The Sermon Club

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

8 / 9 / 26 – Summer Sermon Series[1]

Romans 12:1-2

Matthew 5:38-48

Philippians 1:3-11

“Ecclesia Reformata, Semper Reformanda”

(Foundations of Presbyterian Polity – Part 8)

Many of you know Blair Moffett, who is a retired Presbyterian Pastor, living in Wolfeboro, and friend of our congregation.  He’s actually preaching here, next week.  Blair was the first person to ever tell me about Bedford Presbyterian Church – way back in 2011 or 2012.  

Last month, Blair parked his car – his new car – at a golf course and went out to play a round of golf.  When he returned, he found that a stray golf ball from some unknown player’s golf club had hit his new car’s windshield and cracked it so bad that it needed to be replaced.  So, Blair reached out to me and said something like, “It looks like I’m going to be spending the day in Manchester at the automobile dealership because the windshield of my new car has all these electronic doohickeys that require professional help.  Apparently, you can’t just easily swap out a windshield anymore.  Do you want to grab lunch?”  I responded by saying, “Of course I’d love to grab some lunch.”  And, “Isn’t technology wonderful?!?  

Whether you need a new windshield or not, it sure does seem like we are innovating ourselves at a rate that’s hard to fathom.  

Last month at Disneyworld in Orlando, an attraction called “The Carousel of Progress” shut down.  For fifty-one years, The Carousel of Progress (which actually made its debut in 1964) has been showing a multimedia presentation about the remarkable progress and innovation  that human beings made in the 20th Century.  Apparently, the Carousel couldn’t keep up with the rate of change, though.  So much more innovation has taken place in the last 50 years that the Carousel is closed for a whole year in an effort to catch up and update the presentation.[2]  Of course, like Blair Moffett’s new car and so many other things, it will probably all be out of date before the repairs are complete.  

Isn’t technology great?!?  Aren’t change and innovation fantastic?!??  Not always. . .  I don’t know about you, but sometimes, it’s enough to drive me to seek professional help!

From our place in 2026 – in our lightning-fast 21st century world – it might seem quaint to think about the world of 500 years ago – before cars, before telephones, before Artificial Intelligence.  And yet, the world at the time of the Protestant Reformation was teeming with change and innovation, beginning with the printing press that revolutionized the spread of knowledge and information to people in their own languages – mass-producing books and pamphlets that, previously, had to be copied, individually, by hand.  

There was also this revolution of ideas taking place – ideas around trade, and economics, and government, and literature, and religion.  And, in response to this revolution, there were some who were early adopters and others who were decidedly not.

When Martin Luther, and John Calvin, and other pastors, and theologians, and regular church members, went about the task of seeking to reform the church, they did so with the knowledge that many of their reforms would be critiqued by those who were decidedly not early adopters of so much change.  And yet they still adopted a motto for what they were doing.  You know about mottoes right – a short phrase that expresses a guiding belief or principle?  Nike shoes:  “Just Do It.”  Scouts:  “Be Prepared.”  The motto of the United States:  “E Pluribus Unum,” or “Out of Many, One.” 

Well, the Protestant Reformers came up with the motto:  “The Church Reformed, and Always Reforming” or, for you Latin scholars out there,  Ecclesia Reformata, Semper Reformanda.  Now, this phrase did not originate with Luther or Calvin, but came nearly 100 years after Calvin died.  The Protestant Reformation had entered its adolescence, if you will, having stuck around long enough to not just be seen as a short-lived movement of anti-Roman Catholic rabble rousers.  With the theological foundation laid by Luther and Calvin (and others!) later Reformers were able to build upon that foundation.  And one of these people was a Dutch Reformed pastor named Jodocus van Lodenstein in the city of Utrecht.  

Ask anyone who their favorite Protestant Reformer is and, chances are, Jodocus van Lodenstein of Utrecht probably isn’t even on the radar.  But this humble preacher – who had a lifetime of health troubles and overcame a speech impediment as a young man – would often attract thousands of people to hear him speak.  The phrase, “Ecclesia reformata, semper reformanda,” is attributed to Jodocus van Lodenstein of Utrecht,[3] but, to be clear, he may have been quoting one of his teachers.[4]  Either way, the phrase serves as a kind of summation of the Reformed movement up until that point.  It still fits us.    

It’s important to note that “the church reformed, always being reformed” is not an argument for change, simply for the sake of change.  Instead, the Reformers believed that they were returning to the roots of Christianity.  According to Anna Case-Winters, a professor at McCormick Theological Seminary, 

The Reformers believed the [Roman Catholic] church had become corrupt, so change was needed. But it was a change in the interest of preservation and restoration of more authentic faith and life — a church reformed and always to be reformed according to the Word of God. The cultural assumption of the Reformers’ day was that what is older is better. This is strange to our contemporary ears. We do not share this assumption; if anything, we applaud the new and “innovative.” But one of the serious charges church authorities hurled at the Reformers was that they were “innovating.” John Calvin responded to this and other charges in his treatise “The Necessity of Reforming the Church.” As he put it, “We are accused of rash and impious innovation for having ventured to propose any change at all [in] the former state of the Church.” He then goes on to counter that they were not “innovating,” but restoring the church to its true nature, purified from the “innovations” that riddled the church through centuries of inattention to Scripture and theological laxity. The appeal was to a more ancient source, Scripture — “sola scriptura” (Scripture alone). . . the churches of the Reformation movement were purging themselves of these unwanted “innovations” and returning to a more ancient and therefore purer form of church life.[5]

In today’s reading from the Gospel of Matthew, we find Jesus – in his Sermon on the Mount – reading scripture in this same way.  “You have heard that it was said [to those of ancient times]. . .” Jesus says to the people, giving them two different examples – one about “eye-for-an-eye” revenge justice and the other about “loving your neighbor and hating your enemy.”  “But I say to you. . .” Jesus says to the people, “turn the other cheek” and “love your enemies.”  Here is Jesus, radically reforming the way that scripture is to be interpreted – offering a reading of the ancient law that seems impossible to his hearers.  “It’s one thing to follow the letter of the law,” Jesus seems to be saying here, “(anyone can love their friends and hate their enemies) but I want you to follow the true and intended spirit with which the law was written.”

Do you hear what Jesus is doing here?  He’s getting to the heart of what it means to love as he loves.  This is foundational to who Jesus is. 

Over the course of this summer, we have been learning about some of the things that are foundational to who we are as Presbyterians.  As I shared a few weeks ago, one study from 2019 estimated that there were over 45,000 different Christian denominations around the world.  Probably, every time you hear a church bell ring, there’s yet another denomination that has split off from another.  

When the Apostle Paul was writing his letter to the Philippians, he knew – even at that early stage – that churches were prone to internal disagreements and yet the act of faithfully disagreeing with one another is one way of listening for and discerning what the Holy Spirit is saying and doing in the present moment.

There are so many things that I love about being in Presbyterian, starting with our theological foundations.  But one of the things that is expressed in our Book of Order is the right of people of good conscience to disagree with one another and yet still love each other.[6]  Yet another thing I love about being Presbyterian, is our openness to the leading of the Holy Spirit.  The last part of the “Foundations” section that we’ve been exploring this summer points us toward this openness.  It’s an openness that some Christians might find too open, but when I think about the wideness of God‘s mercy and the depth of God‘s grace, I see our openness as a church as strengths and gifts – essential parts of who we are.

We are a denomination that desires to work with other Christians even if they don’t share our same Presbyterian label.  We are a denomination that celebrates the God given gifts and skills of people of every ethnicity, sexual orientation, and gender expression, and ability – made one in Christ by the power of the Spirit.  Why be so open?  Because we believe that our rich diversity gives us a glimpse of the rich diversity of the kingdom of God.

It is also our hope that our “openness” to the Holy Spirit and one another helps us to:  

. . . see both the possibilities and the perils of [the institutional church] in order to ensure the faithfulness and usefulness of these forms to God’s activity in the world; and a new openness to God’s continuing reformation of the Church ecumenical, that [we] might be more effective in [our] mission.[7]

In other words, we are striving to be a denomination that is not afraid of self-examination, of humble and heartfelt confession of past wrongs, or acknowledging our present failings.  It’s all part of the process of opening ourselves to God’s reformation of the church.  Note that I said “God’s reformation of the church” and not “Our reformation of ourselves.”  Plenty of people might accuse our denomination of reforming ourselves in our own image (just like just about every other Christian denomination out there) but I hope that our first priority is being open to what God is doing in our midst. 

So that, as Paul writes to the Philippians, “. . . the One who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.” (Philippians 1:6)  For Paul (and for us), this Holy and faith-filled work is guided by “love that overflows more and more with knowledge and full insight.” (1:9)  In other words, the work of discipleship – the work of being the church, together, and of always being reformed – requires a love that is at work in both our hearts and our minds.  

Plenty of folks have thought of Presbyterians as being too intellectual over the years.  But there is nothing wrong with a faith that is seeking understanding – using our brains to think about God – as long as all of our intellectual seeking is guided and undergirded by love.  

If there’s any innovation here, it is that God is guiding and undergirding all of it.  I’ll close with this. . . 

Last week, I spent five minutes on the phone saying, “Representative. . . Representative. . . Real Human Being, Please!” before the AI robot to which I had been speaking and which wasn’t able to answer my simple question finally sent me to a real person who was able to answer it.  I admit to you that I am not looking forward to a similar phone call that I need to make, tomorrow.  Isn’t technology wonderful?

There are plenty of reforms that need to be made in our world – not just reform or change for the sake of reform or change, but for the sake of making the world a better place. . . more loving, more peaceful, more person-to-personal, more whole.  

As a church, we believe that God is guiding and undergirding it all and that God is bringing this new creation – this “on earth as it is in heaven” new creation – to fruition through you and me. . . yes, even you and me. . . as humble bearers of God’s image and humble vessels of God’s grace.  

God is not done with us yet.  Semper reformanda. . .

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

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[1] Based on “The Foundations of Presbyterian Polity” from The Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA).

[2] https://disneyworld.disney.go.com/attractions/magic-kingdom/walt-disney-carousel-of-progress/.

[3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jodocus_Van_Lodenstein.

[4] A certain Dutch Reformed theologian named “Johannes Hoornbeek” –  https://www.christianstudylibrary.org/article/history-and-meaning-semper-reformanda.

[5] https://pcusa.org/ecclesia-reformata-semper-reformanda.

[6] See The Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA) – F-3.0101.

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

8 / 2 / 26 – Summer Sermon Series[1]

John 13:31-35

2 Corinthians 5:11-21

“Ambassadors of Love”

(Foundations of Presbyterian Polity – Part 7)

Gene Mercado was the Ambassador of Love.  In truth, it’s a title that he gave to himself, but for good reason.  Let me explain. . .

After my freshman year in college, our college choir director – who was beloved by many, but not by all – left under mysterious circumstances and someone new came to take up the baton and fill his shoes.  We never really got a straight answer from the Dean or anyone else in the Music Department on why this had happened and the choir was definitely divided into factions.  Many people missed the former director while others did not.  And was this new guy going to be good enough to replace the old guy?  This can happen sometimes when teachers, or coaches – or even pastors – leave and someone new comes.  Sometimes unity is tested and loyalties are divided.  So, that whole school year with the new choir director – who was and is a lovely man, by the way – these negative undercurrents were running through the choir.  And then it was time for us to board the bus for our barnstorming Spring Break Choir Tour with people that we didn’t get along with. 

Enter Gene, The Ambassador of Love. . . As Gene boarded our mostly-full bus, he stopped at the front, and boldly took the handset for the intercom, and he said something like this:  

Listen up!  I know that some of you love and still miss Dr. So-and-so.  And I know that some of you don’t miss Dr. So-and-so, at all.  But this, here, is the “No Factions Bus” and this tour is “The No Factions Tour.”  So, if you still want to stew about it, then you can stay home and stew.  But as for me, I’m going on this tour – “The No Factions Tour” – and I’m going to have a good time.  And I want all of us to have a good time, together!  So, come on!  Let’s love each other!  I, Gene Mercado, The Ambassador of Love, have spoken!  

The bus erupted into cheers, and applause, and laughter, and Gene sat down, having spoken his truth, having broken down a few dividing walls, and having offered the ministry of reconciliation to us.  And, because of Gene, by the end of that tour – “The No Factions Tour” – singing together was so much fun.  

Sadly, we were all shocked to hear that Gene died, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, at his home this past January.[2]  He was 55 years old – far too young – and he left behind his wife and three young children.  Even though I had not seen Gene in nearly thirty years, when I heard this horrible news, my first thought was, “No!  Not the Ambassador of Love!”

What do you do when someone leaves – leaves an empty space where a life used to be?  As a pastor, I see it all the time – especially on birthdays and holidays when someone is missing someone who has died.  It is absolutely normal to grieve in times like these.  In the best of all circumstances, though, marking the death of another person is a way to give thanks for the things that were best about them. . . from the ways that they filled our lives with joy to the example they set for us to follow.  He may have gone on to do plenty of other things in life, but Gene will always be “The Ambassador of Love” to me (and probably to a lot of other people, as well).

Today’s reading from the Gospel of John, finds Jesus and his disciples sitting at a table during their last meal together before Jesus is arrested.  And we find Jesus telling his disciples that he will soon be leaving them.  “Little children, I am with you only a little longer,” (John 13:33) he says, using a affectionate phrase that a teacher at the time would use toward their students.[3]  

Now, it’s right after this passage that Jesus offers his famous words that he is going to prepare a place for his friends, in God’s house, (a house that has many dwelling places).[4]  But before Jesus goes to this new and different dwelling place, he gives them a new commandment:  “That you love one another.  Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” (13:34)

I’m curious, if you knew that you were going to die soon, I wonder – if you had the presence of mind to put the right words together – what you might tell the people who mean the most to you.  I mean, yes, you can say whatever you want in the end, but what is your deepest hope for the people you love?  For Jesus, it is quite simple and oh, so hard:  “Love one another as I have loved you.”

This is our job, as followers of Jesus – to love as Jesus loves.  And, Jesus gives us a metric for how well we are doing with his new commandment:  “If the love you have for one another is evident – if the love you have for one another can be seen and known by everyone – then everyone will know that you are my disciples.” (13:35)[5]

This is our Holy purpose – our raison d’etre – what we are here to do and how we are called to live.  So, what might this life of love look like for us as individuals and, collectively, as the church?  

When the Apostle Paul was writing his second letter to the church in Corinth, he said that “The love of Christ urges us on. . . to live no longer for ourselves but for the One who died and was raised for us.” (2 Corinthians 5:14-15)[6]  When Eugene Peterson translates this, he says, “[Christ’s] love has the first and last word in everything we do.”[7]

Paul goes on to describe what this life looks like – how anyone who is in Christ Jesus is a “new creation,” (5:17) – everything old has passed away and all has become new – and how Jesus has made our relationship right with God, and how we are called to build right and loving relationships with everyone.  Paul calls this last part the “ministry of reconciliation” (5:18)  He even gives us a job title for it all:  “We are ambassadors for Christ,” (5:20) Paul says.  

This word – “ambassadors,” or presbeuomen in the original language only appears a few times in the New Testament and it is a word that means “ambassador” or “representative”[8] but it has this interesting presbe- prefix and is closely related to the root word from which we get “Presbyterian.”  Now, Paul doesn’t say, directly, that “we are Presbyterians for Love,” but Paul writes that God is making God’s own loving appeal to the world through us and we are to live as God’s loving representatives. . . “ambassadors for Christ. . .” God’s “Ambassadors of Love.”

When you and I enter into the new life – the new creation that we find in Jesus – we get this rather important job title.  It’s not a title that is handed out willy-nilly or – like so many things these days – just because we know the right people or make the right campaign contributions to the people who make such decisions.  No.  Each one of us is Jesus’ loving representative in and to the world.  And how we share the love of Jesus is how Jesus becomes known.  Jesus has said that “By this – by and through my love through you – they (whoever they are) will see, and experience, and come to know my love. . .” “. . . In and through each of all of you. . . you Ambassadors of my Love to the world.”  

Again, this is our great and Holy purpose – a purpose that is lived out in so many ways, individually and through the church.

Well over 100 years ago, the Presbyterian Church of North America adopted a list of great purposes that they called “The Great Ends of the Church.”  Now, just to be clear:  the list of “Great Ends” is not a list of how the church will come to an end.  No, the word “E-N-D,” here,  is used in an old-timey – churchy – way to say what our intentions, our purposes, our objectives are as the church.  If we were to write up a job description or job objectives for the “Diplomatic Corps of Ambassadors for Christ” what might these objectives be?  

In The Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA), we read,  The great ends of the church are:  the proclamation of the gospel for the salvation of humankind; the shelter, nurture, and spiritual fellowship of the children of God; the maintenance of divine worship; the preservation of the truth; the promotion of social righteousness; and the exhibition of the Kingdom of Heaven to the world.[9]

What is our purpose as a church?  Well, to love as Jesus loves in the following ways:  to proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ with our lips and our lives; to care for and encourage the whole people of God; to continue the regular rhythms of a community that worships the living God; to perpetuate the truth that Jesus is Lord of all; to promote a just society; and to continually demonstrate the Kingdom of Heaven to the world. . . So that all the world will see us as Ambassadors of Christ’s Love and will come to know Jesus in and through us. 

If we were to closely examine this list of “Great Ends” as a congregation, I’m curious about how well we might be fulfilling our role as Ambassadors of Love.  I mean, I think we have the “shelter nurture and spiritual fellowship of the children of God” part and the “maintenance of divine worship” parts down pretty well.  Come to worship on Sunday morning, go to Coffee Hour, be part of some of the caring ministries of our congregation. . . Check and Check.

But then comes the hard parts – the parts about which we might have some disagreements and/or have trouble fulfilling, like “proclaiming the gospel for the salvation of humankind” with our lips and our lives.  Many of us might not hop out of bed in the morning, ready to do this with our whole selves.  We have other things to do.

And what about “the preservation of the truth” and “the promotion of social righteousness”?  These days, some folks have a hard time saying what the truth even is.  Back in 2016, the Oxford “Word of the Year” was “post-truth” because empirical facts seemed to matter less to people than emotional appeals and personal belief.[10]  “I don’t care what the facts are.  This is what I feel.”  And if we are to “promote social righteousness,” does this mean that it is the church’s role to change the society in which we live?  What if society doesn’t want to become more righteous?  And, what if the church – in seeking to promote social righteousness (or a just society) – bumps up against or blurs the lines between the political and the theological. . . the immoral and the moral?  Perhaps the true test of all of this is whether our ministry of reconciliation ends more factions than it creates, but people are really good at splitting into factions based on all kinds of beliefs and opinions.  

Friends, I know that these questions probably raise even more questions in your minds and hearts and I’d love to have a conversation with you – after church, today, or some other time – to seek to answer some of these big questions, together. 

Suffice it to say that our role as Ambassadors of Love with the ministry of reconciliation is a complicated and humbling lifelong pursuit, if we are willing to undertake it, at all.  

Thankfully, we have the great example of Jesus Christ who was not the Ambassador of Love, but the very Embodiment of Love to and for the world.  We have the great example of Jesus Christ, who gives his love to us continually – in Word and Spirit, in body and blood, in presence and power – making our relationship right with God so that we can undertake the work of building and making right relationships with all the world, in Jesus’ name.  

At this Table, we are strengthened for this Holy purpose.  At this Table, we embrace our role as Ambassadors of Love. And from this Table, we carry the Love of Jesus out into the world to exhibit the Kingdom of heaven to all.  

May we do so with great humility and deep love and Holy purpose.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

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[1] Based on “Foundations of Presbyterian Polity” from The Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA).

[2] https://www.legacy.com/us/obituaries/legacyremembers/eugene-s-mercado-obituary?id=60648808.

[3] Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979) 808.

[4] See John 14:2.

[5] Paraphrased, JHS.

[6] Paraphrased, JHS.

[7] Eugene Peterson, The Message: Numbered Edition (Colorado Springs: NAV Press, 2002) 1592.

[8] Walter Bauer, 699.

[9] The Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA) – 2025-2027.  F-1.0304.

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

7 / 26 / 26 – Summer Sermon Series[1]

Romans 10:8b-18

Acts 2:37-47

“Where the True Church is Found”

(Foundations of Presbyterian Polity – Part 6)

Peanut Butter and Jelly. . . Milk and Cookies. . . Mmmm. . . Mmmm. . . 

