like saying “I hope it doesn’t rain today.” The hope in which this passage is framed is actually the absolute certainty about the future and God’s role in it. So instead, it is saying “My hope is in God and I know that God is with me, whether it rains or not.” But to get to that absolutely certainty of biblical hope which is the goal, Paul writes that is it suffering that acts as the catalyst. And it’s a step-by-step process from there.

So step one, the catalyst – we must acknowledge the suffering of humanity and our own suffering within it. And God doesn’t point the blame when recognizing this suffering. Rather Paul writes that suffering comes from all of humankind being out of sync with God, acting as sinners as part of a broken system. Which means for us to find hope in a better system, we must first acknowledge the broken system. And that’s going to hurt because when we acknowledge the broken system and see our part in it, we do actually shift some of the responsibility of the brokenness onto ourselves. Step one is by far the most difficult because we no longer sweep suffering under the rug but we embrace it head on. We name the pain, and we take more of it.

For privileged people like me, an example of this is acknowledging that people of color have more systemic struggles than us because of a broken system and then willing to take on some of the struggle to repair the broken system. For those of you who have been fighting the broken, unjust system, you know that to do so is an additional struggle, and yet you also know that struggle you have taken on does not compare to the struggle people of color experience because of the broken system we are all trying to fix.

Also, so far, this entire sermon has been all about taking the plunge into step one and embracing the suffering. It’s a difficult step, and if you’ve been uncomfortable at all so far by this message, then you get just how difficult this step is.

But immediately, step two and three and four move into the positives. Step two moves the suffering into endurance. We start finding our footing. We find our voice and our strength, and we start to learn when and how to use them… and when and how not to. We’re willing to take on more of the struggle, because we have learned that we can. And that because we can, we should. While taking on that suffering is a difficult step, finding the endurance to continue in that suffering becomes easier, because we know that God is with us in this fight, and we know that this fight matters; that this suffering matters.

Once again, as privileged people, we see that if people of marginalized communities have endured a worse struggle a lot longer than we have and survived, then we can do it too, even at a fraction of their pain. And so we commit to it, we endure the struggle because we know we can survive it, because people of God’s good creation have already modeled it for us, even if they were forced to endure it. And we know that maybe if we intentionally commit to some of this endurance, others won’t be so terribly forced into it. 

So step three moves that endurance into character, which means this is now a part of us. Part of our identity. This step is the most humbling, because in many ways, we are now giving our suffering and endurance over to God, and we are making the claim we are a part of God’s creation. And when we let our endurance move into character, we realize that we are no longer the central part of God’s creation but rather an equal part.

And as privileged people, rooted in our bones and our spirit, we understand that injustice against any of God’s creation, especially the oppressed, is actually a full injustice against God. And although the injustice may not be against us directly – most likely for many of us it’s not against us – it is against God. And when it’s against God and God’s creation, then yes, we have a responsibility rooted in our identity in Christ to fix it. Producing character means we not only acknowledge this responsibility but also fulfill it, even if it brings us back to step one and causes us more suffering.

But then we move into hope. The end goal. And as I said, this is not wishful thinking. This is absolute certainty in God’s faithfulness. Which means that justice and love and equality for all of God’s children can and will happen, with certainty IF – IF! – we as individuals of a broken system are willing to go through the steps. Suffer with others. Endure the pain because we can. Fully fulfilling the responsibility of fixing acts of injustice. And then finally, we boast in our hope by sharing the glory of God as true equals the way that God intended.

So back to our young people. I have served alongside youth programs in three churches in New Jersey, in Indiana, and now here. Through social media I still see what all of these young people are up to. When our young people see suffering in this world, they do their part to end it. The pain they’ve experienced? They’re using it now.  So today we celebrate our graduates but not just for graduating, but for being the ones who are changing the world. For working alongside God in transforming this world.

For a time such as this: maybe our mantra can be this: suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us.

My hope – my absolute certainty – is what God is doing through our young people. And if they are doing it, so should we. Thanks be to God. Amen.

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