Tag Archives: Worship

Transfiguration – a launching pad, not a destination

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Last Fall, a member of council framed a few pieces of the original cork that lined our walls prior to the renovation. I now show you a piece of this cork as another reminder of what used to be a unique certainty every time worshippers gathered in this space, for over fifty years. Certainty no longer!

You notice, obviously, that this space is fundamentally the same. And yet what we see and what is invisible has changed. No longer cork, but drywall and insulation. No longer narrow windows placed as a trinity, but wider ones that let in more light! The reredos, the pulpit and the ceiling — all retain fundamental elements of the old, but are definitely and without a doubt new at the same time!

These are mysterious, hard to grasp perceptions that can help our understanding of the Transfiguration of Jesus — the same person, the same general shape and size, but different: not only fully human, but also fully divine!

The Transfiguration points to a truth in our lives we often, because of our sin, want to resist: Change happens; it is part and parcel of the process of life.

Before the transfiguration of this space that occurred over the last four months, did you know that this space experienced a previous transfiguration? Perhaps it was more a transfiguration of purpose, than actual bricks and mortar:

In 1965, the sanctuary was originally intended and designed to be the fellowship hall for the ‘new’ church to be built at some future date. The Annual Design Award for 1965 was given to the Schoeler Markham and Hector architectural firm by the Ontario Association of Architects, Ottawa Chapter, for the design of the “Faith Lutheran Fellowship Hall”, as it was originally named. (1)

Change in the church is the norm, not the exception. As we sit, stand and move in this space today, we know there is still work to be done. The narthex hallway is still under construction, and needs some time for its transfiguration to be completed.

Life is a process of change, of coming and going. The last four months were not a vacuum in our existence. Whether we are aware of it or not, we have changed in the time we were not here. Whether you worshipped with us at Julian, whether you worshipped elsewhere, whether you didn’t worship at all, we changed. And that is part of the reason that during midweek Lent gatherings, we will give ourselves time to process our learnings.

Much has been said and written about the extraordinary, supernatural experience of Jesus being transformed in the presence of a few of his disciples. Not only does Jesus’ countenance change, he appears with Moses and Elijah — a couple of Israel’s greats.

The relationship between these characters — Jesus, Moses, Elijah, Peter, James and John — is fascinating to ponder. What compels me in this reading is what happens shortly before they climb the Mount of Transfiguration, and what happens shortly after Jesus’ entourage heads back down the mountain. The movement up and down speaks of a rhythm not only evident in the bible, but in life: a rhythm of coming and going, of ups and downs, of death and resurrection.

Jesus took with him Peter, James and John up the mountain. Special treatment? After all, didn’t have twelve disciples? Were these Jesus’ favourites? I wonder. Well, Peter, in the verses prior to the text for today, gets a scolding from Jesus after Peter suggests Jesus ought not suffer and die; Jesus calls Peter “Satan” (Matthew 16:23) for expressing that opinion. So, Peter is not in Jesus’ good books. Or at least, that’s what James and John probably thought, hiking up that mountain.

And so, after the spectacular event atop the mountain, when they return with Jesus down into the valley of their regular lives, they want to keep and guard their special status among the other disciples. A few verses after the end of this text, they ask Jesus: “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” (Matthew 18:1). The Gospeler Mark portrays James and John in a more aggressive manner, when he records James’ and John’s request more as an order, or demand of Jesus: “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you … Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory” (Mark 10:35-37).

The disciples are fighting amongst themselves, and competing over who is the greatest. Of course, they use the world’s standards of greatness. Jesus brings to them children and the Cross, to show them who and what is truly great in God’s eyes.

“‘BANG!’ The gun fires and the race is on. The runners take off across the field. It rained the day before and the ground is still damp. The temperature is cool. It is a perfect day for running. The line of runners quickly forms a pack. Like a school of fish they come together as one. They move as one … As with any race, in a short period of time the stronger ones will start to pull ahead and the weaker ones will start to to fall behind.

“But not Ben Comen. Ben was left behind as soon as the starter gun sounded. Ben’s not the fastest runner on the team. In fact, he’s the slowest. He has never won a single race the entire time he’s been on the … High School cross-country track team. Ben, you see, has cerebral palsy.

“Cerebral palsy, a condition often caused by complications at birth, affects someone’s movement and balance. The physical problems endure a lifetime. Misshapen spines create a twisted posture. Muscles are often withered and motor reflexes slow. Tightness in the muscles and joints also affect balance. Those with cerebral palsy often have an unsteady gait, their knees knock and their feet drag. To an outsider, they may seem clumsy. Or even broken.

“The pack pulls farther and farther ahead while Ben falls farther and farther behind. He slips on the wet grass and falls forward into the soft earth. He slowly picks himself up and keeps going. Down he goes again. This time it hurts. He gets back up and keeps running. Ben won’t quit. The pack is now out of sight and Ben is running alone. It is quiet. He can hear his own laboured breathing. He feels lonely. He trips over his own feet again, and down he goes yet another time.

“No matter his mental strength, there is no hiding the pain and frustration on his face. He grimaces as he uses all his energy to pull himself back to his feet to continue running. For Ben, this is part of the routine. Everyone else finishes the race in about twenty-five minutes. It usually takes Ben more than forty-five minutes.

“When Ben Comen eventually crosses the finish line he is in pain and he is exhausted. It took every ounce of strength he had to make it. His body is bruised and bloodied. He is covered in mud. Ben inspires us, indeed.

“But this is not a story of ‘when the going gets tough, the tough get going.’ This is not a story of ‘when you fall down, pick yourself up.’ Those are great lessons to learn, without a doubt. But we don’t need Ben Comen to teach us those lessons. There are dozens of others we can look to for that … Ben’s lesson is deeper.

“…. What Ben teaches us is special … Ben starts every race with a very clear sense of why he’s running. [It’s not about how Ben relates to his ‘competitors’.] He’s not there to beat anyone but himself. Ben never loses sight of that. His sense of why he’s running gives him the strength to keep going. To keep pushing. To keep getting up. To keep going. And to do it again and again and again. And every day he runs, the only time Ben sets out to beat is his own.” (2)

Change is the norm, not the resisted exception. When we face changes in our lives, the only competitor we face is ourselves — individually, or as a group. When we face the changes of life, we misfire our energies if we find someone else to blame, some other entity out there that is the cause of all our problems. When we play that kind of game, we become part of the problem rather then part of the solution. The greatest and most significant competitor we face, is ourselves.

