Our Opportunity to Testify
Malachi 4:1-21; 2 Thessalonians 3:6-13; Luke 21:5-19
The tone of our texts today is ominous. Ominous, yet challenging. Ominous, yet hopeful. When we meet Jesus in our Gospel he is foretelling the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem. That would happen in the year 70 when the Romans attack the center of Judaism and destroy it. Jesus paints a picture of "the rubble to come:" Énot one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down." But the tragic rubble he describes today means more than the wrecking of an expensive building. It represents the end of an age: the collapse of a people, the collapse of a way of life. Jesus is foretelling the time when the Jewish people rebel against Roman occupation, and Rome retaliates. A Roman soldier sets fire to the temple, in the midst of lots of other fire all around. The glittering showpiece of a temple is destroyed. Thousands of people are killed, more are driven from the area. Families are broken, jobs and income are eliminated, food supplies are cut off. Unbelievable chaos ensues. And so Jesus says, "This will give you an opportunity to testify." (?!) Or as another translation reads, "This will be your chance to tell the good news."(?!)
At one time we would have said we have not experienced such a devastation in our lifetime. At one time we would have said that we have not known, on North American soil, an image of rubble the likes of which Jesus speaks. But now we do have such an image etched forever in our minds. We all hold in our minds' eyes images of the smoking World Trade Center on that bright crisp morning of September 11, 2001. We all hold in our minds' eyes images of the subsequent collapse of each tower. We all hold in our minds' eyes images of the rubble as well. Would Jesus' respond to us with the same challenge he gave his disciples? Would Jesus say, "This will give you an opportunity to testify?" "This will be your chance to tell the good news?"
Sometimes a picture paints a thousand words. There is one photograph that circulated widely in the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks that you may remember.
Do you see the image emerging from the rubble? Do you see the cross? "This will give you an opportunity to testify." "This will be your chance to tell the good news."
I'm not sure there is a better image to depict our faith, my dear brothers and sisters. This is precisely the faith we exercise, the faith we proclaim, the faith we hand down from one generation to the next, from one era to the next, the faith to which the Scriptures point, the faith we sing in worship, the faith we embrace at font and table, the faith for which we give thanks as we offer our commitments of time, talent, and treasure this morning, the faith which, in these days of economic and cultural upheaval we are called to live: the faith of the cross.
This faith – the faith of the cross -- knows that God is always present with us in any and every circumstance of our lives, in moments and in places when and where we would least expect to experience or to find God. This faith knows that God is always doing a new thing in, with and among us, so even in times of uncertainty we have hope. "The truth is," said Christian psychiatrist and author M. Scott Peck, "that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. Because it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers." And so even the collapse of a way of life, or times of devastation and despair can be opportunities to testify, can be a chance to tell the good news.
It should be no secret to anyone that we are living right now during a "deep dislocation in our society," the likes of which happens only once every five hundred years or so. We are living in a new context where old certainties are disappearing, old institutions are less dependable, old assumptions are questionable, and old neighborhoods are less cohesive. We're all too familiar with the economic shifts in Southeast Michigan in recent years. Beyond those, North American culture itself continues to take new turns. And these turns have had an impact on the church: even the church in Livonia, even on Holy Cross. It's not about us. And it's not our fault. This is about the end of an era, a sea change in the religious ecology of North America and the role of congregations in our society. But this "sea change" has changed the context in which we as a church live and move and have our being. Think of it this way: when the weather changes, we change our responses. When it gets cold, we wear coats. When it's hot, we wear shorts. And so this change in the weather of our culture calls the church to change its response – its clothes. Not the message, but our response: to dress appropriately for the weather in which we find ourselves.
Pastor John Siefken spoke about this when he preached here two weeks ago on Reformation Sunday. He spoke about the "iron curtain of secularism" that didn't exist in America fifty years ago when Hope Lutheran Church in Detroit planted Hope Extension here on Six Mile Rd., and when seven other Lutheran churches were planted and grew rapidly in the Livonia area.
