SunMay292011
Scripture: I PETER 3:13-22
Several years ago, a woman with children at Laurel School gave me a bookmark-sized card with ten points on it. It was essentially an “elevator speech” about what was distinctive about Laurel. I looked for it this week, but I must have misplaced it (it may, in fact, be on my desk, but that desk has become this solar system’s version of a black hole). In any case, what they said on that card is not nearly as important as that they said it. If someone on an elevator asked you what Laurel was about, and you had to say it concisely, there it was: ten points about what set the school apart.
In its advice to early Christians, the letter of I Peter says to its recipients, “Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an accounting for the hope that is in you” (3:15). Or, as The Message has it, “Be ready to speak up and tell anyone who asks why you’re living the way you are.” That got me wondering: if someone asked why you were part of Federated Church, or why you were a Christian, would you be ready with the thirty-second elevator speech? Would you be able to convey clearly, confidently, and concisely what matters most to you?
I confess that I find exercises like this somewhat difficult. I’m not typically a sound-bite kind of guy. I’m too aware of nuances and subtleties and ambiguities to be easily inclined to one-liners. And, to be frank, this has only gotten worse as I’ve gotten older.
The other factor that keeps me from doing such a thing is that it’s too easy to make this about what I, or we, believe. Beliefs are important. It’s the way the creeds that have had such a prominent place in our history typically begin: “I believe in God, the Father almighty, Creator of heaven and earth,” is the way the Apostles’ Creed begins. The Nicene Creed and the Statement of Faith of the UCC begin similarly. They’re about what we believe.
The trouble with talking about what we believe, though, is that it can too easily devolve into an argument. If I say “I believe the 1954 Indians were the best Tribe team ever,” you can come right back at me and say, “No, I think it was the 1997 team,” or 1948 or whatever. And in something like that, it can be a fun discussion. It can get more problematic, though, if we continue to focus on beliefs in more raw and divisive areas of life, like the healthiest way of eating, or the ablest presidential candidate, or whether and to what extent we should be fighting wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. When we talk about what we believe, we’re talking about concepts, opinions, what our minds affirm.
Instead of talking with others about what we believe, though, what if we were to talk instead about what we love. Or what we’re committed to. Or what we value. Or what we’d give our life for. This would solve a number of problems that plague our conversations. If I tell you what I love, you can’t really argue with me. You can think I’m nutty, but you can’t argue. If I tell you what I value, I’m not so much making a broad declaration about Truth with a capital “T,” but rather telling you about something that matters to me personally. Declarations about Truth just turn other people off. Witnesses about what we treasure, on the other hand, invite other people in. If I tell you the greatest movie ever made was “The Godfather,” you can come right back at me and say, “No, it was ‘Avatar’ or ‘The African Queen,’” and off we’d be on an argument. But if you say, “This is what I loved about the first ‘Rocky’ movie,” then I learn something about you, and I can talk to you in the same way about my love for “The Godfather.”
So there’s our backdrop this morning. And with that said, it’s time now to dive in. And I’m going to talk to you not about what I believe. I’m going to talk to you, instead, about the God I love, about the God I so often see manifested here at Federated Church.
First, here at Federated, we sense that there is something more than the day-to-day details of our lives. A cardinal or a hawk appears just when life is at its pit, and someone sees that as a sign, and their spirits are lifted. A healing occurs in a way that defies easy explanation. Someone experiences an inexplicable comfort when they’re walking through “the valley of the shadow of death” (Ps. 23:4). A woman finds the strength to say something to her boss that she never dared say before. A man discovers a tenderness he could never find in his birth family. And all of it feels like a gift, from way beyond us.
“Faith” is what it’s often called. “Trust” is another great word for it. It’s that sense that there are mysteries beyond us too big to be understood, too odd to be fully articulated. It’s the conviction that there is something too wonderful about this world for it to have happened by coincidence. A Federated woman stopped me when I was on a walk a few months ago to tell me that, by the strangest series of events, and just the day before she would have had to make the decision to move, she landed a job that was just right for her. We can never predict when such things will happen, nor can we say that they will happen to everybody. We can only say that when they do, they are hints of a power greater than ourselves. So the first thing I love is trust, in that holy mystery that shows its face at the oddest, least predictable times. I see that faith and trust here, and it sustains me.
The second thing I love is that, no matter how awful things can sometimes get, there always seems to be something to look forward to. Some days I worry immensely about everything. But on the best days, I am overcome by the sense that, no matter what the struggles of the present moment, a new chapter awaits.