From the mountaintop experience, one must return to the valley, where the real work begins. We need to ponder, now that we have this beautiful space to gather, why indeed we gather here. We need to articulate for a new day in new language and different forms what is our purpose, our mission. What is the purpose of the building?

There is no recording of James, John and Peter ever running back to the place of worship atop the Mount of Transfiguration when things got tough. They didn’t go back there every Sunday, again and again. That’s because the purpose of worship is not a destination, but a launching pad to the world around.

The purpose of this space on Sunday morning is not a destination of our faith, but a launching pad, to go out there and live out our faith in our daily, Monday-Saturday lives. Ekklesia, the Greek word for ‘church’ means literally, ‘a people called out’. We keep going, moving forward, doing what we are called to be and do.

And we don’t give up. We keep in mind that when the stress of change seems overwhelming, there is no one or circumstance ‘out there’ to blame. We are our own greatest enemy, they say; it is true. We, also, are our greatest asset. We only have ourselves to challenge, to change, and to grow.

And Jesus goes with us, and before us, through all the ups and down. Thanks be to God. Ours is the task, now, to follow.

1 – from Church Anniversary 2011, Faith Evangelical Lutheran Church Ottawa, “Some Interesting Facts”.

2 – Simon Sinek, “Start With Why”, New York: Penguin, 2009, pages 222-224.

Annual Pastor’s Report

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Effective Partnerships

The most significant event in the life of Faith Lutheran Church in 2016, was the decision to complete an extensive renovation of our worship space and narthex hallway. To complete this major modernization project, we partnered with the capable and esteemed contracting company from Stittsville, “Amsted”.

This decision precipitated what may in the long run prove to be just as significant, if not more so: The decision to join with the local Anglican parish on Sunday mornings during the time of the renovation (which lasted into 2017).

Even should nothing enduring come of the relationship between Faith Lutheran Church and Julian of Norwich Anglican Church, the mere exercise of gathering as a hybrid congregation for the last ten consecutive Sundays in 2016 plus two Christmas Eve services caught the attention of the Christian community in Ottawa and across our Eastern Synod.

Meeting to worship with local Anglicans affirmed both the existing Full Communion relationship between the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada (ELCIC) and the Anglican Church of Canada (ACC), an agreement existing since 2001. As such, given the other options during our vacancy from 43 Meadowlands Drive West, meeting with an Anglican congregation was attractive, since doing so facilitated many logistics of worship between our similar liturgies, as well as kept a certain momentum alive for meeting at all, during the renovation/vacancy period.

On Lutheran liturgy Sundays (every other Sunday) at Julian of Norwich, we expressed our unique identity within the union of two distinct congregations. For example, each congregation has different histories, as well as contrasting governance structures (i.e. Anglicans are governed episcopally, while Lutherans are governed in a congregational structure).

While comparing congregations is fruitful, challenging and enjoyable, the fact that we began this relationship knowing we were returning home at some point allows us to pose critical questions of review of our ‘way of doing things’ freely, both around sacramental practice and mission.

During the Eastern Synod Assembly in June, your lay delegate (Julia Wirth) and the pastor heard again the four main, missional themes of the Eastern Synod (Effective Partnerships, Healthy Church, Spirited Discipleship, Compassionate Justice). No doubt, our congregation participated in a way no other Eastern Synod congregation has, in affirming the value of seeking “Effective Partnerships” in fulfilling God’s mission, especially during times of need and change.

Loss and Transition

A basic assumption of committing to the renovation project was that we had to take leave of our current building, and specifically our place of prayer. Doing so was an act of courage. Leaving a place that has symbolized a constant certainty in the lives of Faith members for over fifty years was not easy. Our sense of stability in faith was disrupted, as we were challenged to distinguish between the form (‘our’ building) and function (the purpose) of faith.

This leave-taking coincided with other endings. June 2016 marked the last time the Faith Lutheran Women (FLW), structured the way they had been for the last few decades, met in typical fashion (see report). For some time prior to this they had been talking about closing their account and ceasing to meet ‘as is’. In the latter part of 2016, that talk became reality.

Also, the Confirmation program that for several years had been a successful experience for leaders and participants alike, did not in the Fall of 2016 achieve the critical mass of students to warrant a class structured in the same way. As a result, no program started up at the start of the school year.

These events, I believe, constitute ground for growth and maturity of our community as we practice the spiritual gifts of detachment and trust. The prophet Isaiah spoke the word of God to the exiled people in Babylon in the 6th century B.C.:

“Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” (Isaiah 43:18-19)

Before the new thing arrives, we need to stop the old thing. These endings are not failures as such; rather, they provide the space for the new thing God will have for us. What we are called to in disruptive times of loss and transition, I believe, is to be patient, have presence of mind and openness of heart, and be willing to take a risk together when something presents itself in our hearts as possibility and passion.

Poised for renewal

Moving into the new year, Faith Lutheran Church is poised to embrace a season of discernment, reflection and new beginnings.

Not only will we return to enjoy the gift of a refreshed, safe and healthy environment for meeting in our newly renovated building, we will be encouraged to reflect on what this space, created for at least another decade of ministry, worship, and mission, will be used for.

Late in 2016, the congregational council unanimously endorsed a proposal for a 3-month sabbatical for the pastor in 2017. The sabbatical covenant, based on the Eastern Synod Guidelines for Sabbatical, addresses the need for leaders to take periodic and extensive ‘pauses’ in vocational life, for renewal, reflection and discernment.

The benefits for the congregation mirror those for the pastor. From the perspective of providing some distance, a sabbatical gives freedom for everyone to step back, assess the structure of ministry and mission in the congregation, and contemplate new ways of supporting one another in our lives of faith.

For example, healthy congregations in general have several highly functioning lay leaders who engage proactively not only in managing a church, but in leading the mission of the church. The health benefits to the congregation, as for the pastor, following the sabbatical give opportunity for renewal of the mutuality of the relationship between pastor and congregation in God’s mission. The ‘reset button’ is pressed, and energy flows again.

