Sermon Text

May 30, 2010
Trinity Sunday
The Unification of St. Philip & Central Presbyterian Churches

AND HOPE DOES NOT DISAPPOINT US
Romans 5:1-5

Over the past weeks, the phrase from Romans, Chapter 5, that is the title of this sermon has been running through my mind, over and over. It isn’t as if there were not already enough things to think about, and enough theological ground to cover, on this Sunday! I mean, right out there in front of us is the Union of St. Philip and Central Presbyterian Churches, and the Presbytery’s Administrative Commission is here to help us with that. Then there is the organizational maze we’re walking through as we try to combine the lives of these two churches, with many similar traits, but different traditions, different memories. Also, in the midst of all there is to be excited and thankful about in this Union, there is also the grief we share with our sisters and brothers who come out of Central, because of all that they are losing.

And, to top it all off, today is Trinity Sunday, the one day in the Church Year we try to come to new understandings and realizations about the intricate dance of relationship that we characterize as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It’s enough to make you want to sit down and quietly become a Quaker!

But, that’s not what we’re going to do today, because those words are still swimming around in my head, and I can’t get them out any other way than to spend a few minutes thinking out loud about them with you. That’s what most sermons are, you know, at least the ones that are any good – conversations between the person preaching and the community of people whom he or she knows well enough to share just about anything.
In the passage we just read from Romans, Paul is writing to a church he didn’t found, and had never visited, although he was hoping to visit it soon. The church was going through a difficult time, and Paul wrote to affirm two important truths: (1) they belonged to God because of God’s grace in Jesus Christ, and (2) this first affirmation was true even though they were suffering in the present. He wrote to them about peace and hope.

Paul writes of the grace within which the people stand, painting the picture of grace as a room into which Jesus ushers all who trust in him, a place characterized by the presence and sustaining love of God. That is the first and primary affirmation Paul is making to his sisters and brothers in the Roman church.

Paradoxically, Paul affirms, this peace and grace do not remove us from the possibility of suffering, pain, and loss. We still live in the world, and life in the world always carries the possibility of these kinds of things happening to us. But, once again because of the love of God, even this suffering is to be seen as part of a larger story that ends with hope.

And this hope of which Paul speaks is not just wishful thinking. It is an active confidence in God’s presence with us now and God’s promised presence with us in the future God has in store for us. The hope that God gives us, and the hope in which we continue to labor and serve, is neither shallow optimism nor settled fatalism. It is hope!

And it is this God-given hope that helps us to step into the future, as did the generations of people who came before us, who handed into our care the life and ministries of our two congregations, the life and ministry that now becomes our stewardship. The church buildings in which St. Philip and Central have worshiped over the years, the ministries and mission causes in which we have participated, the learning and fellowship that have nourished us, have all been part of the harvest that we enjoy because other people before us planted faithfully. We are here today because of the seeds of hope planted by the early fathers and mothers of our two congregations. And where we go from today will be part of the planting of our hope. We, too, will plant trees under which future generations will sit.

And the word of hope is that, even though there remains much to be done, and even though we are called to be faithful and diligent and persistent in our serving, there is always something more that is given, something immeasurably more. It is the love, grace, peace, and hope that only God can give.

Not long ago, I came across words of the martyred Archbishop Oscar Romero, which I think speak eloquently to the circumstance in which we find ourselves on this day. They are inspirational words, and I hope that they inspire you as they have inspired me.

It helps, now and then, to step back and take the long view.
The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fragment of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection, no pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about. We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
That enables us to do something, and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter in and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the Master Builder and the worker.
We are workers, not Master Builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are the prophets of a future not our own.