(The audio isn’t as polished as usual, since we worshiped outdoors this Sunday in order to make room for the whole congregation to gather for a single service, in celebration of our mortgage-burning ceremony.)
John 14:23-29
Jesus answered him, “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; and the word that you hear is not mine, but is from the Father who sent me.
“I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.
“You heard me say to you, ‘I am going away, and I am coming to you.’ If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I. And now I have told you this before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe.”
I’d like to think some of you remember some of the things I preach around here, though I don’t know what the statute of limitations is on that – even for myself. There are some sermons I remember from years ago, whenever a particular text shows up in the lectionary again. And other times I’ll come across something I wrote or preached or taught about a text or for a special occasion, but have absolutely no recollection of ever thinking, let alone saying aloud and putting out into the universe from the pulpit.
But, I do remember that when we first moved into the first iteration of our building here at Cross of Grace, the theme of my very first sermon was, “Are We There Yet?” I know some of you remember that moment in our life together, even if what I had to say about it all didn’t stick:
It was Christmas Eve, 2003. The building was finished just “enough” for us to gather on a very cold, very snowy, very icy December 24th. There was no paved driveway, yet. We had to light the frozen, muddy pathway back here with something like a hundred candle-lit milk jug luminaries. Inside, there was no tile or carpet. The walls weren’t painted. We heated the place – sort of – with a couple of industrial-grade propane construction heaters, which I have to believe, looking back on it all, violated more than a few safety codes by someone’s standards.
So it was easy to ask and to wonder in that first Christmas Eve sermon, “Are We There Yet?” because, as proud and accomplished and as close to a finish line as we felt, the obvious answer to that rhetorical question was “No.” There was still plenty yet to accomplish as far as this building and our fledgling little ministry were concerned.
And this is how we’re meant to feel still – and always – when it comes to our life together at Cross of Grace and as Christians in the world.
In this bit from John’s Gospel, when Jesus is praying and saying all of this to his disciples, notice that so much of it is about the future. So much of it is about the promise of what’s to come… about hope for tomorrow… about anticipation of all that is not, quite yet.
“Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them…
“…the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you…”
“Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”
“I am going away, and I am coming to you…”
“And … I have told you this before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe.”
Again, it’s all about God’s future, God’s promise of what’s on the way, God’s hope for tomorrow, God’s anticipation of what’s to come. Which to me means, as God’s people in the world, we’re always, always, always still on the way. Even with a mortgage to burn – especially with a mortgage to burn – the answer to the question “Are we there, yet?” is still, “No.”
Because as proud and accomplished as we felt on that Christmas Eve in 2003, we knew we were just beginning in so many ways. And it’s so easy to see how much has changed so quickly in the last 18 years – and how much would NOT have changed had we stopped giving and growing and letting God have God’s way with us around here.
Back then, on that first Christmas Eve in the first phase of our building, we were still under the impression you could have a Christmas Eve worship without hearing Steve Beebe sing “O Holy Night.” (We didn’t know any better because the Beebes hadn’t showed up, just yet.)
Back then, Jackson Havel who graduates on Friday, was in utero, helping his mother light those luminaries up and down the driveway in the freezing cold.
Back then Janis Janelsins was still happily bossing people around … Bernie Augenstein was still greeting everyone who walked through the door, memorizing their faces, and remembering their names … Back then, Linda Sevier didn’t even know she wanted to work in a Lutheran church, let along join one!
Back then, there was no Stephen Ministry. Back then, we hadn’t made a single trip to Haiti, let alone helped to build a brand new Women’s Clinic, a school, or 50 houses with Zanmi Fondwa. Back then we didn’t have a worship band. Back then, Cross of Grace didn’t know Amanda Terrell or Jeannie Ellenberger, we hadn’t met Pastor Aaron, we hadn’t called or sent Pastor Teri, so Roots of Life didn’t exist, either. Back then there was no Food Pantry, or Labyrinth, or Columbarium. Back then Scott Nellis, Emily Michaelis and Kaitlyn Ferry weren’t seminary graduates, either. And I’d like to think we had something to do with inspiring them.
And if none of these names ring a bell … if you weren’t a part of any or all of these memories from back in the day … that’s kind of my point. (In fact, would you please stand if you were NOT a part of our life together at Cross of Grace back in 2003.) Each and every one of you – and the abbreviated litany of things we’ve accomplished over the years – is exactly how I know we weren’t “there yet” when we worshiped in our building on that first Christmas Eve.
So, as we set fire to our mortgage today and celebrate how much more we’ll be able to give away through our Building and Outreach Fund going forward…
As we turn in our General Fund commitments toward the operational budget for the year ahead…
As we return our offerings of Time and Talent, promising to help ministry happen around here in all the ways I hope we will, anyway …
The answer to that question, “Are we there yet?” is still “NO” as far as I’m concerned. There are still too many people who – for any number of reasons – don’t know how much love God has for them. There are still so many houses to build in Haiti and faith communities like Roots of Life to support. There is still room to be made and welcome to be extended and so much grace to share. And there are still so many people – in or coming into our community – who don’t know how much fun and meaning a congregation like ours can bring into their life and for the sake of this world.
So I hope we will do all of what we’re up to today with the same kind of promise, hope and anticipation Jesus was talking about … with the same kind of promise, hope and anticipation with which we’re called to live as God’s people in the world … with the same kind of promise, hope and anticipation that has always inspired and called us forward around here.
Are we there yet? No. We can’t even be sure what “there” looks like these days. But we’ve learned that the way is holy – even when it’s hard sometimes. And we are blessed and better for it when we follow God’s lead. And I’m so grateful to mark this mortgage-burning milestone with each and every one of you, wondering with all kinds of hope about who will join us next, for whatever God has in store, and what the next “there” might look like along the way.
Amen
