Glory to God, who working in us, will do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine. Glory to him from generation to generation in the Church, and Christ Jesus for ever and ever. Amen.
Out of curiosity more than anything else, earlier this week I went back and read the first sermon that I preached here. I had no recollection of it, but as I read it, I was reminded of my nervousness for being the Rector of a parish for the first time, my excitement over being called to serve at St. Luke’s, and my hopefulness for what, working through us, God was up to.
I want you to know that I’ve never stopped thanking God for the call to serve as your priest. This new call to Colorado Springs is not the result of any dissatisfaction with the Salisbury community or schools, it’s not because of any frustrations with this congregation or any of you, and it’s not because I thought I was done here – I was in the midst of planning for events this fall and for years to come. The only reason why we’re going is, because without any doubt in my mind, God has called us to go. Though I can’t make myself cry on cue, I want you to know that my heart is heavy in leaving this place and there have been plenty of tears along the way. And that excitement and hopefulness that I brought to my first sermon at St. Luke’s I bring to this last sermon, it’s just that the nervousness has been replaced with gratitude for what has been.
In my first sermon here, I said that our coming together as a priest and parish is a part of God’s dream. I referred to the book The Dream of God by Verna Dozier who reminds us that God’s dream is planted in the soil abundance. And what an abundant harvest we have been given to share together over the past 11 years! Thanks be to God for the rich blessings we have received. In that first sermon, I also said that I had high expectations for what God would do through us – and, indeed, God has done more than I could have ever asked for or imagined.
And so, in response to God’s abundant grace, the first word in this sermon is “thank you.” In the reading from Luke, we heard Jesus say, “For where your treasure is, there you heart will be also.” In other words, our loves follow our priorities. Thanks to this community, each of you, and this church, our hearts have been filled with the treasures you have given us.
First, I thank you for the love that you have showed to me and my family – you have supported, empowered, and blessed us in so many ways. Salisbury will always be where our girls are “from,” and I’m proud that’s how they’ll be known.
Secondly, I thank you for helping me to grow. When I came to St. Luke’s, I was 30 years old and I don’t know how it felt for the Search Committee and Vestry that called me, but it felt like a risk to me. Without question, I am the person and priest that I am today because of you all – and I’m so thankful for it. Through you, I have grown into the priest that God was calling me to be. Eleven and twelve years ago, as I was searching for a new call, I interviewed at churches all over the country, and while I’m sure those churches were full of nice people, God knew that St. Luke’s was the soil I needed to be planted in to become the priest that God dreamed I would be. And you all are that soil – you’ve nurtured my faith, cultivated me as a leader, and given me space to grow and change. I would not be the priest that I am today if it were not for you – and for that, I will be forever grateful.
Related to that gratitude is my deep appreciation for the ways in which you have allowed me to minister to you. You have opened your lives to me and told me things that you’ve never told anyone else, you have showed me the wounds that you try so desperately to hide from others, you have allowed me to hold your newborn children as well as your spouse’s and parents’ hands as they took their last breaths. You have given me the sacred privilege of being a part of your lives, and I cherish that trust and the blessings I have received through you.
And the last “thank you” for right now is to thank you for your forgiveness and your trust. Goodness knows, I’ve made mistakes; things I’d do differently if given another chance. But you’ve never counted those as a knock against me. You’ve simply realized that I’m a broken sinner, doing my best to minister to broken sinners. And you’ve met my sins not with judgment or condemnation, but with mercy. That has meant the world to me and has been a big part of the reason why God’s amazing grace has become so central to my preaching and being – because you’ve shown me so much grace. And you’ve also trusted me – even when we disagreed – that I was doing my best. You have blessed me with willingness, patience, and forgiveness.
I thank God for the call to St. Luke’s and I thank you all for the love we have shared.
And, as we know from Scripture, “to everything there is a season.” To be honest, I’m as surprised as anyone that we’re going. A new call was not at all something that I was interested in, thinking about, or open to. The only explanation I have is that God has called me to go. And, for good and for ill, I’ve never been one to not do what I feel called to do. That’s why I preached some tough sermons through the years, that’s why we had some uncomfortable conversations about race, that’s why we looked into our history as it relates to slave-holding, that’s why we took the risk of forgiving and loving one another.
And I take it as a holy and happy coincidence that the appointed reading today from Hebrews reminds us about the importance of listening for and following the call of God. We heard, “By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to set out for a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; and he set out, not knowing where he was going.” I can identify with Abraham, and I bet you all can as well. We don’t know where we are going – sure, I’m going to Colorado Springs and you’re going into a search process, but what that really means, none of us know with any certainty. But we go in and because of faith.
