May 26, 2002
II Corithians 13:11-14
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“Some Things I’ve Learned on the Journey”

When I preached my first sermon as an ordained minister, on November 11^th 1956, I knew this day would come.  Somehow, it has occurred faster than I thought it would.  What I am saying today, is the 1591^st sermon I have prepared, and because many of the churches I served had two or more services per week, and because I traveled frequently as a visiting preacher, I have preached more than 2000 times.  Given that 13 of those years were spent as either an Associate or Co-minister, you can see that the last 30 years or so have been “somewhat active.”

I was reared in the town of Rosedale, British Columbia, Canada, a town of 300, one of whom was a young lady named Chris Nielsen, who is now my wife.  My father owned a shop which, when I was a kid, was mainly blacksmithing and horse shoeing.  It grew, before my dad retired, to be a manufacturing shop that employed 130 men.  It was a great place to work as a teenager.

My home was a religious home. Prayers were said every single day, and the Bible was read, with all of us at the table, every morning, without fail.  I am grateful for that influence, because at an early age, I learned the Bible stories and knew the books and their contents.  I found out how valuable this was, because years later, I saw that many of the students in seminary knew very little about the Bible.

That is probably the reason why I think the most important things we can do for our children is simply to teach them the stories from the Bible.  If they know the stories, they will have plenty of time to wrestle with what they mean to their adult lives, but unless they know the stories, they will never have the foundation upon which to build a faith.

That is a big task, because it has been my experience that most of the people who are now parents do NOT know the Bible stories or, for that matter, the Bible’s books.

Despite this background, I have always been a fairly independent thinker, frequently questioning or disagreeing with faith statements.  Today, I want to share some thoughts that have motivated my life. I do so without any attempt to convert you to my views, but simply to express why I am a Christian, in the hopes that some may find some help on their quest.

It is my conviction that all humans are involved in the pursuit of what is real and what is true.  Philosophers call those areas of thought ontology, or “what is real,” and epistemology, or “what is true.”  It seems to me that all thought, including all religious thought, must stand the test of thinking in those areas.  A diagram on the insert may assist your thinking on this topic.

When the ancients wrestled with what is real, they came to the conclusion that it was mystery.  They simply could not comprehend what “ultimate  reality” was; so, in their wisdom, they said “This is the work of God.”  God, in such usage, is not a name; God is a term for that power or spirit which is above our ability to comprehend, because we are mortals.  I believe that God is the prime source, the author of order -- not-chaos –– and the creator of the process of life, which, to me, makes much more sense than to simply believe it all happened by chance.  If that is so, and I think it is, then “what is true” is that which causes me to think about “what is real.”

So far as I am able to determine, Jesus, more than any other personality, forced us to deal with reality. He dealt with questions such as:

Who is my neighbor?

What must I do to inherit eternal life?

What is God like?

How many times do I forgive my brother?

How should I feel about my enemies and those who seek to persecute me?

These are questions we all face and with which we all need to deal.

I am fascinated that Jesus never created a theological code.  He simply believed in, and followed, God –– better than any I know –– and said to those whom he encountered, “Follow me.”  Unfortunately, it is the Church and theological thinkers who have complicated the way that Jesus revealed.

For example, jargon has clogged many laymen’s filters.  In Matthew 16, we read Peter’s confession.  Jesus said to them, “Who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter answered, “You are the Christ, the son of the living God.”

Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon Barjona!  For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my father who is in heaven.”

Now, what might have happened if Peter had gone to seminary?

Jesus said to them, “But who do you say that I am?”  Simon Peter replied, “You are the incarnation of eschatological hope; the theological consummation of the suffering servant motif.”

And Jesus relied, “What?”

Once we determine what for us is real, and what is true, then we can determine “what is good.”  This is called axiology.  What is good conduct?  That is ethics.  And what is beautiful?  That is aesthetics.  The truth of Jesus gives a creative and constructive picture of what is good conduct, and it is very different than that of the great political tyrants who have received the allegiance of some.

If I am able to conclude what constitutes good or ethical living, then, I can better determine what is beautiful.  Looking at aesthetics through the lens of Truth –– which is that which elevates humans and inspires them to their best ––  means for me that beautiful music, architecture, art and worship, must inspire us upward and challenge us to be better.  Beauty, seen in this light, does not play to our lower feelings.

That is why it is essential, in my view, for a city to have a symphony orchestra. That is why financing a Calatrava building to house art is a great use of money because it inspires and lifts our souls.  That is why a newspaper must have a Jim Auer writing, so that amidst all that is unsettling and disturbing, someone points us to a better image and greater symbol of what could be.

The way we worship and sing, and the art we love, or the plays we enjoy, all lift us beyond ourselves to see something that is better: something that we can be.  We are challenged by that which inspires us to grow and become better people than we were.  That is why we must insist on great music in our church.  It is wrong to try and transport the music of television and the concert hall by cloaking it in religious garb.

You can’t, I feel, go to a rock concert on Saturday night and then another one on Sunday morning and say that it is elevating, simply because it now has religious words.  That sends a mixed message, and God is much more than a visceral feeling.  We need to be lifted –– inspired –– challenged. 

That is why I love the Bible.  It is a book that does mask the evil that hurts and destroys.  But beyond that, it leads us . . . through the inspiration of writers who have caught a glimpse of God. Through the scriptures, we are able to see a new way, a better way, a way which inspires us through the accounts and stories; a way embodied in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  Thus, by believing in him, I can be resurrected to a new and better way of life.