There are some things that just go better together.  Yes, you can eat a peanut butter sandwich, but. . . jelly makes it so much better.  And yes, I have eaten plenty of cookies in my life without milk.  But with milk?  Mmmm.  Mmmm.  Some things just go better together:  Spaghetti and Meatballs. . .  Eggs and Toast. . .  Pepper-encrusted Filet and Cabernet Sauvignon. . .  Peach Cobbler and Vanilla Ice Cream. . . Mmmm. . . Mmmm. . .

There are other pairings that are just as excellent (but aren’t food-related, as such):  A Washing Machine in one’s home is quite convenient, but having a Clothes Dryer next to that washing machine makes things far more convenient.  Socks are great, but if you add Shoes to those Socks, you can go anywhere.  A Needle is helpful for sewing and mending, but it is not much use without Thread.  

There are some things that just go better together or just fit together, naturally:  Night and Day. . .  Sun and Moon. . .  Land and Sea. . . 

Some things just go hand-in-hand.  It’s hard to think of one without at least being aware of the other or acknowledging the necessity – sometimes, the inevitability – of the other.  Supply and Demand. . . Cause and Effect. . . Either / Or. . .  If / Then. . .  Life / Death. . . Body and Blood. . . Word and Sacrament. . . 

During the Protestant Reformation – 500 years ago – people like Martin Luther, and John Calvin, and others were saddled with the task of trying to differentiate their movement of religious reform from the influence and practices of the Roman Catholic Church.  The Roman Catholics were saying, “You cannot, by the standards that we have set, be Christian without being part of us.”  And the Protestant Reformers were saying, “Hey!  Wait a minute!  Only God sets the standards for who can be Christian.” 

And, as they set about describing the standards that God has set for who belongs to the church, they came up with a fairly simple formula – two essential things that go hand-in-hand to define “church.”  According to John Calvin, who was doing most of his thinking and writing in the city of Geneva, 

Wherever we see the Word of God purely preached and heard, and the sacraments administered according to Christ’s institution, there, it is not to be doubted, a church of God exists.[2]

Word and Sacrament. . .

Whether you are in a grand cathedral in Rome or a tiny country church miles from nowhere.  Whether you are worshiping God in an arena with thousands of people, and rock music, and smoke machines, and laser lights, or singing along with a pipe organ here at BPC, or are gathered under the blue dome of the sky, outdoors, with two or three people, wherever the Word of God is purely preached and heard and the sacraments are rightly administered (according to what Jesus said and did), there is the church.  

The Protestant Reformers weren’t just making this stuff up, though.  We see the first signs of what this looks like in today’s reading from the Book of Acts.  

I don’t know how familiar you might be with the story of the first Pentecost – when the Holy Spirit comes rushing into the house where Jesus’ disciples are sitting.  And the Spirit causes the disciples to begin to speak in different languages so that everyone in the city of Jerusalem – locals and foreigners alike – can understand (each in their native tongues) the good news about Jesus.  In this wild moment, with the disciples all speaking in different languages, it all seems rather chaotic. . . so much so that the Bible tells us, “All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, ‘What does this mean?’  But others sneered and [pointed at the disciples, and] said, ‘They are filled with new wine.’”  (Acts 2:12-13) How easy it is for us to try to dismiss things that we do not fully understand!  

But, in response to these accusations of being drunk in public, and in the spirit of seeking to offer some understanding, Peter stands up and addresses the crowd, offering the very first Christian sermon of this new era in the life of the Church.  Now, to be clear, the greatest sermon ever preached by a follower of Jesus was preached by Mary Magdelene on the first Easter when she ran to tell the disciples that Jesus had been raised from the dead.  But Peter’s Pentecost sermon from Acts 2, is a real barnburner – telling the story of Jesus, bringing in multiple supporting passages from the Hebrew Bible, and pointing a finger at the people of Jerusalem.  

“Let me tell you about Jesus,” Peter says.  “Remember Jesus of Nazareth?  He did remarkable things – wonders and signs – through the power of God.  Some of you (and you know who you are!) were calling for Jesus’ death – just seven weeks ago, during Passover.  You had Jesus killed, but God raised him up because it was impossible for Jesus to be held by the power of death. . . This promise is for you, and for your children, and for all who are far away. . . everyone whom God calls.”[3]  

Peter’s sermon goes on from there, and when he is finished, the text tells us that the crowd is “cut to the heart.”  (2:37)  In the original language, this phrase can be translated that the crowd is “stabbed in the heart,” but another way of translating this is that they are “nudged [uncomfortably] from sleep.”[4]  It’s actually a battlefield image, in that – sometimes, after a battle, soldiers would use a dagger to see if someone lying on the ground was alive or not.  It’s almost like the whole crowd is uncomfortably awakened from unconsciousness to consciousness – from not knowing the truth about Jesus to knowing the truth, deep in their hearts.  

Sometimes God can do this to us when God’s Word is purely preached and heard – as if we are not aware of certain aspects of who we are or who God is and then the Holy Spirit says, “Hey!  This might hurt a little bit, but wake up!  Listen!”  I don’t know about you, but I don’t always like it when God does this.  I mean – for example – I know the Bible says that loving my neighbor means loving my enemy, too, but sometimes God gives me a rude awakening about this that I don’t find comfortable.  Oftentimes, in the name of the kingdom of God, the Holy Spirit will make us uncomfortable before we discover true comfort.  

And the whole crowd who is there – having heard Peter’s sermon – is so uncomfortable that they ask, “So. . . what, then, shall we do?”  To which Peter says, 

Turn [yourselves] toward God, and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.  For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls. . .  (2:38-39)

Here is an image of God calling all of us toward God’s own self so that God would hold us close.  I imagine that there were and are those who hear God’s invitation through Peter who long for God’s embrace.  This, too, is what can happen when the Word of God is purely preached and heard.  We hear, and then come to know that a change needs to be made – a turning toward God. . . a turning that would be impossible for us to make on our own.  This is where God is needed:  to be at work, deep at the heart of who we are. . . whetting our appetite for some tangible means of God’s grace.  

It is here that the Sacraments enter the picture.  

Today’s text tells us that three thousand people are baptized as a result of Peter’s Pentecost sermon.  I can’t say that there’s ever been such an overwhelming response to one of my own sermons, but I find it so interesting and so beautiful, how – starting with this story – there are several places in the Book of Acts where baptisms take place almost immediately, with no hindrance.  

In our Book of Order, it’s not necessarily as immediate as it is in the Book of Acts.  There are certain requirements for Baptism and for the celebration of the Lord’s Supper for these sacraments to be “rightly administered.”  But I see these requirements not as keeping people from God’s grace but inviting them deeper into God’s grace through Christian community.   

The “true church” is found “wherever the Word of God purely preached and heard, and the sacraments [are] administered according to Christ’s institution.”  But there is another part to all of this, in that the Word of God and the Sacraments both help to shape our life together, as the Body of Christ.  

In today’s reading from Acts, Chapter 2, we see that hearing God’s Word and receiving the sacraments produces a new way of life for the whole church in Jerusalem:

They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. . . All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need.  Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people.  And day by day the Lord added to their number. . .  (Acts 2:42, 43-47a) 

The people heard the good news and received the sacraments – these mysterious, and yet tangible, signs of God’s grace – and they responded by entering into a new way of life together.  This is what we do when we gather as the church to hear the Word of God and receive the sacraments – celebrating the new birth of Baptism and being fed in the breaking of the bread and pouring of the cup in the Lord’s Supper.  We hear the Word, and we receive the Sacraments, and then we are sent out into the world to love with God’s love, to be the hands and feet and heart and mind of Jesus – embodying God’s love to and with all people, from the supermarket to the street, from Manchester to Maine, and out into all the world. . . feeding the hungry, offering the thirsty something to drink, guaranteeing clothing and shelter, welcoming the stranger, visiting the sick and those in prison. . . 

As Paul writes in the Letter to the Romans, 

But how are they to call on one in whom they have not believed?  And how are they to believe in one of whom they have never heard?  And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him?  And how are they to proclaim him unless they are sent?  (Romans 10:14-15)

In other words, God is at work in the world, but God works through people like you and me who are called to proclaim with our lips and our very lives.  

We don’t always get this right.  And the church hasn’t always gotten this right.  There are plenty of times when the Word of God is preached in ways that don’t offer any good news.  There are plenty of times when the grace of God is withheld instead of being offered as a gracious gift.  

Just this past Friday, I was in a bookstore with our three-year-old and I overheard another dad and his son, talking.  The son said, “Oooh!  Dad, what are these books, here?”  And his dad said, “Those are books about religion.  I learned a long time ago to stay away from those books, son.”  I was too busy chasing my three-year-old to stop and ask when and where it had all gone wrong for this man, but it broke my heart.  Somewhere in his life, this man he had been hurt by the church – hearing bad news instead of good, having grace withheld – and he was passing this on to his own son.  Whatever church he had encountered wasn’t the true church.

Wherever the Word of God is preached and the Sacraments rightly administered – all in the name of building up the Body of Christ, and sharing and spreading God’s grace.  This promise is for you, and for your children, and for all who are near and far away. . .  We have been given this Holy gift. . . and this Holy task.  God’s grace. . . and our faithful response.  God’s strength. . . and our faithful service.  God’s life. . . and our faithful life, together.  God’s Holy Spirit. . . and our humble human spirits. 

Some things just go better. . . together.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

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[1] Based on “Foundations of Presbyterian Polity” from The Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA).

[2] John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion – IV.1.9 (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1960) 1023.

[3] See Acts 2:22-24, and 39.  Paraphrased, JHS.

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

7 / 19 / 26 – Summer Sermon Series[1]

Ephesians 4:1-6

John 17:6-23

“That They May Be One”

(Foundations of Presbyterian Polity – Part 5)

Everyone could tell that she was getting angry, but what really gave it away was when she yelled “Over!  My!  Dead!  Body!”  And then she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.  I don’t remember how the argument began or what it was about, but I had never seen anything like this happen before. . . especially not at a church Session meeting.  I had been asked by the Presbytery to moderate the Session meeting of another congregation.  And, because I am a member of the Presbytery, and wanted to be helpful, I said “Yes,” and I got in my car after supper one evening, and drove over to this other church – the church where the “Over!  My!  Dead!  Body!” event took place.  

Are you familiar with this phrase, “Over my dead body”?  Basically, when there is a disagreement that cannot be resolved and it reaches a certain emotional crescendo from which it is hard to back down, someone on one side of the argument will say (or, more likely, yell) that they would rather die than to see the other side win.  Or, rather they say something that is the equivalent of, “The only way that you could possibly win this argument that we’re having would be for me to die and then there would be no one left to argue against you.  So, the only way you could possibly win would be over my dead body.” 

Now, to say such a hyperbolic, over-the-top, thing is to try to put an end to an argument then and there.  But I don’t know how well this works.  You see, the passion behind the over-my-dead-body, argument-ending declaration is usually lived out in other ways long before anyone can get to the “Over my dead body!” level of arguing.  There is a wide spectrum between, “Respectfully, I don’t agree with you” on one end and “Over my dead body” on the other end.  And somewhere in the middle, there will be people who walk out and slam the door.  And people who make threats and sometimes act on those threats.  And people who stop talking to each other and drift away from each other.  Relationships are broken and reconciliation is not achieved. 

We see this in our national life.  We see this in the lives of our families.  We even see this, alas, in the church.  

How do we reconcile the “over my dead body” words and actions of passionate division with Jesus’ prayer that we “may be one” in today’s reading from the Gospel of John?  

You might have never thought about this, but many of the writings of the New Testament are arguments, in and of themselves.  Almost all of the letters of Paul were written because there was some kind of conflict in a community – with one side pitted against another.  Paul hears of these conflicts and, the form of a letter, he weighs in and seeks to resolve that conflict.  The Book of Revelation is a tremendously complicated argument against the oppressive regime of the Roman empire.  And even the Gospels themselves – Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John – are arguments, of sorts, between and against one another as to whose account of the life of Jesus is the most definitive.  According to some scholars, in the first hundred years or so of the church, there were as many as two dozen so-called “Gospels” floating around – including the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel of Peter, the Gospel of Mary Magdelene, the Gospel of Judas, the Gospel of the Ebionites, and the Gospel of Basilides (which, as you know, is everyone’s favorite).  Each was written by a different person (or people) and addressed different contexts and communities, and made different arguments about who Jesus was (and is).  

The most blatant – and kind of fun – example of this comes at the very beginning of Luke’s Gospel, which basically goes like this:  “Many have undertaken to set down an orderly account of [Jesus]. . . [but not all these accounts are as orderly as mine will be].  I have done this so that you may know the truth. . . [and not whatever all those other people have written].[2]

Even in the early church, there were divisions over what the truth was.  Sound familiar?  And, because of this, there were plenty of “my-way-or-the-highway” and “over-my-dead-body” arguments. . . plenty of slammed doors and schisms.  Finally, after 300 years, as the church settled on the four Gospels that we have, and St. Augustine made the argument that each of these four different accounts of Jesus serve, not as arguments against each other, but as fragments of a puzzle that point toward the whole picture of who Jesus was and is.  Sometimes, a little bit of time – or a few hundred years – can help reframe conflict into something constructive.  Are there still contradictions, and omissions, and logically challenging disagreements between the Gospels to this day?  Yes.  But they were written with the underlying and overarching hope that the good news of Jesus would be fully expressed and shared. . . 

Perhaps this is why we find Jesus praying the prayer that he prays in today’s reading from the Gospel of John – a beautiful version of the Jesus story that was, most likely, completed between the years 90 and 100 of the Common Era,[3] at the height of when all of this inter-Gospel arguing was taking place.    

In this particular part of John’s Gospel, Jesus is at the table with his friends, the disciples.  He has already knelt down to wash their feet, he has said that one of them will betray him Judas Iscariot has stormed out into the night (maybe slamming the door as he goes), he has said that one of them will deny him and Peter is shocked to find out that he will be the one to deny Jesus.  Then Jesus gives the disciples a new commandment:  that they love one another as he has loved them.[4]  

And finally, before they get up from the table at this last supper before Jesus’ arrest, Jesus says a prayer.

Over the course of John, Chapter 17, Jesus prays for himself – that he would be able to glorify God.[5]  Jesus then prays for his followers who are sitting there with him – that they would be kept safe from evil, that they would know the truth, and “that they may be one.” (17:11)  And then Jesus prays for “those who will believe in me through [the word of my disciples].  That they may [also] be one.” (John 17:21)   

Here, we have Jesus praying for the unity of the people who are gathered in that upper room with him in the present and we have Jesus praying for the unity of all who will hear about Jesus in the future.  Whether the disciples around that table know it or not, Jesus is praying for the church throughout the centuries.  Jesus is praying for us – for our unity. . . our oneness with God and one another.

The New Testament scholar, Rudolf Bultmann, wrote that this prayer of Jesus – for our unity – serves almost as a “last will and testament,”[6] as in, “these are my final wishes – this is my final hope for you and those who will come after you. . .”  Of course, Jesus had plenty of other things to say and do before and after his resurrection.  But let’s just imagine that this was, indeed, Jesus’ final wish and hope and prayer for us. . . that we may be one. . . 

So, church. . . how do you think we are we doing?  Are we a living answer to Jesus’ prayer – a Holy “Yes” of Unity in a world that is so sharply divided?    

Back in 2019, a professor at Gordon Conwell Theological Seminary (not too far from here) estimated that there are around 45,000 different Christian denominations.[7]  In the past 25 years of being part of the PC(USA), I have witnessed the fracture of my own denomination on issues of Biblical interpretation, LGBTQIA issues, and ordination standards – among other things.  In other words, plenty of people have walked out in anger or sadness – some slamming the door, loudly, and many just quietly slipping away.  And, alas, I fear we haven’t seen the end of it.  The divisive issue that seems at the forefront of our denomination right now is on the question of the most faithfully Christian response to immoral or unbiblical policy decisions that are made by elected leaders in Christ’s name but don’t look or sound like anything Jesus would say or do. 

And yet, still, Jesus prays that we may be one. . . not that we would agree with one another on all things – even though Paul does encourage the Ephesians to make “every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.” (Ephesians 4:3)

This is not something that occurs naturally, as if we could possibly say, “1. 2. 3. Everybody agree with everybody.”  No, when Jesus prays to God, the Father, that we may be one, he knows our human tendency to divide and his knowing response is that our unity is contingent on God’s action, and not our own.  True unity cannot happen without God and the movement of God’s Spirit.  

Yes, I know that the church is divided.  It always has been.  The good news, here, though, is that even though there are plenty of people over the centuries who have said, “over my dead body, in the end, it is the Body of Christ that has died and is risen.  It is the Body of Christ that is – through the Holy Spirit – living and breathing and dying and rising and seeking to live out its unity – our unity – in ways that are faltering, but faithful.  

In The Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA), we read that. . . 

Unity is God’s gift to the church in Jesus Christ [and]. . . Because in Christ the Church is one, it strives to be one.  To be one with Christ is to be joined with all those whom Christ calls into relationship with him. . . Division into different denominations obscures but does not destroy unity in Christ. . . [and we are] committed to the reduction of that obscurity and. . . willing to seek and to deepen communion with all other churches within the one holy catholic and apostolic church.[8]

Just as a reminder, whenever we use the word “catholic” with a “small-c,” we are referring to the unity of every one of those 45,000 different denominations who all claim Jesus Christ as Lord.  And when we use the word “apostolic,” we are referring to the fact that each one of us is part of a line of faithful people, going back two thousand years to the original group of disciples and apostles gathered around the table with Jesus in today’s reading.

So, what does all of this look like?  Is unity even possible?  

Recently, a member of our congregation faithfully reached out to other churches in town, asking if they want to join together on a community project down the hill at the Stevens Buswell Center.  This is the same thing we did when the Bedford Community Food Pantry was started.  Let it not be said that we have not reached out.  But we’re not the only ones. . .  A few months ago, the pastor of a local Evangelical Church in Manchester reached out to our Church Mission Committee and sat down with one of our female Elders, saying, “Our church needs to – in a spirit of faithfulness and friendship – do more for God’s kingdom with churches that aren’t as theologically conservative as we are.”  His church might not ordain women into positions of leadership like ours does, but maybe – just maybe – some of the things that used to divide us (and still divide us) might not be the most important things when it comes to following Jesus.

Friends, God isn’t through with us yet and this is good news!  Jesus’ prayer for our unity leads us in our work toward unity to “the very heart of Jesus’ ministry and message.”[9]  In the face of all the world’s divisions, let it not be said that the whole church is not leading with Jesus’ heart for the reconciliation and unity of all things – that we may all be one. . .  

We have work to do, but God is not through with us yet.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

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[1] Based on “Foundations of Presbyterian Polity” from the Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA).

[2] See Luke 1:1-4.  Paraphrased, JHS.

[3] Watson E. Mills, ed. The Mercer Dictionary of the Bible (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1990) 461.  “The Gospel of John,” R. Alan Culpepper.

[4] See John 13:31-35.

[5] See John 17:1-5.

[6] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2012) 964.  Quoting Rudolf Bultman, John, 522 n. 5.

[7] Todd M. Johnson, 2019.  https://www.gordonconwell.edu/blog/christianity-is-fragmented-why/.

[8] The Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA) – F-1.0302 – “The Marks of the Church.”

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

7 / 12 / 26 – Summer Sermon Series[1]

1 Corinthians 12:12-13,26-27 and 13:12-13

Romans 12:3-18

Acts 10:34-48

“Faith, Hope, Love, and Witness”

(Foundations of Presbyterian Polity – Part 4)

“Don’t let go, Momma!”  It was her son’s first time on a bike with pedals.  He had learned how to balance on a smaller bike with no pedals but this bike was bigger and it was scary.  “I’ve got you and I won’t let you fall,” his Momma told him.  She did have him.  She held the handlebars while he tried out the pedals.  And he didn’t fall.  At several points, the bike wobbled a bit, and he yelled “Don’t let go, Momma!”  “I’ve got you and I won’t let you fall,” she said.

You know, it’s one thing to hear the words, “I’ve got you and I won’t let you fall.”  And it’s another thing to live with the trust – the assurance. . . the faith – that this could possibly be true.  

