SunFeb272011
I CORINTHIANS 4:1-5; ANNUAL MEETING THE FEDERATED CHURCH, UCC
On the one hand, disappointed, frustrated, and mystified. On the other hand, encouraged, excited, and refreshed. That, in a nutshell, is my take on both on my own disposition and the state of Federated Church. On this day of the 2011 Annual Meeting, I thought I would give you something of my sense of where we are as a church. And, as we conclude our series on I Corinthians, we will, in a few minutes, look at where we are and where we’re going through the lens of Paul’s long-ago words to that fledgling church.
I’m a little hesitant to do this because I’m afraid that these fluid words of mine will somehow be cast in stone. I’m a little gun-shy because several times in the last few weeks, I’ve been badly misquoted by people evidently seeking to use my words as ammunition to make points I would not be making. It’s also terribly easy for any one person to misread the dynamics of the church and present a skewed picture of the whole. As in all matters of significance, as Paul says later in this letter, we but “see through a glass, darkly” (13:12, KJV). So I would prefer to think of my words as part of a conversation that needs to be ongoing, and that should engage as many voices as possible. I would like to think, as well, that if you disagree with me, or if you have ways of filling out what I say, or would like to explore it more, you will tell me so. I dare to hope that anything you’re willing to say to your pew mate or family member after worship, you would also be willing to say to me and to our Central Council.
So let’s begin with the frustrating and challenging side of life here at Federated. It has not escaped my notice, as I imagine it hasn’t escaped yours, that in several numerical ways, Federated has declined over the last several years. That decline has coincided with my pastorate here, and, as I have never said in any public setting, to be truthful it has been, for me, a weight of deep personal embarrassment and a lingering sense of failure. I wanted nothing more than to come to Federated, and to grow it and continue its thriving. “From strength to strength” (Ps. 84:7) is the way it was phrased by this church in its hopes for the transition from Dave Norling to me. And in some obvious ways, that hasn’t happened.
You can see it in the decline in the numbers of both church members and of worshipers on Sunday morning. In the last seven years, Federated has declined by a good 15%. It is, in many ways, a jolting loss. As your senior minister, there are very few days that go by that I don’t wonder what I have done wrong. I have questioned my preaching, my leadership, my personality, my age, my theology, my public stances on ethical and political matters. You name it and I’ve wondered about it. I have laid awake many a night worrying what I might have done differently.
All that said, though, I also feel the need to say publicly today that that sort of hand-wringing has to stop. In no real way is it healthy. In no real way is it productive. There are, frankly, some realities that I have to accept, and that frankly you may need to accept, as well, or we will never be able to live into the grace that God offers us.
In the first place, as a person and as a pastor, I simply am who I am. Hamilton Coe Throckmorton. Blessed with a certain palette of skills and traits. Limited in many ways. Obtuse. Born with certain native abilities and not with others. Which makes me say first of all to myself, and secondarily to you: deal with it. I don’t mean this harshly, as it may first sound. I mean it simply as one of the central spiritual truths. Accept it. Recognize it for what it is. And move on. Because there is nothing you can do about it. You are who you are. Take that in, and make the most of it. If you’re not John Townsend or Dave Norling, so be it.
It’s certainly possible—and I don’t say this to be dramatic, but simply as a statement of fact—that this church and I need to part ways, in which case a civil and thoughtful exploration of a new future would be in order. Or maybe that’s not it at all. Maybe it’s simply the case that there was a statistical heyday for Federated several years ago, and that now we’re in a different era. What is unequivocally true, though, is that, while there are certainly new skills and abilities I can learn, there are also fundamental ways that I am not going to change. And if this is indeed a relationship to be continued, we’d all—me first, but you, too—be best off accepting that.
The second major reality that we must finally accept is that the Protestant mainline church we’ve known is now drastically different than it was fifty years ago. In fact, it is very different than it was just ten years ago. One of the things that has helped me enormously in the last several months is a graph I saw last fall of church attendance in churches like ours over the just the last seven years. The chart shows attendance at four mainline denominations, Methodists, Lutherans, Episcopalians, and Presbyterians. Just in the last seven years, attendance in those four major denominations, similar in many ways to our own, has plummeted, dropping on average some 16% (The Christian Century, Oct. 5, 2010, pp. 10-11). This is certainly not to let me off the hook, or to exempt church leaders from any responsibility in our own fortunes. It is simply to say that this church exists in a larger context. We are greatly influenced by the culture in which we sit, and, as it happens, our losses are very much in line with losses in the larger church.
So the numbers are sobering. Having said all that about numbers, though, it seems crucial, as well, to say that, from a larger perspective, those numbers finally don’t really matter much. That may seem strange to say in this culture which measures nearly everything. We know how much every baby weighs, how many grams of fat are in every cup of yogurt, profit and loss in our business down to the dollar and cent, and what the Cavs’ dismal winning percentage is. Nothing escapes our tape measure or scale. But here’s the thing that we really need to take in: while those numbers can be useful, they are finally not central.
