Growing TOGETHER

BY DR. KENNY CAMACHO / SERMON DELIVERED 24 SEPTEMBER 2023 FOR REVOLUTION CHURCH

Today, we’re continuing in our new series by looking at how we grow together. In the previous two weeks, we’ve been looking at how healthy communities are created. In Week 1, we explored the kind of culture of invitation, patience, and curiosity that forges an authentic church. And in Week 2, we looked at the core values of diversity, grace, and submission which are necessary for being the kind of church where people stay. But this week, we are shifting our focus to what a healthy church community exists to do… and the short answer, of course, is that healthy churches exist to grow! They “bear spiritual fruit,” as the Bible puts it… and that fruit is the evidence that we use to confirm we’re on the right track. But what does that “spiritual fruit” really look like? Is it as easy to recognize as we might think? And how do we cultivate an actual imagination for growing that fruit–and recognizing it when we see it!–together?

Let’s start by getting some of the problems on the table. For most people exploring religious faith, what they’re hunting is intensely personal: they sense something missing in their lives, they are wrestling with guilt, or they are working through a difficult season and they come to church searching for hope and direction. Now, that’s not true of everyone! Some folks walk through the doors because they have a partner who is religious and they want to support them. Some folks come because they are looking for a moral support system for their children. And some folks come seeking deeper friendships. But particularly in American culture, the starting point for our imagination about religion still tends to be about us: “I want to grow, or change, or become a better parent or friend.” The health of the community of the church is what they’re counting on more than something they see themselves as contributing to. 

I don’t think this is wrong! But it creates tension in any church’s mission. We see the evidence of this tension in how most churches conceive of their ministries and programs, which often focus on personal growth through things like Bible study, daily devotionals, and guides for private prayer. We have teams where we invite folks to serve… but we “sell” volunteering by emphasizing how it is good for you. American churches (including this one!) often strive to meet individual hunger with individualized care. The health of the community, then, is imagined as the inevitable byproduct of the health of individuals. This is why most churches evaluate their communal health using things like “butts in seats” and “dollars in the offering box”: the idea is that, if people are personally happy, they’ll keep showing up and donating to the ministry.

But is this actually how we’re supposed to be thinking about “growth”? Is it a model the Bible supports, or one that Jesus preaches? Are the “spiritual fruits” we’re looking for really higher attendance and deeper pockets? 

After all, Jesus’s personal ministry certainly challenges this model! Over and over again, Jesus turns away from crowds to focus on his 12 closest friends… and the one time Jesus actually hangs out near an offering box, he says the poor widow who puts in two coins has given more than the richest Jews in Jerusalem. So, how can we discover a deeper imagination for what “growing” looks like beyond how you and I get closer to God as individuals?

We just have one focal text this morning, and it comes from Paul’s second letter to the Christians in the city of Corinth. The Corinthian community was known for its spirits of individualism and competition: the Christians there struggled with the desire to find out what following Jesus could do for them. This doesn’t mean they are bad people! But it means some significant rewiring in their imaginations for communal growth were necessary. So, what does Paul say? He writes,

For the love of Christ urges us on, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died. And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves but for the one who for their sake died and was raised. From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we no longer know him in that way. So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; look, new things have come into being! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ: be reconciled to God. For our sake God made the one who knew no sin to be sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

2 Corinthians 5:14-21

This is heady stuff! But I think we can learn a lot here if we break it down. The key concept is reconciliation… but what does that mean? Please forgive me, but it’s etymology time! 

We should start with the root here, which is “conciliate.” You see this word in terms like “conciliatory,” or even “council”: it means, literally, “to call together.” For Paul and other Greek speakers of the first century, the sense was to “bring to harmony.” So, the job of the Christian–and the job of the Church–is to be “harmonic”… and to “call to harmony.” 

This makes sense! Like we said at the start, if a person is feeling out of sync, or out of harmony, with God or with their spouse or with their lives, the Church is a place they can be drawn to which can foster that harmony. The individual seeker finds purpose. But the ministry Paul says we’re all given isn’t a ministry of conciliation… it’s a ministry of reconciliation! What does that “re” mean? I bet you already know!

Right: it means “to do again.” so, what is Paul’s point? His point is that God is bringing back together things that have been separated in the world. This means that if the individual within the church stays an individual, reconciliation hasn’t actually happened… because separating out from a healthy community was the original problem. You can’t build a healthy church that’s composed of uniquely healthy people–you have to bring people together to (re)discover what is actually healthy.

There are 4 relationships–4 “conciliations”–that have been broken in this passage and need to be “reconciled”: your relationship with God, your relationship with yourself, your relationship with others, and your relationship with the world. These aren’t new things you need to discover! They are old, original things you need to find again.

Your relationship with God, we believe as Christians, is broken by sin… but sin is less about “doing bad things” than it is about “forgetting how to do right things.” You and I are created good–we’re created as God’s children. But, like children often do, we become willful and rebel against the harmony and relationships we are made for. This looks like setting out for ourselves, believing we know better, and elevating ourselves as the primary focus of our lives. “Me first” thinking. Most of us do this, however, not because we think we’re awesome–I’ve yet to meet someone who actually believes that about themselves–but because we become afraid that if we don’t take care of ourselves, no one else will. The “reconciliation power” of the Gospel is that Jesus chooses to identify with us, to suffer with and for us, in order to answer that fear. By dying and living again, Jesus shows us that, no matter what befalls us, we cannot actually be separated from God’s love. And so, if we can bring ourselves to let go of our fear and the rebellion it leads to, we can be reconciled in that relationship with God: we can go back to a place of trusting Him, and find rest there. That’s Reconciliation #1.

The idea here is that Reconciliation #1 ought to lead to Reconciliation #2, which is a right relationship with ourselves. If we can learn to trust God’s love for us, His desire to pursue us no matter what, we can begin to see ourselves the right way, too… which is as people worthy of being loved. That doesn’t mean we’re the center of the universe! It means we’re a beloved part of the universe. We aren’t in competition with each other for God’s affection: it is freely and infinitely given. If we can learn to feel that way about ourselves, Paul says we are able to “no longer live for [ourselves] but for the one who for [our] sake died and was raised.” 

Reconciliation with ourselves, then, leads to reconciliation with others: if we don’t have to prove anything to God–if God loves us unconditionally–we don’t have to compete with our neighbors to prove we’re more deserving than them. We don’t have to compete with anyone! And, freed from that sense of rivalry, we can learn to see others as God also sees them. We can value a whole person–their strengths and weaknesses, their gifts and their flaws, their good decisions and bad decisions–and feel deep love for them. That empathy is one of the “conciliations” we lose over the course of our lives, where (once again) fear takes hold and separates us from each other. But, if we are alive in Christ, we can be brave.

