Gracious and loving God, may only your Truth be spoken and only your Truth be heard ☩ in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
When we need help, what do we usually do? Well, I suppose it depends on the kind of help that we need. But, generally, we turn to a friend or family member. Need help moving something? You call a friend with a truck and a strong back. Other times, we need an expert, and so we go to someone like a mechanic, surgeon, or seamstress to have them work on the issue in exchange for money. But still, some problems can’t be solved even by an expert, and so we look to elected officials and politicians to address issues like climate change, foreign trade agreements, or getting a road repaved. But there are still yet other issues that no political system or party can address – the question of how we overcome the divisions that are tearing apart our society, the angst we can feel about the meaning of our lives, the fear we have of our impending deaths, the guilt we carry for the mistakes we have made, the uncertainty we have in society and in the Church about how we emerge from this pandemic. Where do we turn to for help with those sorts of issues?
While
a good counselor certainly can help us to be resilient in the storms of life,
they cannot calm the storms. Others turn to distractions of one sort or another
to make them forget about such questions – pain killers, alcohol, scrolling
through our phones, even hobbies can turn into things that we use to avoid such
questions. As I often tell people – either you work on your problems or your
problems work on you. But we also know that we can’t do this alone, so where do
we turn for help?
While
we don’t know exactly what was going on in Ephesus in the 1st
century, we can read between the lines of this ancient letter and make some
guesses. One of the major themes is the all-surpassing and gracious love of God
towards us, which enables us to be at peace with God and one another. And since
this needed to be spelled out in a letter, we can assume that there was a lack
of this peace in the Ephesian church which was dealing with conflict.
The
response though is not a series of steps for how to deal with conflict, it is
not a series of lectures about how to answer life’s big questions, it is not a
new philosophy that allows us to cope with our anxieties. Instead, the response
is a prayer. This is one of the more intimate passages in all of Scripture because
we are eavesdropping in on someone’s prayer to God. And it’s a lovely and powerful
prayer that asks for God our Father to strengthen our inner beings by the Holy
Spirit and for Christ to dwell in our hearts to root and ground us in the abundant
love of God.
What
is so compelling about this prayerful response is that it reminds us that when
we are facing big and uncertain problems, the first thing we do is to pray. There
may well be some practical things to do, and those will come in the remaining
chapters of Ephesians. But we begin with a prayer to be filled with the love of
Christ. This would be a lovely prayer for us to borrow when we are feeling overwhelmed
or confused.
And
though we’re not sure of the exact context of what was going on in Ephesus – we
know what our context is. Certainly, there are many issues that we could talk
about this morning that could use some prayer – but the one on my mind, and
probably on your mind since you’re at church this morning is the question of
where everyone else is.
Maybe
you’ve noticed that I’ve been using the same prayer at the start of the sermon
for the past month or so – asking that word that I speak might point only to
God’s truth and that what you hear reflects only the truth of God. One of the things
that I’ve become convinced of over the last 18 months is the importance of the
Truth. Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” Life is too short
of anything less than the truth, for anything less than Jesus. The problems
that we are facing are too important to dance around.
The
library at the seminary I attended had a prayer for truth chiseled into the
stone at the front entrance and I’ve always thought they are such fitting words
for a library’s entrance: “Seek the truth – come whence it may, cost what it
will, lead where it might.” Truth may not always be comfortable, it may not
always be convenient, it may not always be desirable. But, as Jesus tells us, “the
truth shall make us free;” and so we boldly and courageously pursue the truth.
The
truth of the Church right now is that things will never be the same. Now I am
not saying that these pews will never be full again. I am not saying that we
will never again share in the chalice together. I am not saying that we will ever
preach anything other than the grace of God made known through the life, death,
Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus Christ. But we also cannot delude
ourselves into thinking that in six months or even six years it will be as if
the pandemic never happened.
The
truth is that our average Sunday attendance is half of what it was in January
2020. Yes, I realize that some people are not yet comfortable returning to
church, especially given the low vaccination rates and the rising number of Coronavirus
cases. I realize that some families with children who are not yet eligible for
the vaccine are being cautious with where they take their children out in public.
I realize that humans are creatures of habit, and many people have not been to
church in nearly 18 months and that’s a hard habit to break.
The
Church is the Body of Christ, and right now we’re operating with a lot of parts
missing. Just imagine what your life would be like if you woke up tomorrow with
one kidney, one leg, one hand, and one eye. Sure, you could function, but not
as before. That’s where we are. We are missing the joy of seeing so many people’s
faces, we are missing seeing the vast majority of the children of this church
growing up, we are missing voices and viewpoints. And as to whether or not
people will be returning, I truly have no idea.