Adaptive Change: Put away the mallets and start asking “Why?”

“There is a wonderful story of a group of American car executives who went to Japan to see a Japanese assembly line. At the end of the line, the doors were put on the hinges, the same as in America. But something was missing.

“In the United States, a line worker would take a rubber mallet and tap the edges of the door to ensure that it fit perfectly. In Japan, that job didn’t seem to exist.

“Confused, the American auto executives asked at what point they made sure the door fit perfectly. Their Japanese guide looked at them and smiled sheepishly. ‘We make sure it fits when we design it.’

“In the Japanese auto plant, they didn’t examine the problem and accumulate data to figure out the best solution — they engineered the outcome they wanted from the beginning. If they didn’t achieve their desired outcome, they understood it was because of a decision they made at the start of the process.

“At the end of the day, the doors on the American-made and Japanese-made cars appeared to fit when each rolled off the assembly line. Except the Japanese didn’t need to employ someone to hammer doors, nor did they need to buy any mallets. More importantly, the Japanese doors are likely to last longer and maybe even more structurally sound in an accident. All this for no other reason than they ensured the pieces fit from the start.

“What the American automakers did with their rubber mallets is a metaphor for how so many people and organizations lead … a series of perfectly effective short-term tactics are used until the desired outcome is achieved. But how structurally sound are those solutions?

“ … Long-term success [is] more predictable for only one. The one that understands why the doors need to fit by design and not by default.

“Going back to the original purpose, cause of belief will help … [churches] adapt. Instead of asking, “WHAT should we do …? the questions must be asked, “WHY did we start doing WHAT we’re doing in the first place, and WHAT can we do to bring our cause to life considering all the technologies and …[other] opportunities available today?” (1)

Being poised for renewal means we need to understand the nature of change in institutions such as the church. Some definitions, outlined in a report generated by the Eastern Synod Mission Committee late in 2016, draw the distinction between Technical Change and Adaptive Change:

Technical Change is about fixing problems while essentially keeping the system the same. In other words, where’s the mallet?
Adaptive Change, on the other hand, is about addressing fundamental changes in values that demand innovation, learning and changes to the system itself. Start with ‘Why?’ And then lead from there, by design not default.

During this coming year, which will give all of us permission to pause and reflect, please resist the temptation to rush into doing something either because ‘we’ve always done it that way’ or because we are too anxious not to remain awhile in the uneasy ‘in-between’ time of loss and transition. Be patient, take deep breath, pray, and reflect on the following questions:

Our adaptive challenge questions for 2017:
1. How do we communicate? To whom is each of us accountable?
2. How well do we listen and seek to understand the other? Give concrete examples.
3. Will we create a list of those who are not in church (technical strategy); or, will we identify the needs in the community surrounding 43 Meadowlands Dr West, in Ottawa (adaptive strategy)?
4. How will prayer be our starting point?
5. What are other ways besides worship that serve as entry points for the public to engage the church? This is important.
6. How do we see worship as a launching pad, not a destination, for following Jesus? This is very important.
7. What are the gifts we have as a church? (personnel, space, talents, passions, etc.)
8. How well do you know your fellow congregants’ jobs, professions, contacts, interests, hobbies, talents, passions?
9. Why do we initiate a ministry or mission outreach activity in the first place? Who is the target group? What is the purpose of doing it? Does everyone know the purpose? Why or why not? Is there general agreement about the purpose? Why or why not?

Thank you again for the privilege of another year doing this work with you. Blessings and Grace, on our journeys moving forward,
Pastor Martin

(1) Simon Sinek, “Start With Why”, Penguin Books, New York, 2009, p.14-15, p.51

Dialogue sermon – Epiphany 3A

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The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned (Matthew 4:16)

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness — on them light has shined (Isaiah 9:2b)

Voice 1: We confess that we sit in darkness (Matthew 4).
Voice 2: We confess that we even have the gall to walk around in the darkness (Isaiah 9).

Voice 1: Whether we are moving, or staying put, the darkness of sin clouds our vision, purpose and value in the world. We stumble and fall —
When we exclude, and draw lines of division between the haves and have-nots;
When we ignore, avoid and despise those different from us who press into our private places, disturbing the darkness and isolation.

Voice 2: We confess our longing to sit and walk in the light.
A place to be, free from our stuck-in-the-rut-ness,
free from what holds us back — our prejudices and fears.
A place to affirm and re-affirm our call.

Voice 3 (from balcony):
Bethlehem.
Egypt.
Nazareth.
Jordan River.
Wilderness.
Capernaum by the Sea of Galilee.

Voice 4 (from balcony):
The places where Jesus had his beginnings —
moving,
interrupting,
disturbing,
challenging,
calling.

Voice 1: Where are we now? What place inhabits our vision?
We long to return soon to our home, at 43 Meadowlands (Faith Lutheran Church).

Voice 2: We long to identify our place in the mission of God to the inadequately-housed (Julian of Norwich Anglican Church).

PLACE IS IMPORTANT.

Voice 5:
Our place in this world.
Our purpose.
Where we pray, sing, do mission together.
Where we affirm week after week who we are in Christ,
the light of the world.

In relationships, where we act boldly, and immediately, as did Christ’s disciples of old.

Jesus comes into the places of our lives to change us, challenge us.
No longer complacent,
but urgent following.
No longer passive,
but active response —

Voice 1: to the God who has, does and will continue to shine
God’s light and love in Jesus Christ
upon all who sit and walk in the darkness of the world.

An installation sermon for a twin pastor

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I wrestled this week with whether I should have my hair cut. Normally I wear my hair much shorter, especially during the winter months when ‘hat head’ poses fashion challenges. The reason I didn’t was I looked forward to playing up the twin thing once again; I know that my twin brother usually wears his hair much longer than I do.

And I’ve eagerly anticipated standing before you today, and asking: Are you sure you have the right twin as your new pastor? How do you know that your pastor is actually David, and not Martin? How do you know which one you are installing? After all, you’ve only had your new pastor a couple of months — do you really know him that well already?


