Building the Church, Bringing the Kingdom

Mark 13:1-8

As Jesus came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left upon another, all will be thrown down.”

When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him, privately, “Tell us, when will this be and what will be the sign that all of these things are about to be accomplished?” Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he,’ and they will lead many astray. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.”

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Hooray for a Gospel text about the impermanence and seeming unimportance of temples, stones, synagogues, and buildings on Commitment Sunday for the Building and Outreach Fund. All of this, will indeed, be thrown down and turned to dust someday.

But I hope you agree with Jesus, of course.

As focused and as fierce as we’ve been about building this place and paying off our mortgage and all that has gone into that, over the course of our congregation’s short life together, we’ve always tried to be faithful about the truth that the Church is not a building; that our identity and purpose isn’t always, ever, or only about having an address, or about merely what happens inside these walls. We were very much “the Church” before we called any of this home and we are very much “the Church” when we’re not gathered here. We are very much “the Church” even when – especially when – we’re doing our thing, living our lives out there in the world, for the sake of the world.

And horray for a text that taps in to so much of the fear, angst and anxiety that so many are feeling about life in the world these days – wars and rumors of wars; nation rising up against nation; earthquakes, famine, natural disasters and more that make you think maybe the beginning of the end might actually be right around the corner.

Because of all that, our call is to bring the Kingdom – to see and to celebrate what God has already begun, in Jesus – and work to make God’s will and God’s way come to life among us and through us and for the sake of the world … here on earth as it is in heaven; to make the Kingdom of this world look and be more like God’s Kingdom, on the other side of heaven.

Which is why our Building and Outreach Fund matters, as we wonder about and make commitments to support it this morning and in the days to come. Yes, some portion of it all is about the bricks, the mortar, the “stones” that will, one day, all be thrown down and turned to dust, as Jesus promises. But the rest of it is about bringing the kingdom, doing the work, sharing the life and grace and mercy of God wherever and however we are able.

Last week, one of my favorite preachers invited us to do a few things in response to the state of things following our country’s recent election, regardless of how we may be feeling about all of that. Pastor Cogan suggested that, if things didn’t go our way, we should share our fear, our anxiety, and our sadness about that with those who did get what they wanted. And he suggested that, if we are the latter – if things went as we hoped they would – we should listen to the concerns and needs of our struggling neighbors who are feeling scared, unseen, and worried about the days to come.

In other words, some of what I heard from Pastor Cogan last week was an invitation to listen to each other and get to work.

And I’ve done that. I’ve received texts and e-mails. I’ve had sit-downs over lunch, spontaneous conversations in the library, seen tears in my office, felt the anger expressed – in passing – in the hallway and at the drug store, because there just aren’t enough of the right words sometimes.

Now, I haven’t and I won’t have all the answers for all of that at every turn. But I will risk playing both sides against the middle – or something like that, this morning – in order to find a middle-ground of grace and hope no matter where we find ourselves with regard to all of it.

See, as I wondered about today – searching for some hope in light of all of our collective mixed emotions (happy/sad, relieved/anxious, victorious/lost, hopeful/despairing) – I came away grateful for this place, for our ministry, and for the work we do that responds with action in real time to the things that can and should concern all of us these days. In an otherwise divided, fractured country, the mission and ministry of this place calls us to some common ground and some holy work.

For instance, if it was “the economy, stupid” that informed your vote last Tuesday … if the price of groceries and gas was enough to make you vote a certain way, I’m so glad we have a food pantry that is meeting that need for so many of our neighbors. (Don’t forget, our Mission Sunday this month is to provide Thanksgiving dinners for people in our community. $50 bucks will help provide a meal with all the fixins for someone who might not otherwise be able to celebrate.) That is the Lord’s work, regardless of your politics.

Or if abortion care, abortion access, and the health of women and babies was an issue that inspired your vote – one way or the other – whether you got what you wanted, or not – I hope you noticed that we gave $5,000 to the Milk Bank with our Outreach Grants this year. This is money, and they are an organization, that supports the health and wellness of women and infants, in crisis, in powerful ways – no matter the politics that lead to their distress or need – and that will hopefully help to mitigate more of that distress or need, come what may.