Reconciliation #3–with others–then opens the door for Reconciliation #4: with the world. Being alive to God, alive to ourselves, and alive to our neighbors enables us to be loving caretakers of God’s Creation. In fact, to join God in that work: to see our environment selflessly, not looking for what it can give to us, but instead looking for what it gives, period. We can be nurturers again, as the Bible says Adam and Eve once were, who cultivate beauty and health and growth.

All of this is made possible because God is committed to the work of reconciliation: He seeks to bring us and all things back to harmony with His intentions. He does this at a huge cost… and His vision for us, as His Church, is to be ambassadors of that reconciliation in a broken world. Paul says this is the “ministry” that has been entrusted to us… and, if that is the case, it is the key to recalibrating and reimagining what in the world “church health” actually means! How small things like “butts in seats” and “deep pockets” seem compared to this calling. And how ensnared in those old fears (and the selfishness those fears lead to) it is. 

So, if reconciliation is our ministry, what does that mean for how we grow together here at Revolution? How can any of this–which might seem so abstract–actually shape and influence the culture of our little church in Annapolis? I think it offers us the chance to embrace 3 values and remember 1 truth. Here they are:

The first value is authentic vulnerability. This is something we have to grow: it’s not something any of us can do on our own and expect it to still work! We have to be naked about our fears… because, as what Paul wrote to the Corinthians exposes, it’s our fears that lead us to separate from one another, get into competition with each other, and hide our weaknesses from each other. Certainly, authentic vulnerability starts here on the stage: our worship leaders need to sing from the heart and not out of a desire to impress you. The smiles from our greeters and volunteers need to emanate real affection and not shallow welcome. Our kids volunteers need to allow themselves to really care for your children. And I need to be honest about who I am: weaknesses and all. But the culture we need to create isn’t limited to people in visible roles: you need to face your fears and choose vulnerability, too. What we do can foster that… but we can’t do it for you! And if vulnerability and authenticity are going to be part of our church culture, they have to spread like wildfire among us. We all have to choose them, or they won’t be real. Does that make sense?

The second value is gracious acceptance. This has to go hand in hand with vulnerability… or vulnerability will wither on the vine. It also has to begin with a deep understanding among us that we are graciously accepted. We’re not on “thin ice” with God: He loves us plentifully and overwhelmingly. He’s not “mad” at us. He’s not waiting to call us out when we stumble. The Bible shows us a God who longs for us to rest in His affection for us–who grieves the fear that keeps us turned away from Him, and will do anything to place a hand on our cheek and invite us to look at Him again. That same level of grace and love has to be everywhere here if we’re going to be ambassadors of it for others. That’s the thing about being an ambassador, right? You can’t represent a country you don’t already belong to. To offer reconciliation, we have to believe in it, and experience it. Church communities are meant to be the places where that happens: where you are lovingly and patiently accepted. 

A long time ago, I said that a helpful litmus test for any church is to imagine the feelings of a sixteen year old, who has just learned she is pregnant: is your church the first or the last place she might want to go? But the same test holds if we imagine someone who has just been released from jail, or who is mired in addiction, or whose marriage is falling apart: do we do justice to the love we feel from God by extending it just as passionately and acceptingly towards each other? 

The third value is patient challenge. The point of all that authentic vulnerability, and the opportunity created by all that gracious acceptance, is to be nurtured towards change. None of us has everything figured out! We all need to continue being reconciled to God, to ourselves, to others, and to the world. And the key to that sort of growth is accepting challenges that push us… within a community that is patient with us as we struggle. Here’s a not-so-spiritual illustration of what that looks like: 

As many of you know, I was a smoker for twenty years. Now, for most of that time, I wasn’t very authentic or vulnerable: I hid it from you, and I hid it from others. But I didn’t hide it from everyone! A few of you went on many-a walk with me at night while I puffed away. But eventually, I realized that I wasn’t taking good care of myself, or loving myself the way God loves me. And I accepted the challenge to change. I even told some of you about it– “I think it’s probably about time to quit”; “I don’t want to be a smoker at 40.” Now, if you hadn’t shown me gracious acceptance all along, I don’t think I would have shared this with you! Even getting this far depended on God nudging me to be vulnerable, and God nudging you to tolerate my unhealthy behavior. But if things had ended there–with me being honest, and you loving me anyways–things probably would never have changed. What it took for me to change was your willingness to keep asking me about it: to remind me of my goals, and to check in with me… while still being willing to go on a walk with me, even when I was wrestling. The push-and-pull of our relationship, and your investment in me, kept the flame of change alive. And it also gave me something to be excited about when I quit: I was eager to tell you! We need challenge and patience: folks in our lives who desire our health… but who see our wellbeing as connected to their own wellbeing, too.

That’s the last big truth we need to remember: communal growth requires a community mindset. Our health is connected. We can’t run out ahead of each other! We hang back, love each other, encourage one another, challenge one another, and live graciously all the while. That spirit has to be at the center of our church… because it’s a spirit of reconciliation. It flows from believing we can be whole again because we were made to be whole. It’s not something we race to achieve, it’s something we rediscover. 

For a long time, I thought the “self-sacrifice” we’re called to embrace as Christians was about obliterating myself for the sake of others. But it’s not: it’s exactly the thing Jesus models for us, when he steps back from his own race in order to join us in ours. It’s not giving up my goals… it’s sharing them with you, aligning them with yours, allowing them to be reconciled with what we are called to together. I can’t parse out my health from your health, or my growth from your growth: we’re one body, and we grow together. If you’re not yet reconciled, I can’t move on without you and still claim to be an “ambassador of reconciliation”! 

So this is my prayer and our challenge: to truly be one. To see ourselves as parts of this church body. And to discover the joy in that partnership God designed us for. Can we do this together?

The Work of Staying

BY DR. KENNY CAMACHO / SERMON DELIVERED 17 SEPTEMBER 2023 FOR REVOLUTION CHURCH

This Sunday, we’re continuing in our series Together, which is about how we build a genuine community of disciples here at Revolution. The challenge is in the word “we”: what can we do corporately to shape the church we share? In Week 1, we started by exploring a community of patient invitation, deep curiosity, and generous trust. Those traits are essential for keeping the doors open!