Just one word of advice: If you believe you see Pastor David in Conestoga Mall or walking in Stanley Park in Kitchener or skiing at Chicopee, please, please don’t right away presume it’s Pastor David you are meeting.

One of my all-time favourite, yet awkward, twin-pastor experiences, almost always goes like this: I’m in town (Kitchener-Waterloo) either visiting David, Patricia, Sarah & Susie, or at some Synod meeting and going out by myself to the mall or restaurant when — it never fails — someone I do not know or maybe even know a little bit comes up to me and launches into quite a personal conversation; the person before me reveals information of a confidential nature.

I am caught in a conundrum: Do I carry on listening empathetically, nodding my head with pastoral attention and care? How soon do I break in with the news: “Ahh, excuse me, I am Martin, Pastor David’s twin brother; did you think I was Pastor David?”

At which point, the person’s jaw usually drops, the blush factor intensifies, and eyes pop. “Noooo! Really!?!”
“Yes. Really!”
“Pastor David, you are pulling my leg!”
Then, I have my passport and other photo ID handy, just to prove my identity.

Most non-identical-twins in leadership, I have come to covet, have lived relatively scrutiny-free of their public persona without ever having to ‘prove’ who they are. And here’s a twin secret: Both David and I know who we are. And we believe that there are differences between us; I don’t confuse my own identity with David’s. In fact, it has often surprised us why people can’t notice the distinct differences between us.

But we Malinas won’t make it simple. Add to that, we both end up being pastors in the same church. So not only do we look alike, we wear the same clothes on the job.

In the walls of the church, we may know who we are all about. We have our own social fortresses to hide behind; we gather with our own kind, in familiar places and spaces. We have our own rules and norms of behaviour in our brand of a more progressive, Lutheran church. Yes, we may know who we are.

But does the world know who we are? And perhaps this is the challenge for the church today.

Installations of pastors, or as the Anglicans call them, ‘Inductions’, are tricky events for us. Yes, we celebrate a new relationship between pastor and people, here at Christ Lutheran Church in Waterloo. That celebration tends to focus on the pastor; and, I’ve played into that in the first part of my sermon today!

I suspect that the traditional culture of the church has tended towards seeing ‘ministry’ as the sole purview of the pastor — and that Installation services tended to be viewed somewhat like launching pad for the pastor’s dazzling display of skill, leadership prowess and charisma.

In contrast, the relationship between pastor and people, which an Installation service signifies, is really about acknowledging the true meaning of the word, ‘liturgy’ — the work of the people. The pastor doesn’t ‘own’ the ministry of the church; it belongs to the people to which the pastor joins in supporting and enlivening it with his or her particular gifts, interests and passions.

Yes, leaders must be given permission to lead. Yes, you have elected Pastor David to be your leader. Yes, good leaders need to give themselves permission to lead. And yes, good leaders also need good followers. So, role clarity is vital. Setting and maintaining personal and professional boundaries are important.

It is also important to live collectively in this work. In the words of Martin Luther, we all comprise the ‘priesthood of all believers’ in the exercise of our vocations as Christians, ordained or not.

It’s not just about the pastor. It’s not just about the people. It’s not about pastor or people. It’s about pastor and people. We are not lone-rangers; we are not entrepreneurs or independent consultants in the business of selling faith to the world.

Because it’s about doing it together somehow. Praying together. Being responsible together. Not spectating the practice of faith, but participating in it. Figuring it out in the doing it — in the mystery, ambiguity and paradox that are central to the character of our faith.

I appreciate the Gospel text offered in this service today (Mark 4:3-9). I am drawn towards conversations about this text that focus on the identity of the sower, in Jesus’ parable. Who is the sower? Is it Jesus? Or, does this role fall exclusively on the ordained, set-apart, folks of our church — the pastor? Or, someone else? You, perhaps? We know only of the work the sower does.

I’ve also been looking at the Gospel text for this Second Sunday after the Epiphany (A), where Jesus calls his first disciples (John 1:29-42). There are two people accompanying John the Baptist when he identifies Jesus as the “Lamb of God”. Only Andrew is named. But the other one remains anonymous to us (v.40).

Perhaps both Jesus, who does not name the sower in his parable, and the writer of John’s Gospel who does not identify the second disciple, do so intentionally. Perhaps the anonymity we encounter in these stories is meant to engage us, the reader / the listener, in order to invite each of us / all of us into those roles — as follower of Jesus and sower of the Word.

Pastor David told me the little, liturgical scare you had here prior to the first Christmas services: Of course, it is appropriate not to have the baby Jesus in the manger during Advent and the weeks leading up to Christmas; after all, Jesus has not yet been born.

But it was just before the Christmas Eve service, I believe it was, when Pastor David expressed some anxiety about the missing infant. Where is Jesus? We’ll have to put him in the nativity sooner than later. Or, have we lost Jesus? Has Jesus already left the building? How can you celebrate the Word made flesh with no baby Jesus in the creche? This was not looking good.

Much to Pastor David’s delight, and surprise — I might add, not only did one baby Jesus appear in the little manger on Christmas morning, but two, identical baby Jesuses!!!!


I’m not going to suggest that Jesus had an identical twin brother, otherwise Dan Brown might have another best-selling fiction on the shelves in no time.

Nevertheless, the image is significant. Because, Christianity starts not with a one-person-show but a three-person Trinity (God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit). Christianity is inherently relational, and so is the work of God.

Following Jesus and sowing the Word is not exclusively the work of the Pastor. Can we envision this work collectively? Not just for one individual to do or be responsible for, but as the Body of Christ in the world today. Perhaps we can get at the identity of the sower or the disciple by observing and starting with what the sower and the disciple do. And how it is done:

When the work of compassion and justice expands beyond the walls of this space, we plant seeds. When the work of loving and forgiving involves the young and the mature doing it together, we plant seeds. When the risky following leads us out there and no one doing it stands alone, we plant seeds. When the work of the church is done together, as diverse and multi-faceted our individual identities in the Body of Christ are, we plant seeds.

And then the world will know who we are.

Checking our Image of God

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Do you know “Good Old Uncle George”? (1)

Listen to this description of what happens when a family makes a visit to Uncle George who lives in, and never really leaves, his formidable mansion.