Faith can be such a beautiful thing.  It’s also a challenge!  Bicycles can be wobbly and sometimes, even if we know what we’re doing.  Life can be wobbly, too!  And, no one gets through life without a few falls along the way.  And it is because of the wobbly and hazardous nature of life that human beings will look for someone or something in order to help them get through it all.  

People put their faith in all kinds of things.  They might put their faith in their own abilities or possessions.  Or they might look beyond themselves to someone else – maybe the abilities of a charismatic personality or leader, or maybe a symbol of some kind and what that symbol stands for.  

People put their faith in all kinds of stuff.  But in the church, we are told that we are to put our faith in God, alone.  Why God, alone?  Well, our own abilities will fail us, our possessions will wear out and run out, and the abilities of another human being or strength of human-made things and institutions won’t last forever.  It is not this way with God, though, whose strength and ability and power to save never runs out.  

Now, the Bible tells us that “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, [and] the conviction of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1)  Right after this verse, the author of The Letter to the Hebrews gives example after example of people like Abraham, and Moses, and so many other heroes from the Old Testament.  “By faith. . .” we are told, “all of these people did amazing things, and so may you and I, but not under our own power.”

Because the Bible also tells us that faith is a gift of the Holy Spirit.[2]  We would not and could not have faith unless God grants us faith.  But, as Jesus tells us, God can do great things, even with just a tiny bit of faith.[3]

Faith – even just a tiny bit of faith – is a gift, isn’t it?  It is a gift to be able to trust that we are not alone. . . faith that if God isn’t literally holding the bicycle 100% of the time, that God is right here with us and will still be here to lift us up when we fall down.  

The Church is a place where we experience this in real-time with real people – the place where we are gathered together with others who are also falling down and getting lifted up, again and again, just like we are.  We are not alone because we trust that God is with us and we are not alone because we are surrounded by a whole host – a community – of people who are on the same journey of faith that we are.  

The collective nature of faith is something that can get lost in the mix when it comes to discussing “faith.”  Someone might talk about their “personal” or “individual” faith in Jesus, but the very existence of the Church is evidence that our faith is also communal – not limited to an individual’s personal trust and resolve to have faith in God.  We cannot do this on our own which is one major reason why we gather together. 

The exercise of faith in God – a gift that comes from God, a gift that is nurtured by the body of Christ through the presence of the Holy Spirit is often made more possible, sometimes more palatable, definitely more present when lived out in community.  In the community of faith, we are reminded again and again that God will never let us go. 

According to the Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church – based on passages from 1 Corinthians 12 and Romans 12 (among others) – 

Christ gives to the Church all the gifts necessary to be [the body of Christ, and] the Church strives to demonstrate these gifts in its life as a community in the world.[4]  

These foundational gifts – as we will read together, in a moment – are the gifts of faith, hope, love, and witness.  

Faith is the undergirding foundation of what we are about – faith that we have been made by a loving God, and saved by a loving God, and are sustained by a loving God; faith that Jesus Christ has shown us the way of life to which Jesus calls us; faith that, even though we cannot live this life in a perfect manner without sinning and falling short, the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness and lovingly lifts us up when we fall.  And because of its communal nature, we trust that faith in God is collectively big enough, and broad enough, and all-encompassing enough to withstand our doubts, and lovingly calm our anger and frustrations, and to help us wrestle with those deep questions for which we might answers that satisfy us this side of glory. 

It is this faith:  faith that is deep and broad, and as high as the heavens that gives us hope in the future – the future that God promises and the future that God is bringing into the present moment through God’s kingdom.  And if, as the Bible tells us “faith is the assurance of things hoped for,” then faith and hope are very closely linked.  

This word “hope” can be a bit loaded with meaning.  So, let’s just say up front that Christian hope is not optimism – as if we could, through our own power of positive thinking, will good things into existence.  There is great power in having a positive attitude, and optimism is part of that, but Christian hope runs deeper than all of this.  Christian hope is not wishful thinking, either.  Instead, it is transformational and – just as importantly, communal. . . a whole lot of people hoping together and living out our hope in ways that transfigure us. . . in ways that change us and the way we live.  

Last week, I talked about having recently spent time at a conference where one of my former professors, Brian Blount, was the preacher and led a seminar.  Dr. Blount, who is a New Testament scholar, told a story of the early church and how their Christian hope was transfigured into love.  

In the years 165 and 249 of the Common Era, the Roman empire was hit with two different plagues.  Estimates are that, at times, at the height of these plagues, 5,000 people a day were dying and, by the end of the plagues, one-third to one-half of the population had died.

But throughout these plagues, there was this small group of people known as Christians, who, even in the midst of suffering and death, nursed their friends, and loved ones, and neighbors (even if it meant the loss of their own lives).  One of the Roman emperors at the time hated these Christians because it seemed that they would care for people who were not even Christian.  Rome had no social services at the time and these Christians were making Rome look bad. 

The Christians of the early church had so much hope in God’s transformation of the world that they were willing to lose their lives to express the love of Christ.  This new honor code of love that went above and beyond what most people saw as normal behavior caused rapid growth in the church.  It might just do so, again, if we are open to life-changing, transformational, sacrificial, hope-filled love for God and our neighbors.  If we live out our faith, and hope, and love in ways that matter and if our lives speak the truth – in our words and actions – about who God is, this would be our living witness of God’s grace to and for the world.  

Both of today’s scripture readings describe a way of life and witness that is lived in light of the faith, and hope, and love that come from God.

In today’s reading from the Book of Acts, we find Peter, one of the first disciples of Jesus, now an apostle sent out into the world.  For Peter’s whole life, he had thought and been led to believe that the blessings of God were only meant for people of Jewish descent.  Anyone else was seen as “unclean.”  And yet, during his years with Jesus, he watched Jesus offer God’s grace to all people. 

In today’s reading, Peter has gone to the house of Cornelius, a military commander in the Roman army.  Peter has been led to this place by a dream – a vision – in which God has shown Peter that all people – not just a narrow group of people – have been “made clean” by God.  It is risky for Peter to be at Cornelius’ house – unlawful in the eyes of Peter’s own people – but Peter is bearing witness to God’s grace with his very life.  Somehow, despite any reservations or prejudices that he might be holding, Peter goes with the underlying faith that God will not let him fall, and hope that God will do something great, and love for God and all God’s people no matter who or how different they might seem on the surface. In Cornelius’ home, Peter is shown in a real and powerful way that faith and hope and love don’t just belong to the Hebrew ancestors or to Peter and his fellow disciples.  “We are witnesses to all that Jesus did,” Peter says (Acts 10:39) “and now we are witnesses to all that Jesus is doing in your life, Cornelius, and in mine.  So I will show and share the grace of God with you because this is what God is already doing by the power of the Spirit.”  

In today’s reading from the Letter to the Romans, we find not a story, but a list of behaviors and attributes that describe what a life of witness looks like.  Now, those of you who have been part of our congregation for even a little while, might have heard some familiar phrases in this passage of scripture:  “Hold fast to what is good. . .” (Romans 12:9)  “. . . outdo one another in showing honor. . .” (12:10)  “Do not repay anyone evil for evil. . .” (12:17)  “Live peaceably with all. . .” (12:18)

These words of Benediction have been said over and over so many times at the end of our worship service that, when I say them, I can see some of you mouthing the words along with me.  These are words that we are challenged and charged to carry out of this place and live in the world.  And they are repeated, almost every week, because it is my hope that these words (and the loving actions they describe) might just sink down into the hearts of those who hear these words (as well as the one who is saying them).  

This is how we live our witness.  This is how we are witnesses:  in how we treat one another, and how we share God’s love, and how we seek God’s kingdom in faith, hope, and love, here on earth as it is in heaven.

As Dr. Blount told us, “Hope waters the ground from which love springs and grows.”[5]  If I may expand on this metaphor, I wonder if faith is the ground that hope waters, the faith-filled ground from which love springs and grows.  And the fruit of all of this is our witness to God’s kingdom breaking forth in the world.  

May we bear fruit and may this fruit be our witness to the One who will never let us go.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.   

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[1] Based on “Foundations of Presbyterian Polity” from the Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA).

[2] See 1 Corinthians 12:9.

[3] See Jesus’ teaching on “faith the size of a mustard seed” from Matthew 17:20.

[4] The Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA), F-1.0301.

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

7 / 5 / 26 – Summer Sermon Series[1]

Colossians 1:15-20, 24-29

Mark 1:14-15 and 3:1-6[2]

“The Self-Evident Kingdom”

(Foundations of Presbyterian Polity – Part 3)

If you want to take a nice little drive after church today, you can travel about an hour Southto a town called Ipswich, Massachusetts.  In Ipswich, you will find a beach, and some nice shops, and the largest collection of 17th Century “First Period” colonial homes in America.  In other words, a lot of the homes in Ipswich were built, not in the 1800’s like our own historic sanctuary, and not in the 1700’s like a few of the homes in our neighborhood, but in the 1600’s – not too many years after the Pilgrims landed and not too many years after settlers began to arrive in other parts of New England (like Ipswich).  

One of the “newer” homes in Ipswich – constructed in 1702 –  is called The John Wise House.  And, as you might have guessed by its name, it was of a man named John Wise. . . actually, The Reverend John Wise, who pastored a nearby church.  Now, you might not be familiar with The Reverend Wise, but – chances are – you may have, in a roundabout way, heard of at least one thing that he wrote way back in 1717:  

The end [or purpose] of all good government is to cultivate humanity and promote the happiness of all, and the good of every man in all his rights, his life, liberty, estate, honor, etc., without injury or abuse done to any.[3]

Did you hear those words?  “promote the happiness of all. . . [and] life, liberty. . .”?  Here is a pastor – a Christian minister of the Gospel, penning the very early ideas that would eventually become what a recent book calls The Greatest Sentence Ever Written.[4]  This so-called “greatest sentence ever written” was adapted and penned by Thomas Jefferson and can be found in the Declaration of Independence, which was adopted (approved) 250 years ago, yesterday:  

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men [all people] are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

Now, why on earth would the pastor of a church write that the chief purpose of good government is to promote happiness, the good of every person, and life, and liberty, among other things – especially when pastors like me are often told to shy away from anything that has even the faintest whiff of politics?  And how on earth would these ideas from John Wise – written nearly 60 years before the Declaration of Independence – make their way into the founding document of our nation? 

The second question, here, is a little easier to answer than the first.  It would seem that John Wise’s treatise on government from 1717 was reprinted in 1772.  It was part of hundreds of publications by clergy – which, combined with the writings of Enlightenment philosophers and other thinkers from the likes of John Locke, and Thomas Paine – became the intellectual waters in which the founders of our nation were swimming when our nation was founded.  

These truths about unalienable rights, and life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness were self-evident, in part, because everyone at the time was writing, and thinking, and talking about them.   They were on everyone’s mind. . . on everyone’s lips.  Not unlike how, right now, everyone is talking about Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce’s wedding (among other things). 

But, back to the first question – that of clergy “meddling” in politics.  One wonders why pastors like John Wise, and, later, the Presbyterian pastor named John Witherspoon (who signed the Declaration of Independence), along with plenty of other pastors who were not named “John,” would comment not just on scripture, but on the affairs of the day.  In a short book called The Political Thought of Colonial Clergy, pastor and historian Stewart Robinson[5] writes, 

The parallelism between the words of the Declaration of Independence and the words of contemporary clergymen [of the day] is striking. . . While mainly interested in religious teaching and pastoral care, the clergy in the Colonies were bold to utter a ringing word on public questions. . .[6]

Now, I don’t want to put words in in these pastors’ mouths, but since they were followers of Jesus and sought to proclaim the essential truth of the kingdom of God, perhaps they were “bold” to utter a ringing word on public questions because. . . Well. . . the kingdom of God is a public thing, something that looks and sounds a lot like what John Wise was writing about:  cultivating humanity, promoting the happiness of all, and the good of every person; their rights, and life, and liberty, and honor, without injury or abuse done to any.  All the way back in 1717, Wise wrote that the British government of the day was not doing any of these things well.  As Wise put it, the British were subverting “the design of the Gospel and the end for which Christ’s government was ordained [which is to say] the moral, spiritual, and eternal happiness of [people].” [7]

Now, there might be those who would beg to differ with the idea that the purpose of civil government is to promote the “moral, spiritual, and eternal happiness of people” but Wise is contrasting civil government with something that he calls “Christ’s government” – something that we could very well call “the kingdom of God.”  

Believe it or not, even though he never used the actual word “government” as we tend to think of it, Jesus did talk a lot about the government of his day – both the Roman empire and the colonial Jewish government (under Roman rule) as well as the Jewish religious structure that was beholden to political power of both-of-the-above when it suited.  But Jesus always talked about the civil and/or religious government of the day, contrasting it to his own form of government that he referred to as “the kingdom of God.” 

In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus begins his ministry with the announcement that “the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near.” (Mark 1:15)  These are the earliest recorded words of Jesus of Nazareth – his opening thesis, if you will. . . the message that he will return to again-and-again, the message that he will embody and fully live out in the presence of all the people.  In the original language, this kingdom, or empire, or “royal rule”[8] of God is “at hand” – it is imminently immanent.  It is here.

Recently, while at a conference, I listened to one of my old seminary professors, Brian Blount, talk about the concept of the “kingdom of God” as being both a future promise and a present reality in the Gospels.  According to Dr. Blount, the coming together of both future promise and present reality of God’s kingdom can be seen in and through the miracles or signs that Jesus does.  But, as Dr. Blount said, the miracles of Jesus “are not proofs of the kingdom of God [because Jesus doesn’t need to prove anything.  Instead, the miracles and signs of Jesus] . . . are demonstrative means by which the kingdom has already come.”[9]  

What does this mean?  Well, as Dr. Blount told us, 

. . . every time [Jesus] does something miraculous in the present, it opens up a pocket of [God’s] future [kingdom]. . . in the present. . .  God’s future has broken open in the present of Jesus’ ministry.  [And] if you want to know what God’s future intent is like [. . . what God’s kingdom is like], it is when Jesus touches a leper, calls Gentiles into the communion of God’s people, sits with tax collectors and sinners. . . [and, I might add. . .  heals people on the Sabbath day. . .].

Time and time again, even just a glimpse of God’s future kingdom in the present causes conflict in the Gospel of Mark.  We see this conflict in today’s story from Mark 3 – one of the many stories in which Jesus heals someone on the Sabbath day, causing quite a controversy because – according to the law of Moses – no work (apparently, not even healing another person) should be done on the Sabbath.  

And yet, here is Jesus – in the synagogue on the Sabbath day – when a man with a “withered hand” comes in.  The Pharisees are watching because, Jesus has already stirred up some controversy around Sabbath practices.[10]  And Jesus, in today’s story, sees the Pharisees watching what he will do with this man who does not have the full use of one of his hands.  It’s like Jesus can read the minds of these people who are watching and waiting for him to make the unforgivable mistake of “working” on the Sabbath.  So Jesus asks them, “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to kill?”  (3:4)  When Eugene Peterson translates this verse, Jesus says, “What kind of action suits the Sabbath best?  Doing good or doing evil?  Helping people or leaving them helpless?”[11]  

When a similar story is told in the Gospel of Luke, Jesus asks the Pharisees, “If one of you has a child or an ox that has fallen into a well, will you not immediately pull it out?  [Even] on a sabbath day?” (Luke 14:5)  In other words, “Is it not it self-evident that the deep needs of people matter more than the letter of the law?”  “Is it not self-evident that the religious system is not working in favor of the moral, spiritual, and eternal happiness of this person right here, in front of us?”  The text tells us that Jesus is angry with the Pharisees – “grieved at their hardness of heart.” (Mark 3:5)

And then Jesus chooses to make it self-evident that in this present moment, the kingdom of God has come near.  “Stretch out your hand,” he tells the man. (3:5)  When the man reaches out, everyone can see that his hand is restored. 

You would think that this would cause great awe, and wonder, and rejoicing among everyone who sees this amazing sign of the kingdom of God.  But the Pharisees immediately leave and go to conspire with some government officials on how to destroy Jesus.  

Civil governments may conspire behind closed doors and empires may choose to not care for the least of these but the reality of the kingdom of God – on earth as it is in heaven – is very much part of this world.  The question for each of us – both in the privacy of our own hearts and in the public square – is are we standing in the way of the kingdom?  Oh, God’s kingdom will not be stopped.  Jesus Christ – in his life, and teaching, and death, and resurrection – is living proof of the unstoppable kingdom of God.

And yet, instead of seeking a world that resembles the kingdom of God, human beings choose – again and again – to not restore those who are the most vulnerable to physical and social wholeness.  Jesus sets up a free clinic on the sabbath day – a practice that will one day lead to his own death.  But what do our human institutions choose to do?  

This is the public question that John Wise and other pastors were trying to get at – not that they could live in some kind of theocracy, or even a so-called “Christian nation,” but that the nation they were seeking to build might be congruent with the kingdom of God and not at cross purposes with it.  

In the foundational documents of the Presbyterian Church, it is Jesus Christ – Christ alone – that gives the Church its faith and life, its unity and mission, its order and discipline.  Jesus is our hope and our sure foundation.[12]  So, if this is the case, as Dr. Blount asked in a sermon last week, “Are we playing for ‘Team Jesus’ or for somebody else?”  

Because, friends, it is clear that Jesus is playing for us.  We find proof of this in the “kingdom of God meal” that has been set for us at the Lord’s Table.  This is the meal to which all are invited – future, present, and past – to sit at the Table in the kingdom of God – the meal of grace “that transfigures you and me. . .”[13] and prepares us to live what we pray that God’s will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.  This is the meal that is – in part – God’s kingdom breaking through into the present. . . making the kingdom self-evident.  Jesus gives himself to us – God’s kingdom at work in our hearts, and souls, and minds, and bodies, so that we, too, might live in such a way that God will make the kingdom all-the-more-self-evident through us.  

Friends, this is incredibly good news – that we might be witnesses to the kingdom of God – God’s future reality in the present moment.  May we do so with courage and grace.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

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[1] Based on The Foundations of Presbyterian Polity (F-1) from the Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA).

[2] The sermon also points to Luke 14:1-6.

[3] John Wise, A vindication of the government of New-England churches. Drawn from antiquity; the light of nature; Holy Scripture; its noble nature; and from the dignity Divine Providence has put upon it (Boston: J. Allen for N. Boone, 1717) 61. https://quod.lib.umich.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?cc=evans;c=evans;idno=n01635.0001.001;node=N01635.0001.001:2.2.2;seq=36;utm_source=chatgpt.com;view=text;rgn=div3.

[4] Walter Isaacson, The Greatest Sentence Ever Written (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2025).

[5] https://princetonseminaryarchives.libraryhost.com/repositories/2/resources/846.

[6] Stewart M. Robinson, The Political Thought of Colonial Clergy (Privately Printed, 1956) 3.  From The Library of Princeton Theological Seminary:  https://archive.org/details/politicalthought00robi/page/2/mode/2up.

[7] John Wise, 55.

[8] Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979) 134.

[9] Brian Blount, Preaching Lecture at Montreat Worship and Music Conference – Montreat, NC, June 25, 2026.

[10] See Mark 2:23-28.

[11] Eugene Peterson, The Message: Numbered Edition (Colorado Springs: NAV Press, 2002) 1379.

[12] The Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA), F-1.0203-5.

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

6 / 14 / 26 – Summer Sermon Series[1]

John 19:1-16

Ephesians 1:15-23

“Head of Household”

(Foundations of Presbyterian Polity – Week 2)

There are plenty of times in my life when someone will ask me about putting an event on my calendar.  And sometimes, I can say – without hesitation – “Absolutely!  Let’s put that on the calendar.”  But, more times than not, I need to say, “Let me check with ‘The Home Office’ and get back to you.”  Just so you know, when I say, “The Home Office,” I am referring to my wife.  When it comes to decisions around the calendar and our household and our life together as a family, I basically need to check with the person who actually knows stuff instead of relying on my little old brain.  

There are plenty of times in our marriage when I will defer to my wife and vice versa.  We are partners – and this respectful, deferential give and take is one of the things that makes our partnership what it is.  Not every relationship works like ours, but I’m thankful for the way ours works.  At the same time, though, there are moments in our life together when one of us clearly needs to be in charge of stuff.  

