"As
you, Father, are in me, and I am in you, may they also be in us . .
." Jesus prayed for the
relationship between the people who would hear about his life, death and
resurrection from the disciples who had been with him and God from whom he had
come. As you heard just a few seconds
ago, I pray for this mutual indwelling of God with us and we with God before I
preach. When I say, "Help us to
live in your holy Word," I am using the image of Jesus as the Word of God
from the very first lines of the Gospel of John. I pray this way before I preach, because I
believe that through this mutual indwelling God will convey what meaning you
are to gain from my "breaking open" the Word of holy scripture as I
preach.
Besides
the mutual indwelling Jesus prayed for in the gospel reading we heard this
morning, Jesus also prayed for unity based on the power of divine love: ". . . I in them and you in me, that they
may become completely one, so the world may know that you have sent me and have
loved them even as you have loved me."
Peter Carman, a Baptist pastor, makes it clear what sort of unity
Christians should practice: ". . .
Jesus does not call for doctrinal unity, organizational unity or political
unity . . . This prayer is for unity that grows out of the love of God, received and shared among his followers, leading to an
experienced unity in love between
Jesus and his followers, and with the one from whom Christ comes."
So,
the community of faith—both locally (St. Nicholas') and in larger
and larger geographic units—must carefully tread between finding ways to work
together to accomplish ministry and mission in Jesus' name and focusing on the
life of the organization as the most important entity to preserve. Our Episcopal tradition gets this right through
our polity of elected leadership and our liturgical tradition of celebrating
the sacraments as Christians have through the ages. This allows us to have diverse opinions about
almost everything, but to come together each week to be fed by Christ in the
fellowship of others who are beloved of God.
You may remember Robin Williams' top reasons for becoming an
Episcopalian. One of these says,
"No matter what you believe, there is at least one other Episcopalian who
agrees with you."
But
what we do get wrong on occasion—and I think this fault has been shared broadly
among Christian communities—that is, we become a bit complacent about the
status quo or we view times in the past as being best. Don't ask me to change how I look at things
because I'm certain I'm right. Rob Bell speaks to this issue in this new book, What
We Talk About When We Talk About God.
In Chapter 6 entitled "Ahead" he writes, "I want to
explore with you the God who I believe is pulling us forward. Is this how you've heard God described? Ahead? Pulling us forward? Is God progressive, with a better more
inspiring vision for our future than we could ever imagine, or is God behind,
back there in the past, endlessly trying to get us to return to how it used to
be?" I might phrase it this way;
does returning to Eden mean working and praying for the reign of God in a new
Jerusalem? Or does it mean longing for
some time in human history where things were just the way they were supposed to
be? Or does it mean holding tight to the
way things are right now because our society looks as if it's going to only
change for the worse?
The
two stories we heard from the book of Acts address these very issues: to what sort of life is God pulling us ahead?
And how does God's indwelling love affect our decisions and our actions?
Although
the slave girl who could tell the tell the future and recognized the nature of
Paul and Silas's mission disappears from the narrative, we know she no longer
bears the burden of being treated as a commodity. Despite St. Paul eventually finding her prophesying
annoying, he treated her as a human being who needed to be freed from
oppression--both spiritual and economic.
Through Paul's healing ministry she was pulled ahead by God to a new
life situation. Did her life become
better as a result? We are left without
an answer to that question. Being free
to pursue a new path can be frightening, because familiar situations can no
longer provide stability. However, even
if she remained a slave, she might have been given work that allowed her more
dignity.
The
narrative of Paul, the earthquake, and the jailer provided an illustration
God's love affecting an extremely important decision. Because he and all the other prisoners were
unexpectedly freed from prison and did not run away, we see Paul placing
another's needs before his own. Losing prisoners, even through an event in
nature, would have led to punishment for the jailer, perhaps execution. Paul's
decision to stay and convince the others to do the same could only have come
from the indwelling spirit of love, placed there by God.
And
when the jailer asks what must he do to be saved, the question carries two
meanings. First, "What must I now
do so you and the other prisoners won't flee?" But the meaning Paul gave to the jailer’s
question was this: "What must I do to gain a new life in Christ that you
have been talking, singing, and praying about?” The power of Paul's witness
broke down the barrier between jailer and prisoner. They were now united in Christ--joined
together as one, despite the differences between them. God, through Paul,
pulled the jailer—and his family—ahead, leading them to a future that gave new
meaning to their lives, one that they had not expected, for sure!
So
how are we to face our futures? Perhaps like the slave girl and the jailer we
may find God tugging us, pulling us ahead of where we always thought we would
be. How should we respond? Whatever actions we choose, let us act so
that the people we encounter in the world may know that God has sent us and
loves them even as God has loved us. In
doing this, we can embrace what God began in Jesus and continues in us--eternal
life marked by peace, justice and healing.
The quote
from Peter Carman can be found in Feasting on the Word, Year C,Vol. 2,
p.544.
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