The first verse we heard today gives what has become the “textbook” definition of faith, and it’s the point that this whole section of Hebrews is about: “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Abraham was told to go; he was told that if tried to count the number of the stars at night, he wouldn’t even come close to abundance that God was preparing for him. Though he was not able to count the stars, he walked by their light. That’s faith. And, to be clear, we are a part of that promised dream that was beyond Abraham’s ability to imagine.
Beloved, God is doing for us better things than we can ask for or imagine. Faith is trusting that is true, even in the absence of tangible evidence. Faith is trusting that though we walk through the valley of death, our Good Shepherd is leading us towards green pastures and still waters, even when the valley is really long, meandering, and dim. Faith is not about having all the answers, it’s not about rituals, it’s not about our good behavior; no, faith is the conviction of things not seen. Faith is the audacious and unshakeable trust that all shall be well; faith is waiting expectantly for Resurrection after the pains of Good Friday; faith is being open to the vulnerability and risk of love.
In Luke, we heard Jesus’ comforting words, “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” The kingdom of God, or the dream of God as we might call it, isn’t a place as much as it is a reality – the kingdom is when swords are beaten into ploughshares, when the lowly have been lifted up, when we have the peace that passes all understanding – a peace the world cannot give nor take away. If there’s one thing that I can leave you with, one assurance to hold in your hearts, it is this: God is with you and God is for you, and that means that all shall be well, even if all is not okay.
We live in a broken world in which there will continue to be wars, divorces, illnesses, accidents, layoffs, addictions, racism, greed, and arguments. But Jesus tells us, “Do not be afraid, little flock.” So much of what Jesus is all about is helping us to focus on the right things. And what we hear in Hebrews is about just that – knowing that the invisible and intangible things are realer, truer, more powerful, and more lasting. It’s why generosity, mercy, and love matter so much: because they are so much better and life-giving than wealth, fame, success, or power. But we are so prone to follow false idols that we drop the kingdom that has been given to us as we grasp for them. Faith is about keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus amidst the storms of life.
I’ve often quoted part of a poem, “Earth’s crammed with heaven and every common bush afire with God. But only they who see take of their shoes. The rest sit round and pluck blackberries.” That’s faith. Faith is a vibrant and animating force like a child’s imagination that can imagine, create, and inhabit a whole new world. Faith is about seeing beyond the nightmares of this world and into the dream that God has for each of us and all of us together.
The English author Dorothy Sayers puts it wonderfully, “It is the dogma that is the drama – not beautiful phrases, nor comforting sentiments, nor vague aspirations to lovingkindness and uplift, nor the promise of something nice after death – but the terrifying assertion that the same God who made the world lived in the world and passed through the grave and gate of death. Show that to the heathen, and they may not believe it; but at least they may realize that there is something that a [person] might be glad to believe.”
That’s faith – trusting that the dogma is the drama; that the story is the salvation, and that, by grace, Jesus brings us into this story of God’s all-redeeming love. Jesus gives us something worth living for and dying for: the love that gave courage to the martyrs, strength to those who fight for justice and dare to forgive their enemies, hope to the downtrodden, and Resurrection to the dead. Trust in that love and hang onto that. If I’ve tried to say, embody, and do anything in these 11 years, that’s it – put our hearts in the love of Jesus so that we might find relief in the treasures of his grace.
I want to conclude with blessing – as that’s the primary function of a priest, to bless. So I want to offer words of blessing and affirmation. I’ve told a few people that God doesn’t play checkers, God plays chess. Meaning that long before I had an inkling that I might be on the move, God did. And God was putting pieces in place to take care of both my family and this parish. The fact that our Vestry is led by Jane White and Tyler Ellis is no accident, but it is God’s providential provision. What a blessing their leadership is for a time such as this. Our Vestry is committed and faithful and they will lead well in this transition. Our staff have hearts of gold and are absolutely going to rise to the occasion. And you all, the people of St. Luke’s, my goodness. You all are what makes leaving so hard – you are generous, you are fun, you are faithful. It has been the honor and joy of my life to serve as your priest. And though, after Wednesday, I will no longer able to be your priest, my love and gratitude for you will never expire. You will remain in my prayers and in our hearts as we go. You have blessed us in so many ways, and I pray that God will continue to bless each of you, this beloved community of Salisbury, and this amazing parish of St. Luke’s.
As you’ve heard me say dozens, if not hundreds, of times is that the Eucharist is one of those things that has a power beyond our ability to fully perceive, as it unites us across space and time. Every time you gather for Communion here and every time that I celebrate Communion in Colorado, we will be sharing in the one bread of life and in the one cup of salvation, and I am so grateful that though we are moving away, we will continue to be joined together in this feast.
“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” God has called us to “go,” we, therefore, have faith that all shall be well.
