Readings: Acts 26:9-21; Luke 4:14-21
In the name of God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Amen.
Welcome
to each and every one of you. It is a joy to gather together in God’s name to
celebrate this community. Later in the service we’ll have the opportunity to recognize,
honor, and thank various people for their role in this project, but this really
is a celebration of what God is doing in and through St. Luke’s.
We’ve
gathered here for two reasons tonight: to celebrate and to pray. We celebrate
the work that has been done – the skilled craft of those who worked in the
space, the generosity of the donors who made this work possible, and the
community that this building represents. St. Luke’s is blessed with one of the
oldest and most beautiful churches in the region. In this building, we have
received a wonderful gift from generations past, and we have responded faithfully
as its stewards.
You all know the story.
It started with a simple and straightforward agenda: install a new organ. But
while we’re at that, it only makes sense to restore the Chancel to its proper
liturgical and historical layout. And then your Rector became a Bishop and an
Interim came. But the planning did not stop. Countless hours were put into choosing
an instrument and coming up with designs. St. Luke’s then called a new Rector
who came in with fresh eyes and a lot of energy to a project already begun. Graciously, when I
suggested that we also renovate the Baptistery, everyone was supportive. Well,
and then we upgraded our sound system, our lighting system, we restored
finishes on furniture. We found out that the duct work under the church was
rotten, and that needed to be replaced. The roof support system was found to be
deficient, so that had to be reinforced. We found extensive termite damage and
needed to rebuild all of the columns along the walls. We did so because we are
stewards of this special place, and we want it to be here for future
generations.
Church
buildings are important not only because they glorify God and are visual
reminders of God’s presence in our lives and communities, but also because of
the community that is formed here. Yes, the work of the church is to feed the
hungry, to visit the sick, to support each other, but that work only happens
because we gather in the name of God each week. Could we do ministry without a
building? Absolutely. But where would we form our community of faith? When your
plate is too full and you’re at a breaking point, where can you go and sit and
weep and be comforted? When you are madly in love and want to profess that love
in a sacred space, where else can you get married? When we must say goodbye to
loved ones, where else can we surround ourselves with a cloud of faithful
witness who have gone before? When we want our children to be formed in the
faith, where else do we suggest they dress up as angels and run with joy up and
down an aisle? This place.
Church buildings are sacred
places; though they are built to give glory to God and are places where we
encounter the Divine, they are also sacred places because they are vessels of
human emotion. You might say that churches are sacramental – they are outward
and visible signs of an inward and spiritual grace. And so when you drive into
town, the church spires remind you that are home. When you are going through
your day, the church bells are a call to remember that you are God’s beloved.
When you need a place to celebrate or to mourn, this holy place metaphorically cradles
you, just as God holds you in the palm of God’s hand.
As we’ve finished this,
the most significant renovation to our worship space since 1909, we come to
pray. We pray that this space might always be properly used to draw people closer
to God and each other. We pray that the beauty and grandeur of this space might
draw our spirits heavenward. We pray that this space humbly reminds us of God’s
sovereignty in our lives.
Tonight, we are
celebrating the Eve of the Conversion of St. Paul. As Paul himself noted in our
reading from Acts, he was persecuting followers of Jesus when, on the way to
Damascus, he encountered the Risen Lord and it forever changed the course not
only of his life, but of human history. Paul realized in that moment that light
conquers darkness, that love vanquishes hatred, that the suffering servant is
more powerful than the enthroned king. It was a subversive message that got him
into trouble. And so he was dragged before the authorities to defend himself in
the charges brought against him. Paul says “I was not disobedient to the
heavenly vision.”
For Paul, being obedient
to the heavenly vision is about repenting and turning ourselves to God. Obedience
to the heavenly vision happens when we work to further God’s Kingdom on earth
as it is in heaven. The heavenly vision comes into focus when we choose to
love. The reading that we had this evening from Luke is the assigned text for
our patron – Saint Luke. In it, Jesus gives us a sketch of what this heavenly
vision is: good news being brought to the poor, release to the captives,
recovery of sight to the blind, freedom to the oppressed, God’s favor bestowed
upon all.
This past week, I read
through our history book and was struck by the ways in which this parish has
struggled through the years. Since our founding in 1753, there have been many opportunities
for complete and total failure. And yet, here we are. Because of the faithful
endurance of previous generations, here we gather. As Paul found out, being
obedient to the heavenly vision is not easy work and it is not without
consequence. How will we continue this legacy of faith? When a future historian
writes the chapter on us, what will be said? Will it be said that we were
obedient to the heavenly vision?
As stewards of St. Luke’s,
we have taken care of the building, ensuring that future generations will come
to know this magnificent worship space, and we ought to celebrate that. But if
we are remembered only for a building campaign, then we will have fallen short
of the heavenly vision. We are blessed with ample resources, a strong Anglican
heritage, and faithful people. Just as our building is a beacon of hope and
refuge in this community, so too are we called to be beacons of God’s love and
peace.
In W.H. Auden’s Christmas Oratorio, when the magi
encounter the infant Jesus they say “Here and now, our endless journey ends.”
For some, this night marks the end of what might have felt like the endless
journey of this renovation project. When the shepherds, though, come to Jesus
they say “Here and now, our endless journey begins.” And that is how the
Christian life works. In our faith, we find that which we have always been searching
for and that which we will always be pursuing. In Jesus, we see the heavenly
vision and continually strive to see it more clearly in the world around us.
Let us pray: Almighty
God, we give you thanks for this holy place in which we gather tonight. May it
always inspire us and remind us of your great love for us. Empower us, as you
did St. Paul, to be obedient to your heavenly vision. In you, O God, we find
the end of our endless journeys, be present with us as we also embark on the
endless journey of drawing closer to each other and to you. Amen.