But this week, we need to take a closer look at that other part of having open doors: what reasons do we give people to stay? This question matters because, the truth is, any community that takes discipleship seriously is going to be uncomfortable at times. One of my favorite illustrations for talking to people about finding the right church is an archery target: you don’t want to find a church that feels like the ‘bullseye,’ because if everything already feels perfect to you, you won’t be challenged. But you don’t want to find a church that’s in that outer ring, either… because if you’re endlessly uncomfortable, you’ll find it hard to open yourself up to change. Healthy communities are never going to be perfectly comfortable. But they can be safe! The key is learning to live and to love through disagreements.

Our focal text today is about a turning-point moment in the story of the early Church. But before we get there, I want to start with a classic pastor joke. It goes like this:

A man dies and goes to heaven. At the Pearly Gates, he meets St. Peter, who asks him, “what denomination were you?” The man says, “I was a Methodist,” and St. Peter says, “alright, head on down to Room 14. But be extra-quiet when you walk past Room 8.” The man says okay, and he heads inside.

Then a faithful woman shows up. St. Peter asks her the same question, and she says, “Lutheran.” He sends her to Room 22, and he gives her the same instruction: “be quiet when you pass Room 8.”

A little boy shows up and says he was baptized Catholic; Peter sends him to Room 10, and shares the same warning.

And behind the boy, a man is listening in. When it’s his turn, he asks Peter, “What’s going on in Room 8?”

St. Peter says, “oh, that’s the Baptists… they think they’re the only ones here.”

So, first of all, this joke gets told in all sorts of churches, and the labels just get changed. But second of all, it digs at the single biggest reason, in my experience, why people leave: when we care about something as much as we care about our faith, it’s hard not to take even the smallest disagreements seriously.

Now, on the surface, this seems like a surmountable problem. The history of the Church is full of idealists who have tried to parse out the “big” issues from the “little” issues. Indeed, the Apostles’ Creed–which we have been studying this year–is part of that effort: “if it ain’t in the Creed, it ain’t somethin’ you need.” But over and over again in my life, I’ve seen churches break down not because they knew they were fighting over a small issue, but because they let a smaller issue get sucked into a bigger issue. 

Here’s what that looks like: the Creeds don’t say anything about whether a church should or should not encourage women to serve in leadership. But Paul says things about this in his letters to specific churches… those letters are in the Bible… the Nicene Creed does say God speaks through the prophets… thus, Scripture is Holy… thus, what Paul says is what God says. The fight, then, ceases to become about the issue and instead becomes about obedience to Scripture–and then it’s off to the races.

This breaks communities apart in two ways we need to think about: first, it makes people who feel deeply convicted about a particular controversy incapable of trusting leaders who disagree with them. And second, it makes people who are clinging to the hope that Christian communities can really offer something different than the infighting they experienced at work, or the bitterness they witnessed between members of their own families, give up that hope and say, “well, it’s the same crap the world over.” 

What we need to discover–and to believe as a community–is that loving through disagreements, creating space for diversity, and staying when it’s hard aren’t just good ideas… they are part of what a church is meant to model. Our resilience is key to our mission. Our willingness to be humble, our eagerness to extend grace, aren’t strategies for “getting through” conflict… they are what we can live for.  

The early Church learned this lesson organically and inevitably. Here’s how: as I know you know, both Jesus and his first disciples were all, both women and men, Jewish. They lived in Judea in the first century, during a time when that region of the world was under the control of the Roman Empire. One consequence of Roman rule over an historically Jewish people is that, in order to survive and avoid assimilation, Jews needed to be, deeply and truly, Jews. Ancient customs needed to be respected. Markers between who was and was not in the community needed to be clarified. And by far the easiest and most visible of those markers was the practice of male circumcision: circumcised men were Jews, and uncircumcised men were Gentiles. Both Jesus and his male disciples were circumcised.

But one of the most troubling characteristics of Jesus’s earthly ministry was his radical inclusion of outsiders. He reached out to lapsed Jews, to marginalized Jews like the Samaritans, and even to non-Jews, like those he healed in the Decapolis. Now, for many, this was just “Jesus being Jesus.” But once Jesus was gone, his followers faced a major problem he had not clearly prepared them for: if they were going to be like him by welcoming Gentiles, they would need to make a decision about those traditional Jewish markers. After all, if a Gentile man wants to follow after Jesus, and Jesus was circumcised, shouldn’t he do that, too? And what about babies born male to Christian parents? Should they get snipped? 

Before long, the leaders of the Church had a real controversy on their hands: Christian communities that were more predominantly made of Gentiles felt like their faith was enough and surgery was unnecessary. While Christian communities predominantly made of Jews felt like their brothers should follow the whole of Jesus’s example. Folks fought and divided. Just like with our own controversies, the holiness of Scripture was invoked. And eventually, a decision needed to be made. This is what Acts 15 describes as the Council of Jerusalem. Here’s how it went:

The apostles and the elders met together to consider this matter. After there had been much debate, Peter stood up and said to them, “My brothers, you know that in the early days God made a choice among you, that I should be the one through whom the Gentiles would hear the message of the good news and become believers. And God, who knows the human heart, testified to them by giving them the Holy Spirit, just as he did to us, and in cleansing their hearts by faith he has made no distinction between them and us. Now, therefore, why are you putting God to the test by placing on the neck of the disciples a yoke that neither our ancestors nor we have been able to bear? On the contrary, we believe that we will be saved through the grace of the Lord Jesus, just as they will.”

The whole assembly kept silent and listened to Barnabas and Paul [church-planters among the Gentiles] as they told of all the signs and wonders that God had done […] After they finished speaking, James replied, “My brothers, listen to me. Simeon has related how God first looked favorably on the Gentiles, to take from among them a people for his name. This agrees with the words of the prophets, as it is written,

‘After this I will return,

and I will rebuild the dwelling of David, which has fallen;

    from its ruins I will rebuild it,

        and I will set it up,

so that all other peoples may seek the Lord—

    even all the gentiles over whom my name has been called.

Thus says the Lord, who has been making these things known from long ago.’

“Therefore I have reached the decision that we should not trouble those Gentiles who are turning to God.”

There are two big lessons I think we can learn here: when faced with a controversy, we can look for what’s living and for what’s gracious. 

Acts 15:6-19

Consider Peter first. If there’s one thing we know about him, it’s that he loves to jump at the right answer. This often got him in trouble with Jesus… but it seems, by the time we get to Acts 15, he has learned to be patient and sensitive. What he says here is that, although there are certainly grounds for this gathering of Jewish men to debate whether Gentiles should live by the Law or live by grace, what actually ought to be done is to look first at the people under discussion. Instead of getting into arguments about them, he reflects on what he’s actually seen in Christian Gentiles… and what he’s seen are the active fruits of the Spirit. The miraculous stuff has already happened: these men acknowledged their sins, repented, and were met with God’s grace. They are already Christians–so what more would circumcision accomplish?