There is this kind of old-fashioned term that is still used in our society – something that will get used, from time to time, on official forms and other official things.  We actually use this term in our own church’s online membership directory for record-keeping purposes.  Someone – usually the person who set up the online profile for their family – is designated as the “Head of Household.”  

It’s not necessarily the best term – historically – in which “the man of the house” was usually called the Head of Household, for better or worse, especially since not every household includes a male figure.  

In the Christian Household, though – the so-called Body of Christ – we are reminded, again and again, that our “Head of Household” is Jesus Christ.  In our own particular room in the Christian Household – the Presbyterian room in the “Reformed Wing” of the household – we are reminded, again and again, in scripture and our own foundational documents, that Jesus Christ is our Head of Household.  

This summer, as we explore the “Foundations of Presbyterian Polity,” with the Bible in one hand and our Presbyterian Book of Order in the other hand, we are looking at the “what” and the “why” of being the church, together – seeking to wrap some theological language about what the church is and why we do what we do.

Last week, we started our summer series by saying that God’s mission of liberation, healing, wholeness, transformation, and good news is the church’s mission.  God is on a mission in this world in and through us.  But, lest we think that we are in charge of this mission that has been given to us and is ours to do with what we will, in today’s scripture readings, we are reminded that Jesus Christ is the one who is truly in charge.  In our Book of Order, we read:    

Almighty God, who raised Jesus Christ from the dead and set him above all rule and authority, has given to him all power in heaven and on earth, not only in this age but also in the age to come.  God has put all things under the Lordship of Jesus Christ and has made Christ Head of the Church, which is his body.  The Church’s life and mission are a joyful participation in Christ’s ongoing life and work.[2]

To put it another way, this is Christ’s world and mission and we – the church – are simply participating in it. . . not as passive observers of Jesus’ mission, mind-you, but joyful participants in it.

In today’s reading from the Letter to the Ephesians, the Apostle Paul gives thanks that the church in Ephesus is filled with people who are joyfully participating in God’s mission of love in the world.  They are not passive observers, but passionate sharers of God’s love.  This is a passion that does not come from themselves, though.  It is not a mission that they enter into on their own.  It only happens in and through the work of, as Paul puts it, “a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know [God] so that, with the eyes of your hearts enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which [God] has called you.” (Ephesians 1:18)

There is no participation in God’s mission without the presence and movement of the Holy Spirit in our minds and hearts.  In other words, God is in charge.

The image that Paul paints of this evokes a kind of heavenly throne room in which Jesus is seated at the right hand of God. . . 

. . . in the heavenly places, far above all [earthly] rule and authority and power and dominion, and above very name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come.  [God has] put all things under [Jesus’] feet and has made [Jesus] the head over all things for the church, the fullness of him, who fills all in all. (1:20-23)

Now, this is not the first image in the Bible of a kind of heavenly throne room, in which God is seated in the place of ultimate power over all things and all people.  We find images like these in the Book of Isaiah, when the foot of God’s throne descends into the Temple in Jerusalem and the “hem of God’s robe” fills the Temple.[3]  We see it at the beginning of the Book of Job, in which God looks down on the earth and sees God’s faithful servant, Job.[4]  We see it, especially, in the Book of Revelation, which has over thirty references to the throne of God – the throne that is eventually firmly established here on earth.  

Is there an actual heavenly throne room out there somewhere – a heavenly Home Office where the real decisions get made?  It’s not really up to me to say.  It is an image that sparks the human imagination.  Any human-made throne room or seat of human power – no matter how ornate, though – would pale in comparison.  But just about any human being might just have an image and understanding of a throne room as a place of power and authority here on earth.

The tricky things about Jesus, though, is that he isn’t the kind of earthly ruler that has a human equivalent.  In today’s reading from the Gospel of John, for example, Jesus gives us an image of royalty that is distinctly different from any that the world has ever seen or known. . .  

Earlier in the Gospel of John, when Jesus feeds a great crowd of people, they are so amazed that they try to grab Jesus and make him king, but Jesus slips away and goes off, alone, to a mountain to pray.[5]  In the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, there is plenty of talk about Jesus as some kind of earthly king who has come to free his people from Roman oppression. . . maybe even free them by force.  But the freedom that Jesus brings and the power that he wields is a power that is “made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9)  What a strange – almost backward – idea. . .  

Standing before the Roman governor, Pilate, in today’s reading, by human standards, Jesus is the very picture of human weakness.  He is a prisoner, beaten and bloodied.  He is mocked by the people – some of whom had, likely, just days before, heralded his coming as “the One who comes in the name of the Lord.” (John 12:13)

In today’s reading, though, Pilate, the Roman governor – a direct all-powerful representative of the Emperor in Rome – has a curious interaction with Jesus. . . one in which Jesus tells Pilate that earthly power, fleeting and imperfect that it is, doesn’t really come from or belong to the people who wield it.  “I have the power to release you, and the power to crucify you,” (19:10) Pilate tells Jesus.  “You would have no power over me,” Jesus tells Pilate, “unless it had been given [to] you from above.” (19:11)  Some interpret this to mean that the Emperor Tiberius in Rome has given Pilate power.  Others interpret it to mean that God – from above – has set this strange trial in motion.  Either way, Pilate seems to be just an unwitting cog in the machine of injustice that churns out the guilty verdict that the people demand.  

Just before today’s reading, Jesus tells Pilate, “My kingdom is not from this world.  If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over. . .” (18:36)

The human way of doing things is seizing power – in the best of times, through the peaceful, but often rancorous, exercise of politics and in the worst of times, through violence.  And it doesn’t always work out in the best interests of everyone.  We see this all the time in and among the kingdoms which are from this world – “Red State,” “Blue State,” or otherwise. . . whoever is in power is running things and the other side often deems it, unfair.  

In the case of today’s story, the Chief Priests – the heads of the Jewish religion want a certain outcome, so they use the powerful earthly rule of Rome – choosing it over the heavenly reign of God, embodied in the kingdom of Jesus Christ.  

It is interesting and tragic:  Jesus’ trial is taking place at the time of the Passover, during which the people of Jerusalem would sing a hymn that went like this:  “From everlasting to everlasting thou art God; beside thee we have no king, redeemer, or savior; We have no king but thee.”[6]  And so, with the melody of that powerful hymn of praise to God still on their lips from the festival, the Chief Priests declare to Pilate, “We have no king but the emperor.” (19:15)

Human beings still prefer earthly rule to Jesus’ rule.  Back in the 1930’s, a small group of German Reformed pastors gathered to write a statement that stood up to the so-called “German Christians” who “. . . took the union of Christianity, nationalism, and militarism for granted, [equating] . . . patriotic sentiments. . . with Christian truth.”[7]  Basically, the so-called “German Christians” said that the State was on equal footing with God.  In response to this, the fiery and Christo-centric “Theological Declaration of Barmen” reads, 

We reject the false doctrine, as though there were areas of our life in which we would not belong to Jesus Christ, but to other lords. . . Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body is joined and knit together.[8]

In other words, Jesus is in charge.  There might be other so-called Christians for whom some earthly leader is head of their own household, but Jesus is the head of this household, and so we will seek to live with Jesus as our head.

Way back in the Book of Joshua, as they establish a home in the Promised Land, God’s people are given an ultimate choice:  

Now therefore revere the Lord and serve him in sincerity and in faithfulness; put away the [“small-g”] gods that your ancestors served beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the Lord.  Now if you are unwilling to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve. . . but as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.  (Joshua 24:14-15)

This “choose this day whom you will serve” challenge is a bold one, indeed – one that we would be wise to set foremost in our minds every day and every moment of our lives.  And so, when confronted with the challenge of whom we will serve – maybe today, maybe tomorrow, but definitely sooner than we might think – we would be wise to stop. . . and check with our true Home Office, with the Head of our Household, with the One who has called us into being and calls us to join, together, in the mission of liberation, and healing, and wholeness, and transformation, and good news.  

Friends, the challenging and grace-filled good news is that “Christ calls the Church into being. . .  and Christ is present with the Church in both Spirit and Word.  Christ alone rules, calls, teaches, and uses the Church as he wills.”[9]

Jesus is our Head of Household.  Thanks be to God. . . 

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

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[1] Based on The Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA), F-1 Section.

[2] The Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA) – F-1.0201.

[3] See Isaiah 6:1.

[4] See Job 1.

[5] See John 6:1-15.

[6] Bruner, 1093.  

[7] The Book of Confessions of the Presbyterian Church (USA), 280.  Introduction to The Theological Declaration of Barmen.  Edited for clarity.

[8] “The Theological Declaration of Barmen” – 8.15-16.

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

6 / 7 / 26 – Summer Sermon Series[1]

Luke 4:14-21

Isaiah 61:1-4

“God’s Mission is Our Mission”

(Foundations of Presbyterian Polity – Week 1)

I don’t know if you noticed, but back on Easter Sunday, something new entered the liturgy for our worship service.  After the Gathering Music and before the Welcome and Announcements, someone – usually I – would stand and lead a call and response:  “Jesus Christ is risen!. . . He is risen, indeed!  Hallelujah!”  

And, again, I don’t know if you noticed, but a few weeks ago, on Pentecost Sunday, the call and response changed.  Over the past three Sundays, we have read a portion of Psalm 27:  

One thing I have asked of the Lord, this is what I seek:   That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life; to behold the beauty of the Lord and to seek the Lord in God’s house.   Who is it that you seek? We seek the Lord our God. Do you seek the Lord with all your heart, and soul, and mind, and strength? Yes.  Lord, have mercy.  Christ, have mercy.  Lord, have mercy.  Amen.  

Now, I have not yet heard what people might think about adding these additional Opening Sentences to the order of worship.  I’m sure that some of you have some thoughts.  I mean, why would anyone add a second Call to Worship-esque reading at the start of the service when one Call to Worship is more than sufficient?  Why would anyone want to make the bulletin that much longer?  Why would we read what seems to be the same thing at the start of the worship service each week?  Maybe you’re just thinking, “Well, there goes that sneaky pastor – making us do just one more thing in church that makes us think about God!”  Guilty, as charged. . . 

Friends, sometimes it is good to be reminded – and to state clearly – why we are here and what we have gathered together to do in this place.  Are we here to see our friends?  Yes.  Are we here because church is a regular part of our weekly routine and rhythm?  Yes.  Are we here because Coffee Hour is fun?  Yes.  Are we here because we have a meeting after worship so we might as well come early?  Yes.  And, yes, all of this stuff is wonderful and good.  

In truth, though, we are here and have gathered together for worship because we are seeking the Lord our God. . . And, Lord-willing, we are seeking the Lord our God with all of our heart, and soul, and mind, and strength.  We might have other reasons for being here, and we might not be here with all of our heart, soul, mind, and strength focused on seeking God, but seeking God is our primary purpose.  When it comes to why we gather to worship God, seeking the Lord our God is why we do what we do.

Over the course of the summer, we are exploring this idea of why we do what we do:  What is our purpose as a church and what are the foundational reasons for why and what we do?  In June and July – and part of August – we will be working our way through a part of our Book of Order – specifically a part of the Book of Order called the “Foundations of Presbyterian Polity.”  

Now, if these terms are new to you, that’s okay!   The Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA) is a sort of manual for how we are organized as a congregation, and as part of our larger denomination.  The Book of Order contains instructions and definitions for how congregations are founded and chartered, what church membership is, how churches ordain and elect elders and deacons, how churches are connected to other congregations through Presbyteries, Synods, and the General Assembly, how worship services are structured, how the sacraments are celebrated, and how we are to treat one another.  And we use an odd Greek and Latin, rather “churchy,” word for all of these instructions – “polity” – which is a word that describes the “how” of an organizational structure – what it is and how it should be organized.    

But, before The Book of Order gets to the “how,” there is a whole section that describes the “what” and the “why.”  Just what is the church and why do we do what we do?  

So, in the coming weeks, we will be exploring the “what” and the “why” of it all.  And, like any good Christian theology, worth its salt, we begin with God and God’s mission.  

Our Book of Order begins with something that reads like a Statement of Faith – 

The good news of the Gospel is that the triune God — Father, Son, and Holy Spirit — creates, redeems, sustains, rules, and transforms all things and all people.[2]

Then the text goes on to say that – throughout the scriptures – God liberated God’s people (freeing them from slavery) and made a covenant with them (claiming them as God’s own and promising to be their God).  God became incarnate in Jesus Christ, “who came to live in the world, die for the world, and be raised again to new life.”  The good news of Jesus,  

. . . announces the nearness of God’s kingdom, bringing good news to all who are impoverished, sight to all who are blind, freedom to all who are oppressed, and proclaiming the Lord’s favor upon all creation.

If any of this last part sounds familiar to you, it is because we heard Jesus saying these very things in the Gospel of Luke, just a moment ago.  

In our scripture reading today, we find Jesus speaking to a hometown crowd.  These are the people of Nazareth – an out-of-the-way place in Galilee.  At the very least, the people of Nazareth know Jesus as Joseph the carpenter’s son,” but most of them probably know him as the son of Mary and Joseph, who was born under some interesting circumstances. . . something about a manger, or something. 

What the people of Nazareth don’t seem to know, though, – at least not in full – is that Jesus is far more than a carpenter’s son from Nazareth.  And so, they are surprised when – on the sabbath day – Jesus comes to the front of the local synagogue and begins to read, aloud, from the Prophet Isaiah:  

‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,     because he has anointed me         to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives     and recovery of sight to the blind,         to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’ (Luke 4:18-19)

Now, clearly, Jesus is reading the words of the Prophet Isaiah, from Isaiah 61 and 58[3], but I’m sure it is the way that Jesus is emphasizing the word “me” as he reads that gets peoples’ attention.  Jesus is speaking in a way that is quite personal – almost like he is talking about himself. . . 

‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,     because he has anointed me         to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives     and recovery of sight to the blind,         to let the oppressed go free,  to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’ . . .

Jesus says these things, and then he rolls up the scroll, hands it back to the person who handles the scrolls at the synagogue, and then he sits down.  As the story goes, “the eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him.” (4:20)  You can hear a pin drop.  And then, Jesus speaks into the expectant silence:  “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”  (4:21)

A few weeks ago, I joked that if you ever want to raise eyebrows in polite company, all you have to do is add the words, “. . . as was foretold in the prophecy” at the end of regular statements.  “I woke up this morning. . . as was foretold in the prophecy. . . And I made some scrambled eggs for breakfast. . . as was foretold in the prophecy.”  

It’s silly, I know. . . but here is Jesus, saying, “Today – right here and now – you are in the presence of the One who has come to fulfill this scripture – these ancient words of liberation and healing, of justice and freedom – as was foretold in the prophecy.” 

If we were to read on in the story, we would see that the folks in Nazareth just aren’t ready for this.  They don’t like the idea of little Jesus of Nazareth getting too big for his britches.  It’s almost blasphemous, what Jesus is claiming, here.    

And yet, the scandal of the gospel is that God has come into the world – in the person of Jesus Christ – to bring good news, and liberation, and healing, and freedom, and release from the actual burdens of this life.  Jesus – who came to live in this world, with all of its troubles and all of its beauty – has come to do these things in the present moment – right here and right now. 

This is Jesus’ mission. . . a mission that so many have interpreted in so many ways.  For our part, we Presbyterians believe that we are a part of this mission in this world – the world in which we live – right here and now. 

In this first section of the Book of Order, we read,  

The mission of God in Christ gives shape and substance to the life and work of the church.  In Christ, the Church participates in God’s mission for the transformation of creation and humanity by proclaiming to all people the good news of God’s love, offering to all people the grace of God at font and table, and calling all people to discipleship in Christ.[4]  

When you got up to come to church this morning, did any of you leap at the chance to “participate in God’s mission for the transformation of creation and humanity”?  Is this really what church is about?  Is this even what we want church to be about?  

At the end of the Gospel of Matthew, when Jesus gives his “Great Commission,” he sends his disciples into all the world – giving them a mission and purpose.  And, if the church – through Jesus – can be a living and breathing, hands-feet-heart-and mind-vessel that gives physical shape and structure to this mission, may God bless this with every blessing!  Again, as the Book of Order reads, “Human beings have no higher goal in life than to glorify and enjoy God now and forever, living in covenant fellowship with God and participating in God’s mission.”[5] . . . God's mission of liberation, and healing, and freedom, and release from the burdens of this world.

No higher goal in life. . . Hmmmm. . . Why has God called the church into being?  Because we have some things to do. God has some things to do through us.  This isn’t theoretical or even something that will happen in the by-and-by.  It is theological and is as real as can be, right here and now.  It is why we do what we do as the Body of Christ, the church.  And it is why we come to this Table to be strengthened for all of God’s mission – our mission – that lies ahead.  

When it comes to all of this, we have a lot more to talk about.  So, see you next Sunday. . .

And until then, may the loving and transformational mission of God give shape and substance to your life and to mine and to the work of the church. . .

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

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[1] Based on F-1.01 (“God’s Mission”) from the Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA).

[2] The Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA) – F – 1.01.

[3] Isaiah 61:1-2 and 58:6.

[4] The Book of Order – F – 1.01.

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

5 / 31 / 26 – Trinity Sunday[1]

Psalm 8

Matthew 28:16-20

2 Corinthians 1:18-22 and 13:11-13

“Bring Many Names”

(The Doctrine of the Trinity)

Several years ago, our older son had a great soccer coach named Erick.  Over the course of that soccer season, we got to know Coach Erick and his wife and kids.  And, because we all lived in the same neighborhood and our kids went to the same school, I would often see Erick and his wife at pick-up and drop-off time.  “Hey Erick!  Hey ‘Melissa’!” I would say, whenever I saw them, several times a week. 

Last weekend, we had a birthday party at our house and “Melissa” brought one of her kids – a classmate of our son’s – over for the party.  And, when I said, “Hey Melissa!  So glad you’re here!”  “Melissa” looked at me, and smiled in a kind but exasperated sort of way, and said, “My name is Heather. . .  It’s nice to meet you, again.”

I was mortified!  At which point did I go wrong?  When I met her several years ago, I met her as “Heather,” but then my brain filed her away under the name “Melissa.”  

Just so you know, if I ever call any of you by the wrong name – or forget your name, outright (which clearly has been known to happen) – please correct me as graciously as Melissa. . . I mean, Heather! . . . did.  

I once had a professor who said that the most powerful ability God ever gave to human beings was the power to name things.   Way back in the Book of Genesis, the Lord gives people the power to name all of the animals and plants.[2]  And, over the centuries, we human beings have also given names to other human beings.  We give wonderful, beautiful, names like Heather (and Melissa), and Amy, and Samuel, and Elliot, and . . . to people.  And yet, we also give cruel names to people – names that are not their true names, but names that seek to give us power or superiority over someone else. . .  names like “Dumb” or “Stupid” or “Idiot” or whatever racial or ethnic or social caste or sexist epithet we can dream up that labels someone as less than they truly are.  Names are so powerful.  And we have so much power in naming others.  I hope that we use this power for good.

I’m curious. . . what kind of names do we give to God?  

Our spiritual ancestors, in the Old Testament, knew that God’s own name for God’s own self was so powerful that it was never spoken aloud by the people.  This name, spelled “YHWH” in the original language, was simply referred to it as “The Name.”  Aside from this one powerful “name” for God, by some counts, the Bible includes hundreds of different names or titles that people give to God.   And, as one scholar writes:

In the Bible, the names of God are not just titles but instead reveal deep theological beliefs about God’s character, nature, and relationship with humanity. Throughout both the Old and New Testaments, various names for God are used to highlight specific attributes.[3]

For example, when I read the Bible and see the creative power of God, and the loving person of Jesus Christ and the powerful presence of the Holy Spirit, some of my go-to attributes of God are “loving,” “merciful,” “forgiving,” “transforming,” and “comforting.”  But other people might have different go-to attributes of God – pointing toward a divine warrior or judge.  One time, I made a comment that I don’t really like referring to God as a warrior, but then someone said, “When it comes to a God who fights cancer in my loved-one’s body, I want a warrior God.”  That’s some powerful and faithful stuff, right there. 

