Thank you, gracious God, for the gift of your love which is making all things well and all things new. Amen.
We love a good motivational speech, don’t we? Part of what makes a movie powerful is a rousing speech given in a moment of crisis. Braveheart, Remember the Titans, Dead Poets Society, and Independence Day are all memorable movies, even decades later, because of their stirring speeches. Or think about how JFK’s Moonshot, MLK’s Dream, or Sojourner Truth’s “Ain’t I a Woman” are addresses that galvanized a nation around audacious goals. When our backs are against the wall, a mighty speech can give us courage, clarity, and hope.
To
be clear, this sermon will not go down in history as one such speech. Instead, our
focus is on another speech that made an impact and of which we still feel the
ripples – the letter of James. Last Sunday, we considered some of the
background of this letter, as it’s the Epistle that will be read throughout September.
Some scholars think that James was originally delivered as a series of sermons
that were later turned into the letter we find in our Bibles. So as we’re
reading through James, just imagine the fire and passion of one of those other
famous speeches being how these words were first delivered.
Just
as most famous speeches come at turning points in history, James is also writing
during a pivotal time in Christian history. I remember when I was in school, the
first thing we were always told to do when working on an assignment was to
write our name and today’s date on the top of the paper. In fact, if you look
at my sermon manuscript, you’ll see that I still do that. A rule-follower to
the core. James and other Biblical authors thought weren’t given those
instructions. We’re not sure what year, or even what decade this letter was
written. All that is to say, we don’t know exactly what was happening in the
world when the letter was written, but we know it was a contentious and
unstable time.
Historians
tell us that there were periods of intense persecution against followers of
Jesus, that most of the twelve apostles were martyred, and that James himself
was killed around the year 62. The Passion and Resurrection of Jesus happened
around the year 33, so this letter is at least a generation, perhaps two,
later. Some expected that the Messiah’s arrival would mean the culmination of
Creation – the end of the world –in the same generation. But Rome is still in
power and poverty and disease are still daily realities, so what gives? The
turmoil and lack of transformation were creating a crisis moment for the Church.
This is the context in
which James is speaking. At stake is the survival of the Church, not as an
institution, because the Church hasn’t grown into that yet. On the line are
people’s lives and the mission that God has entrusted to the Body of Christ. To
be clear, our situation is not identical. But the Church is very much at a
crisis moment – a turning point. I can show you all the charts and data you
want, but the conclusion remains the same. The Church as we know it is
changing. Some use the term “decline” to describe this change, and that’s
understandable. By every metric, the Episcopal Church, along with the rest, has
our backs against the wall. This isn’t the Sunday for exploring all of the reasons
that got us here, but the urgency of James speaks to our current crisis as
well.
As I mentioned last Sunday,
three of the major themes of this letter are perseverance in adversity, wisdom,
and lifting up the lowly. At this time, the Church was lowly, and we are
assured that it will persist because God is in the business of exalting the
lowly, seeking out the lost, and championing the least. So James is writing to encourage
us in that confidence that God will never abandon or reject us and to give us
wisdom for the living of our days.
Most motivational
speeches seek to do the same thing: to give us confidence and to give us
direction. Our confidence is in that the Church is not founded upon a great
idea, a charismatic leader, or a can’t-miss product. The Church is founded upon
the Death and Resurrection of God Incarnate – Jesus Christ. With that as our foundation,
nothing, not even death and destruction, can stop God’s mission. The Church
might change, but because it is the Body of Christ and not a human institution,
will never be defeated. That’s our confidence. As far as the wisdom of how we go
about being instruments in God’s mission, that’s what we hear about in the rest
of this section of the letter.
In the uncertainties and
adversities facing them, James begins by asking where we turn to for help. Do
we turn to the person with the longest title or fanciest clothes? Obviously, I’m
indicting myself here. The question is about where we put our trust – in places
of worldly riches and power, or in the lowliness and humility of servanthood? When
we run into a problem, do we spend more time with high-priced consultants than we
do in prayer and discernment? Are we open to learning from those who society
trains us to think are beneath us? James reminds us of the wisdom that the
first shall be last and the last shall be first in the Kingdom.
Next, James tells us
mercy is more important than judgment. The wisdom here is to be careful about
putting confidence in our ability to save ourselves. He mentions part of the Great
Commandment – to love our neighbors as ourselves. Sure, maybe we fulfill part
of that command, but we will fall short in other areas. If we hold ourselves
and others to the impossible standard of perfection, we’ll always be
criticizing instead of growing in community. And community is what we will need
to endure the challenges we are facing. Think of all of those memorable
speeches – they’re all about finding unity without demanding uniformity, they’re
about coming together in beloved community. And that’s what James is commending
to us.
This is the message of
grace – that mercy triumphs over judgment. True wisdom is in recognizing this.
Learning how to have a disposition of mercy towards ourselves and others is
what keeps us healthy and grounded in love.