That sounds easy when it’s about an issue we don’t really care about, doesn’t it? But are we looking for answers in the same places when it comes to issues about which we do? Before I pass judgment on who can or can’t be included in “my church,” do I pause to get to know them? To find out if what I’m considering withholding might actually be something they already have? Whether or you’re on the “right” side of the cultural aisle or the “left” one, you should know I’m talking to both of you: are there any issues you disagree about that are so significant you would actually stand up and say the person on the other side–no matter their confession, no matter their baptism, no matter their obedience to the Holy Spirit in their heart–categorically will not stand next to you in heaven? Because they baptize infants? Because they encourage women to preach? Because they vote to restrict abortion rights? Because they are gay, or trans, or admire Donald Trump? 

What Peter voices here is that, whatever someone might be wrong about, if they are right about who Jesus is and what Jesus has done, they’re in already. And the last thing you want is to be stuck in one little room in heaven with your earplugs in… while a party bigger than you ever dreamed is happening down the hall. 

That’s lesson 1: look for the fruit of the Holy Spirit first. Let that guide you, even to uncomfortable places. The second lesson we learn here comes from James, who does the thing argumentative Christians always do: he looks to Scripture! But there’s something incredible about how he does it. 

Remember the argument that’s in front of him: it’s about circumcision. There are tons of verses about this in the Old Testament, including verses that speak directly to the requirement of circumcision for non-Jews who assimilate into the community. It doesn’t get much clearer than 

And when a stranger dwells with you and wants to keep the Passover to the Lord, let all his males be circumcised, and then let him come near and keep it; and he shall be as a native of the land. For no uncircumcised person shall eat.

Exodus 12:48

I mean, come on, James! But James doesn’t quote Exodus. Instead, he quotes Amos, a minor prophet from forever ago, who–in the middle of chewing Israel out–says that, ultimately, God will restore Jerusalem into a city for the whole world. There’s nothing here about Christian Gentiles in Antioch. There’s nothing here even about circumcision. What is here is a vision of God’s character: He is One who restores, and One who includes.

Why does James do this? I think what we see is that James goes to Scripture looking for grace rather than condemnation. Now, look: I know that there are some of you who might be worried in this moment that I’m up here taking a side. You hear “grace,” and it sounds like a code word for things that, at minimum, you disagree with, and at maximum, you find dangerous to our common faith. But everybody: please hear me. 

James isn’t just “somebody.” James is Jesus’s brother. Moreover, James was not one of the disciples. What does that mean? Well, it means, at the very least, that he had some skepticism about his big brother being the Messiah! He wasn’t alone in these doubts. But something happened to James along the way–most likely, his brother’s public execution and public resurrection–that has led him to see Jesus, and see what Scripture says about the Messiah, differently. 

Why does James quote Amos instead of Moses? I think he does it because he knows that condemnation is easy. Grace is hard. And trust is the hardest of all. When we face controversies as a church, we have to do a lot more than just quicksearch verses on a topic and beat each other up with them. We have to ask, and ask genuinely, “does what I want sound like what Jesus wants?” Just like with that passage from Amos, we have to ask, “is it in keeping with God’s character?” If you think those questions ask for too much humility from you, imagine what kind of humility was demanded of James! Not many folks had to submit their soul to a sibling. But looking for God in Scripture instead of looking for proof is a good way to keep our hearts open even when things are uncomfortable for us. If we must err, I hope we err on the side of trust: trust in God to be bigger than we think, trust in Jesus to love us if we’re wrong, and trust in the Spirit to be powerful and effective in people’s lives.

It’s not a sermon without three lessons, and so far, we just have two: look for the work of the Holy Spirit in others, and look for grace in Scripture over condemnation. The third requires skipping ahead a little bit.

At the center of the Council of Jerusalem is Paul, who is the leading missionary among the Gentiles. He is a primary voice in seeking grace when it comes to the rules about circumcision, and he is one of the people the Council sends back out to the Gentile churches with the good news. But something really strange happens when he leaves Jerusalem: he travels through a town named Lystra and meets a young Jesus-follower named Timothy, whose mother is Jewish and whose father is Greek. Timothy is eager to join Paul on his journey, and Timothy is not circumcised. No problem, right? But because “Paul wanted Timothy to accompany him,” the author of Acts writes that

he took him and had him circumcised because of the Jews who were in those places, for they all knew that his father was a Greek. 

Acts 16:3

The grammar is misleading here: Timothy signed off on this plan, too! But the point is that even though this wasn’t necessary, they did it… so as to avoid causing offense to those they were called to reach. For Timothy and Paul, the mission was more important than propping up their rights or their certainty. The people were more important. And that leads us to our third lesson: we can look for opportunities to submit rather than to demand. 

We won’t always get our way. But have you ever considered what it would mean to people–to your friends and neighbors, who are hoping the Church really is something different–if you were eager not to get it? If you saw, in your own disappointments, an opportunity to submit rather than to demand?

The question today is how do we stay? The answer, ultimately, is simple: we choose to. We fall in love with the idea that this community isn’t a place where we get what we want, it’s a place where we are challenged and transformed. It’s a place where we learn to listen, where we learn to forgive, where we learn to surrender. It’s not supposed to be easy! It’s supposed to be better than that: it’s supposed to be love. 

Each and every person in here wonders if we are really acceptable at our ugliest. We wonder if there’s a limit to how “different” we can be and still belong. Every other community in our lives trains us to fear that “edge”: our jobs do, our neighborhoods do… even our families can. If the last 6 years have taught us anything in this country, it’s that families aren’t as safe as we thought they were. 

And the truth is that churches in this country have let us down, too. First, we learned we didn’t really need them, during the pandemic… and then we learned that we don’t even really want them, in the political infighting that has happened since. 

But that’s not what we’re meant to be. We’re meant to be something different, and better, and hopeful… and that hope has to be in all of our veins if it’s going to live here! My closing challenge this morning is this: will you stay, if staying looks like the Council of Jerusalem? Will you be a part of something different, not for your own sake, but for the sake of hope? Because we need you! We need differences! We even need disagreements! What’s magical about Jesus’s Church shines when love matters more. 

I want to be a part of that.