Now, just a moment ago, when I was talking about the creative power of God, and the loving person of Jesus Christ, and the powerful presence of the Holy Spirit, I was referring to the God that we worship –  “God, in three persons, blessed Trinity,” as the old hymn goes.[4]

Today is Trinity Sunday in the church year – the day that the scripture readings point toward this mysterious concept of a God who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer; Loving Parent, Beloved Child, and Enduring Love; God For Us, God With Us, and God Within and Among Us . . . the metaphors and many names could go on and on.  

I have always found it interesting that the actual traditional formula that is often used in the church – referring to God as “Father, Son, and Holy Spirit” (we do this every week in church, multiple times) – only appears once in the Bible in this particular order.  We read it as part of our Call to Worship this morning, reciting some of the final words of Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew as he gives his Great Commission:

Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. . .  (Matthew 28:19)

There are plenty of places in the Bible where we can infer the presence and work of three persons of the Trinity – such as at the beginning of Genesis, when the Spirit of God is hovering over the chaotic tohu wabohu waters and God the Creator speaks a Word that says, “Let there be light.” (Genesis 1:3)  Did you catch all of that?  God’s Spirit is hovering.  God’s Word is speaking (remember that we often refer to Jesus as the “Capital-W” Word of God).  And, through the Spirit and the Word, God the Creator of the heavens and the earth is Creating.

So, there are plenty of places in the Bible where the Trinity can be inferred, but you’ve sometimes got to do some deeper reading and interpretation to extrapolate the presence of all three.  In addition to Jesus’ Great Commission, there are just a couple of other specific references to the three persons of the Trinity (and we will talk about one of these in just a moment).  

It is because of the scarcity of specific references in the Bible that the early church took its time developing an official “Doctrine of the Trinity.”  They were seeking to develop a way to explain the many ways that they saw God at work in the scriptures and in the life of the world.  This is an oversimplification of their thinking, but the world – in all of its beauty and complexity – exists, therefore God must have created it.  Jesus Christ came into the world, offering salvation and abundant life, therefore God must be at work in and through this salvation and abundant life.  And, somehow, God is present with us in and through the Holy Spirit, therefore God must be this Holy presence.  

It is all a big mystery, but people in the early church wanted some clarity around exactly who they believed God to be and what God has done and is doing in the life of the world.  This process took three hundred years.

Now, did they come up with something that is clear and makes complete logical sense?  One part of my mind says, “Yes! It’s clear to me.”  But another part of my mind says, “You know. . . when it comes to the Trinity, I still have some questions.”  The way one of my old professors, Dr. Migliore described it, “Classical trinitarian doctrine, with its carefully conceived but now mostly puzzling formulation, ‘one in essence, distinguished in three persons,’” was originally designed to describe what God is not.  For example, no person of the Trinity is subordinate to the other two.  And God is not three distinct deities, but one God.  But Dr. Migliore wrote that while it can be helpful to write about what God is not, it is far more helpful to try to say who God is. He went on to write, 

[The Doctrine of the Trinity] wants to redescribe God in the light of the event of Jesus Christ and the outpouring of God’s transforming Spirit.  It wants to say that God is sovereign, costly love that liberates and renews life.  It wants to say that God’s love for the world in Christ now at work by the power of the Spirit is nothing accidental or capricious or temporary.  It wants to say that there is no sinister or even demonic side of God altogether different from what we know in the story of Jesus who befriended the poor and forgave sinners.  God is self-expending, other-affirming, community-building love. . .[5]  [And this is what the Trinity is.]

Again, all of this is a mystery that defies words and yet words can point toward the greater meaning of this mystery.  Over the centuries, great minds have written a lot of words about the Triune God.  Some folks believe that the Doctrine of the Trinity – like most religion – is out of date.  But a robust Trinitarian theology – in how we think and talk about who God is – greatly illuminates a distinctly Christian understanding of God.  The ways we talk about God – including the names and titles we give to God – matter.  As Dr. Migliore says, 

. . . where this [Trinitarian] understanding of God declines, the church is in danger of losing its identity. . . To confess that God is triune is to affirm that the eternal life of God is personal life in relationship. . . a koinonia[beloved community] of persons in love [which should be a model for our own relationships]. . . To confess that God is triune is to affirm that God exists in community [and so do human beings and so should the church]. . .  [And] to confess that God is triune is to affirm that the life of God is essentially self-giving love.  However scandalous the idea, the gospel narrative identifies God as the power of compassionate love that is stronger than sin and death.[6]

There is no other God than our God that can be described in this way.  

When today’s second reading – from Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians – was written, all of this was being fleshed out, in real time, among people who had come to know a new relationship with God and a new community in Jesus Christ.  These were people who were undergoing persecutions from their own community. . . even their own families.  The people in the church at Corinth – and their faithful, letter-writing friend, Paul – knew that human relationships could be very disappointing, if not downright hurtful.  The same truth still holds, today.

And yet, as Paul writes, he and his friends have sought to model another way of life – a way of life that is established in the love of God.  This is a love that does not disappoint.  As Paul says, 

God affirms us, making us a sure thing in Christ, putting [God’s] Yes within us.  By [God’s] Spirit, [God] has stamped us with [God’s] eternal pledge – a sure beginning of what [God] is destined to complete.[7]

Did you catch all three parts of the Trinity, here?  It is God who establishes us. . . in Christ and has anointed us by putting God’s seal on us and giving us God’s Spirit in our hearts, right here and now.   

The new life and community for which human beings are longing is found in and through the One who has marked us – sealed us – as God’s own in our very hearts.  This is the One who, from before the time we are born – as we are being knit together, body and soul – knows us and calls us by name and never gets our names wrong.  This is the One who has been given many names by the likes of us – names that do not begin to capture the fullness of who God is and yet names that point to the wondrous mystery of God’s self-giving love in our lives and the life of the world.  This is the One who has been revealed in the wonders of creation, and the wondrously loving life and example and presence of Jesus Christ, and the wonderful gift of the Holy Spirit (which is as close to us as our very breath).  

The God who made us, saves us, and sustains us – encompassing our lives with self-giving love – is the One who is calling us to offer ourselves in the same way.  We won’t always get it right, but God is always gracious and merciful.  May we always endeavor to be the same. . .

“The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.” (2 Corinthians 13:13)

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

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[1] Revised Common Lectionary – Year A.

[2] See Genesis 2:19-20.

[3] Joshua Schachterle – https://www.bartehrman.com/names-of-god/.

[4] Text: Reginald Heber, 1827. “Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty!” Glory to God: The Presbyterian Hymnal (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2013) Hymn # 1.

[5] Daniel L. Migliore, Faith Seeking Understanding: An Introduction to Christian Theology (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1991) 63.

[6] Migliore, 66-70.  [JHS Brackets].

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

5 / 24 / 26 – Pentecost Sunday[1]

Acts 2:2-6

1 Corinthians 12:3-13

Numbers 11:24-30

“Power to the People”

(The Gift of the Spirit)

In our house, in our current season of life, there are toys. . . everywhere.  And, even though I recently did a massive reorganization, and even though we try to keep things in check, there are still toys all over the place in random spots.  Why was there a Yo-Yo on our dining room table last weekend?  I have no idea.  But last week, while sitting at the dining room table [even though it would have given my well-mannered grandmother the heebie jeebies], I picked up the Yo-Yo and began to “Yo-Yo” it.  By the way, is “Yo-Yo” a verb?  “To Yo-Yo”?  Maybe it doesn’t matter.  Anyway, there I was at the table, and I began to Yo-Yo with the Yo-Yo and the three year old says, “Daddy, you are not ‘not good’ at the Yo-Yo.”  

In the moment – simply making the Yo-Yo go down and up again,  I took his double-negative statement to mean that I was all right at Yo-Yo-ing.  I am not not good at the Yo-Yo, which I take to mean that I am not great at Yo-Yo-ing, but I am not terrible at it, either.  

We all have gifts – natural talents, abilities, and predispositions – and, for you, some of these gifts might be Yo-Yo-ing, or writing, or cooking, or doing higher forms of mathematics, playing an instrument or playing ball.  Some of you have spent years developing these gifts and talents and many of you are quite adept and generous at using your gifts and sharing them.  

There are all sorts of reasons for us to develop, and use, and share our natural gifts – from the personal to the professional – but on this Pentecost Sunday, we are giving thanks for the spiritual gifts that come to us from God to enhance or even supersede our natural gifts and the ways God uses these gifts – through us! – for the sharing of the good news and the expansion of God’s kingdom, here on earth as it is in heaven.  

In our Call to Worship this morning, we read the story of the Day of Pentecost:  how the disciples of Jesus were gathered together in a room and how, quite suddenly, there came the sound like a violent wind, and tongues of fire appeared over their heads, and they were able to speak in different languages.  All of this took place after Jesus promised – in last week’s scripture reading from Acts, Chapter 1 – that the Holy Spirit was on the way.  “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you,” Jesus said, “and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8)

Now, in the original language, this word “witnesses” has a little bit of baggage.  You see, in the Greek, the word “witness” is the word, “martyr.”  And, when many people hear the word “martyr,” they typically think of someone who sacrifices their life for their faith – literally dies for their beliefs.  The stories of the early church, including some in the Book of Acts, have a lot of martyrs:  Christians who were persecuted for their faith and crucified, or stoned to death, or thrown to the lions or gladiators, or some other horrific way of dying.  In truth, though, even though the word “martyr” picked up this heavy meaning, the word really means “to bear witness, to declare or confirm. . . to give honest testimony that would hold up in court.”[2]  In other words, when Jesus says, “and you will be my witnesses,” he is telling his friends that they will declare and confirm and testify – with their words and actions – that Jesus Christ is Lord of their lives, and that the Holy Spirit will play an essential role in this.  

Now, on the first Pentecost – at the very moment that the disciples are waiting in the upstairs room – a room that, the scriptures tell us in other places, they keep locked because they are afraid[3] – the city below them is filled with people from every part of the known world.  Jerusalem was a city – after all – that attracted any number of people who came as religious pilgrims, and to do business, and to visit relatives.  And, in the very moment when the city is celebrating a festival marking the first harvest of grain, and the gift of the Ten Commandments, and the first five books of the Hebrew Bible,[4] these foreigners begin to hear the name of Jesus of Nazareth and of God’s great deeds of power.[5]  And they hear these things in their own native languages – spoken, strangely enough, by a simple group of Galilean fishermen, and women, and a tax collector or two.

This is a gift of the Spirit that was needed in the moment – the gift of speaking in ways that could be understood by hundreds – thousands – of people.  And when Peter – a former fisherman from Capernaum – stands up to speak to the people, the Holy Spirit helps his words have power beyond what Peter’s words could do on their own.  Oftentimes, when the conditions are right, this is when and where the Holy Spirit can (and does) accomplish much.

When the Apostle Paul writes about gifts of the Holy Spirit, Paul says that they are “for the common good” (1 Corinthians 12:7) – for the benefit of all.  If we are using our gifts for selfish purposes and only benefitting ourselves or seeking our own advantage, then we are not using them for the benefit of all.  The list that Paul offers in today’s reading from 1 Corinthians – of wisdom, knowledge, faith, healing, miracles, prophecy, discernment, speaking and interpreting [like the disciples on Pentecost] various tongues[6] – is not exhaustive, by any means.  There might be other gifts of the Spirit that you can list but this list is a pretty good place to begin.  

One of the words on this list – prophecy – is kind of interesting. . . a word that is rich with meaning.  You know, this joke is not original to me, but if you ever want to raise eyebrows in polite company, just end every sentence with the words, “. . . as was foretold by the prophecy.”  Imagine saying something like, “I woke up this morning. . . as was foretold by the prophecy and I went downstairs to prepare some oatmeal. . . as was foretold by the prophecy. . .”  Keep going with this silliness and you’ll raise some eyebrows, all right!  But for some people, this is all the word means, as if “prophecy” only has something to do with foretelling the future.  Yes, the word can have this “foretell the future” meaning, but in the Greek, to speak a word of prophecy or to prophesy can also mean, “to proclaim a divine revelation, [and] reveal what is hidden.”[7]

The word “prophecy” comes up in today’s reading from the Book of Numbers (one of the books that the people are actually all in Jerusalem to celebrate during the Pentecost festival).   Just to set the scene from Numbers, Moses and the people are out in the wilderness and Moses has been feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders – trying to solve everyone’s problems all by himself.  The people are moaning and groaning about how hard life is in the wilderness.  They are hungry, too, saying things like, “We might have been slaves back in Egypt, but at least we had food to eat.”[8]  Moses turns to God and cries out:  

“Why have you treated your servant so badly? Why have I not found favor in your sight, that you lay the burden of all this people on me? . . . I am not able to carry all this people alone, for they are too heavy for me.  If this is the way you are going to treat me, put me to death at once—if I have found favor in your sight—and do not let me see my misery.”  (Numbers 11:11, 14-15)

At first God is angry at Moses and the people for being so ungrateful.  Did God not bring them all out of Egypt – freeing them from slavery?  Has God not provided for them in the wilderness with food to eat and water to drink?  But then God tells Moses to gather seventy elders of the people and God says, “I will take some of the spirit that is on you [Moses] and put it on them; and they shall bear the burden of the people along with you so that you will not bear it all by yourself.” (11:17)  In other words, “I will empower the leaders of the people with my Spirit and they will work together with you to care for all the people.”  

This is where today’s reading begins.  Even though the text tells us that Moses and the seventy elders of the people are gathered outside of the camp to meet with God, no one realizes that there are two people missing.  Instead of Moses and seventy elders having a Holy Spirit connection, it’s actually Moses and sixty-eight elders.  Apparently, there are these two guys on the elder list who – for some unknown reason – have remained in the camp:  Eldad and Medad.  

You might be interested to know that the name “Eldad” means “God has loved”[9] and the name “Medad” means “Beloved.”[10]  Eldad and Medad are so loved by God that when the Spirit of God is given to the other sixty-eight elders, Eldad and Medad also receive the Spirit even though they are not with the others.  God’s Spirit is not limited by physical proximity.  And, as today’s story goes, Eldad and Medad – these two people who are so loved by God – begin to “prophesy.”  The Bible is not clear on how this may have looked or sounded, but the oldest instances of this word in the original language are connected to ecstatic music [singing], along with religious instruction, and some occasional predictions.[11]  Eldad and Medad clearly get the attention of others.  And when Joshua – Moses’ right hand man – hears about it, he asks Moses to stop Eldad and Medad.  But Moses says, basically, “Don’t be jealous for my sake.  If only all the Lord’s people were prophets, and that the Lord would put the Spirit on them.”[12]  When John Calvin writes about this, he says, 

“. . . nothing would be more gratifying, [to Moses], than that God should diffuse the grace of the spirit of prophecy amongst the whole people, so that all should be partakers of it, from the least to the greatest.”[13]

On the Day of Pentecost, we give thanks for the gift of the Holy Spirit and the way that it has been poured out upon all God’s people – from the least to the greatest – even on you and me.  And because of the Holy Spirit’s presence and power in our lives, God offers us the great hope that all of us – in our own ways – would be prophets, and healers, and people full of wisdom and knowledge and faith, and workers of miracles large and small, and people who are able to discern the truth and speak and interpret this truth in ways that can be understood.  

How will God use you and your gifts today?  This week?  The world is clearly in need of the Holy Spirit’s presence and power and the Holy Spirit works through people like you – yes, even you!  

There will be moments when you might feel ill-equipped to do any of this but then the Spirit will show up – sometimes, without warning – to prove that you are, indeed, equipped.  There will be times when you might feel not “not good” at offering your gift, but then the Holy Spirit will take your seemingly meager offering and make it great in the life of someone else.  

Remember Peter, and Paul, Moses, and Eldad and Medad, and countless unknown – and yet beloved – people through whom the Spirit has worked – and is working.  As wild and unpredictable as it might sound to you, count yourself among them – you beloved Eldads and Medads of Bedford Presbyterian Church – and be ready for the Spirit to offer God’s best to the world through you.  It could very well happen today, or tomorrow, or when you least expect it, at the very moment when it is – when you and your gifts are – most needed.  

Come, O Spirit, dwell among us; come with Pentecostal power; Give the church a stronger vision; help us face each crucial hour. Built upon a firm foundation, Jesus Christ, the cornerstone, Still the church is called to mission that God’s love shall be made known.[14]

Amen.

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[1] Revised Common Lectionary – Year A.

[2] Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979) 492-493.

[3] See John 20:19.

[4] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shavuot.

[5] See Acts 2:12.

[6] See 1 Corinthians 12:7-10.  

[7] Walter Bauer, 723.

[8] Numbers 11:4-6 – Paraphrased, JHS.

[9] F. Brown, S. Driver, and C. Briggs, The Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon (Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, Inc., 1997) 44.

[10] Brown, Driver, and Briggs, 391-392.

[11] Brown, Driver, Briggs, 612.

[12] Numbers 11:29 – Paraphrased, JHS.

[13] John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentaries – Vol. III (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2009) 37.

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

5 / 17 / 26 – Seventh Sunday of Easter[1]

Acts 1:6-14

1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11

“Don’t Just Stand There. . . Pray!”

(The Good News Is. . . Alive in the World)

The dishes are piled high in the sink – pots and pans, glasses and mugs, plates, knives, forks, and spoons – and they need a good washing.  One spouse is up to their elbows in sudsy water.  The other spouse is leaning in the doorway, just kind of staring blankly, obliviously lost in thought, scrolling on their phone.  The dish-washer throws a dish towel at the person in the doorway and says, “Don’t just stand there!”

We’ve all been there.  Maybe it was something as mundane as the dishes, maybe it was a big emergency, but most of us have been on either the giving or receiving end of an exasperated “Don’t just stand there!”  Don’t just stand there – do something!  Don’t just stand there – bust a move!  Don’t just stand there – there is work to be done!

In today’s reading from the Book of Acts, Jesus’ disciples have a “Don’t just stand there!” encounter.  Eugene Peterson translates the passage in this way:

As [the disciples] watched, [Jesus] was taken up and disappeared in a cloud.  They stood there, staring into the empty sky.  Suddenly two men appeared – in white robes!  They said, “You Galileans! – why do you just stand here looking up at an empty sky?  This very Jesus who was taken up from among you into heaven will come as certainly – and mysteriously – as he left.[2]  (Acts 1:9-11) 

We do not know who these fellows in white robes were – the Bible has several stories that involve heavenly visions and mysterious figures showing up[3] – but these messengers in white robes who appear to the disciples on the top of the Mount of Olives have a simple message:  “You!  Disciples!  Galileans!  Friends of Jesus!  Jesus is gone.  You are still here.  What are you going to do?”

I cannot imagine how conflicted the disciples must have been.  After a three year “mountaintop experience” of living with Jesus – walking, talking, eating, laughing, crying, and praying with him, watching him do miraculous things, he is now gone.  Even the mountaintop experience of the past forty days in which the risen Jesus has appeared to them by many convincing proofs and spoken with them about the kingdom of God (1:3) is now at an end.  Their friend Jesus is gone – taken from their presence, up into a cloud.  They will see his familiar face and hear his familiar voice no more.

At its heart, today’s story of Jesus mysteriously ascending into heaven is really a story about the moment when faith has to take the place of certainty.  We live in a world where God cannot be easily explained, seen, or touched, yet we are called to have faith in God, just the same.  But that’s not all.  When it comes to our faith in God, we can’t just stand around looking into the sky – where we think God might live.  Jesus calls us to more than that.  Jesus calls us to a certain way of life.  Remember his final challenging words to his disciples:  “. . . you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”  (1:8). He says this and then he is gone.

“So wait a minute,” the disciples must be thinking as they stand there, staring into the sky.  “Jesus wants us to be his witnesses in the world but he isn’t here anymore for us to actually witness and then talk about.  So how is this supposed to work?”  How is it supposed to work?

Thinking about all of this, as hard as it is to do, the disciples leave the place where they have seen Jesus ascend into heaven –  and they walk down the steep mountainside of the Mount of Olives, where they had witnessed the whole thing – and down into the Kidron Valley, and back up into the city of Jerusalem.  Incidentally, they are retracing their steps from Palm Sunday – not all that long ago – but their spirits are not necessarily as joyous as they once were.  The word, “Hosanna!” is translated as “Save (us), now!”  And now, walking down the Mount of Olives, heads hung low, I imagine they are feeling that word in a different way. . .  Call it a real-life topographical object lesson.  After a mountaintop experience with God, at some point you’ve got to travel down the mountain and into the valley of real life.  Only then can you really try to understand what the mountaintop experience was all about.