If you’re concerned about the status of immigration in our country, please know that we gave $10,000 to Exodus Refugee Immigration this past year, thanks to our Outreach grants, too. (And some of us helped at their headquarters on “God’s Work. Our Hands.” Sunday, in September.) Exodus protects the human rights and dignity of refugees fleeing persecution and war, and helps them get settled safely in central Indiana. This is faithful, Biblically-mandated, Christ-centered work. And our generosity helps make it happen.

If you are concerned about the quality of public education and the equity with which it is offered in our state or in our nation – and some of my favorite teachers have told me that we should be – I hope you’re encouraged to know we also gave $10,000 to Brightlane Learning’s “School on Wheels” this year. They offer tutoring, academic support, and advocacy to kids and families – grades K through 12 – who are struggling with homelessness and housing insecurity, while trying to get a quality education.

If you feel like the status and place of women in our culture has taken a hit again in recent days, I hope you’re encouraged by our $10,000 grant to Talitha Koum’s recovery house for women. That money and that ministry over in Greenfield helps women, specifically, recover from addiction and trauma, and get back on their feet to become healthy and whole again, for their own good, and for the good of our world.

So, again, if our call is to bring the Kingdom of God to bear in and upon the kingdoms of this world, we are doing that in real time, for real people, in real, practical, tangible ways, that really matter.

And there are beautiful, faithful, inspiring, intangible ways to facilitate and accomplish that through our life together, too.

Witnessing the love between two people – in marriage, as we did this morning already at our first service – is a glimpse and a gift of that, for sure. It speaks to commitment and love and hope in ways that can’t be measured, but practiced, nonetheless. Making our confession, receiving our forgiveness; sharing the sacraments in bread, wine, and water and all the good news they portend; passing the peace; loving our neighbor; forgiving our enemy. None of these things can be quantified like so much grant money, but they can be witnessed, felt, received; and they are our life blood, purpose, and inspiration for all the rest.

All of this is to say, I see a lot of platitudes and clichés about how we’re supposed to get along – as friends, as family members, as neighbors, and as people in the Church in the days ahead – in spite of the differences that threaten to divide us. That is so much easier said, than done – which is something else I hear and feel when I listen to my neighbor, and to many of you.

But it’s been said that the local church is the hope of the world – and I believe it. It is a tall order. It is a daunting task. It can feel like an impossible, exhausting expectation, for sure. But it is nonetheless why we do what we do – if not to redeem the lot of it, then to point to the hope of the only one who can, who does, and who will, one day – Jesus Christ, our Lord.

Amen

Buildings, Outreach and What Really Matters

Luke 21:5-19

When some of them were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, Jesus said to them, “As for these things that you see, the time will come when not one stone will be left upon another. All will be thrown down.” They said to him, “Teacher, when will this be? What will be the sign that this is about to take place?” Jesus answered them, “Beware that you are not led astray. Many will come, in my name, and say, ‘I am he,’ and ‘The time is near,’ do not go after them.”

“When you hear about wars and insurrections, do not be terrified. These things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately. There will be great earthquakes and, in various places, famines and plagues. There will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven.”

“But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you. You will be handed over to synagogues and prisons. You will be brought before kings and governors, because of my name. This will give you an opportunity to testify, so make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance, for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict. You will be betrayed by parents and brothers, friends and relatives, and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name. But not a hair on your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls.”

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This reading usually shows up in the most untimely way for us around here. I mean, it always shows up in November, on or around the Sunday when we are supposed to be praying about and planning for our financial commitments to the Building Fund – which we will do next week, if you haven’t read or heard about that, yet.

So what I mean is, around this time of year, during this season of our life together, we very often get this bit from Luke’s Gospel where Jesus warns the disciples about making too much of their temple. As I’m typically hard at work stewing about prayer vigils, capital campaign packets, mortgage payments, and financial commitments, Jesus says, “As for these things that you see, this stuff that you’ve built – these beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God – the day is coming when not one stone will be left upon another. All will be thrown down.”

And that’s usually a hard pill to swallow. Like, Jesus is laughing at, if not straight up, flat out, judging our efforts to build what we’ve built here over the years. I mean, there’s nothing like trying to build a thing, investing in everything it takes to build a thing, and have someone remind you that it won’t last for long; maybe that you’re wasting your time; that it’s all going to amount to nothing but rubble in the grand scheme of things anyway. Jesus is like a guy who shows up to the beach to find that a little kid has just built his most prized, perfect, glorious sand castle and, instead of marveling at the hard work and majesty of it all, points out that high tide will be rolling in any minute.