Forging a Trusting Community

BY DR. KENNY CAMACHO / SERMON DELIVERED 10 SEPTEMBER 2023 FOR REVOLUTION CHURCH

Today, we’re starting a new series called Together. The heartbeat of this series is that discipleship–which has been our theme for this year, and which we have defined as learning to walk after the Way of Jesus–is a communal calling at least as much as it is an individual calling. The reason for this is that the “Way of Jesus” is always, always leading us towards relationships… not only with him, but also with others. From the very beginning, Jesus’s story is about giving up the security of isolation and choosing the challenges, hardships, and even suffering that comes along with sharing your life with others. So, to spend a year thinking about discipleship in individual terms–what I can do to know God more deeply, what I can do to imitate him more fully–is to risk missing the forest for the trees! 

But if that’s the case, it makes moments like this one–where I’m up here by myself talking to you as individuals and encouraging you to make small-but-important changes in your lives–a bit confusing! What can you learn, in something like a sermon, about what we need to be doing? Does any community really grow in situations like these?

I spent a lot of time thinking about that this week, and my mind went to two places: the first was, of course, the example Jesus set for us when he was working to forge his own community with his disciples. There are lessons there which we’ll talk about in a minute! But the second place my mind went was to my own past experiences in teams at work, in school, and in previous churches: what did those communities do to get us all on the same page and pulling in the same direction? How did they forge a sense of real belonging?

The answer, of course, is team building exercises. Trust falls. Corporate retreats. High-adventure ropes courses!

Okay, I’m joking a bit. But just a bit: as cliche as those things might be, it’s true that the communities many of us are part of do use them to accomplish something similar to what we want to accomplish here at Revolution. But what, exactly, is it? And how do they work? 

Consider the ropes course. Have any of you ever done one of these? Here’s the basic idea: what companies and youth groups and other groups are doing when they strap on those harnesses is recontextualizing your fear. See, the reality of every community is that it requires trust in order to be healthy… but there are all sorts of mechanisms we can use to bypass trust in order to fake health. In a work environment, that can look like blind obedience, or professional competition, or creating a silo where you can work in peace. All those things camouflage our fears about trusting each other by changing the subject: “I don’t have to trust my boss, I just have to what she says.” “I don’t have to trust my co-workers, I just have to outperform them.” “I don’t have to trust the mission of my company because I can just do my job.” The organization will look like it’s working just fine… but it’s stagnant under the surface. 

When HR takes everybody out to the ropes course, what they’re doing is forcing people to be afraid together. To see each other’s discomfort. And since everybody has to go through it, we get a glimpse of each other’s weaknesses. The reason the ropes course works better than just getting called out in a team meeting is because it’s not part of your job… so you can be afraid without feeling like a failure. You can practice trust without hurting your ego. And you can ask questions without looking like an idiot. 

As it turns out, the way Jesus leads his disciples anticipates a lot of these same strategies. Jesus challenges his friends to encounter their fears… but he doesn’t use these to embarrass them. He invites them to ask questions… and he is gracious when they are slow to understand. And he cultivates their trust… not by demanding it, but by trusting them first. 

The big idea this morning is that we can build a healthier community together by weaving these same values into the fabric of our culture here at Revolution. The “we” is critical: these aren’t things I can do, or that our Leadership Team can do, without you! They are core convictions we have the chance to share… and if we do, we’ll see real transformation and growth.

There are dozens of places we could look to see how Jesus cultivates health among the community of his disciples, but many of the lessons are crystalized in his last pastoral moment with them on the night before his arrest. The gathering is called the Last Supper, and the most expansive account is in John’s gospel. According to John, the evening begins quite strangely! The disciples are sitting at the table, when Jesus stands up, takes off his coat, and ties a towel around himself. 

Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” 

John 13:5-7

This is Jesus’s version of the high ropes course. It might not seem all that frightening to you, but let’s look at what he is doing:

For three years, the disciples have been following Jesus as a rabbi. What that means is that they have recognized him, first, as an expert teacher of the Jewish Law. What initially drew them away from their various careers and into his camp was a conviction that Jesus knew something incredible and a desire to follow after him so that they might learn it. Now, Jesus behaves in strange ways for someone in this cultural position! The conventional approach to being a rabbi was to embody holiness, to take on an air as someone “set apart,” and to deign to allow your disciples to imitate you. In the first century, this was understood quite literally: disciples would strive to copy everything about their master, down to the length of his footsteps. The rabbi “taught” by example in his behavior and by illuminating the mysteries of Scripture in conversation. He was, in every sense, above his disciples, and it was their job to feed, shelter, and serve him.

But Jesus has never taken this approach! He was uncharacteristically warm, unusually inviting, and inexplicably involved in his friends’ lives. Indeed, he saw them as friends! But even that bit of boundary-breaking didn’t prepare the disciples for this moment, when their master took on a servant’s role. Without warning, Jesus stands up, pours a bowl of water, grabs a towel, and begins to scrub the dirtiest part of their bodies. 

I said this was his ropes course because what this action does to the disciples is recontextualize their fears. As Jesus’s students, they surely had tons of fears they were hiding: fears that they weren’t learning fast enough, fears that others were outperforming them, fears that what Jesus was asking them to do was beyond what they really wanted. But, over three years, they had surely learned to camouflage their fears at least as well as you and I do in our jobs! 

But when Jesus starts to scrub their feet, they don’t know what the heck is going on, and as usual, Peter is our spokesperson:

“Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”

John 13:6

It’s a silly question, but the fear is evident in the title Peter uses: he says “Lord.” Lords don’t serve! Peter is confused, and even upset. Is he supposed to allow this? Is this a test? Is Jesus perhaps even calling them out for being haughty or insufficiently humble? “You think you’re the bosses around here? Well, how does it feel!” 

But Jesus immediately answers Peter’s fears with loop perfect reassurance. He says,

“You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” 

John 13:7

Do you see how loving this response is? What Peter and the other disciples fear, in this moment and seemingly always, is Jesus’s disappointment with them. They worry he is weary of them; this is why Peter in particular is always trying to impress him with the right answers! But the two key words here are “now” and “later”: you don’t get it now, but later you will. This means there is a later! Jesus knows Peter is confused, but he is promising to be patient. Peter’s not on “thin ice.” 

By washing his disciples’ feet, Jesus does something that is literally welcoming: it’s a courtesy, shown to a guest. But the bigger point is that this welcome won’t wear out. The disciples can’t learn this if their fear isn’t confronted and exposed. But with it out in the open, there is an opportunity for profound reassurance and comfort.

When we think about being a “welcoming” community here at Revolution, we need to expand our imagination beyond being friendly and nice to folks who walk through the door. That stuff is great! But we need to remember that showing up to a new place is pretty freaking scary! Everybody who walks in here, or visits a small group, is stepping way out of their comfort zone. And although it certainly helps to be nice, what really separates a healthy community from a community that’s just getting by is our willingness to be patient and reassuring. When someone is confronting their fears, it creates this fragile little moment for deep comfort. 