The disciples – Peter, and John, and James, and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas (not that Judas) son of James – real people with real names, real families, and real struggles, have to somehow wrap their minds and hearts around the question of how on earth – literally, on earth – they could be witnesses of Jesus Christ without him here.  Jesus is gone.  They are still here.  What are they going to do?

The church often asks the same question.  Jesus “ascended into heaven and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty,” we say we believe.  Jesus is there – wherever “there” is – and we are here.  How can we be witnesses of someone we have not seen with our own two eyes?  Jesus is gone.  We are still here.  What are we going to do?

This is where the words of Jesus become particularly important.  Just before he leaves, Jesus tells his disciples, “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you. . .”  (1:8)  In other words, “The Holy Spirit is coming and the Holy Spirit will help you.  The Holy Spirit will give you the strength, abilities, and resources you need to be my witnesses – my disciples, my faithful followers.”

The disciples go back into the city, wondering what to do.   They can start some kind of uprising, they can stay stuck in place, or they can just call it a day and disperse, going their different ways.  “It’s been real, guys. . .  Have a nice life. . .”  

But the Bible tells us that they do something very particular, maybe peculiar, but certainly powerful.  They go back to the city of Jerusalem – a city that had killed their friend Jesus and threatens their own lives with arrest and reprisals.  And they go back into the upper room where they have been staying – a room where their friend Jesus had shared a meal with them and said, “I am giving myself to you – body and blood – so that you may know me, and be strengthened and encouraged by me, and that you may remember me. 

They go back. . . and they pray.

They could have done anything, but first, they prayed.  “All [of the eleven disciples] were constantly, with one mind, devoting themselves to prayer together with certain women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, as well as his brothers.”  (1:14)  The first impulse of these disciples, when they aren’t sure exactly what to do, is to pray.  Before the disciples go out into the world – to carrying the gospel of peace and salvation, and give their lives as witnesses – martyrs – and share the good news with all, before they do anything, they pray.  And the Holy Spirit comes upon them.  And then they go on – led by the Holy Spirit – into Judea, and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.

We read that they pray constantly, they pray with one mind, and they pray together – women and men talking to God.  We do not know how their prayers sounded or looked, at the time, but they prayed – they prayed together.

Thankfully, when it came to prayer they had a great example to follow.  Jesus had taught them to pray the prayer that begins, “Our Father, which art in heaven. . .”  And they had seen and heard Jesus pray.  Jesus even prayed for them.  At one point – right before he was arrested – he prayed that they would come to know the only true God and Jesus Christ whom God had sent – and that this knowledge of God and Jesus was eternal life, itself. (John 17:3)  Jesus wants the disciples – and wants us – to know God, fully.  One commentator writes that “‘knowing’ describes a powerful, active, confessional, and intimately relational claim on our lives.”[4]  To know God means that we are claimed by God.

It is the Holy Spirit that places that claim on our lives.  We only come to know God and become witnesses of Jesus Christ with the help of the Holy Spirit.  John Calvin wrote that the gifts of faith, prayer, understanding of scripture, the sacraments, good works, and our ability to witness God’s loving presence in the world all come from the Holy Spirit.[5]  These are not things we can do or have on our own.  So, when the disciples and their small community of believers gather in that upstairs room, frightened to death, overwhelmed by the task before them, they pray for the Spirit to come, because without the help of the Holy Spirit, they will be able to accomplish nothing.

If we want to be witnesses – disciples of Jesus – what could we possibly accomplish for the kingdom of God?  I guess the question really should be, “What will God accomplish through us?”

Now, I know that the very idea of accomplishing anything in this world – even with God’s help – might seem quite daunting, especially because the world can be – as today’s reading from 1 Peter reminds us – a place of fiery ordeals and tests, sufferings and anxieties.  Any of these hard things has the potential to drive even the most skeptical agnostics among us to our knees in prayer.  

In this time of great strife in the life of the world, in the face of great needs and difficult odds, we could just stand there, doing nothing.  But anyone who would hope to be a witness of Jesus Christ and his love, and justice, and service to the world[6] on earth as it is in heaven – cannot just stand there.

The task of being a witness – a disciple of Jesus – is enormous but we do have a place where we can begin.  

Friends, don’t just stand there, or sit there, or lie there. . . Pray!  Pray when you are folding laundry, and doing the dishes, and driving your car.  Pray at the grocery, and at work, and at school.  Pray when you are called upon to make a difficult choice.  Pray when you are thankful and when you need to be more thankful.  Pray even if you have no words and all you can do is stop and breathe.  Pray with your friends.  Pray with your neighbors.  Pray with strangers, too.  Pray for guidance, and understanding, and openness to the leading of the Holy Spirit.  Pray that when the loving voice of Christ is needed, the Spirit will speak through you.  Pray that when the loving feet and hands of Christ are needed to go and serve, that the Spirit will move and serve through you.  Pray that when the loving mind and heart of Christ are needed to think of new ways to relate to the world, that the Spirit will think and witness through you.

Don’t just stand there. . . Pray.  God is at work.  And you have things to do.  God has things to do through you.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

---------

[1] Revised Common Lectionary – Year A.  This sermon is adapted from an original sermon I wrote and preached in 2014.

[2] Peterson, Eugene.  The Message – Numbered Edition.  Colorado Springs:  NAV Press, 2002.   p. 1493.

[3] See the stories of the Transfiguration (Matthew 17:1-8, Mark 9:2-8, and Luke 9:28-36).

[4] Bartlett, David L., et al.  ed.  Feasting on the Word – Year A, Vol. 2.  Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010.  p. 540.  Pastoral Perspective, Nancy J. Ramsay.

[5] Calvin, John.  Institutes of the Christian Religion.  Philadelphia:  The Westminster Press, 1960.  3.1.4., 3.20.5.

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

5 / 10 / 26 – Sixth Sunday of Easter[1]

Acts 17:22-31

John 14:15-21

“Restless Hearts Finding Home”

(The Good News is. . . Alive in the World)

This past Monday night, the Session of our church took some time to reflect on several questions about our congregation.  One of these questions was “What about us [our congregation] gives you hope for our future as a congregation?”  The Elders around the table all chimed in, giving thanks that we are in a period of health and stability, our people are genuinely seeking connections with God and one another and genuinely seeking to love and serve God and our neighbors in tangible ways.  We have a great core group of leaders and volunteers who are offering their best, here.  Of course, we could always do more – and will endeavor to do so – but we are thankful to God for who and where we are.  And then someone said, “It doesn’t hurt that we are baptizing two children this coming Sunday and that we have welcomed ten new members into our church over the last six weeks.”  

Now, I firmly believe that the overall health of a church is less about numbers and more about the spirit and wellbeing of the people who are part of that church, but I agree:  when anyone finds a home here, it doesn’t hurt us.  

Scholars of religion and organizations like the Barna Group and the Pew Research Center who study such things have noted a resurgence of religious practice among some people.  It’s largely anecdotal, and depending upon how the data has been collected, the results of studies on religious practice are mixed.  There are more people going to church now than there were during the COVID-19 pandemic, but attendance now is not necessarily higher than it was before the pandemic.[2]  And yet, in the hyper-local context of individual congregations, some local congregations are growing and thriving, some are on the decline, and some are faithfully holding their own.  So, to poorly paraphrase Mark Twain, “Reports of the church’s demise and/or resurrection are, as of yet, inconclusive.”  The data is not complete. . . 

What has become clear, though –  and I mentioned this several weeks ago – is that a lot of people (whether they attend church or not) are talking a lot about Jesus in the public square.  What would Jesus do or say about the problems in the world at this very moment?  There are those who want to know and those who are talking about it.  By in large, the supposed answers to the world’s problems that come from politicians, and podcasts, and the internet, and so-called artificial intelligence, and a whole lot of angry, anxious, and avaricious people around them are insufficient, at best, and downright harmful, at worst.  And so, the “What would Jesus do or say?” question has become far more pronounced.  

In an interview last year, Andrew Davison – a religion professor at Oxford University – was talking about this and said, 

. . . things like the church once gave people the bearings in which they lived lives where they had to negotiate love and death and loss and transcendence and if the church isn’t there, if they don’t belong to other world religions either, they just don’t have the bearings. So they’ll make it [up], you know, they’ll pick and mix and try and find their bearings.[3]

Oftentimes, though, try as we might in all of our “pick and mix” grasping-at-straws efforts, we still come up empty –  or come to recognize that we are looking for something of spiritual substance and sustenance in places and from people that don’t provide much meaning or purpose, deep down.  Coming to terms with this search for true meaning and purpose has caused restlessness in the hearts and minds of all kinds of people.  

Thinking about all of this reminds me of my old, yellowed, copy of St. Augustine’s Confessions which basically opens with a prayer to God that includes the famous line, “. . . our heart [O God,] is restless until it rests in you.”[4]  Contrary to what some might say, there are some truths that are much older than the internet and much more lasting than the latest podcast episode.  And one of these truths is that the human heart is restless in its search for our true home.  

In today’s reading from the Book of Acts, the Apostle Paul recognizes this restlessness for God among a crowd of people on a hillside in Athens, Greece.  

Some of you might remember from history class  that the ancient Greeks had an amazing tradition of searching for meaning.  Even if you don’t know exactly what they wrote about but you heard names like Plato, Aristotle, and Aeschylus, Homer and Herodotus, you might know that people like these – among so many others – were thinking deeply about what makes a person good, what are the differences between good and evil, what are the tragic and triumphant aspects of human nature, and how do we live with our flaws – tragic though our human flaws may be.  And they were doing all of this deep thinking and writing  hundreds of years before the time of Jesus.  

On top of these deep thoughts, the Greeks had a whole system of major and minor [“small g”] gods and goddesses – many of whom could be just as jealous and petty as the human beings who worshiped them.  

So, in today’s reading from Acts, when Paul arrives in the city of Athens – the heart of the old Greek empire – he goes to the Areopagus (also known as Mars’ Hill) – at the heart of the city.  This hill is the former seat of the city’s government – a very early version of a democratically elected government – and, by the time of Paul, the people who sat at the Areopagus still had sway over the politics of the city.  Just so you know, the Areopagus (a political site) was located close to the Acropolis (a religious site) and the Agora (where philosophers would gather to debate).[5]  So, in this nexus of politics, religion, and philosophy – at the center of a society built on a history of artfully chosen words and well-reasoned arguments – Paul stands up and speaks to the people in a way that he hopes they will understand:  As Eugene Peterson translates…

“It is plain to see that you Athenians take your religion seriously. When I arrived here the other day, I was fascinated with all the shrines I came across. And then I found one inscribed, to the god nobody knows. I’m here to introduce you to this God so you can worship intelligently, know who you’re dealing with. “The God who made the world and everything in it, this Master of sky and land, doesn’t live in custom-made shrines or need the human race to run errands for him, as if he couldn’t take care of himself. He makes the creatures; the creatures don’t make him. Starting from scratch, he made the entire human race and made the earth hospitable, with plenty of time and space for living so we could seek after God, and not just grope around in the dark but actually find him. He doesn’t play hide-and-seek with us. He’s not remote; he’s near. We live and move in him, can’t get away from him! One of your poets said it well: ‘We’re the God-created.’ Well, if we are the God-created, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to think we could hire a sculptor to chisel a god out of stone for us, does it?”[6]

I don’t know if you caught the references here, but when Paul says, “In [God] we live, and move, and have our being,” and “For we too are ‘the God-created’,” he is actually quoting the words of some Greek philosophers and poets, saying to these learned people, “Even your own poets – Epimenides and Aratus[7] – from hundreds of years ago, caught a glimpse and got a sense of the God I am talking about. "

In other words, this shrine with the inscription “To an unknown god,” (“lower-case-g god”) Paul has claimed for the “Capital-G God,” who Paul knows as the triune God – the Lord of heaven and earth, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit.  Paul is saying that this one true God – with a Capital-G – is the One who has been revealed, over time, as the One who is near to us – as near as our very breath, as near as our very heartbeat, as near as the God-breathed Spirit-filled world in which we live, and move, and have our being.  If we are restless in our search for meaning, and truth, and life, and hope, and love, rest easy in the knowledge that there is nowhere we can go where God is not already present with us.  

The home for which you have been restlessly searching has been here all along. . .  at the heart of who you are and in the world around you.  

In today’s reading from the Gospel of John, Jesus talks about it in this way:  

If you love me, you will keep my commandments.  And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate – another Helper, another Comforter – to be with you forever.  This is the Spirit of truth. . . You know [the Spirit] because [the Spirit] abides with you, and will be in [and among] you.  I will not leave you orphaned. . . because I live, you also will live.  On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. . . (John 14:15-20)[8]

The One in whom we live and move and have our being is at one with us through the Holy Spirit – God with us, God within and among us. . . and we within God.  

The good news of this is that – in all of our living and moving and having our being, in all of life’s wonder, and mystery, and everyday routines, and boredom, and mediocre mundanity, and miraculous-ness – we do not have to grope around for God in the dark.  The God who made us and loves and cares for us like a mother who has borne us, the God who and saves us, and sustains us, and loves us deeply is never far away. . .  even in times and seasons when we might feel otherwise.   

This mysterious and Holy truth is confirmed in our baptism and is seen and known in fits and starts, and glimpses of glory, and revelations of resurrection in our own lives and the life of the world.  This is good news. . . 

Friends, “what about this gives you hope in the present for your future. . . for our future. . . for God’s future?”  May God use this hope – our hope – to give us eyes to see, ears to hear, minds and hearts to know and share the good news. . . alive in the world.  

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

[1] Year A – Revised Common Lectionary.

[2] Conrad Hackett, https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2026/01/23/has-there-been-a-christian-revival-among-young-adults-in-the-uk-recent-surveys-may-be-misleading/.

[3] Andrew Davison, https://www.plough.com/en/topics/faith/supernatural/why-are-people-returning-to-church.

[4] Augustine of Hippo, trans. John K. Ryan, The Confessions of St. Augustine – I.1.1 (New York: Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc., 1960) 43.

[5] David Noel Freedman, ed. The Anchor Bible Dictionary – Vol. 1, A-C (New York: Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc., 1992) 370-371. “Areopagus” – Hubert M. Martin, Jr.

[6] Eugene Peterson, The Message: Numbered Edition (Colorado Springs: NAV Press, 2002) 1521. 

[7] Wayne A. Meeks, et al, ed. The HarperCollins Study Bible – New Revised Standard Version (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1993) 2093. “Acts” – Footnotes by Beverly Roberts Gaventa. 

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

5 / 3 / 26 – Fifth Sunday of Easter[1]

1 Peter 2:2-10

John 14:1-14

“Greater Things Than These”

(The Good News is. . . Alive in the World)

In a little over a week, I will travel down to Princeton, New Jersey for my 25th seminary Class Reunion.  As I recently wrote to my seminary classmates, we learned so many things in seminary, but there were plenty of things about which we had no idea.

One class that was offered in seminary was called “Word and Act in Christian Worship” – a class in which students did things like hold a baby doll and practice sprinkling water on it for baptism as well as breaking bread and pouring the cup for communion.  

This class was an elective and I felt that I didn’t need at the time, but when I was ordained as a Minister of Word and Sacrament, boy was I wrong. . . and, it showed.  I remember how awkward it was, trying to hold baby Ella Smith and sprinkle water on her head.  After the service, someone said to me, “You haven’t held a lot of babies in your life, have you?”  And then there was the first time I ever celebrated the Lord’s Supper.  I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands as I broke the bread, and so it looked and felt very awkward.  

How do you handle something Holy, something sacred, something that has deep meaning in your life and the lives of others?  Well, sometimes this Holiness is thrust upon us and we’ve got to muddle through somehow.  But really, being bearers of the Holy takes an openness to receive the Holy and the willingness to practice.

Think about the first time you ever held a baby – maybe even your own baby – or the first time you have ever stepped into a new role, or the first time it sunk in that you had no idea how to do something but you were going to have to do it, anyway, because you were the person who was supposed to do it.  You are now responsible for whatever came next.  And all eyes were on you. . .  

In today’s scripture reading from the Gospel of John, all eyes and ears are on Jesus.  He has just washed his disciples’ feet and is sitting with them at the table after supper.  And then, Jesus tells his friends that in just a little while, he will be leaving and that he is leaving them with the responsibility of carrying on his ministry of love and humble service, here on earth.  At the news that Jesus will be leaving, his disciples are not sure what this means.  And, at the news that he is leaving them to continue his ministry, they are not sure what to do.  

The first part of today’s reading is pretty famous in that it is often read at funerals.  I will never read or hear this passage of scripture without thinking of Fran Gray – a longtime member of this congregation who was a faithful reader of and deep thinker about scripture.  Years before Fran died, she pulled me aside and said, “John, I want you to preach my funeral, but if you use John, Chapter 14 in the service, I will come back and haunt you.”

You see, Fran was talking about the part in which Jesus says, “In my father’s house there are many dwelling places.” (John 14:2)  According to Fran, people use these words of Jesus to paint a picture of heaven that is overly sentimental.  For Fran, God is too great and powerful for our minds and hearts to be limited by sentimentality or excitement about heavenly real-estate.  I imagine Fran arriving in heaven and the Apostle Peter handing her the keys to a brand-new mansion on a street paved with gold.  And I imagine Fran politely receiving the keys, but kind of rolling her eyes, too, and saying, “But I don’t need a mansion in heaven on some street paved with gold.  It will be enough for me to simply be with God – and in God – in all of God’s holy mystery.”  

Just so you know, Fran also wasn’t necessarily a fan of how many have interpreted the words of Jesus, when he says “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.  No one comes to the Father except through me.”  (14:6)  As we discussed last week, this verse is not necessarily a statement of exclusivism in which those who do not know or accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior are excluded from God’s kingdom.  When one of the Early Church fathers, John Chrysostom wrote about this passage, he said, basically, “Jesus did not hurl this Christoexclusive text into the face of the world (to taunt it), but he gave it to his disciples (to encourage them).”[2]

In today’s passage, Jesus encourages his disciples, saying, “If you know me, then you will know my Father also.  From now on you do know him and have seen him.”  (14:7). When Philip, one of Jesus’ disciples asks how this can be and asks Jesus to show God the Father to them, Eugene Peterson translates Jesus’ response in this way:  “Believe me:  I am in my Father and my Father is in me.  If you can’t believe that, believe what you see – these works.”[3]

In other words:  Jesus is one with God the Father.  Look and see what Jesus has been doing and you will know that this is true – that Jesus dwells in and with and through God and God dwells in and with and through Jesus.  The two cannot be and are not separated from one another.  Or, to hopefully put it even more clearly:  if you have met and seen and know Jesus, then you know who God is.  This is how Jesus is the Way. . . the Way to God – the Way of God.  The truth of this is seen in and through the life of Jesus and the new life that Jesus offers us every moment of our lives.  

As we discussed last week, this new life is the abundant life that comes from God.  And, as we discussed last week, the new life is not always easy, but it is blessed.  Remember, Jesus is having this discussion with his disciples around the table, on the night that he will be arrested.  As New Testament scholar, Leon Morris, once wrote, 

‘I am the Way,’ said [the] One who would shortly hang impotent on a cross.  ‘I am the Truth,’ when the lies of evil men were about to enjoy a spectacular triumph.  ‘I am the Life,’ when within a few hours His corpse would be placed in a tomb.[4]

But Jesus assures Philip, and Thomas, and the other disciples that – even if he won’t be with them in a little while – because they know him right now, God will always be with them.  And he is going to prepare a place where they will live abundantly in the presence of God.  But before Jesus goes to this place – and, importantly, before the disciples get to this place, too – Jesus says this odd and wondrous thing:  “Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father.” (14:12)

“If you have a hard time believing or understanding this,” Jesus is saying, “look at your own lives – the lives that you live by faith in me.  You’ll not only do what I’m doing in your daily lives, but you’ll do even greater things.”  

What on earth does Jesus mean when he says this?  Are you and I able to work the signs, and wonders, and works that Jesus did?  Even if we were able to do such things, here is Jesus telling us that we will do even greater things.  Greater things than Jesus. . . ?  Is this even possible. . . ?  You know, there was that country song from years ago called “Jesus, Take the Wheel,”[5] but here, Jesus seems to be telling us, “No, you take the wheel.  You’ve got this.”  