But this year, for the first time, things are different. I can’t disagree with Jesus, of course. Maybe, in some very worldly ways … or from a cosmic kind of perspective … all of this BUILDING is for naught. It won’t last FOREVER, in a physical sense. It will, indeed, crumble to dust, in the end. I get that.

But this year – as we think about praying and planning for our “Building and Outreach Fund” commitments – we get to do that with even more than just our own bricks and mortar on the brain. We get to do that with even more than just mortgage payments and interest rates and financial debt reduction in mind, than we’re used to. We get to think differently about all of this because, for the first time ever, we don’t have a mortgage to pay and because we plan to give 50% of these funds away to mission and ministry outside of our walls; 50% beyond our own bricks and mortar; 50% over and above these stones that will, indeed, someday, all be thrown down, as Jesus promises.

But what’s so exciting and full of hope about things this time around – again, for the first time ever – is that we can’t possibly measure who or how our generosity will change the hearts and lives of others, by the grace we’ll share in the days ahead.

And at the 24 Hour Prayer Vigil next weekend, we’re going to have a chance to share, very plainly and prayerfully what we hope we’ll be able to do in this regard. (Please, please, please sign up to be part of that, if you haven’t already.) We’re going to be able to make prayerful suggestions about the tangible, real-world ways, we hope we’ll use our financial resources to do God’s work in some really new, very meaningful, truly faithful ways.

First, we’ll get to be practical with our prayers. We’ll share the scoop about what we would, could should be saving money for in our rainy day, repair and emergency bucket – stuff like HVAC repairs, parking lot resurfacing, roof replacements, exterior painting, and boring, but necessary, responsible stuff like that.

Second, we’ll be selfish and have some fun as we pray, too, by dreaming about what we might add to or renovate around here – like sanctuary expansion, an outdoor pavilion, better video projection and online technology. Someone I know wants a cement pad for a basketball/pickle ball court of some kind, for instance. Of course, when I say “selfish” I don’t really mean “selfish,” if what we build for ourselves allows us to share grace and good news with more people, in different ways. There’s nothing selfish about that.

And third, we’ll get to offer up ideas, too, about the 50% of it all we plan to give away. Over the years we’ve suggested everything from supporting mission churches and missionaries, to helping people reduce medical debt, to giving more regularly to some of our Mission Sunday organizations, like the Talitha Koum Women’s Recovery House. Someone even has the notion to help fund a Baby Box, somewhere in our community where infants – who would otherwise be abandoned – could be left, safely, to be rescued instead. The possibilities – large and small – really are endless and inspiring.

And all of this is nothing more or less than the testimony Jesus asks of us in today’s Gospel. With our ministry, whether it’s what we preach, teach, or support with our money we tell the world who we are. We tell the world who God is. And we show the world what we’re up to together. With our ministry, whether it’s what we preach, teach or support with our money we welcome the sinner, we tend to the sick, we love those who others refuse to see. It means we tend to sex workers on the east side. It means we fight racism in our midst. It means we support our LGBTQIA brothers, sisters and siblings. It means we build houses in Haiti and churches in Noblesville. It means we are generous and faithful and gracious to a fault – as if that were possible in the Kingdom of God.

We may not be called before kings and governors, in our little corner of the Kingdom. It may not get us killed, these days, in our neck of the woods. But it may mean – as Jesus promises and warns – that some won’t like, or may even hate, what we’re up to. There are people out there who think we’re too generous, too bold, too outspoken about the gospel and grace and good news we share, after all. And I kind of like that. I believe it’s how we endure – and help others endure, too – the hardships of life in this world. And it’s how we find our souls, in the midst of it all, too.

Because, whatever we do and wherever we give and however God leads us, we’re just trying to do what God’s been calling believers to do ever since that day Jesus was milling around in the temple with those very first disciples – reminding them about what really matters on this side of heaven:

Which is to use all of this as our opportunity to testify to what we know of God’s call and God’s kingdom among us: to work for justice; to stand for peace; to repent, ourselves, and to forgive others, too; and to use every blessing at our disposal to bless the world around us with the same grace that we have first received. That’s the Kingdom of God alive and well in this place, for the sake of the world. And it’s what will matter – to us and for others – and it’s what will last, long after all of this and all of us are turned to dust.

Amen