How can we foster that deep comfort? By demonstrating patience along with kindness. We need to communicate that there’s no timetable for belonging. There’s nothing anyone needs to do to be accepted. Every time you walk through a door, your feet will get washed. “Now” you might not understand, but “later” you will… and that “later” never expires! There are folks who visit this church once and then don’t show back up for six months–and that’s okay! There are folks who leave our community because they’re not sure it’s the right fit, and then come back years later–and that’s okay! Everybody’s feet get washed, every time, as if it’s the first time. We need to remember that even the most hesitant step towards belonging takes enormous courage. It can be a value in this church to meet that courage with eager reassurance and generous patience. 

Jesus challenges his friends to encounter their fears… but he doesn’t use these to embarrass them. He also invites them to ask questions… and he is gracious when they are slow to understand. Let’s look further into the story:

Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Jesus said to him, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” […] After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had reclined again, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you?”

John 13:8-10, 12

So, because Peter is still Peter–which means he is always excited to shout out what he thinks he has learned–he does an amazing about face here. At first, he insists Jesus can’t wash his feet, because Jesus is his master… and then, when Jesus tells him that what he wants is for Peter to accept this act of kindness, Peter goes entirely the other way: “Wash all of me!” We can imagine Jesus smiling and rolling his eyes. But he is also characteristically patient, and he answers with a riddle: “when is a bathed person unclean?” This shuts Peter up for a while… but, after Jesus is finished, he does something else we can learn from: he asks everyone what they are thinking. 

One of the essential truths in education is that a person who discovers the solution to a question themselves will remember it far longer than a person who simply memorizes a right answer. Jesus lives by this principle, and we see it at work here: although he could jump to an explanation, he is patient while his friends figure it out.

Which puts us back on that high ropes course again! When you’re in the office, you learn how to hide your uncertainty. But when you’re up on that wire, you can’t secretly Google what to do! So, a powerful combination of things has to happen: on the one hand, you have to try and figure it out on your own. On the other hand, if you get stuck, you have to ask for help. And of course, both of these things are happening in full view of everybody else! Now, that’s scary… but it’s also a powerful lesson in community: healthy groups depend on curiosity met with grace. 

As a church, we place a high value on embracing our uncertainty, particularly when it comes to the grand and holy mysteries of God. That’s great! But I wonder: do we love curiosity so much that we lose interest in following where it leads? The power of Jesus’s example here is that he doesn’t say “oh, you’ll never figure it out anyways.” He says, “Do you know what I have done to you?” There is an answer! What’s remarkable is that Jesus is patient as his disciples look for it. 

As a community, we need to care as much about patience as we do about curiosity. You might be thinking this is pretty abstract, so let me ground it for you: do you really believe that people you adamantly disagree with about culture or politics or doctrine can change their minds? Do you trust that fostering curiosity is enough to make that happen? Are you still committed to asking questions and seeing your opinions change? Because it’s a hard thing to do! And although fostering curiosity is an important first step, if we don’t do that within a culture that is patient and gracious, we’re sabotaging ourselves. 

The trick we fall for is believing that we don’t have time to be patient with people. The issues are too urgent! But we can remember that Jesus is patient with his disciples on the very same night he will be arrested. Even with that clock ticking, he gives them space to think and wonder. Patience is a part of his passion. It can be part of ours, too.

So, we’ve seen Jesus confront his disciples’ fears and foster their curiosity while meeting it with grace. The last lesson here is that Jesus cultivates their trust… by trusting them first. Back to John:

“You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.”

John 13:13-15

Our time is running short, so I want to cut to the chase here: you can’t build trust without trust. We can’t build trust without trust. The boss who sends you across the ropes course without doing it himself is undermining the lesson. The pastor who asks for your vulnerability without being vulnerable herself is betraying the value. The church that preaches self-sacrifice but exists for its own sake is missing the point. Before Jesus asks Peter to wash anyone else’s feet, Peter gets his feet washed. The value Jesus is trying to teach extends the value he is already willing to live–and to die–for. 

Our purpose today is to talk about how we build a discipling community together. It’s not to talk about church growth or an attractive mission or an appealing Sunday service. The goal is for us to genuinely and deeply forge a local church where transformation happens in people’s lives and we walk, together, towards becoming the kind of body God intends for us to be. I am a part of that, and you are also a part of that… but what we are focusing on in this series is what we choose to do. What kind of culture will we tolerate? What kind of culture will we cultivate? I can stand up here and articulate things, but the vision is being entrusted to all of us to see it through. It’s our collective responsibility. 

So, how do we share it? How do we meet fears with reassurance and meet questions with patience and meet trust with trust together? My hunch is that we start by remembering that we’re all disciples, too. The vision didn’t start with us. The challenges, and the invitations, don’t start with us. Revolution is a gathering of Jesus-minded people being forged into a Jesus-hearted community. We can allow ourselves to be stitched together here. We can face our own fears, confront our own competitive or proud impulses, and lay them down to each other. The same things we’re inviting new people to do–to trust, to be vulnerable, to step up–are things we can already be doing with and for each other. 

Let’s take this week and take this series as a chance to grow together. It will be messy; it will take patience and grace! But if we can learn to serve each other, I think we’ll discover the unity we’re seeking, and the community we’re meant for.

I Believe in the Holy Catholic Church…?

BY DR. KENNY CAMACHO / SERMON DELIVERED 3 SEPTEMBER 2023 FOR REVOLUTION CHURCH

This Sunday, we are taking another break between two of our main series for this year to look again at the Apostles’ Creed. This is the week for this project! Because today, we’re going to explore the statement in the Creed which easily generates the most follow-up questions whenever we read it together. Here it is:

“I believe in the holy, catholic Church, and in the communion of saints”

Do you know what part makes folks the most curious… or even concerned? Bingo! It’s that word “catholic.”

Now, if you’ve asked me about this this year, there’s a good chance I did some deflection. I probably said something like, “Well, the short answer is that the word ‘catholic’ literally means something like ‘universal’… but the long answer is complicated, and we’ll get there.” Well here we are: we’ve gotten there. So, what exactly are we saying we “believe”? 

Let’s start with the noun hiding behind those two eyebrow-raising adjectives: the subject here is the Church. You’ll notice that capital “C”: when we talk about the Church in the Creed, we’re not talking about Revolution, or about any particular denomination, or even the cultural traditions and practices of any given group of nominally Christian people. What we’re talking about, specifically, is the living and truly miraculously knit-together Body of all people who consider Jesus their king, all over the world, and for all time. The Church is the collective identity of Christians. If you’re a child of the ‘90s, the Church is our Captain Planet. 