At the end of the brief visit in which the children describe Uncle George as bearded, gruff and threatening, he leans closely, and says in a severe tone of voice, “Now listen, dear. I want to see you here once a week. And if you fail to come, let me just show you what will happen to you.”

He then leads the family down to the mansion’s basement. It is dark, becomes hotter and hotter as they descend, and they begin to hear unearthly screams. In the basement there are steel doors. Uncle George opens one.

“Now look in there, dear,” he says. They see a nightmare vision, an array of blazing furnaces with little demons in attendance, who hurl into the blaze those men, women and children who failed to visit Uncle George or act in a way he approved. “And if you don’t visit me, dear, that is where you will most certainly go,” says Uncle George.

Do you know “Good Old Uncle George?” Sound familiar?

From the bible readings assigned for this season after Epiphany, we are asked to consider again who is this God we are called to follow. Of course, no one image of God is complete. Our perspective is limited, no matter how well we know the bible or how many degrees we may have behind our name. And God is greater and bigger than anything anyone can imagine or say.

Nevertheless, it is fruitful to examine what we think about God. Our image of God influences our own behaviour and what we do “in the name of God”, who is revealed in history, in our experience and in the Scriptures as God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. Eventually, our actions mirror the God to whom we pray, to whom we relate, whom we imagine. (2)

I would like to highlight briefly three aspects of the character of God, in Jesus, that we can see in the story of Epiphany for today — the baptism of our Lord (Matthew 3:13-17).

First, Jesus moves. He does not sit still for too long. Jesus is baptized ‘on the side of the road’ so to speak. He is baptized nowhere special, not in some officially consecrated, designated holy place — but in the wilderness where John preaches ‘on the edge’ of civilization where crowds have to follow to be there.

In fact, the Jordan River is some 35 kilometres from Jerusalem. For people who walked, this would likely mean at least a two-day journey from the city. So, most of the people who witnessed this divine event and encounter between Jesus and John on the banks of the Jordan River had to travel to get there. Even the high priests and Pharisees, those in power and who held influence in the religious establishment of Jerusalem had to get there.

Who is God? God is more a verb than a noun; God is not static; God is always on the move; we can in this story of Jesus’ baptism appreciate the moving parts of faith. It is important to note to where God goes, and is revealed.

Mobility is a kingdom value. Going some place else away from what is familiar and comfortable is part of exercising a healthy faith. Conversely, staying in one place too long is not healthy for the soul.

Second, in this mobility God relates to us in vulnerability. In worship and praise of God we are accustomed to calling God Almighty. But, at the same time, if we are ‘getting’ Jesus, we ought to be calling God Al-vulnerable.

Jesus relates to us. The divine becomes one of us in moments of vulnerability, especially. The primary symbol of Christianity, the Cross, points to the ultimate, earthly destination of Jesus, and reveals our most vulnerable God. The Cross is a sign that says: God understands us even in death and dying.

What is unique about Matthew’s version of the baptism of our Lord is that it is meant for public witness. Unlike the other Gospel accounts who make this event more of an inward, spiritual experience of Jesus, Matthew portrays the baptism of Jesus as an external event, available to all present.

Also, Jesus submits to baptism not because he needs his sins washed away. Through this act, Jesus was indicating his willingness to yield his life, to surrender his life, in obedience to his Father. Jesus requests baptism by John so that he could completely identify with those he came to save.

Therefore, relationships described by mutual vulnerability is another kingdom value. Being with others in this way, in community, is vital for faith. Prolonged isolation and emotional detachment from others is not healthy for the soul.

Finally, not only is God in motion and in vulnerable relationship with us, God is reaching out to us, immanent and present to our common lives.

Jesus’ father in heaven calls to him, validates and affirms his path. Then, too, Jesus calls his disciples. Jesus does not do it alone. He includes his disciples in his travels, walks in their shoes, involves himself in the common, daily activities, gets his hands dirty — so to speak.

Jesus is the son of a carpenter from Nazareth, he fishes with his disciples, he goes to weddings and drinks wine, he hangs out with all people not just the ‘good ones’.

Jesus does not leave us alone, some distant, transcendent God who does not care about what happens on earth. Jesus will not stop reaching out to us, and will beckon us to follow where he goes. Jesus continues to engage our lives, touching our hearts, our hands and our minds, in the very course of our lives on earth. God will intervene, and pierce our perception, inviting us into a new way of being and doing.

Today, followers of Jesus can consider anew this God who is revealed to us in Jesus. Jesus is the divine-man, who walked everywhere and moved around a lot; Jesus is the God who seeks relationships and models vulnerability and self-surrender; Jesus is the God who will not leave us alone and continues to call out to us to follow in his way.

May God bless the path we journey. Amen.
(1) cited in Dennis Linn, Sheila Fabricant Linn & Matthew Linn, “Good Goats: Healing our Image of God” (Paulist Press, New York, 1994), p.3
(2) ibid., p. 7ff

Funeral sermon during Christmas

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I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angles, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
(Saint Paul, in his letter to the Romans 8:37-39)

In the Christmas children’s book by Eve Bunting, entitled, “We Were There: A Nativity Story”, she illustrates how the least expected animals very likely also attended the birth of Jesus: a snake, a frog, a scorpion, a cockroach, a bat, a spider and a rat.

It is written from the perspective of these least likely characters who shared the stable with the more popular donkeys, sheep and cows — how they travelled far and wide, like the Magi from the East; expressing their excitement and anticipation for being there, at the birth of Jesus.

Eve Bunting concludes with a note of criticism levelled against mainstream society, so to speak. She writes:

No one will look beyond the light to darkness
and the corner where we watch, unwatched.
They will not know or care.
But we were there. (1)

Indeed, we have made the story of Christ’s birth into a Hallmark scene, adding gently falling snowflakes, twinkling stars, softly rolling landscapes and passive characters staring piously into a glowing, impeccably clean, surreal-looking feeding trough.

But not just the cutest sheep, the solemn cow, the neighing donkey so familiar in the re-telling of the Christmas story through the centuries. But also the rats, spiders, scorpions, cockroaches, frogs, bats and snakes. They were there, too!

Today we remember Brian — loving father, brother, uncle and friend. He died during the twelve days of Christmas. The Christmas season invites us to reflect on the meaning of God’s approach to us all, in the context of Christ’s birth.