Another
truth is that the Church doesn’t run on thoughts and prayers. When we get bills
and invoices for things like electricity or communion wafers, those vendors
expect to be paid with money, not with an explanation that we are a church
emerging out of a once-in-a-lifetime pandemic that was a seismic shift in the
religious landscape. Now, thankfully, St. Luke’s has weathered the financial
storm quite well – we are actually doing better than our projected budget for
the year, and for that, I am immensely grateful. But another truth is that
there are many people who have not yet returned to worship, and the majority of
those who have not yet returned have not contributed financially this year.
While
there are many people who generously support this parish, there are also more
than a few who do not contribute financially. There may have been a time when
it could be assumed that an institution like the Church would always have
funding and would always be there when you need it. But the truth is that for
places like St. Luke’s to continue to maintain our beautiful and historic
buildings, for us to employ a capable staff, for us to provide programs that
help families to raise their children in the faith, it takes an investment. This
isn’t about asking those of you who already give generously to give more, it’s
simply stating the truth that we need everyone on board.
Another
truth is that, perhaps more than any other time in recent memory, the Church is
desperately needed right now. The last 18 months have been traumatic in so many
ways, and we need healing. We know that if someone experiences a trauma, whether
physical or psychological, if that pain is not addressed adequately, that it
will later manifest itself in unhealthy ways. I worry about what the unhealed
traumas of this pandemic, of the calls for racial justice, of the bitter
partisanship of the last election will do to our society over the next generation
if we do not seek healing. The Church just might be the only place such healing
can happen because the Church is a place where we can confess our sins, where
we can receive full and complete absolution, where we can hear the message of
grace, where we can be told that we are loved, where we can sing with
strangers, where we can share a meal with those who are different from us, where
we can serve those in need, where we can admit that we are also needy, where we
can participate in a story that is bigger than us, where we can find the One who
can not only gives us a sense of calm in the midst of the storms of life, but also
the One who can actually make the storms stop.
What
we have seen over the last 18 months is the erosion of our common bonds, we
have seen the diabolical seeds of division sown by radicals and partisans into
our schools, our media, our elections, our public health, we have seen people
who are completely overwhelmed by the chaos and uncertainty of life. It does
not have to be this way. Christ Jesus is our peace that passes all
understanding. He comes to us all who are carrying heavy burdens and will give
us rest. His love can unite us across our differences and start to repair the
breach. His truth can become ours.
The
truth is that the Church is in a precarious position. We are on the verge of
having the floor fall in under our feet. Lukewarm Christianity and political
corruption of the faith have us teetering on the verge of irrelevancy. Yes, I
have read the leadership books. I have listened to the church growth podcasts.
I have talked to friends, colleagues, and Vestry members about where we are.
There are strategies to apply, there are ideas to implement, there are reasons
to be hopeful as well as concerned about the future of the Church and St. Luke’s.
But
before we do any of those things, we need to pray for our hearts and minds to
be filled with the love of Jesus Christ. Prayer is not about abdicating
responsibility, rather it is about being rooted and grounded in the power of the
Spirit, in the grace of Jesus, in the love of God our Father.
I am asking you
all to earnestly pray for the Church. Pray that we might be rooted and grounded
in the love of God. Pray that Christ might dwell within our hearts. Pray that the
Spirit blow through this place, blowing out the things that need to go and
bringing in the fresh air that is needed. Pray for those who have not yet
returned to worship – not in a judgmental way, but pray that God will draw them
into beloved community. Pray for those who, for one reason or another, have walked
away from the church. If it was because of hurt, pray for those wounds to be
healed. If it was because of apathy, pray for the Spirit’s fire to be reignited
within them. If it was because of conflict, pray for grace to abound. If it was
because of doubt, pray for the seeds of faith to again flourish in them. Pray
for those who have not yet been a part of the Church, that through our witness
and invitation, they might come and know the breadth, length, height, and depth
of God’s redeeming and transforming love for them. Pray for those who are here –
that they will not despair or grow weary. Pray for our church leaders – that they
might have resilience, trust, and wisdom. Pray for me – that I will continue to
be faithful to the vocation that God has entrusted to me. Pray for our parish –
that this might be a place where all will come and see the difference that Christ
makes through abundant grace, intentional worship, and beloved community.
Now
to God our Father, who by the Spirit’s power at work within us, is able to
accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory
in the Church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.
