I’ve had a lot of time to think recently. Sometimes that can be a good thing, sometimes not. I don’t know that I have come closer to solving any of life’s puzzles, but I have tried to become a little more aware of its patterns. Each generation seems to have its shot at getting things right or making things worse, and while we tend to blame things on one generation or another, no generation operates in a vacuum. Usually, there are two or three generations that either work together or against one another to create the present reality that becomes their legacy.
As I look back on the last 50 – 60 rotations around the sun, it seems to me that each decade has its big defining event for us as a people who live in the U.S.A. In the 1960’s we were nearly torn apart over the struggle for Civil Rights for women and people of color. After that – and the conflict in Vietnam – we found ourselves in the 1970s just trying to figure out how to live together while we tested the boundaries of fashion with bizarre and unholy combinations of polyester plaids.
It’s no wonder the ’80s became known as the “me generation.” Everyone was so tired of caring for each other, and there wasn’t a significant conflict that forced our hands the way they did in previous generations. [After worship a church member corrected me by reminding me that the AIDS crisis took the lives of thousands of gay men, and I was also reminded of growing up under the threat of nuclear annihilation – yay, awesome ’80s!]
That’s not to say that nothing good came of it. If nothing else it may have been the starting point for a new wave of women engineers, based on the creativity of their physics-defying hairstyles! Seriously, though, we are clearly seeing the impact of Title 9 on women’s athletics, and that’s a good thing! Then, in the ’90s, no one seemed to care for anything as we learned to say “It’s all good,” and “whatever.”
Unfortunately, that was challenged in the 2000s by terrorism and recession, followed by a struggle for power in the 2010s. Good has still come out of all these things, and even now we stand in the midst of a pandemic proclaiming that God is still sovereign, and God is still good – even if we have trouble seeing it sometimes.
All these events have been punctuated by political figures and elected officials, and each has made us feel like we are poised on the brink of drastic change and the soul of our nation hangs in the balance. While that may very well be true, it’s certainly not my job to tell you what to do about it. I may tell you that I believe that God has given us the opportunity to vote, but I will not tell you who to vote for.
At the same time, I’m not going to deny the way in which the entirety of scripture – from Genesis to Revelation – speaks about, into, and even from political processes. I’m not going to deny the rich history of the Presbyterian Church in the founding of our nation and the imperfectly prophetic role that we have played in guiding it. John Witherspoon was the only clergy to sign the Declaration of Independence. He was also a slave owner.
The historical society of the PC(USA) can provide images of Martin Luther King Jr. speaking in Anderson Auditorium at the Montreat Conference Center, and a few hundred yards away in the lobby of the Assembly Inn there are scars on the floor from the bars that were put in when that building was used as a Japanese Internment Camp.
Yes, that was then and this is now, but what will history reveal about this present moment? How does our faith inform our actions in an election year? Well, according to scripture, we must “be all the more eager to confirm our call and election.”
That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? We can spend hours wringing our hands and worrying over what it means to be called by God and asking how we know for sure. We could spend days arguing over the problem of claiming to be God’s chosen people. I mean, what does that say about everyone else? Are they just out of luck? What kind of loving parental God chooses favorites?
The reality is that we weren’t chosen because of anything special about ourselves. Don’t get me wrong. We are all unique masterpieces reflecting some aspect of the character of God, but that’s not why you were chosen. You were chosen in much the same way that God chose to come and dwell among us through Christ – out of God’s love for the world. Out of love, God knows that we need some kind of example – some real experience of love, – in order that we may love. That’s why we’ve been set apart, selected, and elected as God’s people.
We confirm our election and celebrate it as God’s people in sacraments and prayers, but all that means nothing if we aren’t living in participation with God’s will. That’s the amazing thing about our faith – whether we are at the ballot box or the grocery store or on social media or a video chat – our faith in God’s choice to love us unconditionally is what empowers us to love without the corruption of our own self-serving desires.
Peter described it with all the fervor of a man who knows that he is going to die and wants to set things right, and it’s as simple as this: support your faith with goodness; goodness with knowledge; knowledge with self-control; self-control with endurance; endurance with godliness; godliness with mutual affection; mutual affection with selfless love.
If these are increasing then you are not bound by past sins. If they aren’t increasing, then you may need to go back to faith in God – and the love that you have received – and let it move you toward new choices that reflect a deeper love of others.
I say “you” because we all have an individual responsibility to love as we have been loved, yet we can’t escape the fact that we share this responsibility as the church. I’ve been thinking about that lately. I’ve wondered about new ways to encourage and support the ministry that we share – that’s kind of a perpetual concern of mine – and I started thinking about the way the church is like a bicycle wheel.