I’m not a Pollyanna about this. It’s not that I think every illness is going to find a cure, every failure is going to be met by a bigger success, every bankruptcy is going to be reversed by some huge financial windfall. I don’t think that at all. On the contrary, I know that we’re all finally going to die, we may well encounter failure that permanently scars us, and we may find ourselves in the position of having to repay a huge debt for the rest of our lives.
Even with all that, though, I will also say this. I have watched a man live his last days with a “peace that passes all understanding” (Phil. 4:7), trusting in a life after death. I have spent time with a woman who, twenty years after her rape, was able to see all things made new (Rev. 21:5), no longer dominated by that horrific and traumatizing violation. I have witnessed a family who lost nearly everything come to a new understanding that none of those things was what really mattered, that, as Jesus said, life is “more than food, and the body more than clothing” (Mt. 6:25).
When you’ve lived enough years, and you look with the right eyes, you begin to see all sorts of resurrections come to the various deaths that stalk us. Not painless resolutions. Not magic, fairy tale endings. Resurrections. New life out of death. All grounded, finally, in the sense that even death can’t thwart the relentless and resilient power that “creates new heavens and a new earth” (Is. 65:17). I am a Christian and a member of Federated Church, second, because of the undying, tenacious sense of hope I see here, a hope that carries us and buoys us and renews us.
And finally—joining that faith and that hope—I am a Christian, and I adore Federated Church, because of the striking care and compassion I see exhibited here. I know all too well, as do you, how fraught the church and the world are with cruelty and vengeance and insensitivity and exploitation. I’m no more immune than you are to those demonic forces. They pervert our homes and businesses and neighborhoods and churches. Even with all that, though, there are amazing pockets of justice and kindness and selflessness that transform meetings and classes and homes and communities and the world. I am a Christian, and I make my home in the church, because of the immense love I see here.
Here is just some of what I have seen recently. I called a relatively new church family the other day to ask how things were going for them. The woman to whom I spoke said she loved the church, and that she was especially grateful for the way her children were looked after in the nursery. “I love the women in the nursery!” she said with great feeling. To have people here who make it their mission to care for the tiniest, most vulnerable among us, and who create a safe and sacred space, is a tremendous gift.
I talked to a woman in the church the other day, after she had visited her mother, who suffers from dementia, in a nursing home. While she was there, and after she had read a letter from a friend, her mother said, through her fog, “It’s nice to know you’re loved.”
There are people at Federated who write cards to those listed in our Fellowship of Prayer; who visit people who can no longer get out of their homes; who tend to families hit by a sudden death; who take communion or a meal to someone whose life may have been shattered; who host homeless guests with IHN, now called Family Promise. A Stephen Minister drops in on a newly widowed member. Someone else asks the lacrosse player how her playoff game went. Another person’s contagious smile and hugs create a space of warmth and acceptance.
Sometimes that care gets reflected in those who simply see something larger than themselves. A man emailed me this week to ask that we make a special recognition of the veterans of World War II this morning. I emailed him back asking whether it might not be good to recognize veterans of other wars, as well, and, in his gentle and thoughtful answer, he said, “It is very kind of you to want to recognize all veterans, but please keep in mind that, as a veteran of a different war, I certainly don’t feel the need for or expect the recognition. However, I do have a very strong desire to see that our WWII vets are frequently recognized and continually thanked for their service. I can’t imagine what our country (or world) would look like if it wasn’t for their effort and sacrifice.” And what’s abundantly clear, in those words of his, is that life isn’t all about him. He sees something larger than himself, with eyes and heart that honor and appreciate the sacrifice of others.
And that care gets extended to other realms, as well. A church group teaches us how to tread the earth more softly, by buying products that pay a fair wage to poor people, and carefully considering the impact of our various footprints on the land and trees and animals and water of the world. Our denomination, the United Church of Christ, continues to witness and work for justice and hope for everyone, as it has historically for women and people of color and gay and lesbian people. Church members give to offerings that support mission trips to South Africa and South Dakota, as well as the Colorado Kids’ spiritual journey into the mountains. People give to church and service organizations providing relief in Japan and Joplin. They support a music ministry that lifts and nourishes them.
So “Fine,” you say. “But so far, this is false advertising. It’s hardly an elevator speech you’re telling us about. What’s your short answer to the person who asks you why you’re a Christian and part of Federated Church?” And this is my answer: “I am a Christian and a member of Federated Church because it’s there that I see the wonders of God revealed in incredible demonstrations of faith and hope and love. And it’s there that those qualities are the first priority. And what would my life be without that?” Forty eight words. The heart of my life. The heart of our life.