The final wisdom that
James offers is in the phrase “So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.”
This is not works righteousness or anything like that. James is not saying that
we’re supposed to earn our salvation or belovedness. Those are always gifts
from our gracious and loving God. Rather, he’s simply following the logic of Jesus
– the Incarnate Son of God. When God chose to save us and show us the most
excellent way of love, it didn’t come through an idea or five-step plan. No, it
came through a person. Jesus is the Word made flesh – the joining together of
the principle of love with a life of love.
This
wisdom that James is giving us is about the resonance of faith, the way in
which Christ makes all the difference in our lived lives – when the grace of
God connects with our challenges, when the mercy of God transforms our
relationships, when the love of God makes all things new. For James, and for
us, this is the truth we hold onto dearly in our moments of crisis and
discernment – that our faith is made alive in Jesus Christ. All of those other
things – fear, status, and judgment – lead to death. But God exalts the lowly
and raises the dead. So even when we fall short, we are redeemed by and through
love. God’s all-surpassing and gracious love is our foundation, and we have
nothing to fear, but rather we have an abundance of grace and mercy to enjoy.
That
uniting and joyful message of God’s gracious love is something I have been privileged
to know and grow in at St. Luke’s. I don’t often speak about myself in sermons,
but I do want to take a moment of personal privilege from the pulpit. September
8, 2014, exactly ten years ago to the day, was my first day at St. Luke’s. I
was so excited and joyful about arriving here to serve as your priest, and that
sense of excitement and joy has only grown. It remains my absolute honor and
delight to serve as the Rector of this wonderful and amazing parish.
This
tenth anniversary isn’t about me – it is about us, and primarily it is about
the Holy Spirit who drew us together in call, united us in mission, and blessed
us in love. I’ve been reflecting a lot recently on my call here, and I am
overwhelmed with gratitude for the opportunity to serve here. I have grown so
much, both as a Christian and a priest, and I thank you all for that. You have
encouraged me; given me space to both thrive and fail; you have forgiven,
supported, and blessed me; you have loved me and my family. For all of that, I
thank God for each of you.
These
ten years have had successes, changes, and challenges. It’s hard to summarize
ten years, but I’m so proud of what we have done together with the Spirit’s empowerment.
We did a major organ project and renovation, had a successful campaign to
replace our HVAC system and better fund children’s and youth ministries, became
our city’s leader in racial healing and beloved community work, commissioned and
installed icons, our Foundation has responded faithfully to the Spirit’s call in
the 21st century, and our liturgies remain vibrant and faithful.
We’ve
also changed a lot – I was thirty years old when I got here and, at the time, I
didn’t have a single grey hair. That’s changed. More seriously though, you all
supported me as I earned a doctorate and have begun teaching at Hood Seminary.
Tyler has gone from being a speech pathologist to an accountant. Eleanor was a
toddler when we arrived and she’s now on the cusp of being a teenager. And
Rowen wasn’t born until we had been here for a few years. Through all of these
changes, I could not ask for a better community and church for our family.
And
there have been frustrations as well, the healthy friction that comes about any
time there is action and movement. We’ve dealt with a global pandemic, staff
changes, anxiety and partisanship within our culture, and genuine
disagreements. In these frustrations, confusions, and challenges, I’m proud to
say that mercy, humility, and reconciliation have been the norm. The absence of
conflict and challenge isn’t a sign of a healthy organization, rather
forgiveness and tenacity are. And I’m proud to say that this parish has both.
In
the past decade, we’ve shared 30 Baptisms, 15 weddings, 65 Confirmations, 75
funerals, over 1,000 Eucharists, and countless conversations. There is no
greater honor and blessing as a priest than to be welcomed in the name of God
into your lives. You have called me to hospital rooms and living rooms, to
coffees and dinners, to moments of celebration and moments of grief. That trust
and opportunity mean the world to me.
You all have probably
heard my call story before – but my first sense of being called to the
priesthood came when I was about 10 years old, serving as an acolyte. Being a
priest is what I’ve always wanted to do and what I truly believe God has given
me to do. Thank you for trusting me to be your priest, thank you for praying
for me, for teaching me, for forgiving me, for ministering to me, for serving with
me. My heart overflows with gratitude for this decade of shared ministry – and I
deeply love and cherish each of you.
From the very first
interview I had with the search committee, I knew that this was the parish that
God was calling me to. You can ask Tyler about that – I finished up an initial
video interview with the search committee on June 4, 2014, came out of the room
where I was, and said to her “This is the one.” That sense of call has not
waned and I very much believe that God has much more ministry to share in
together. Just as I was excited to begin at St. Luke’s on September 8, 2014, I remain
hopeful, dedicated, excited, and thankful for our ministry together on September
8, 2024 and into the future.
Again, thank you, and
thanks be to God, who in Jesus Christ gives us more than we can ask for or
imagine in a love that is making all things well and makes all things new.