But do we got this?  Or, rather, for all you grammarians out there, “Do we have this?”  In this crazy mess of a world?  Are we able?  Are we willing?  Can we handle the Holy?

To these big questions, right after Jesus tells us that we will do greater things than these, he says, “I will do whatever you ask in my name. . . (14:13), and then right after that, he says, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments (to love one another) and I will ask the Father to give you another Advocate (another Helper), to be with you forever.  This is the Spirit of truth. . . who abides with you and will be in you.” (14:15-17)

In other words, the only way that we can do what Jesus has done and do even greater things than these is because we’ll never really be doing them completely on our own.  Jesus will always be listening for and answering our prayers.  And the Holy Spirit will always be with us – steadfastly remaining with us forever, at work in us and through us, always and in all ways.  

Friends, this is very good news!  It is news that surprises, and strengthens, and sends us out into the world to use our hands (and feet, and hearts, and minds) as God intends – to be the hands (and feet, and heart, and mind) of Jesus as vessels of his grace in all times and places.  This is how we are able to do “greater things than these” with God’s help.  However, the word “greater” doesn’t necessarily mean better –as in, we can do things better than Jesus.  No, in the original language, the word “greater” – or mega – implies an “intensifying”[6] of what God is already doing.  Also, scholars, throughout the ages, have been quick to say that there are a lot more of us now than just twelve disciples in an upstairs room with Jesus.  There is so much more Holy good that God can do and is doing through so many of us.[7]

In today’s reading from 1 Peter, we find the encouraging assurance that – as disciples – God is with us. . .  yes, even those of us who wonder if we have what it takes to be used by God for the building of God’s kingdom.  

The image that the author of 1 Peter uses, here, is literally that of building blocks, living stones that are used to build a spiritual house where God is seen and known.  God takes these stones – even the ones who are rejected and thought of as being inferior – and uses them to build this house, right here on earth.  I think my favorite line here is, “Once, you were not a people.  [But] Now you are God’s people.” (1 Peter 2:10)

Beloved people of God, be encouraged.  You belong to God – and with God, and in God – in all God’s holy mystery.  The good news is alive in the world and it is alive in and through God who is at work in and through us – yes, through you and me and everyone who has seen Jesus and come to catch a glimpse of who God is. . .  yes, through you and me and everyone who has ever wondered if they have the gifts and skills to do what God needs. . .  yes, through you and me and everyone who has ever leaned on the Spirit in moments of uncertainty, and worry, and fear. . .  yes, through you and me and everyone who has ever been surprised by God’s grace.  

Friends, trust the One who created you and is building you to be part of something that you could not possibly be on your own, the One who saved you and fills you with grace at this Table for love and humble service, the One who abides in and with you, always, the One who – through you – will do greater things.  

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

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[1] Year A – Revised Common Lectionary.

[2] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2012) 822.

[3] Eugene Peterson, The Message – Numbered Edition (Colorado Springs:  NAV Press, 2002) 1480.  John 14:11-12.

[4] Dale Bruner, 824.

[5] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jesus,_Take_the_Wheel.

[6] Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979) 497.

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

4 / 26 / 26 – Fourth Sunday of Easter[1]

Psalm 23

Ezekiel 34:7-15

John 10:1-11

“If The Way Be Clear. . .”

(The Good News is. . . Alive in the World)

“If the way be clear. . .”  In the Presbyterian Church, we will often us this great phrase – a phrase that kind of moves us toward a decision with a built-in off-ramp for said decision.  “If the way be clear,” someone might say, “and there are no objections or any major obstacles, then even if we haven’t worked out all the details, it’s probably okay to move ahead.  BUT, if the way be not clear, then we will circle back and reconsider things.”  

Ever since I became a Presbyterian, I have seen and used this kind of decision-making by the Session, by committees, even by the Presbytery when it came to planning church events, or hiring someone for the church staff, or waiting to hear if someone has a strong opinion about the color of the carpet.  “If the way be clear and we can schedule the baptism for today and the child we’re baptizing is not under the weather.  If the way be clear and the possible-employee’s background check comes back clean (we are still looking for a second Nursery Worker, by the way).   If the way be clear And the color of the new carpet does not distract from the shelter, nurture, and spiritual fellowship of the people of God, then the answer that we will give (before the final details have fallen into place) is ‘Yes!’”  

It is a “Yes, but with the condition that the details will get worked out, in the end.

“If the way be clear. . .” is a great phrase to use. . . as long as the way forward is clear. . .  And – to be clear – this is not the only way that the church uses the word “way.”  

In the early church – before the word “church” was even used – the followers of Jesus thought of themselves as “people of the Way” (oftentimes with a capital “W”).  It comes up multiple times in the Book of Acts.[2]  As the People of the Way, there was this idea that they were called to a new Way of life:  the Way of Jesus Christ.  Early on in the Book of Acts, one of the other lectionary readings for today describes this way of life:  

[they] were baptized. . . They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. . . All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. . . (Acts 2:41-45)

Two thousand years later, this “Way” sounds both idyllically beautiful and really challenging.  Eventually, for the early church, the challenging realities of living in Christian community won out over the beautiful idealism for which the church was striving.  I guess it’s true what Jesus once said:  

Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it.  For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it.  (Matthew 7:13-14)

In other words, following Jesus ain’t easy.  The Way of Jesus is challenging.  And not everyone gets it right.  

So, the early church called themselves the People of the Way, and Jesus tells us that the way is difficult – the gate is narrow and the road is hard – and then, in the Gospel of John, Jesus also tells us, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. . .” (John 14:6)  The second part of this verse is, “. . . no one comes to the Father, except through me.”  Now, there are some who interpret this verse, claiming that Jesus is some kind of exclusivist gatekeeper to heaven, and that those who do not know Jesus (or accept him as Lord and Savior) need not apply.  But there are other ways to interpret this verse, based on some of the other words of Jesus.  

For example, in today’s reading, Jesus says, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. . .” (10:7) – which is another way of saying that he is the way – and then he also says, “I am the good shepherd.” (10:11)  

Just so you know, these aren’t the only “I am” statements that Jesus makes.  He also says, “I am the bread of life,” (6:35) and “I am the light of the world,” (8:12) and “I am the resurrection and the life,” (11:25) and “I am the true vine.” (15:1).  All these metaphors are a lot to unpack – too much for one sermon.  So, let’s focus on the ones in today’s reading –specifically, when Jesus says, “I am the gate. . .” and “I am the good shepherd. . .”

In John, Chapter 10, when Jesus says these two seemingly different things – how can someone be both a gate for the sheep and the good shepherd? – he is speaking to a group of Pharisees, the people that one commentator, Dale Bruner, describes as “The Serious [People].”[3]  The Pharisees are so serious about following the letter of the law – specifically, that no work should be done on the Sabbath – that, in the previous chapter, when a blind man is healed by Jesus (on the Sabbath), the serious Pharisees deny that the man had ever been blind (even though he had been a fixture in the community, begging for alms).  They deny the man’s lifelong struggle, and they deny his miraculous healing, and they deny him a place in the community after he has been healed.   

When Jesus hears of this, he says, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.”  And when the Pharisees hear this, they say, “Surely we are not blind are we?” (9:39-40)

This is where today’s reading begins –  with Jesus’ emphatic “Yes” to the “Surely we are not blind” question by the Pharisees who claim to know so much about faithfulness to God and yet are blind to the suffering of others.  

They are, as Jesus implies, like the bad shepherds described in today’s reading from Ezekiel – shepherds who have neglected their flock.  If you read the first part of the chapter from Ezekiel, you will find these bad shepherds described as feeding themselves instead of the sheep.  They have “not strengthened the weak. . . not healed the sick. . . not bound up the injured. . . not brought back the strayed or sought the lost.” (Ezekiel 34:4)[4]

When God hears of these bad shepherds, God says, “I myself will search for my sheep, and will seek them out. . . I will rescue them. . . I will gather them. . . and I will feed them. . . by the watercourses. . . with good pasture. . . there they shall lie down in good grazing land. . . and I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep. . .” (34:11-14)[5]  Those of you who are familiar with the words of Psalm 23, might hear some echoes of the Psalm in these words from Ezekiel.  This connection is, likely, very intentional.  God is saying, basically, if people are so bad at taking care of other people, then God will come and take care of them.  

In today’s reading from John, Jesus is describing those who might be trying to get to the sheep in God’s fold but not going “through” the “gate” of Jesus Christ.  New Testament scholar Dale Bruner describes anyone who doesn’t use the Way of Jesus through the gate, but climbs in by another way as “a thief and a rip-off artist.”[6]  

Now, I know it might be hard for anyone to imagine a religious leader as a thief and a rip-off artist, but in truth, history is filled with them.  And here, Jesus is using this figure of speech to point, decisively, at the Pharisees.  But, as today’s text tells us, “. . . they did not understand what he was saying to them.” (John 10:6)  “Surely, we are not deaf, too?” they might have asked.  Apparently the way is not clear for the Pharisees to understand.  So, Jesus tries to be even more clear:  “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. . . I am the gate.  Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture.  The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.  I came that [my sheep] may have life, and have it abundantly.” (10:7-10)

The Way of Jesus is the way of abundant life, which many interpret to mean “eternal” life, but in the original language, the word “abundantly” can be translated as, “extraordinary, remarkable, profuse, ‘greater’ and ‘more.’”[7]  The life of God’s kingdom that has come near in the person of Jesus is not just some yet-to-be-revealed thing one day when we all get to heaven.  The abundant life of the kingdom is right here and now, for those who are followers of the Way – for those who listen for the voice of Jesus and seek the company of Jesus – and it is extraordinary and remarkable.  

But what does this look like?  New Testament scholar, Gary Burge, writes that, to this day, when a shepherd is in the wilderness and their flock is in danger, the shepherd will. . .  

. . . try to find a sheep pen and then stand himself between the flock and danger.  [Remember how Jesus calls himself the Good Shepherd and says that “the good shepherd will lay down his life for the sheep.” (John 10:11)] . . . The desert is a desperate place.  Our shepherd is skilled and courageous.  If we remain under his leadership, if we recognize his voice, we will find safety and flourish.  To make this come alive [today], I need to recognize the perilous environment of my life, my need of guidance, and the requisite skill that can tell the right voices from the wrong voices.[8]

If we look at the wilderness of the world in which we live – the wilderness of anxiety and anger, despotism and desperation – there are moral and spiritual perils all around us – not to mention physical perils that some might fear. Whose voice is leading us through all of these perils?  I wonder in what ways (if any) the voice of the good shepherd is clearly cutting through all the clamor and calling you to an abundant life of the Spirit right here and now.  Or, to put it more clearly, how is the voice of Jesus, the example of Jesus – how are the words of Jesus calling you to live. . . 

In recent months – on television and the internet – it has been fascinating to hear people using the words of Jesus (or other words of scripture) to talk about current events, especially when it pertains to the treatment of vulnerable people or the justification of violence.  Everyone from Popes to Presidents, from public personalities to people on the street seems to be talking about Jesus.  This isn’t a bad thing at all, but in some cases, I have heard complaints – when people actually read the Bible – that Jesus’ powerful words, and teachings, and actions seem to stand in opposition to those who sometimes use Jesus’ name or image to justify their own words, and teachings, and actions.  In moments when people get mixed up about Jesus, it is more than appropriate for you and me to say – as clearly as we can – “Let me tell you about the Jesus I know. . . the Jesus whose voice clearly calls o’er the tumult of human striving and selfishness.”  

Yes, as Gary Burge writes, it can sometimes be hard to tell the right voices from the wrong voices.  But the Good Shepherd – the one who lays down his life for the sheep – has a voice that calls us to a new and different Way of life from the way that we would live if we were on our own or left to only follow the human voices that fill our minds and hearts with so much empty noise.

It might seem like the way be not clear, but always the Good Shepherd is clearly at work – doing the most loving thing, the most sacrificial thing, the most caring thing, the most courageous thing, the most just thing and clearly calling us to do the same, even when it is hard.  This is the Way to God’s kingdom right here and now.   

The Way of Jesus asks so much of us.  It is not an easy Way.  But it is a blessed way because we trust in the One who has said “Yes” to us and has made a Way – the Way – through the wilderness of human existence and – in his living, and dying, and rising – has made this Way clear.  

May the Way be clear for you and for me.  

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

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[1] Year A – Revised Common Lectionary.

[2] See Acts 9:2, 19:9, 22:4, and 24:14.

[3] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2012) 606.

[4] Paraphrased, JHS.

[5] Paraphrased, JHS.

[6] Dale Bruner, 605.

[7] Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979) 651.

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

4 / 19 / 26 – Third Sunday of Easter[1]

1 Peter 1:17-23

Luke 24:13-35

“Out or In”

(The Good News Is. . . Alive in the World)

So, are you “In” or are you “Out”?  Are you “In” on the latest fashion, the latest ideas, the latest news, the latest restaurants, the latest technology?  Are you “In” on being part of the “In-crowd” in terms of money and beauty and power, exclusive memberships, Amazon Prime deals, Netflix with no advertisements, and popularity contests?  Are you “In” or “Out”?  Are you on the outside, looking in – on the margins, on the periphery from where the action is, where the decisions are made, where the trends are set?  Are you “In” or are you “Out”?

I firmly believe that, no matter who we are – no matter how much money we make or do not make, what our talents and gifts and skills are, who we know, and how we look, all of us have had the experience, at least once in our lives, of being on the outside and being on the inside.  If we are on the inside, then we are among “our people.”  We are accepted, we are known, we are welcomed, we are celebrated, we are “somebody.”  If we are on the outside, though, we are at best, imposters – rubbing elbows with all the insiders – and at worst, we are outcasts, ostracized, made to feel less than, or just plain ignored.

When I read today’s story from the gospel of Luke, a famous story of the resurrection that takes place on that first Easter day, I think about these two outsiders – walking on the road that heads out of town.  

We do not know much about these two.  We only know the name of one of them – Cleopas.  The other one’s name has been lost to history.  Neither Cleopas or the other guy are part of the “inner circle,” per se.  They aren’t hanging out in the upper room with the remaining 11 original disciples of Jesus.  Cleopas and his friend seem to be part of the outer ring of followers – maybe just “acquaintances” of Jesus.[2]  We might presume that they had been part of the large crowd who had followed Jesus in his last weeks before arriving in the city – part of the crowd of people who had waved branches and shouted “Hosanna!” on Palm Sunday – but we do not know for sure. 

And, on the first Easter day, we find these two disciples not close to all the action – with the resurrection story that Mary Magdalene, and Joanna, and Mary the mother of James, and the other women have brought to the disciples.  Instead, we find them traveling away from the action, out on the road. . .  out to a place called Emmaus. 

Yes, before his untimely death, Jesus might have known these two men – calling them by name and knowing their stories – but we do not know much about them.  What we do know is that they are clearly troubled as they walk along.

Now, if you’ve ever been an outsider – and chances are, you have – there is a chance that you know some of what these two men are feeling.  Even though there is some confusion and fear among the inner circle, there is still some authority held by that inner circle.  Maybe the insiders don’t know exactly what’s going on, but they have some authority and that authority gives them some privilege.  But, if you’re not part of the inner circle, you’re just kind of left to rely on any news that trickles out and comes your way.  The news today has been strange – even frightening.  And Cleopas and his companion are not sure what to make of it.

By the way, when I was in seminary, I had a wonderful preaching professor named Cleo LaRue.  My fellow students and I called him Dr. LaRue and his colleagues and friends called him Cleo.  But Dr. LaRue’s mother called him Cleophus.  As he used to say, “My momma called me Cleophus, because she named me Cleophus.” 

In the original language, this name Cleophus or Cleopas is a Greek name – actually the male version of the name Cleopatra – a name that some of you may have heard before, that can be translated as “Glory of the Father” or “Glory of Everything.”[3]  The Cleopas in today’s story is the only Cleopas in the Bible and this is the only time in the Bible that he appears.  There is another character in the Gospel of John with a Jewish name – Clopas[4] – but these two different people who share a similar name were, by most accounts, not the same person.  “You say Clopas, and I say Cleo-pas. . .” 

Clopas and Cleopas are not the same.  It is interesting, though, that Cleopas is a Greek name, especially if you consider the fact that Jesus of Nazareth – a Jewish carpenter’s son and rabbi – was most definitely Jewish.  Jews and Greeks in those days did not spend time together, for a multitude of reasons.  And yet, as we can see throughout the Gospel of Luke (and later, in the Book of Acts), the good news of God’s kingdom is not just the insiders who are Jewish.  It’s for everyone – Jew and Gentile, Greek and Roman, Samaritan and Ethiopian – for everybody.  

In other words, in the kingdom of God, the artificial lines that we might draw between people, based on where they’re from or the language they speak, are just that. . . artificial.  In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus says that he has come for the “lost sheep of the house of Israel”[5] – for the Jewish people – but Jesus proves again and again that the good news is for outsiders, too.  

So, for Cleopas, a follower of Jesus with a Greek name, this is not insignificant – and it’s important for the rest of us, too – Gentiles that we are.    

There are so many wonderful things – a wealth of scriptural riches that we can mine from today’s story about Cleopas, and his friend, and the stranger that they meet on the road.  There is the use of humor – maybe a little bit of sarcasm – when Cleopas and his friend ask, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” (Luke 24:18)  And, after they describe the death of Jesus and the strange story of angels appearing to the women with the good news that Jesus is alive, the stranger responds, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared!”  (24:25)  I once heard Presbyterian pastor and professor, Rodger Nishioka, translate the stranger’s words, “You two are dumber than a box of dirt. . . Bless your hearts.”

It is very interesting that Cleopas and the other disciple do not see Jesus when they look at this stranger.  We are told that “their eyes [are] kept from recognizing him.” (24:16)  And yet, there seems to be some feeling growing within them as this stranger interprets the scriptures for them.  This “lone visitor” or “lone sojourner,”[6] as the text calls him in the original language, clearly isn’t from Jerusalem.  In the original language, the word is defined as “people who live as strangers on earth, far from their heavenly home.”  This lone stranger is an outsider, himself – but he certainly seems know a lot about Jesus.  Oftentimes God will come to us as an outsider – revealing something of the kingdom of God.  As an ancient Celtic poem says, “often, often, often goes Christ in the stranger’s guise.”[7]  Maybe this is one reason why the Bible instructs us to welcome the stranger.[8]  

Cleopas and his friend welcome this stranger – inviting him to stop and stay with them – to share a meal in the village of Emmaus.  And the stranger sits down with them. . . 

Now, this part of the story is so significant, and yet it seems to happen so fast that if we blink, we miss it.  The stranger takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to them, and then suddenly – in an instant – they see Jesus.  

It is important to note, here, that in the Gospels of Matthew and John, the risen Jesus appears directly to Mary Magdalene outside the empty tomb.  In the Gospel of Luke, though, the risen Jesus does not directly appear until this very moment to these two outsiders – outside the city, outside the inner circle.  When they recognize him, he is not with them for very long.  He reveals himself in the act of breaking, and blessing, and sharing the bread, and then he vanishes.  But, in an instant, Cleopas and his friend have their eyes and their slow-of-heart hearts opened.  Their hearts are now beating with new life and faith.  When Eugene Peterson translates this passage, the two disciples say, “Didn’t we feel ‘on fire’ as he conversed with us on the road, as he opened the Scriptures for us?”[9]  “Were not our hearts burning within us?” (24:32) When John Calvin writes about this, he says that 

. . . their recognition of Christ led the disciples to a lively perception of the secret and hidden grace of the Spirit, which he had formerly bestowed upon them.  For God sometimes works in his people in such a manner, that for a time they are not aware of the power of the Spirit. . . or, at least, that they do not perceive it distinctly.”[10]

But then – in an instant – in so many surprising ways, the Holy appears.  “Often, often, often goes Christ in the stranger’s guise.”

Friends, we live in a time in which there is so much focus on who is in and who is out – when it comes to “somebodys” and strangers, beliefs and backgrounds, parentage and partisanship.  We see example after example of insiders making outsiders out of everyone else, oftentimes because the insiders either fear becoming outsiders or they already feel like outsiders.  The church has not done the world any favors on this, over the centuries – oftentimes fighting and splitting and arguing and splitting again over who is in and who is out. . . oftentimes making the artificial inner circle smaller and smaller.  