This wheel has a central hub and the spokes bear the tension together. If the spokes become too rigid or too loose or missing altogether, then the tension becomes unequal and the rim can bend and warp. You could say that the spokes are like the committees that empower the ministry of the church. The rim and the tire could be the people doing the work of ministry. Maybe the Holy Spirit is in the tube (Presbyterians like the Holy Spirit to seem indispensable and manageable). That does raise questions about who is at the center. Is it the Session? Is it the staff? Is it me? Those are all reasonable ideas institutionally, and sometimes it feels like that – especially in a small church. In fact, it’s easy for any of us to feel sometimes like the weight is on us and nothing is going to move without us.
One thing that I have learned (or been reminded of) over the last two weeks is that I am no more the center of the wheel than any of us are. If this is the church, then we are nothing without God in the center. Unless our faith in God’s love drives us to love, then all of our efforts to love are self-serving instead of God reflecting. How do we know when we are reflecting the image of God? We see it in the face of the other. We see it when strangers become friends. We see it when politics no longer divide but instead reflect a mutual desire for the care of the vulnerable and the willingness to risk on behalf of love – not just love of country, but love of God and neighbor.
Confirming our call and our election should result in a sense of awe and wonder – not about us, but about what God is doing through us. Take the bike wheel for example. Did you know that there are new models of bikes that use a wheel that has no spokes? What’s at the center of those wheels? How is the Holy Spirit unleashed by those wheels?
I couldn’t tell you the physics behind it all, but I think it speaks to a vision of the church. If nothing else, it reminds us that there is always another way to be inspired and moved. Some rigidity is always required, but a spokeless wheel proves that stability can be created with greater attention to our purpose and vision than just being spokes in a wheel! Maybe the model of a spokeless wheel requires each of the committees to know more intimately their impact on the whole. Maybe it means more task forces and more fluidity for changes in leadership, or maybe it requires a greater appreciation for God’s active presence at the center of all things, whether we like it or not!
The good news in all of this is that each new day gives us a new chance to love. Each new day gives us the invitation to proclaim what we already know to be true, even if we, like Peter, sound like a broken record. Peter told the church, “I know that you know this, but it bears repeating until it becomes real. Your faith is precious. It is the invitation to a life lived in participation with God!”
Life lived in participation with God is what we will celebrate today around God’s table.* Let it be known that all are welcome here – for there is no child of God that cannot be known as God’s beloved. That’s the funny thing about God’s election. All it takes is one vote, and we believe that God cast that vote on the cross. That vote was for you and for me and for the restoration of all creation that began on the cross and involves you and me as partners with God. It’s not because God can’t do it without you. It’s because God doesn’t want to do it without you.
So, come, taste and see, as though it were the afterparty and you are getting ready to tell the world that you’ve been elected, and so have they – and may God be praised and may mutual love continue, now and always. Amen!
As I look back on the last 50 – 60 rotations around the sun, it seems to me that each decade has its big defining event for us as a people who live in the U.S.A. In the 1960’s we were nearly torn apart over the struggle for Civil Rights for women and people of color. After that – and the conflict in Vietnam – we found ourselves in the 1970s just trying to figure out how to live together while we tested the boundaries of fashion with bizarre and unholy combinations of polyester plaids.
It’s no wonder the ’80s became known as the “me generation.” Everyone was so tired of caring for each other, and there wasn’t a significant conflict that forced our hands the way they did in previous generations. [After worship a church member corrected me by reminding me that the AIDS crisis took the lives of thousands of gay men, and I was also reminded of growing up under the threat of nuclear annihilation – yay, awesome ’80s!]
That’s not to say that nothing good came of it. If nothing else it may have been the starting point for a new wave of women engineers, based on the creativity of their physics-defying hairstyles! Seriously, though, we are clearly seeing the impact of Title 9 on women’s athletics, and that’s a good thing! Then, in the ’90s, no one seemed to care for anything as we learned to say “It’s all good,” and “whatever.”
Unfortunately, that was challenged in the 2000s by terrorism and recession, followed by a struggle for power in the 2010s. Good has still come out of all these things, and even now we stand in the midst of a pandemic proclaiming that God is still sovereign, and God is still good – even if we have trouble seeing it sometimes.
All these events have been punctuated by political figures and elected officials, and each has made us feel like we are poised on the brink of drastic change and the soul of our nation hangs in the balance. While that may very well be true, it’s certainly not my job to tell you what to do about it. I may tell you that I believe that God has given us the opportunity to vote, but I will not tell you who to vote for.
At the same time, I’m not going to deny the way in which the entirety of scripture – from Genesis to Revelation – speaks about, into, and even from political processes. I’m not going to deny the rich history of the Presbyterian Church in the founding of our nation and the imperfectly prophetic role that we have played in guiding it. John Witherspoon was the only clergy to sign the Declaration of Independence. He was also a slave owner.
The historical society of the PC(USA) can provide images of Martin Luther King Jr. speaking in Anderson Auditorium at the Montreat Conference Center, and a few hundred yards away in the lobby of the Assembly Inn there are scars on the floor from the bars that were put in when that building was used as a Japanese Internment Camp.