Do any of you remember that old show? If you don’t, the basic idea is that these 5 teenagers each have special rings which give them a particular Nature-themed power–Earth! Wind! Fire! Water! Heart!–and when they put the rings together, they generate a superhero named Captain Planet who fights pollution.

I know; it’s silly. It also probably runs afoul of some strict dogmatics, so it’s not a perfect ecclesial analogy. But what I do like about it is that Captain Planet is both a part of these kids and distinct from them. He’s their leader… but they aren’t him. Instead, he shows up when they get together, and their powers contribute to what he’s doing. 

The picture we see in the Bible of the Church is certainly not the same as that, but the illustration might still help us out. Jesus’s disciple Peter writes this to the collective congregations of Christian churches spread around the Mediterranean Sea in the first century:

Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight, and like living stones let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. 

1 Peter 2:4-5

Peter’s vision of what this growing group of Jesus followers ought to be isn’t a loose affiliation of little congregations, who come together for annual meetings. It’s not something like a franchise, where a model for success is systematized and copied in each distinct place. It’s not even an imitation of the Roman Empire, where an army of missionaries travels between outposts and seeks to conquer and convert the pagans! It is a single building, built stone by stone in every corner of the world, for the purpose of experiencing God’s presence and bearing witness to God’s love. We should note that the Church could have gone any of these other different ways! An affiliation, a franchise, an empire…

But it didn’t: it was imagined, from the start, as a building–or even better yet, because its purpose is experiencing and sharing God’s love–as a united Body. So, the Church is the material, earthly home of God’s Spirit. Each little group of believers is a brick in that home, a part of that Body (as the apostle Paul often puts it), and the “cornerstone,” or the “head,” is the living person of Jesus. 

We’ll get to what this means for us as one little “brick” here in Annapolis in just a bit. But before we do, I want to talk about those two adjectives before the noun in the Creed: what does it mean for the Church to be holy? What does it mean for it to be catholic?

I’ve made you wait long enough: we’ll do “catholic” first. 

So, one trick here is that, like many words we still use from ancient languages, we don’t entirely know what it means. The root here is the Greek word katholikos, which seems to be a blend of the phrase kath’ holou, which means “on the whole, in general” and the word kata, which means “about.” It actually does show up once in Scripture, and in an unusual place! In the book of Acts, Peter and John are brought before the authorities in Jerusalem for inciting trouble by proclaiming that Jesus rose from the dead. In verse 18, we read that those authorities

called them and ordered them not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus. 

Acts 4:18

That “at all” is a translation of the word katholikos, and it seems to mean “in any way or place whatever,” or “universally.” So, “catholic” still carries that sense: it means “universal.” 

It’s a few hundred years before we encounter it again, but it does show up in Church history in the writings of a man named Eusebius, who was a Church historian in the 4th century. Specifically, he uses it to describe the catholic epistles being exchanged between the churches written by Peter, James, and John. His sense, of course, was that although these letters were originally written to distinct congregations, they functionally belong to the Church “as a whole”: this is the main reason we can still read them in our Bibles today! References go on and on, of course… but the basic idea in the history of the Church is that “catholic” is a way of saying “in every place, for everyone.”  

So, what’s the tension with this word now? Well, it rises from the use of the word “catholic” in reference to the Catholic Church in Rome. Now, that church is certainly part of the Church: practitioners of Catholicism are followers of Jesus! But the confusion arises from the claim to the “universal” title in the wake of the major fracturing of Christian denominations between “East” (Orthodox) and “West” (Roman) in the 11th century (and, in a lots of ways, before). Since then, “Catholic” has come to refer to the body of the Roman church… which, as I hope you can now see, is a pretty frustrating and ironic twist on the word’s meaning (no offense to our Roman Catholic brethren intended here… or to our Orthodox ones, who also have claim to an original lineage!).

In any case, when we use the word “catholic” in the Creed, as Protestants, what we’re saying we believe is that the Church of Jesus exists everywhere, for everyone. It is “universal”… or at least, it should be.

But there’s another hang up with that other adjective, isn’t there? Because the Church isn’t just supposed to be catholic… it’s supposed to be holy. What does that mean? What are we saying we signed up for?

If we go back to 1 Peter and read on a bit, we find this:

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the excellence of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.

1 Peter 2:9

This passage is helpful for situating our understanding of the word “holy” in a useful context… because the word “holy” is also famously difficult to define. As best we can discern, it means “as of God,” “as God is,” or “set apart.” The sense is that God–and God alone–is already truly and completely “whole,” or existing in perfect relationship with His intended identity. What we believe as Christians is that God’s purpose–and even God’s holiness–is precisely what leads Him to bring to holiness that which He has made. But to do that, all that is unholy, or out of sync, has to be let go, and the only One who is holy must bring His Creation along. Holiness, then, is something that is happening to us–it is a word for what we are becoming, as God works within us.

That was complicated, I know. But perhaps it’s more approachable to think of it like Peter does: before he knew Jesus, he was “in the dark” about himself, about God, about the world… and then, through his relationship with Jesus, he was brought into a world of “marvelous light.” He began to see what was unholy in the light of his friend who was holy. 

When we say we believe in the holy Church, what we’re saying is that what God is doing two things: first, He is making holy what is unholy, and the name for this redeemed and restored body is the Church. The Church is “holy” insomuch as it is being built up by God. Second, as we are being built up, we are also being equipping to share in this transformative task, not by lording our righteousness over others, but by becoming carriers of Jesus’s light into around us dark places.

Together, that means our purpose is not to “be perfect”–we can’t be! Our purpose, rather, is to be carriers or vessels of the light with which we have been imbued… particularly when that light is exposing as much “unholiness” in us as it is in the world. Light shines everywhere! And what is required of us, as carriers of it, is not to squint when we’re holding the torch. We need to be vulnerable about what Jesus’s life exposes in us, too! And even when this is scary, we need to remember that it is still better to be able to see than to live in darkness.

One big trouble, of course, is that we don’t often see little ‘c’ churches operating this way. As we’ve talked about before, the tendency, particularly in American churches, is to think of ourselves as the light, or as the people who must be perfect. We put on lots of masks, and do a lot of pretending, because we’re trying to “fake it until we make it” as “holy” people. But a holy Church, according to Peter, isn’t the light itself, it’s the testimony to the Light! Our job is to “go first” in choosing to have ourselves illuminated, to have our flaws exposed. When we do this bravely, we help others see they don’t need to be afraid. Which means, of course, that the job of the Church is much like the job of Israel: we are evidence of the goodness of God’s plan to bring everything and everyone back to holiness with Him. This is perhaps why Peter quotes the book of Hosea to his readers, where God promises:

Once you were not a people,

    but now you are God’s people;

once you had not received mercy,

    but now you have received mercy.