Now, the fastest growing segment of our population is people who are indifferent to religious institutions like ours. They seem allergic to commitment, especially to church, and they describe themselves as "spiritual but not religious." There is even an acronym for them: They're called "SBNRs." Fifty years ago, we could build a church, and people would come. Today, for the fastest growing segment of our population, building anything that looks, feels or smells like church is almost a guarantee that SBNRs won't come, even if they might still be interested in who God is. Younger people are yearning, more and more, for experiences of transcendence. But they are looking just as much for communities of authenticity and integrity without hypocrisy and pretense. Which is a good thing! That sounds like Jesus|! But if it looks like church, they assume hypocrisy and pretense is what they'll find behind the doors. These are our friends, our co-workers, our neighbors, our children. In the next 7-10 years, churches like ours will have lost 40% of the people and 40% of the dollars.
This is the backdrop for our conversations about a Livonia area mission strategy for ELCA congregations. There are eight or so congregations, invested in wearing clothing – one building, one or two pastors – clothing that was absolutely appropriate for the weather of the 1950s and early 1960s. This cultural climate, this era, in fact began to end in the 1970s. The fact that we've all been doing pretty much the same thing in pretty much the same way and that we're all still here says something pretty amazing about our God, about the faith that sustains us, and about the commitment of the people of God who worship in our communities of faith. And that would be you. You are amazing. And because of all this, we are engaging in conversations about options for the future from a position of relative strength. We are so blessed to be in a stable position at Holy Cross. We have dramatically reduced our budget gaps. We are engaging in mission in our community. But we are facing some tough decisions ahead. And we are in the middle of one short term challenge of major consequence: a taste of more that is sure to come if we all keep wearing the same clothing in our changing cultural climate.
This last week, Emmanuel Lutheran Church, the ELCA congregation on 7 Mile and Gill, the one with whom we partner in youth ministry, was driven by budget constraints to cut their full time youth ministry position to fifteen hours per week with no benefits. We have been sharing that youth minster, Rebecca Couser, and paying1/4 of Rebecca's salary package, and partnering with them in programming. Rebecca requires full time employment and benefits. So, this part of our youth ministry is now threatened as well. Rebecca is something like a sacrificial lamb in this scenario, in the grand scheme of things.
And yet, Rebecca has used this disaster in her life as an opportunity to testify, to witness to the God who is with us and with her in the midst of uncertainties. Transitions and departures can be divisive in congregations. They can leave lasting wounds, as Holy Cross knows all too well, and as Rebecca is well aware. And even though this came as a surprise last Monday morning, Rebecca is facing this turn of events with grace and love. She is processing her feelings honestly and openly. She's not denying the hurt, as one should not do in the Body of Christ. She is staying grounded in prayer and staying connected to God and to God's people. She is open to where God may be leading her. She is aware of the potential for this painful and difficult decision to divide the congregation of Emmanuel, and she is doing everything in her power to make sure that doesn't happen. This is an opportunity to testify, Jesus says. Rebecca is listening. And I am so grateful for her emotional and spiritual maturity. I am so grateful for the example she is to the rest of us.
We have that opportunity to testify today as well. When we come forward to the font with our commitment cards today, or in the days to come, we have a chance to tell the good news. Should the Holy Spirit move our hearts toward generosity, Holy Cross could offer to step up and pick up Rebecca's benefit package, or at least pay half of her salary rather than only a quarter of it as we have been. And then, of course, we'd benefit from having her here more often. We have an opportunity to testify. We have a chance to tell the good news.
We don't know right now exactly where our conversations – and prayer – will lead in terms of ELCA mission and ministry in western Wayne County. But God does. We don't need to know -- right now. But there is so much that we do know. We know that this faith we exercise is real. And like any muscle, the more we use it, the stronger it gets. We know that our God is real. We know that the weather out there has changed, but our God has not. We know it's time to explore options about how to dress for that changing weather. We know that sometimes we have to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us. We know that what we have before us are some breathtaking opportunities. We know that God is always doing a new thing in, with and among us, so even in times of uncertainty, we have hope. We know that the God of the cross is also the God of the resurrection. This is an opportunity to testify. This is our chance to tell the good news. AMEN
Pastor Dana Runestad
Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Livonia MI
14 November 2010
CL33 (Pr. 28)
Resource:
Peter L. Steinke, A Door Set Open: Grounding Change in Mission and Hope, Alban Institute, 2010.