Yes, that was then and this is now, but what will history reveal about this present moment? How does our faith inform our actions in an election year? Well, according to scripture, we must “be all the more eager to confirm our call and election.”
That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? We can spend hours wringing our hands and worrying over what it means to be called by God and asking how we know for sure. We could spend days arguing over the problem of claiming to be God’s chosen people. I mean, what does that say about everyone else? Are they just out of luck? What kind of loving parental God chooses favorites?
The reality is that we weren’t chosen because of anything special about ourselves. Don’t get me wrong. We are all unique masterpieces reflecting some aspect of the character of God, but that’s not why you were chosen. You were chosen in much the same way that God chose to come and dwell among us through Christ – out of God’s love for the world. Out of love, God knows that we need some kind of example – some real experience of love, – in order that we may love. That’s why we’ve been set apart, selected, and elected as God’s people.
We confirm our election and celebrate it as God’s people in sacraments and prayers, but all that means nothing if we aren’t living in participation with God’s will. That’s the amazing thing about our faith – whether we are at the ballot box or the grocery store or on social media or a video chat – our faith in God’s choice to love us unconditionally is what empowers us to love without the corruption of our own self-serving desires.
Peter described it with all the fervor of a man who knows that he is going to die and wants to set things right, and it’s as simple as this: support your faith with goodness; goodness with knowledge; knowledge with self-control; self-control with endurance; endurance with godliness; godliness with mutual affection; mutual affection with selfless love.
If these are increasing then you are not bound by past sins. If they aren’t increasing, then you may need to go back to faith in God – and the love that you have received – and let it move you toward new choices that reflect a deeper love of others.
I say “you” because we all have an individual responsibility to love as we have been loved, yet we can’t escape the fact that we share this responsibility as the church. I’ve been thinking about that lately. I’ve wondered about new ways to encourage and support the ministry that we share – that’s kind of a perpetual concern of mine – and I started thinking about the way the church is like a bicycle wheel.
This wheel has a central hub and the spokes bear the tension together. If the spokes become too rigid or too loose or missing altogether, then the tension becomes unequal and the rim can bend and warp. You could say that the spokes are like the committees that empower the ministry of the church. The rim and the tire could be the people doing the work of ministry. Maybe the Holy Spirit is in the tube (Presbyterians like the Holy Spirit to seem indispensable and manageable). That does raise questions about who is at the center. Is it the Session? Is it the staff? Is it me? Those are all reasonable ideas institutionally, and sometimes it feels like that – especially in a small church. In fact, it’s easy for any of us to feel sometimes like the weight is on us and nothing is going to move without us.
One thing that I have learned (or been reminded of) over the last two weeks is that I am no more the center of the wheel than any of us are. If this is the church, then we are nothing without God in the center. Unless our faith in God’s love drives us to love, then all of our efforts to love are self-serving instead of God reflecting. How do we know when we are reflecting the image of God? We see it in the face of the other. We see it when strangers become friends. We see it when politics no longer divide but instead reflect a mutual desire for the care of the vulnerable and the willingness to risk on behalf of love – not just love of country, but love of God and neighbor.
Confirming our call and our election should result in a sense of awe and wonder – not about us, but about what God is doing through us. Take the bike wheel for example. Did you know that there are new models of bikes that use a wheel that has no spokes? What’s at the center of those wheels? How is the Holy Spirit unleashed by those wheels?
I couldn’t tell you the physics behind it all, but I think it speaks to a vision of the church. If nothing else, it reminds us that there is always another way to be inspired and moved. Some rigidity is always required, but a spokeless wheel proves that stability can be created with greater attention to our purpose and vision than just being spokes in a wheel! Maybe the model of a spokeless wheel requires each of the committees to know more intimately their impact on the whole. Maybe it means more task forces and more fluidity for changes in leadership, or maybe it requires a greater appreciation for God’s active presence at the center of all things, whether we like it or not!
The good news in all of this is that each new day gives us a new chance to love. Each new day gives us the invitation to proclaim what we already know to be true, even if we, like Peter, sound like a broken record. Peter told the church, “I know that you know this, but it bears repeating until it becomes real. Your faith is precious. It is the invitation to a life lived in participation with God!”
Life lived in participation with God is what we will celebrate today around God’s table.* Let it be known that all are welcome here – for there is no child of God that cannot be known as God’s beloved. That’s the funny thing about God’s election. All it takes is one vote, and we believe that God cast that vote on the cross. That vote was for you and for me and for the restoration of all creation that began on the cross and involves you and me as partners with God. It’s not because God can’t do it without you. It’s because God doesn’t want to do it without you.
So, come, taste and see, as though it were the afterparty and you are getting ready to tell the world that you’ve been elected, and so have they – and may God be praised and may mutual love continue, now and always. Amen!
*This sermon was delivered on All Saints Day. The congregation shared communion, celebrated the faith of those that had come before, and proclaimed God's calling for them (and for everyone) to live sacramentally in partnership with God.
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