As a young man, I rebelled against Biblical literalism, even though that was the way of thinking in my home.  I rebelled because such an approach to the Bible is not filtered through the best of thinking.  I rebelled against revelation as the only source of enlightenment.  I feel revelation must be tempered with reason.

If one believes that revelation is all that is needed, then all you have to do is to be convinced that the revelation, or the one who received a revelation, is correct, and then you fall into the same pattern of thinking as all sect leaders.  I was converted to, what for me, is real religion, because in the combination of revelation and reason, I found that the work and words of God, lived and seen in Jesus Christ, stand the test of truth by the same standard that all truth is measured.  That, I think, is crucially important.

Only then was I able to see the importance of great music, great art and great architecture, because it is not content with the ordinary; it lifts us to that which is greater.

Christianity, seen in this light, deals with what is real, wrestles with what is true and causes the believer to live an ethical life based on that reality.  In addition, such truth, when embraced, sees the spiritual element of life in aesthetics, or the beauty of the world, and its creative arts, because both build up our spirits and are constructive influences in our living.

All of this, I contend, is also the work of the Church.  Yet, in all too many instances, the Church is not striving to have people grow in an adult faith.  Too often, the Church keeps people as “religious children,” who rely on the words and thoughts of a priest or a minister who occupies a position as a Father or Mother figure –– and loves it.  Listen to the words of Dr. William Willimon, a great Methodist preacher and Dean of the Chapel at Duke University.

“The manner in which traditional theology and preaching approach the faith ends up distorting the faith.  We come to faith either out of fear, out of utter devastation or out of an attempt to make a deal.  Churches wind up making disciples of Christ who have come to him out of a fear of God as an enemy, or out of a devastated, and therefore dependent, personality or out of an attempt to merely use God to get the things they want.

This is backwards thinking.  The Bible says that true conversion, which means turning around, comes at the point where a person realizes that the God who was once considered to be a powerful enemy who was to be avoided or bargained with, is, in reality, a friend who is to be trusted.  Just when we expect to be clobbered for our guilt, we get clobbered by grace.  We realize that, in our frantic search for peace and happiness, we have been looking in the wrong places.  We have overlooked the God who has always been looking for us.  We do not have to give, say, or pay anything.  In Christ, love has been dealt our way, and it is a permanent love that does not slam the door and walk out on us when we are naughty.  It does not threaten us, does not desert us when we are poor and sick and ugly.  It is a love which loved us before creation and loves us now with only one thing in mind; to love us through eternity.    (Willimon, The Gospel For the Person Who Has Everything, P. 24-25)

Mike Yaconelli, author of “Messy Christianity,” the book some of you are discussing here in the Church, relates a story by Daniel Taylor from a book titled, “Letters to My Children.”

In the sixth grade, the boys and girls were lined up to learn how to dance, and one after another, they got to choose their partner.  Think now: how these young people would feel as the line got smaller and smaller, and they still were not chosen.

In this class was a girl named Mary who, because of a childhood illness, had a shortened arm and a bad leg, and to top it of, she was –– well, as 6^th graders would put it –– she was fat.  One day, the assistant teacher, who was helping the regular teacher, pulled young Daniel Taylor over and said, “Dan, I want you to choose Mary.”

“Mary!” he thought.  “Why, when there is Shelley, and Linda, and even Doreen?”

“Jesus would do it,” the assistant said.

Hoping he would be last in line, the boys were lined up, and Dan was first.  He had his pick of the entire class of girls.  Shyly, Mary had faded toward the back; she knew she would be last,

While the girls looked on, anxiously, young Dan, with some reluctance, quietly said, “I choose Mary.”

He says in his book,

“Never has reluctant virtue been so rewarded. I still see her face undimmed in my memory.  She lifted her head, and on her face, reddened with pleasure and surprise and embarrassment all at once, was the most genuine look of delight, and even pride, that I have ever seen before or since.  It was so pure that I had to look away, because I knew I didn’t deserve it.” (Yaconelli, pg. 85)

That is the story of our Christian faith when it is I believe, rightly understood.  And what makes it so wonderful is, whether we accept it or not, we are all chosen first.

That, dear friends, is what I believe is the work of the Church.  It is to present the message of Jesus in such a manner that all see they are loved; they are all chosen.

That is the greatest message we can leave with our youth.  Our task is to build on that foundation and grow into religious maturity, not remain as Sunday School believers.  It is to try and demonstrate this message, in light of what is real and what is true.

If that takes place, then, there is no need to dwell on sin or evil; people will respond to God’s eternal and universal love.  They will respond by living ethical lives and by pursuing beauty in many forms.

They will respond not to “get anything.”  They will respond to God, as presented by Christ, out of gratitude for what they have already received.

That is a mature Christian faith; and it does not require that others agree with you.  Rather, it allows the message of God to grow in you as you understand Christ and as the spirit fills you to grow, at the rate and in the manner that inspires your life.

That is the faith that motivates my life, and I want to sincerely thank you for the huge privilege you have given me by allowing me to share that image for this past year. You have been enormously kind and loving to Chris and me, and we shall be eternally grateful.

I enter retirement now, grateful that Steve and Julie Peay are coming to minister with you and extraordinarily pleased that this Church is unified and ready for a great ministry.

Thank you for the healing you have done here.  Thank you for this year  May God richly bless our futures.