Today is part two of a series on the “Great Ends,” or purposes of, the church. You could say that these “great ends” were kind of like a mission statement for the Protestant Reformation. They were statements of identity and purpose for the whole church – not just this congregation or that one, but everyone who follows Jesus and makes up “The Church” – and they started with: The Proclamation of the Gospel for the Salvation of Humankind.
Last week we talked about the proclamation of the gospel, what it means, and how we are not in it alone, how it is not up to us alone, and how it is not optional. We can’t be the church of Jesus Christ without proclaiming salvation from sin and death, and we can’t be saved from sin and death without acting in ways to welcome others into the love and mercy of God.
Today we’re going to talk a little more about the way we welcome others by “Providing for the Shelter, Nurture, and Spiritual Fellowship of the Children of God.”
Now, I know that sounds like children’s Sunday School and VBS to many of you – and for good reason, but neither of those actually existed at the time of the Protestant Reformation. So let’s break the phrase down a bit and see what they might have had in mind. First off, who are the “Children of God,” or better yet, who is not? Is there anyone that you could look in the eye, regardless of how badly they have grieved God’s heart, and say, “Nope. The God who is love does not love that one”?
Maybe you feel that you can, but I can’t – so let’s assume that this means everyone. That means our job – collectively as the Body of Christ – is to provide shelter or at least places (physically and relationally) where people feel safe; to encourage the wellbeing and development of each person in mind, body, and soul; and to offer and maintain relationships that connect us, soul to soul.
Again, this is a pretty tall order, but we are not alone. This is the expectation of the whole church, of which we are a part, and God is working in and through us to make these things happen. I mentioned Vacation Bible School earlier because that’s one of those times and places where many of us have experienced the church working on these goals – shelter, nurture, and spiritual fellowship – in a very specific way.
That’s a good thing. Offering programs like these create anchor points for our lives, and they help make concepts like reconciliation more understandable and real. Still, VBS is mostly for children and those adults who journey with them into fellowship halls and sanctuaries made over into thematic wildernesses and jungles.
Not everyone has those touchstones. For me, the memory of them from my childhood has all but faded. While being the church offers new and wonderful experiences of reconciliation every day, alot of the channel markers for my faith are tied to Camps and Conferences – both as a youth and as an adult – and today’s passage always brings me back to Camp Glenkirk, which was the National Capital Presbytery’s campground in the ’90s.
I spent a summer there as the Adventure Camp Director, and I took kids on hikes and canoe trips in the Shenandoah River Valley. It’s amazing how many stories I have from that one summer, and how I grew in faith as much or more than any of our campers.
It was a dry summer and the water was low. The angular rock formations cut across the winding river to form a maze, and if you did not read the currents, a group of canoes could become a log jam. In some sections, the canoe partners would just give up trying to read the currents and they would have to carry their canoes for a bit. Along the way, we would stop and eat lunch and have a Bible Study that included the Corinthians passage we read today. For some reason, that passage struck me and I began to read it in my personal devotional time. I read the same passage every morning for an entire summer. I didn’t try to memorize it. I just tried to understand it and internalize it.
At some point, I realized that we had been living it out on the river, in our staff meetings, and in our downtime together. We had been living out the call to reconciliation when cooking meals around the campfire and when deciding what jokes to tell and which ones not to tell. Suddenly, it became part of my mantra, after describing the way to read the currents and giving my water safety spiel, to say to them, “There are rocks. You will get stuck. You are just going to have to find a way to love each other through it.”
Now, I had gotten pretty good at reading the currents, so I always went first. Of course, the kid who no one else picked always ended up with me – the heavy kid, the shy kid, the weak paddler, – and I was fine with that. The kid was usually grumpy about it until we got out in front and I turned the canoe around so they could see the log jam. After that, it was usually ok to be in the “nerd canoe.”
One day there was a young girl named Hope – who seemed to have a good day on the River – but just before campfire time, she had what I now understand to be a full-fledged anxiety attack. She separated herself from the group and several counselors sat with her while she wailed about her family and how she did not know if she believed in God, and how does anyone, and who were we to say? In the end, we just gave her some space to work it out. Her counselor sat with her to be sure she was not alone (we were out in the woods by a river).