In imagining the traditional nativity scene, and considering who else might have been there (thank you, Eve Bunting!), I couldn’t help but bring to mind the story about Brian bringing an injured bat home in a shoebox one day, in order to nurture it back to health.

We might think it somewhat odd to do something like that. And yet, Brian was demonstrating, I would say, a Godly compassion for all God’s creation — even the least likely creatures. Something in his nature pulled him to care for these.

In her Christmas children’s story, Eve Bunting makes a deep, theological point and reflects something important about God. After all, the king of kings, the Messiah, was born not in a regal palace in the city among the righteous in the religious establishment. No, the Son of God was born in a stable for animals in a feeding trough surrounded by the lowly, the riffraff of society, you might say.

We say we worship “Almighty” God. We probably should say more often, to be truthful: “All-vulnerable” God. What Christians through the centuries have argued as one of the most important events of history when God entered our world a vulnerable, human baby that first Christmas — means that not only the ‘perfect’ ones, the popular ones, the successful ones, the ‘deserving’ and strong ones belong at Jesus’ side.

The Christmas story is really about the most common people and imperfect situation imaginable, including the lowly-status shepherds, a teenage, un-wed Mom and visitors from a far-away, foreign land. God was born as one of us in this world, among the animals and in a poor family, showing that in all of creation there is something good and worthy. Everything belongs. Everyone belongs.

There is nothing in all creation that will separate us from the love of God, in Christ Jesus. This is the greatest Christmas gift we are given.

Hymn: “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling”

1 – Eve Bunting, “We Were There: A Nativity Story” (Clarion Books, New York, 2001)

Christmas in July

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This past summer my family visited friends in Italy. We spent three weeks touring around mostly the southern half of mainland Italy — Naples and the Amalfi Coast especially. In this region in summer, the weather is tropical. Palm trees, humid air, full sun and temperatures soaring. We wore shorts and sandals, t-shirts and hats the entire time.

One of our highlights was visiting the Green, or Emerald, grotto near Positano on the Amalfi Coast. We had to take an elevator down from the snaking roadway to the water line. Then, we entered small boats for a tour around the cave.


The grotto was named “Emerald” for the incredible colours that filter from an underground opening and fill the cave with intense nuances of green. The inside of the cavern is filled with stalagmites, stalactites and beautiful works of art created by time and nature.

Near the end of the tour when the boat was paddled close to a wall of the cave, our tour guide asked us to look down into the sparkling, luminescent water on the one side of the boat. “What do you see?” he prompted us. For the longest time, I could see nothing, just the rippling waters.

Then, as the light continued to play on the currents swirling some ten feet underneath us, I saw it:

The grotto is home to an underwater nativity scene, made by a ceramics artisan from nearby Vietri in 1956. Since that time, divers from all over Italy come to pay a visit to the Holy Family at Christmas. But it wasn’t Christmas.

For me, the traditional nativity set felt out of place – a kitsch decoration in a natural, marine setting in a tropical paradise. From my Canadian perspective, it felt all wrong. This didn’t belong here.

It was the least-expected time and place to be reminded of Christmas. Christmas in July, where temperatures were well into the 30 degree celsius range, far away from home on the Amalfi Coast in Italy. On vacation. Christmas was the farthest thing from my mind!

In the Christmas children’s book by Eve Bunting, entitled, “We Were There: A Nativity Story”, she illustrates how the least expected animals very likely also attended the birth of Jesus: a snake, a frog, a scorpion, a cockroach, a bat, a spider and a rat.

It is written from the perspective of these least likely characters who are thankful for the more popular donkeys, sheep and cows who are “so generous to share their place” by the side of the manger. She concludes:

No one will look beyond the light to darkness
and the corner where we watch, unwatched.
They will not know or care.
But we were there. (1)

This children’s book makes a deep, theological point! The problem: We don’t see that God is there. We only expect to see God in certain places, at certain times:
Only at Christmas once a year in a crowded, decorated church;
Only in warm, comfortable stables where clean sheets and cutesy animals surround a quiet baby lying in the arms of a domicile Mary;
Only when good times roll with egg nog at the hearth of a roaring fire sitting in your favourite chair;
Only when choristers sing your favourite carols;
Or, only when everything is perfect.

We’ve locked God into the proverbial box.

The good news: God blows all our contrived and constricted expectations. God comes to us in all times and places, especially when we least expect it, even when we are not thinking about it, or planning for it.

While the dominant Christmas culture depends on our planning and organizing and ‘setting it up’, God comes to us despite all our fussing and fretting.

In truth, God is already there, just beneath the surface, out of the reach of the light, in the shadows where no one is looking or even caring.

Our job is not to make God happen by all our toiling and efforts to create the best Christmas ever. We don’t achieve God’s presence. Our job is simply to recognize where God is already present. Our job, simple though not easy, is to surrender to God who is already there. And this takes practice and intention.

So, this Christmas holiday, take a walk downtown where street people continue to ask for money. This Christmas holiday, search out an old friend with whom you haven’t spoken for a long time. This Christmas holiday, do something that you normally would not do, for the common good. This Christmas holiday, recognize the gifts you already have, not just in those presents packed under the tree.

Give thanks for the gifts you enjoy every day of the year — friends, family, love, community — the blessings that come from learning to want what you have instead of having what you want. Exercise the skill of seeing where and what many will not.

The joy of Christmas be with you. The gift of life and love in Jesus is born anew in our very lives. Today. And no matter where you are and whatever the circumstance of your life. God is already with you, waiting to be seen.

(1) – Eve Bunting, “We Were There: A Nativity Story” (Clarion Books, New York, 2001)

Martin Luther visit

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Guten Tag. Allo. Ich heiss Martin. My name is Martin. Liebe Gott! I can speak English! Something incredible happened to me on my way to this time and place. And I cannot explain it! So, “Here I stand.” With you. In this place. Today.
You know, truth be told, I don’t know what to make of this “Lutheran Church”.

Yes, it’s been a long time — 500 years — since I hung the 95 Theses on the door of the Wittenberg Church. So much in the world has changed. Travel, electricity, automation, information systems. And yes, I did write a lot with my hand. I suppose I would do things differently today, as well. Who knows?