What does matter is that this is the life, and these are the circumstances, that we’ve been given. We don’t have yesterday any more—it’s gone and won’t be back. And we don’t yet have tomorrow—it will arrive in its own good time. All we have is today, and the life we’re given to live in this moment.
And we have a choice about how to live it. We can mope about what we don’t have. Or we can celebrate what we do have. And we can live the thrilling and magical life we’ve been given to live.
I noted at the end of last year’s annual meeting that we had managed to go most of the meeting without using the word “God.” The same is essentially true, if you’re counting at home, of this sermon. We have barely mentioned our reason for being. And it is time now to do so. In this sermon, as in the rest of life, it is too easy to engage in observation and analysis without reference to the One “in whom we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28).
We, though, are children of the most holy God. That’s who we are first and foremost. The life we’ve been given is simply unimaginable apart from the gift of some gracious force beyond us. Think for a moment what an extraordinary privilege it is to walk this earth for the few brief moments we’ve been given. And ponder the incredibly gifts that have been given to us for that walk. “[T]he DNA in a single human body still stores far more information—and a single human brain computes far more calculations—than all the technology on Earth” (The Plain Dealer, Feb. 22, 2011, p. C4). We have the privilege of being transported by music as varied as the “Panis Angelicus” we heard today and “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga. We can be stopped in our tracks by the shimmering radiance of ice-laden trees on a February morning. We can be so embraced by a simple gesture of love that it brings tears to our eyes. This isn’t accident. This is gift. From the mystery we call “God.”
More than that, though, we have received immeasurable gifts from this church of Jesus Christ here in Chagrin Falls. We have shared meals together. We have been comforted in our sickness and our grief. We have had our worry and anxiety put into perspective. Children and adults have been transformed by the power of One who will not let us go. Through all the vagaries of life, we have grown in our ability to trust that “all shall be well.” What’s the significance of a membership loss when, in rich and tangible ways, lives are changed, peace is found, hope is born, and love is kindled?
If those declining numbers show the Protestant mainline anything, it’s probably that we have gone somewhat adrift and lost track of our center. We have focused too much on maintenance, and not enough on ministry. That won’t do. It’s spiritually deadening.
No, it’s ministry and transformation that we’re to be about. That is what your church leadership has been focused on over these last several years. And with that effort, I have seen signs of rebound and of renewed hope. Under the leadership of Mark Simone, and with staff and lay support, we have carefully thought through the shape of our faith formation for youth and children, and have seen an increase in attendance. Under the direction of Dan DeWeese, and again with the commitment and vision of lay leadership, we have seen a marked increase in participation in adult faith formation. More and more people are realizing that time spent in learning and growing pays a rich dividend. Under the guidance of our music staff, we have built a schedule of three distinct and nourishing worship services on Sunday morning. I get to do this three times every Sunday, with something new and special in each service. I’m feeling a little gypped this morning with only two!
Financially, the news has conveyed a new sense of commitment and energy, as well. Last year’s pledges came in significantly higher than we expected them to. You may know that when we construct a budget, we plan on getting only 96% of our pledges, what with deaths and moves and some people’s changed financial circumstances. In 2010, though, we received 100% of the pledged amount. And then this year, in the budget we’re putting forward for 2011, for the first time in a number of years, the pledges have shown an increase. Those are signs of investment and trust. My sense is that God is instilling a new energy at Federated.
Now, if we’re serious that numbers aren’t the main point, we need to remind ourselves that these signs are somewhat secondary. And we need to lift up instead what’s primary. What, after all, is the significance of statistical figures when a young child is overtaken by a sense of mystery and awe, when a young adult senses a call to ministry and service, when a newly widowed elder is brought a meal, when altar flowers or communion are brought to someone who can’t get out of the house, when you’re singing a song or hymn on Sunday morning and the lump in your throat is so big you just have to stop? These are the real signs of a holy power whose presence will not be thwarted.
Nor is that all. The best news of all, the good news that never wanes, is that, through all the ups and downs of life, the assurances and challenges of God never fail. In each new generation, we are given a task. And it is a holy work, a work that brings peace and creates justice and makes for “the healing of the nations.”
Remember what Paul says to that feisty church in Corinth? He says that we are to be “servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God” (4:1). That’s the blessed work we’ve been given. There are hungry people out there who need food we can provide. There are unfair systems that can be changed by our energy. There are local families who are so severely broken that they won’t see the light of day unless they find it here. There are houses that won’t be built and children who won’t be tutored and lonely people who won’t receive flowers and hurting people who won’t be prayed for and jobless people who won’t find support unless we bring it to them. The past doesn’t matter, comparisons don’t make any difference. The only thing that matters, the only truth worth considering is that we are servants of Christ, charged with sublime and holy task of being stewards of the mysteries of God.
You and I are here to receive a peace that only God can give. But we’re not here for just that. We’re here also to be sent out on holy work that makes a difference. We’re here to light fires. We’re here to bring warmth. We’re here to sing of grace that will not die. We’re here to share the love of God with a world desperately in need of just that. Can I get an “Amen” to that? With faith and hope and love, then, let’s be on the way!