What we tend to forget is how often God will go out of God’s way to bring good news to all of us – whether we are considered out or in by our neighbors.  What we tend to forget is that Jesus has gone out of his way to draw the circle wider – a circle that includes you, and me, and people we might be shocked or surprised to see in the circle with us.  This does not mean that Jesus is laissez-faire – hands-off – when it comes to who is in the circle.  As today’s reading from 1 Peter reminds us, Jesus is both our savior and our judge.  

And yet – for those with eyes to see – the grace of God meets us where we are and fills our hearts to overflowing, calling us to a new way of life – a way that is guided by grace.  The good news is that Jesus proves again and again that he is “All-In” on humanity – on you and me.  How does this grace transform us?  How does this grace and inspire us to run and share the good news?  How does this grace reveal a new way of life that has begun in us because Jesus has welcomed us into God’s kingdom – right here and right now? 

Beloved people of God, Jesus is “All-In” on you. . . for you.

So, are you “Out” or are you “In”?

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

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[1] Year A – Revised Common Lectionary.

[2] F. Scott Spencer, Luke: The Two Horizons New Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishers, Inc., 2019) 618.

[3] https://www.abarim-publications.com/Meaning/Cleopas.html.

[4] See John 19:25.

[5] See Matthew 15:24.

[6] Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979) 628.

[7] The “Celtic Rune of Hospitality.”  https://rabbittrails.blog/2015/11/29/christ-in-the-strangers-guise/.

[8] See Matthew 25:35.

[9] Eugene Peterson, The Message – Numbered Edition (Colorado Springs: NAV Press, 2002) 1452.

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

4 / 12 / 26 – Second Sunday of Easter[1]

John 20:19-31

1 Peter 1:3-9

“Being-There”

(The Good News Is. . . Alive in the World)

A few weeks ago, I was talking with my neighbor and she mentioned her father.[2]  “Now, remind me what your dad did for a living before he retired?” I asked.  “Oh, he was an Existential Phenomenologist,” she said.  “A who?” I said.  “An Existential Phenomenologist,” she said.  “He taught philosophy at several universities and was always reading books by Hegel, and Husserl, and Heidegger.”  

“Oh, so some light beach reading,” I joked. “Exactly. . .” she said.  

Now, it’s been a long, long time since I have heard the name Husserl or tried to read any Heidegger, but they were part of a certain group of thinkers who tried to answer the deep question “what makes beings intelligible as beings.”[3]  Some of you might remember the old saying, “I think, therefore I am,” which was something that a guy named René Decartes said in the 1600’s.  Well, this idea was kind of the foundational idea for existential phenomenology, which explores the idea of what it means to be a being in the world.  You and I have our bodies, and our minds, we have our five senses through which we experience the world.  We are involved with and care for the world, and we are able to see ourselves both as separate from and part of the immediate world around us.  Even though plants and animals exist, human beings are more aware of and must confront issues such as personhood, mortality, and the paradox of living in relationship with other humans while being ultimately alone with oneself.[4]  We might not think about this all the time, but we are able to think about it, therefore we exist.  So. . . congratulations!  

Now, you might be wondering what any of this has to do with today’s scripture readings from John and 1 Peter.  I did not know this, previously, but find it to be interesting that, for Heidegger, the word “existence” – Dasein (daa-sein) – is literally translated as, “being-there.”  One, could, perhaps interpret this as “Look, a being (a person who exists) is there.”  Or, “I am a being who exists right here.”  But, for our purposes today, if someone – a disciple named Thomas, let’s say – is not there to see another being – the risen Jesus, let’s say – does the risen Jesus even exist for Thomas (or for any of us, for that matter)?  To put it another way, does Thomas – or do any of us – have to see and touch the risen Jesus, live and in-person, for the risen Jesus to exist?  

Human experience – “being-there” – is a key part of existence.  But, as we heard in today’s reading from the Gospel of John, Thomas – unlike many of his friends – was not there to see the risen Jesus. 

On the morning of the first Easter, there had been a knock at the door.  Mary from Magdala – one of the first towns that Jesus would have visited in his ministry along the shores of the Sea of Galilee – a woman who had been healed by Jesus and had been providing for him ever since, [5] had come running to tell the disciples some surprising news:  “I have seen the Lord,” she told them.  (John 20:18)  Mary goes on to bring this strange and wonderful and hard-to-believe good news that Jesus has been raised from the dead, and the disciples sit with it all day – wondering if it could possibly be true. 

When it was evening on that day, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked. . . Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.”  (20:19)

Now, even though existential phenomenology had not been invented at the time, the disciples rejoice at the phenomenon of the risen Jesus’ existence – and their new existence in the forever-changed world in which resurrection is not just possible, but very real.  

For some reason, though, one of the disciples – Thomas, the Twin – is not with them when Jesus comes.  Maybe he’s out buying groceries or off taking a bath.  Anyway, when he comes back, Jesus has just left, and his friends tell him about the whole experience, but, instead of rejoicing, he says to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”  (20:25)

You know, Thomas often gets a bad rap for his need of proof, but there is a little bit of Thomas in each of us.  When John Calvin wrote about this passage, he said, 

. . . every one wishes to be wise from his own understanding, and flatters himself beyond measure.  If I do not see, says he, “and if I do not touch, I will not believe.”  These words have no approach to faith, but [are]. . . founded on the perception of the senses.  The same thing happens to all who are so devoted to themselves, that they leave no room for the word of God.[6]

Thomas, and so many of us over the centuries, who long for some kind of proof “seek to be wise from our own understanding.”  If we experience something through our senses – sight, touch, taste, smell, hearing – then we can comprehend that the experience is real.  But if we have not had that kind of personal, sensory experience, then the jury is still out, for us.  To which John Calvin says – and I’m paraphrasing here – “What makes you think that you and your ‘senses’ are so reliable?  What makes you think that you are smart enough?  Is it possible for you to understand everything – even the stuff that defies understanding?”  We can only see and comprehend a small fragment of the world – much less, the universe.  What makes us think that we can understand everything or know much of anything at all?

Now, this line of thinking might work on some folks, but telling someone that they are not smart enough to understand that they are not smart enough or that their scope of understanding is too small isn’t really a viable strategy for winning the hearts and minds of unbelievers.  It’s not a viable strategy for changing anyone’s mind about anything, really, these days.  

What do we do about something for which there is no verifiable 2,000 year-old proof?  I know that there are plenty of people who say, as the bumper sticker says:  “If the Bible says it, then I believe it, and that settles it.”  But there are plenty of other people who don’t see things this way.

So, what are we to do?  First, it is important to acknowledge that, as Marilynne Robinson writes:  “. . . the whole substance of the supposed controversy [between reason and faith or religion and science or atheism and theism] could be summarized as follows:  Some people believe in God and some people don’t.”[7]  Some need proof – verifiable, quantifiable evidence – and, when it comes to God, they don’t believe they have that proof.  But some people do not need proof.  They take it on faith.  As Jesus tells Thomas, “Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet have come to believe.” (20:29)

In today’s reading from 1 Peter, we find this curious and – I think – beautiful description of what faith can look like.  The letter of 1 Peter – written by someone who calls himself, you guessed it, “Peter” – is a letter of encouragement to people who have found hope and have put their faith and trust in Jesus.  And, in today’s reading, we find that although these people have not seen Jesus, they love him, and even though they do not see him now, they believe in him [they “set their hearts on him with loving trust”][8] and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy.[9]  “You never saw him, but you love him,” Peter writes to his readers.  “You still don’t see him, yet you trust him. . .”[10]  This is faith – the process of coming to believe – a process that can be filled with doubts, but is also filled with the Holy. 

As Presbyterians, we believe that the gift of faith – along with all other spiritual gifts – comes from the Holy Spirit.  John Calvin wrote that “Faith is the principal work of the Holy Spirit. . . faith itself has no other source than the Spirit.”[11]  Does this mean that the Holy Spirit is not with people who do not have faith in God?  I don’t think so.  The Holy Spirit is always working on all people.  Some people believe in God, and others don’t. . . yet.

In today’s story, when Jesus breathes on the disciples and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit,” (20:22) he is giving them the gift of faith, so that they will believe in him, even when he is not right there in front of them.  And, in our baptism, and with every miraculous breath that we are given in this life, the Spirit offers proof that there is something Holy at work for those with eyes to see.  If you’re looking for proof of the Holy, you don’t have to look far.  And, if you’re looking for the resurrection, even if you cannot touch the wounds of Jesus, there is still room for faith in the midst of doubt.  

In the end, we don’t have proof – in the form of a touchable, risen, wounded Jesus – that it really happened.  But there is a body – a living, breathing body that has been given the grace to rise again and again each and every moment of every day.  There is a body in the world – the Body of Christ, the church – wounded and imperfect though we may be.

How will we, who have received the Holy Spirit and are sent to be the body – be the hands and feet, and eyes and ears, and mind and heart – of Jesus, here and now?  How will we be the living proof of the resurrection here and now, in the ways that we live, and breathe, and love, and serve, and sacrifice, and rise up from the depths to bring good news and abundant life to the world here and now?

You know, if you are out and about this afternoon and you run into someone who asks what you learned in church today, I guess you could tell them that you learned about the meaning of your existence as a being in the world – the world in which Jesus has been raised from the dead. . . you know, existential phenomenology in light of the resurrection.  And if they say, “What on earth are you talking about?”  It would be more than okay for you to say, “Well, you just had to be there.  Come with me next week.”  

Friends, we exist because God has brought us into being, and the risen Christ has come into our lives saying “Peace be with you,” and the Holy Spirit continues to breathe the gift of life and faith into our minds and hearts, and bodies and spirits.  In this life, we will confront issues of our own personhood, and mortality, and the paradox of living in relationship with others while being ultimately alone, ourselves.  And yet we are never truly alone.  The proof is in God’s great love for us and for all the world – a love that is the ground of all being that is right here with us. . . always.  

Thanks be to God for this good news!

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

----------

[1] Revised Common Lectionary – Year A.

[2] Dr. Amedeo P. Giorgi.  https://guides.library.duq.edu/giorgialcove.

[3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_Heidegger.

[4] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dasein.

[5] See Luke 8:2-3.

[6] John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentaries – Vol. XVIII (Grand Rapids:  Baker Books, 2009) 274.

[7] Marilynne Robinson, What Are We Doing Here? Essays (New York: Farrar Straus and Giroux, 2018) 64.

[8] Diana Butler Bass – a concept of “belief” that does not rely upon proof but upon loving trust.

[9] See 1 Peter 1:8 – Paraphrased, JHS.

[10] Eugene Peterson, The Message – Numbered Edition (Colorado Springs:  NAV Press, 2002) 1676.

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

4 / 5 / 26 – Easter Sunday

Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24

Luke 24:1-5

Matthew 27:62-28:10

“When the Word Gets Out”

(The Good News is. . . Alive in the World)

It usually starts small.  Someone turns to someone else and tells them something.  And then that person turns to another person and tells them, and they tell someone else. . .  And they pass it along.   

When I was in the 1st Grade, my desk was at one end of a large U-shape of desks.  I remember turning to the kid sitting next to me and whispering something I should not have said.  The kid sitting next to me turned and whispered it to the person sitting next to them and I watched as it got passed – kid to kid – all the way around the room.  And, unlike the game “Telephone,” the message had not gotten garbled or changed in the re-telling as it got passed along.  Finally, the girl sitting on the other end of the big U, stood up and whispered it to the teacher – Ms. King – who heard it, and turned, and looked in my direction.  If looks could kill. . . Her face said it all. . .  It wasn’t going to turn out well for me. 

Words have power. . . and word can travel fast.  Nowadays, it’s so easy to say and share something that doesn’t just go around the classroom over the course of a few minutes.  It can go around the world in an instant.  Someone picks up their cell phone and either records themselves or someone else.  The video clip is then shared with a friend, who likes it and shares it with a friend, who also likes it and shares it with a friend, until everyone knows. It can’t be unsaid or unshared.  It can’t be taken back.  It’s out there. . . forever.  And, it isn’t always good. . . but sometimes, it is very good.  

“Do not be afraid!  He is not here!  He is risen!” 

Now, the first Easter did not include a video clip, and it was not a necessarily an instantaneous viral moment – but the good news spread quickly and went far, just the same; so far, across the miles and through the years, that we are still sharing it. 

In today’s reading from the Gospel of Matthew, we find some people trying to prevent this good news from ever being spoken.  The day after Jesus is buried – the day we sometimes call Holy Saturday – the people who had orchestrated his messy and wrongful death have a meeting, in which they say, “Remember how that impostor, Jesus, said ‘After three days I will rise again,’ while he was still alive?  Well, we don’t want that to happen (as if it could happen, in the first place!).  And we don’t want Jesus’ people to come take his body, in secret, and say that it happened, which would make the last deception worse than the first.”[1]  These fine upstanding leaders of the people who believe that there was always something false about this Jesus fellow want to make sure that they are controlling the narrative, here.  “We will see to it that this Jesus will never rise from the dead – either literally or in the wild tall tales his followers might tell.”  

And so, they place guards at the tomb.  They make it secure.  In the original language, there is this idea of being made “firm and certain,”[2] immovable.  Our word “asphalt” actually comes from the Greek word, here.  The guards don’t necessarily pave the tomb shut, but maybe you get the idea that they want it immovably secure.  And, after this, night falls, and the guards stay put outside the tomb that they have fastened shut.  

And then. . . and then. . . 

No one knows exactly how it happens.  There is no scientific description of how God reanimated a body and mind or how this body that had been laid in the tomb goes from being there to not there, anymore. . .  All we have are the eyewitness accounts of “Mary Magdalene and the other Mary” (Matthew 28:1) who go to see the tomb.  In the Gospels of Mark and Luke,[3] the women are carrying spices with them to embalm the body of Jesus, and when they get there, the tomb is already open. 

The story from Matthew’s Gospel is a bit more dramatic:  there is a great earthquake, and an angel of the Lord descends from heaven, and rolls the stone away, and then sits on it.  And the guards – remember them? – are shaking in their sandals with fear and then they just pass out.  As the text tells us, the ones who were there to guard a dead body, “became like dead men,” themselves.[4]  

At the fainting of the big and tough guards, if someone had been filming it all, I imagine the angel looking straight into the camera and giving a little wink and a shrug, right here.  But the angel turns to Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, and says, 

Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified.  He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said.  Come, see the place where he lay.  Then go quickly and tell his disciples. . . (28:5-7)

“Do not be afraid!  He is not here!  He is risen!”

You know, I don’t often quote the 18th Century Scottish philosopher, David Hume, but. . . since it’s Easter. . . I thought we could “Hume-it-up” a little.  [A little Hume-or, if you will.]. Anyway, Hume believed that human reason and experience – using our minds to observe the world around us – should be the basis for all human knowledge.[5]  For Hume, who by most accounts did not not believe in God, a miracle – such as the bodily resurrection of Jesus – is “a transgression of a law of nature by a particular volition of the Deity, or by the interposition of some invisible agent.”[6]  In other words, the mysterious miracle of the resurrection is something that just doesn’t happen naturally.  God goes against the “law of nature,” as Hume calls it.

In the 20th Century a philosopher named Richard Swinburne[7] was thinking about Hume and wrote that the God who created the cosmos, 

. . . has good reason to [keep] the laws of nature [in place].  For by so doing [God] creates a beautiful universe, a dance of moving material bodies; and only by doing so can [God] give to us embodied creatures power over nature. . .” [8]  . . . to change the environment around us. To make and build things, and send spaceships to the moon, and things like that.  

Swinburne goes on to say that all of this – and more – is how the natural world works and how we work within the natural world:[9] “. . . the laws of nature depend for their operation from moment to moment on God, who, in virtue of God’s [power], can suspend them as and when [God] chooses.”[10]  

In other words, like any loving parent who makes the rules for a household, God has the ability to bend the rules. . . God does not always do this, mind you, but does from time to time.  We see this happen, for example, when we pray and we ask God to bend or break the rules of nature.  It happens when we pray for a miracle. . .  

“O God, please don’t let my Final Four bracket get busted.” “O God, help me pass this test even though I didn’t study.” “O God, please stop it from snowing in New Hampshire in April.”             And sometimes, our prayers are far more serious. . .  “O God, help those astronauts get home, safely.” “O God, bring that pilot back safely, and bring peace to the earth.” “O God, heal this body that is so, so sick.” “O God, grant me the peace I need and the hope to make it through.”  

As Swinburne writes, whenever we pray, “this provides reason for God responding to the particular requests and needs of individuals. . .”  Sometimes, this response is a “Yes,” and other times, it is a loving “No” or “Not yet,” which we have no control over.  But there are also the bigger prayers that we need to pray, simply because we are human beings, and God will respond “to a common need of the human race.”[11]

For example, to meet the great need of the whole human race, God bent the laws of nature:  God became incarnate in Jesus Christ – “the Word [“Capital W”] became flesh” (John 1:14) we read and say at Christmastime.  And, in Jesus Christ, we find the God who enters into human history and brings forgiveness and atonement for sin, and identifies with us – humble human beings that we are –  to show us – teaching us by example, even – how to live as God intends.  The God who made the heavens and the earth can – and does – do all of this, and more, so why not add resurrection to this remarkable list? 

You know, it is more than okay for us to wonder about the “how” of the resurrection.  But the real point of the resurrection is not the “how.”  It is the “who” and the “why.”  

In short, God has done this thing because God loves us.  This is good news – good news that cannot be contained or confined by death, or the tomb, or the various and selfish human reasons we might seek to constrain the good news.

The Word [“Capital W”] is out – the good news is alive in the world.  It can’t be unsaid or unshared.  It can’t be taken back.  It’s out here. . . forever. . . with us. . .

We live in a time when good news might seem scarce.  There are wars and rumors of wars.  There are actual divisions and made-up divisions and those who know how to exploit both.  We say and do the wrong things, too, and we live in a world where hope seems to be at a low ebb. 

And yet. . . and yet. . .  the abundant good news of the resurrection is that there is something better in store for the world than whatever might be troubling the world in the present moment.  Pain and death, grief and sorrow, unjust societies and systems, poverty and discrimination, anger and anxiety, are all around and too much for us to bear, and yet. . . and yet. . . God is bringing something new to light – a new creation, a new heaven and earth in which the things of this world that threaten to undo us will come to an end.  God will make it so because God loves us and the resurrection of Jesus is simply and wonderfully the beginning of all of it – the “first fruits”[12] of all that will be.  

The good news is alive in the world.  The Word is out. . . out of the tomb long ago, and on the joy-filled lips of Mary Magdalene and the other Mary.  The Word is out. . . and filled with awe-inspiring wonder as the risen Jesus appeared to his disciples.  The Word is out. . . and alive at the very heart of everyone who carried the good news from Jerusalem and out into the whole wide world.  The Word is out. . . and is alive at the very heart of you and me – we who have received this good news that has been passed, person-to-person to us throughout the centuries with help from the Holy Spirit. 

It’s not “old news,” though.  It is good news!  

The Word is out. . . and it is making all things new.  

How will we live it, every moment of our lives?  How will we bear it wherever we go?  How will we share it in all that we say and do?  

“Do not be afraid!  He is here, with us!  He is risen!  And so will we!”  

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

------------------

[1] Matthew 27:63-64 – Paraphrased, JHS.

[2] Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979) 119.

[3] See Mark 16:1 and Luke 24:1.

[4] See Matthew 28:4 – Paraphrased, JHS.

[5] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Hume.

[6] David Hume, An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding (Oxford: Clarendon, 1902) 115.

[7] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Swinburne.

[8] Stephen Davis, Danial Kendall, and Gerald O’Collins, ed. The Resurrection (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998) 202. Richard Swinburne, “Evidence for the Resurrection.”   

[9] Stephen Davis, et al.  203.  Richard Swinburne, “Evidence for the Resurrection.”  Paraphrased, JHS.  “. . . only regularities in the behavior of air will enable me to communicate with you by sound, and only regularities in the behavior of bricks will enable me to construct a building. . .” etc.  

[10] Stephen Davis, et al.  202.  Richard Swinburne, “Evidence for the Resurrection.”

[11] Stephen Davis, et al.  203.  Richard Swinburne, “Evidence for the Resurrection.”