When she came back to the group she was received with love and joy. We all assured her that we loved her, and so did God. When we got back to the main campground we called her parents and got them in touch with a mental health professional through their church. Essentially we became, as well as we were able, the comfort of God for her in hope that she might not only be comforted but might also be able to comfort others one day.
That kind of “pay it forward” message is the backdrop for Paul’s pleas for you and me to become ambassadors of reconciliation. In 2 Corinthians 1:3, he encourages us to know that God is the source of comfort so that we may trust that when we offer comfort it is not limited by what we can do.
That’s why sometimes just showing up – broken and hurting as we are – is enough. On our own, we are naturally estranged. We are naturally focused on the info at our fingertips. We are naturally concerned for our own survival and for that of those we love and for those we relate to as a part of our tribe.
Love and mercy are not so limited, though. God’s love and mercy breaks through our barriers that we build up to feel safe, names us and claims us as one of God’s own, and we become real – but that’s just the beginning.
It’s kind of like lighting a candle. When you light a candle there is a chemical reaction that takes place. Heat, fuel, and oxygen create light that moves beyond anything the candle had in mind – if it had a mind at all – and although it is costly to the candle, giving light is what the candle was made for, so we might say that the candle – if it had a heart to feel – might feel joy in giving light.
So it is with you and me and the church of Jesus Christ. We start with being reconciled to God, and that leads us into right and good and loving relationships with all of God’s good creation – but what does that really mean? What does it have to do with “Shelter, Nurture, and Spiritual Fellowship” anyway?
According to John DeGruchy, an author and theologian who has worked long and hard to reconcile communities in South Africa after Apartheid, we often mistake the word we translate as “reconcile” to mean something like “consensus” when really it means more like “exchanging with the other.”
At its heart, being reconciled to God and to others means that we have seen the world through the eyes of the other. In the case of God, it moves us to understand the world through the compassion that we have received from God. In terms of the other, it has more to do with finding common ground based on the grace and mercy we have both received from God.
God’s grace is going to look different through your eyes than it does through mine. It’s true that no matter what you’ve done or what’s been done to you God’s love is the same, but my experience of God’s love is going to be different from someone who struggles with addiction. It’s going to be different from someone who can afford a private jet, just as It’s going to be different from someone who is without a place to call home. My experience of God’s grace and mercy is different from the experience of the person who was just set free from an immigration detention center, just as it is different from the guard who works there and is also a follower of Jesus.
How can we create safe spaces to grow and connect soul to soul unless we become reconciled to God and to one another?
That is the question that drives the Church of All Nations in Washington DC. It’s a Presbyterian congregation with no majority ethnic group, no majority political orientation, and very few of their members grew up as Presbyterians. It sounds like a dream, but it’s true.
When Rev. Jin S. Kim told the story of their unlikely formation and their constant work to live into the call of reconciliation – the reconciliation that is accomplished in the cross of Christ – he said, “Reconciliation is a messy affair. Reconciliation is a costly affair….it is “possible impossibility [that we have to keep in front of us every day].”
That kind of takes me back to that candle, and it also takes me back to Hope. That was the camper in my canoe so long ago. We did our best to embody the love of God. Did she accept it? Did she become reconciled to God in the same way we were able to be reconciled with her?
I certainly hope so...Hope. Last week we were reminded that our hope is in the Lord, so we can trust that it will come to be. So, as the Kingdom of God unfolds, our job is to roll out the carpet. Our job, if we have been reconciled to God, is to make safe spaces where love can grow and everyone we meet may connect – soul to soul.
Come to think of it, that happened to me in the grocery store parking lot the other day. I still had my mask on while walking to my car. Another person was walking toward me and I sidestepped in an attempt to show some courtesy. She said, “Good morning!” in a cheerful yet appreciative tone. I replied, “Good morning!” We were just two people passing by each other and doing our best to demonstrate care for each other and the world around us, yet it felt like stepping into the Kingdom of God – right there in the parking lot.
Friends, sometimes the Kingdom of God is easier to find than your car keys. Sometimes it’s a lot harder, so we need to enjoy the win when we get it and be ready for the times when we are called to do the hard work of experiencing grace through the eyes of someone that we might rather not.