1 Peter 2:10

One reason this matters so much is because if it’s true that what Jesus has done and is still doing really makes a difference, we ought to be able to see it! The holiness of the Church–not in the sense that we’re perfect, but in the sense that we’re honest, sincere, and courageous in our kindness–is visible evidence of God’s plan. When people look at us, they don’t need to see that we have become like God; they need to see that God’s love is enough to turn people around and make them brave. We don’t have to be dominated by fear and anxiety and jealousy. If we really believe that God’s holiness is enough, that His light is good for us, we can become confident in the ways we love and serve others… because we no longer need to obsess over our own reputations. Jesus shares his reputation with us; the point of that gift is to be free to care for others, to go to them wherever they are, knowing that light is good.

Things are getting terribly abstract, so let me offer a brief illustration. Imagine you’re lost in a cave deep underground. You can’t see the hand in front of you face. You need light… and then you see it: someone carrying a torch and heading in your direction. That torch illuminates them the most, doesn’t it? You don’t see just a flame, with a shadow walking behind it–you see them, their face lit up as they look for you. Now, you don’t for a second think they are glowing, do you? Of course not! But the fact that what they are carrying makes them visible is the proof that what they have is the very thing you need. A Church ashamed to be seen by the same light we presume to carry is never going to be effective. “Holiness” is meant to catch and to spread… but that means we have to surrender to it first!

So, the Church is holy, catholic… and then there’s the last part of this week’s affirmation: it is in communion with the saints. This is another sticking point for some of us, and for the same reason as the word “catholic”: when we hear the word “saints,” we start thinking about mystical superheroes of the faith… or at least people who are a lot more “holy” than we’ll ever be! But again, there is hope in breaking the idea down. 

Although “sainthood” has come to be a way of recognizing people of exceptional commitment to Christian faith, things didn’t start out that way. At first, the term “saint” was reserved for the “heroes of the faith” in the long history of Israel. Think about some of the folks whose stories we’ve told this summer: Abraham, Isaac, Moses, Rahab, Jeremiah… What made these people important to Israel was the testimony their lives shared about the importance of doing what God asks of us, even when it’s hard. Their stories offer encouragement in hard times and reassurance that living sacrificially really does matter in the end. 

Of course, as the Christian Church moved forward in time and faced increasing persecution, this same honor began to be bestowed on those who were stoned, who were arrested, and who faced lions in the Colosseum. The point wasn’t that they were superheroes… the point is that they persisted. “But,” you might be thinking, “doesn’t calling them ‘saints’ cloud the picture of who we’re really supposed to be worshiping?”

Let’s look at how the author of Hebrews talks about this:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God.

Hebrews 12:1-2

We can think of “saints” as this “great cloud of witnesses” who the author of Hebrews imagines are watching us and cheering us on, like spectators at a sporting event. At the head of this crowd–as well as at the head of the Church–is Jesus, who set the example by enduring the cross. Together, these voices and examples don’t exist to intimidate us, but to encourage us! They’re like the first kids to go down the scary waterslide at summer camp: they’ve shown us it can be done… and now, it’s our time to do it!

It can be scary to consider a “Hall of Fame of Faith,” but it can also ground our stories in the bigger Story God is telling. We’re not on our own! This isn’t the first church God planted! I’m not the first pastor, and you’re not the first Christian! When we remember the tradition behind us, we can find reassurance that our little part in the story actually does matter. 

We’ve covered a lot. But what does it add up to? 

I believe there is a Church, a singular building and body of God’s people in this world.

I believe this Church is holy… because our reconciliation is here now, and it really is making a difference. 

I believe the Church is catholic… because God’s intention is for all of us to be on the same team with each other, just as God is on our team.

I believe the Church is in communion with the saints… because the past matters! We’re not all ‘starting over’ all the time, and that’s good news because my chapter is just one part of a Story that’s still unfolding.

But does this stuff really change anything for me? Are these just abstract beliefs? Or are they beliefs that can change how I act in the world?

I think they can! Here’s how:

First, if all of this is true, we have to allow for differences in this larger community of the capital ‘C’ Church. Not every part of the body is the same. Not every piece of a building is the same. If Revolution is a “door” people can use to get into “the Church,” Heritage Baptist, College Creek, St. Mary’s, and Bay Area might be walls, or floors, or windows, or roofs. We don’t have to look the same. We don’t have to be the same. It’s a big deal in my heart, personally, to remember this. And to do the second thing:

We do have to be bold about who we are. Who am I? I’m a better teacher than I am a leader. I’m better at presence than I am at confrontation. Can I grow? Yes! But I need to lean in to how I’m gifted. You’re the same… and so is Revolution. What are our strengths? We’re good at helping people feel safe, we’re good at asking questions, we’re good at loving each other, even when we disagree… and we need to get better at those things, and bolder about them. The big ‘C’ Church needs us!

Which is a reminder that we have to resist being competitive. If it’s true that there is just one Church, it’s not going to be healthy if I’m criticizing or complaining or backbiting or judging anyone else. You don’t need to feel like this community is the only one to have things figured out! We don’t have to fall for the trap of thinking our purpose here is to win. Our purpose is to bring a little more light to this community… 

Which means we have to work together as much as we can. I’m glad there are so many other little candles out there! It’s not my role to personally pastor everybody in Annapolis. You don’t have to get your neighbor to leave their church and come to this one. We don’t have to build a service or community that appeals to absolutely everyone! The church down the street is our partner, and that’s good news… because we can’t do it all, anyway! So, as a little ‘c’ church, we’re going to serve at Heritage’s food pantry, and give up the ‘draw’ of our own Christmas Eve service to worship alongside our partners, and give financially to other ministries. 

The point is that we are one part of something that is holy, because God is alive inside it. We are one part of something that is catholic, because it can reach everywhere. And we are one part of a communion, because our chapter connects to the stories that came before us, and will hopefully be an encouragement to the stories that will follow. 

I’m grateful to be here. This community stretches me, it encourages me, it helps me lean in to who God has made me to be. And I hope you are similarly blessed by being here, and we are a similar blessing to the people around us. God is really moving. God’s work is ongoing. We can see it, if we have the courage to keep our eyes open.