But I noticed that some of my words have taken on an iconic status in your discourse through the centuries. And so, I’ll start there and tell you what I observe about your “Lutheran” church today — I feel awkward even saying that word: “Lutheran”! Who the hell do you think I am? “It’s true, we are all beggars!” Even me!

So, let me set the record straight. First off, I never intended there to be a separate church, divided from the Catholic church. Oh yes, a toilet-flushing theology underpinned some religious practices at the time, beliefs that needed reformation. I was excommunicated. And that meant death. But the Lord had a purpose for me still to fulfill, and I was spared. Thanks to Frederick, who let me live in his Wartburg castle for a time being.

Obviously, I still have a purpose or else I wouldn’t be standing here today. I am amazed to see how many different churches exist — and some even taking on my name! In a letter I once sent to my colleague Philip Melanchthon, you know, I encouraged him to “sin boldly, but believe and rejoice in Christ even more boldly.” He must have taken my words seriously — the “sin boldly” part, anyway — since he pushed my reforms to brink of dividing the “one, holy, catholic church.” Dumbkopf!

Which, it seems, has happened here in Ottawa as well. I take it that Lutherans from my Heimat, Germany, arrived quite late in Ottawa — later than in other parts of Turtle Island — is that not what the first nations of this land call it, this Canada?

I have secret to tell you — the Germans have long since stopped getting off the boats and settling this land in large waves of immigration. You are all settlers! And, the first Lutheran Church was St Paul’s Lutheran Church near the University of Ottawa, established in 1874. For the most part of your history since then there have been some 15 Lutheran congregations, no?, divided basically into three different Synods — the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada, the Lutheran Church Canada-Missouri Synod, and the Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod.

“What does this mean?”. You who have endured Confirmation classes decades ago, yes I’m speaking to you now: When you memorized parts of my Small Catechism, you will remember I sectioned parts of the Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, and the Ten Commandments, for example, I offered my interpretation of those sections preceded by the question: “What does this mean?”

I did that on purpose. Don’t you know that asking the question itself reflects an important stance towards learning? “What does this mean” is a question that first seeks to understand. It doesn’t presume you already have the answer.

I certainly didn’t at first. I struggled mightily with my own stuff, and spent a whole lot of time on that blessed toilet seat! I had doubt and prayed: “Lord, I believe, help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24).

The purpose of your Lutheran Council, for example, which functioned between 1968 and 1992 (I learned in your history books), was “to foster greater understanding between Lutherans in Ottawa” (1) — this amid conflicts over biblical interpretation, Communion practice and ordination of women to suggest a few enduring divisions. Good for the Lutheran Council! They were onto something, there, you know!

Learn from the first nations of this land. Among the diversity of Indigenous Peoples of Canada comes the wise advice: Seek first to understand, then to be understood. First, however, to understand the other. Not to persuade, to defend, to self-justify, to impose one’s opinion. Which appears to be the dominant characteristic of relationships in the church and the public today. You believe you first have to defend yourselves.

“What does this mean?” can be a call sign for you “Lutherans” today, indeed for all of mature faith, on how to learn, how to grow, how to move forward to embrace God’s future. You do so first by seeking to understand the other. Ask questions. Try to feel into from where the other is coming in their approach. Listen for smidgens of truth, of potential points of agreement, of overlap between what you hear and where your own heart resonates.

There’s another phrase some have said I wrote. But I didn’t. One of your modern theologians, Karl Barth, actually wrote it, based on something Saint Augustine of blessed memory wrote: “Semper Reformanda” — Always reforming. It’s still good and wise counsel! The Evangelical Lutheran Church in Germany (Evangelische Kirche Deutschland) has as the theme logo for the 500th Anniversary of the Reformation: “500 Years of Reformation”, suggesting that these past 500 years represent a continually reforming church. I like that. Sehr gut!

I know you like “A Mighty Fortress is our God”, ok? But I wrote that hymn in order to bring the popular music of my day into the church. I confess I spent much time in bars during my travels across Germany enjoying the local ales. And I sung along to the bar tunes, and wondered: “Wouldn’t this sound great in church!” And so, I took some of those tunes and transformed them into hymnody.

Why are you still singing “A Mighty Fortress” to celebrate the Reformation? The very idea of 21st century “Lutherans” celebrating the Reformation by clinging to the events of the 16th century doesn’t make sense, if you believe you are truly Semper Reformanda. I travelled all this way through space and time; I want to hear some of your new songs! 

We should be singing this century’s music rather than smugly resting on the laurels of the past, you would say. You should be plotting where the reformation goes from here. Perhaps in this the 21st century, when so many of your traditions have seen the institution fall into the malaise of irrelevancy, you need to echo the cry: “Semper Reformanda” — “Always Reforming”. Indeed, the church in every age stands in need of reformation (2).

In my Disputation in Heidelberg, a year before I hung those famous Theses on the doors of the Wittenberg Church, I stated that, “The Law says ‘do this’ and it’s never done; Grace says, ‘believe in this’ and everything is already done.”

The quality and practice of faith today is on trial. What do you believe about God, and your life with God, others and this world? Reformation starts with those questions.

I’m glad to see you still say, at least, that we are justified by grace through faith.

And when I read the Jeremiah (31:31-34) text for today, I must confess we are often our own worst enemy. When we try so hard and work so hard but underneath all that work is a niggling belief that it’s all up to us. We are most ready to hear those words of grace, forgiveness and mercy, I will confess, when our own efforts are exhausted. When we are weary of our inner turmoil we are ready to hear the Gospel of Jesus Christ. And believe. And trust.

Because by my own understanding or strength I cannot believe in Jesus Christ, in God, or anything good!

Do the work of God, yes. But allow God, in the end, to reap God’s own harvest. Believe in that which cannot be seen, towards that which can be seen (Hebrews 11:1). It won’t be our accomplishment when it finally happens. Because all is grace. All is love.

“This is most certainly true.”

I’ll tell you what else is true. There are some new words circulating among Lutherans in Ottawa these days. I’ve heard them. Who are you? You are “many communities and one church”. And you are “better together.” The fragmentation of the church which has been the unfortunate legacy of the Reformation needs reformation.