For now, let’s keep our heads up. Let’s create space for love to grow, so that all may connect, soul to soul, in the Kingdom that is both present and on the way – and to God be the glory, now and always. Amen.
Last week we talked about the proclamation of the gospel, what it means, and how we are not in it alone, how it is not up to us alone, and how it is not optional. We can’t be the church of Jesus Christ without proclaiming salvation from sin and death, and we can’t be saved from sin and death without acting in ways to welcome others into the love and mercy of God.
Today we’re going to talk a little more about the way we welcome others by “Providing for the Shelter, Nurture, and Spiritual Fellowship of the Children of God.”
Now, I know that sounds like children’s Sunday School and VBS to many of you – and for good reason, but neither of those actually existed at the time of the Protestant Reformation. So let’s break the phrase down a bit and see what they might have had in mind. First off, who are the “Children of God,” or better yet, who is not? Is there anyone that you could look in the eye, regardless of how badly they have grieved God’s heart, and say, “Nope. The God who is love does not love that one”?
Maybe you feel that you can, but I can’t – so let’s assume that this means everyone. That means our job – collectively as the Body of Christ – is to provide shelter or at least places (physically and relationally) where people feel safe; to encourage the wellbeing and development of each person in mind, body, and soul; and to offer and maintain relationships that connect us, soul to soul.
Again, this is a pretty tall order, but we are not alone. This is the expectation of the whole church, of which we are a part, and God is working in and through us to make these things happen. I mentioned Vacation Bible School earlier because that’s one of those times and places where many of us have experienced the church working on these goals – shelter, nurture, and spiritual fellowship – in a very specific way.
That’s a good thing. Offering programs like these create anchor points for our lives, and they help make concepts like reconciliation more understandable and real. Still, VBS is mostly for children and those adults who journey with them into fellowship halls and sanctuaries made over into thematic wildernesses and jungles.
Not everyone has those touchstones. For me, the memory of them from my childhood has all but faded. While being the church offers new and wonderful experiences of reconciliation every day, alot of the channel markers for my faith are tied to Camps and Conferences – both as a youth and as an adult – and today’s passage always brings me back to Camp Glenkirk, which was the National Capital Presbytery’s campground in the ’90s.
I spent a summer there as the Adventure Camp Director, and I took kids on hikes and canoe trips in the Shenandoah River Valley. It’s amazing how many stories I have from that one summer, and how I grew in faith as much or more than any of our campers.
It was a dry summer and the water was low. The angular rock formations cut across the winding river to form a maze, and if you did not read the currents, a group of canoes could become a log jam. In some sections, the canoe partners would just give up trying to read the currents and they would have to carry their canoes for a bit. Along the way, we would stop and eat lunch and have a Bible Study that included the Corinthians passage we read today. For some reason, that passage struck me and I began to read it in my personal devotional time. I read the same passage every morning for an entire summer. I didn’t try to memorize it. I just tried to understand it and internalize it.
At some point, I realized that we had been living it out on the river, in our staff meetings, and in our downtime together. We had been living out the call to reconciliation when cooking meals around the campfire and when deciding what jokes to tell and which ones not to tell. Suddenly, it became part of my mantra, after describing the way to read the currents and giving my water safety spiel, to say to them, “There are rocks. You will get stuck. You are just going to have to find a way to love each other through it.”
Now, I had gotten pretty good at reading the currents, so I always went first. Of course, the kid who no one else picked always ended up with me – the heavy kid, the shy kid, the weak paddler, – and I was fine with that. The kid was usually grumpy about it until we got out in front and I turned the canoe around so they could see the log jam. After that, it was usually ok to be in the “nerd canoe.”
One day there was a young girl named Hope – who seemed to have a good day on the River – but just before campfire time, she had what I now understand to be a full-fledged anxiety attack. She separated herself from the group and several counselors sat with her while she wailed about her family and how she did not know if she believed in God, and how does anyone, and who were we to say? In the end, we just gave her some space to work it out. Her counselor sat with her to be sure she was not alone (we were out in the woods by a river).
When she came back to the group she was received with love and joy. We all assured her that we loved her, and so did God. When we got back to the main campground we called her parents and got them in touch with a mental health professional through their church. Essentially we became, as well as we were able, the comfort of God for her in hope that she might not only be comforted but might also be able to comfort others one day.
That kind of “pay it forward” message is the backdrop for Paul’s pleas for you and me to become ambassadors of reconciliation. In 2 Corinthians 1:3, he encourages us to know that God is the source of comfort so that we may trust that when we offer comfort it is not limited by what we can do.
That’s why sometimes just showing up – broken and hurting as we are – is enough. On our own, we are naturally estranged. We are naturally focused on the info at our fingertips. We are naturally concerned for our own survival and for that of those we love and for those we relate to as a part of our tribe.
Love and mercy are not so limited, though. God’s love and mercy breaks through our barriers that we build up to feel safe, names us and claims us as one of God’s own, and we become real – but that’s just the beginning.
It’s kind of like lighting a candle. When you light a candle there is a chemical reaction that takes place. Heat, fuel, and oxygen create light that moves beyond anything the candle had in mind – if it had a mind at all – and although it is costly to the candle, giving light is what the candle was made for, so we might say that the candle – if it had a heart to feel – might feel joy in giving light.
So it is with you and me and the church of Jesus Christ. We start with being reconciled to God, and that leads us into right and good and loving relationships with all of God’s good creation – but what does that really mean? What does it have to do with “Shelter, Nurture, and Spiritual Fellowship” anyway?
According to John DeGruchy, an author and theologian who has worked long and hard to reconcile communities in South Africa after Apartheid, we often mistake the word we translate as “reconcile” to mean something like “consensus” when really it means more like “exchanging with the other.”
At its heart, being reconciled to God and to others means that we have seen the world through the eyes of the other. In the case of God, it moves us to understand the world through the compassion that we have received from God. In terms of the other, it has more to do with finding common ground based on the grace and mercy we have both received from God.
God’s grace is going to look different through your eyes than it does through mine. It’s true that no matter what you’ve done or what’s been done to you God’s love is the same, but my experience of God’s love is going to be different from someone who struggles with addiction. It’s going to be different from someone who can afford a private jet, just as It’s going to be different from someone who is without a place to call home. My experience of God’s grace and mercy is different from the experience of the person who was just set free from an immigration detention center, just as it is different from the guard who works there and is also a follower of Jesus.
How can we create safe spaces to grow and connect soul to soul unless we become reconciled to God and to one another?
That is the question that drives the Church of All Nations in Washington DC. It’s a Presbyterian congregation with no majority ethnic group, no majority political orientation, and very few of their members grew up as Presbyterians. It sounds like a dream, but it’s true.
When Rev. Jin S. Kim told the story of their unlikely formation and their constant work to live into the call of reconciliation – the reconciliation that is accomplished in the cross of Christ – he said, “Reconciliation is a messy affair. Reconciliation is a costly affair….it is “possible impossibility [that we have to keep in front of us every day].”
That kind of takes me back to that candle, and it also takes me back to Hope. That was the camper in my canoe so long ago. We did our best to embody the love of God. Did she accept it? Did she become reconciled to God in the same way we were able to be reconciled with her?
I certainly hope so...Hope. Last week we were reminded that our hope is in the Lord, so we can trust that it will come to be. So, as the Kingdom of God unfolds, our job is to roll out the carpet. Our job, if we have been reconciled to God, is to make safe spaces where love can grow and everyone we meet may connect – soul to soul.
Come to think of it, that happened to me in the grocery store parking lot the other day. I still had my mask on while walking to my car. Another person was walking toward me and I sidestepped in an attempt to show some courtesy. She said, “Good morning!” in a cheerful yet appreciative tone. I replied, “Good morning!” We were just two people passing by each other and doing our best to demonstrate care for each other and the world around us, yet it felt like stepping into the Kingdom of God – right there in the parking lot.
Friends, sometimes the Kingdom of God is easier to find than your car keys. Sometimes it’s a lot harder, so we need to enjoy the win when we get it and be ready for the times when we are called to do the hard work of experiencing grace through the eyes of someone that we might rather not.
For now, let’s keep our heads up. Let’s create space for love to grow, so that all may connect, soul to soul, in the Kingdom that is both present and on the way – and to God be the glory, now and always. Amen.
Comments