How can you see it? This is a matter of faith and belief? Do you believe that though you are many communities you are still one church? Do you believe you are better together?

This is not a figment of someone’s imagination that has mere mythic, allegorical status, invisible and irrelevant.

After all, when in the last year you gathered together at a Peace pole and prayer garden; when you gathered together to recall the history of the relationship between Indigenous and setter peoples in the blanket exercise; when you gathered together on Ash Wednesday and during Advent to worship; when you support a city-wide youth group by gathering together to have fun at summer fest; and when you serve together to do refugee sponsorship — it is real. It is tangible. It is visible.

And it is happening in a Lutheran community near you!

This is most certainly true!

(1) Barton Beglo & Jo Nordley Beglo, eds., “By Faith; Lutherans in Ottawa and the Valleys” (Ottawa: St Peter’s Press, 1995), p.66

(2) Dawn Hutchings, pastordawn.com “Enough with ‘A Might Fortress’ Already! Sing a New Song”

Sanctuary

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For a year and a half my wife and I took dance lessons. We learned Latin dances such as the Salsa, Rumba, Samba, Triple-Step, Merengue, and the Cha-Cha. 

I was motivated, at the start, by a beautiful vision in my imagination: I could see my wife and I swinging to the music, sweeping across the dance floor, effortlessly. I had a vision of us moving in complete sync with one another, twirling and swaying together in perfect rhythm and harmony. What a vision!

When I first proposed we take these lessons together, she was all game. So, every week we dutifully went to our lesson and met with our dance instructor who showed us the steps and taught us the moves. We were doing this together!

After a few lessons, however, I was becoming a little bit disappointed. My vision was not panning out. We weren’t always in sync with each other. Indeed, more often than not, we were stepping on each other toes! Oh yes, we giggled about our missteps, but it seemed we were not getting anywhere.

Our instructor calmly yet persistently reminded us that we needed to practice. Before the fun would come, she said, we had to master the steps. And for me, the lead, I had to memorize the patterns and in my mind always be one step ahead, knowing where we were going with each and every move. And this took work! And persistence. And time. The fun would come later, I held on to the promise.

It wasn’t as easy as I imagined it would be, working towards that vision. In fact, it was my wife who grew into the love of the dance and often had to cajole and encourage me to keep up with the program.

The Gospel text (Luke 18:1-8) today describes a woman who is persistent in her pursuit of justice. Jesus tells this parable to illustrate what it means not to lose heart. In the story, persistence is not just about building up the courage to do something beyond one’s comfort zone just once, and then give up because it doesn’t turn out. 

How often, isn’t that how we operate when trying something new for the first time? Something doesn’t please us the way we expected or wanted the first time we try, and so we just give up on it. No, in the story, she goes back “continually”. The vision of justice never wavers in her commitment to do the hard work.

This relentless pestering is accomplished in adversity, and really against all odds. Why the woman would even consider trying, up against someone in power who has no fear of God and no respect for anyone, is remarkable. At the onset, we would say she is hardly setting herself up for success!

Setting up a contrast of visions to describe God, is what Jesus is up to in telling this story. The place where we meet God is a place of mercy, of sanctuary. People, in the course of history, could enter a church and find respite from the condemnation of the law. The police, the authorities, the powers that be, even the force of the law could not touch you in the holy space. Here, you found immediate relief and mercy, just by entering the space.

The place where we exercise our prayer is a place where we receive forgiveness, despite the imperfection and sordid realities of our lives in the world. That is why Jesus tells of a woman receiving justice, not because she goes to the temple per se, but a court of law in the secular world: Even there, you can find justice, despite the unjust and sinful people involved. God’s love is greater even then the most powerful, unjust judge.

Indeed, this is our challenge today. God is not just in one, holy place that we have cherished for the past fifty-five years. God is out there, too! In the imperfection of our Monday-to-Saturday lives. In the imperfection of our secular world. In the seat of government. In the marketplace. And, would you believe it, also in other churches. The truth of the Gospel resides in a worshipping community that is far from perfect. That, in fact, has weakness and brokenness imbedded in our very being together.

When Jacob wrestled with God on the banks of the River Jabbok (Genesis 32:22-31), he didn’t hold back any punches, so to speak. He let God have it, and prevailed! His encounter with God, nevertheless, left him with a physical reminder of relationship with God: A bad hip. He would live the rest of his days, “limping because of his hip.” 

To be in communion with the Holy One is to bear the physical, real mark of sacrifice, of weakness, of imperfection. Followers of Christ, if you want to know them, are not perfect people. And if you meet Christians who appear to be perfect — or you want them to be — you are missing the truth of it I am certain. In fact, we would throw our lot in with the unjust judge, more than anyone else in these stories I would guess.

I read recently a story told by Marianne Williamson in her most recent book: “Tears to Triumph”. It’s “about a chimpanzee troop in which a portion of the population displayed depressed behaviour. They didn’t eat with the rest of the chimps, play with the rest of the chimps, or sleep with the rest of the chimps.

“A group of anthropologists wondered what effect the absence of these depressed chimps would have on the rest of the troop and removed them for six months. When they returned, they found that all of the other chimps, those who remained in the troop, had died! Why?

“According to one analysis, the chimps perished because the so-called depressed chimps among them had been their early warning system. The depressed chimps had been depressed for a reason; they registered that a storm was coming or snakes, or elephants, or disease. The presence of the depressed chimps had been an aid to the survival of the entire population … ” (1)

We need each other. We need our faults, you could say, just as much as we need our strengths. To remind us of what it’s all about. To point us to the Cross and the Empty Tomb. To help us remember that the church is not about our mission, but about God’s mission. To emphasize the grace of God under which all of us stand. To encourage us to work together with others that appear different from us. Going to, and persisting with, people that do things differently from us — in some ways better, in other ways not so much — is vital for the health and survival of the whole church.

So, after today we begin an adventure. Worship and faith and life-in-our-community does not stop now because this particular space becomes a construction zone for a couple months. We will continue to worship as a community, as Faith Lutheran Church. Yes we will! 

Our prayer will continue, and we will persist with others who are different from us (and I suspect we will soon discover they are not that much different from us!) at Julian of Norwich Anglican Church. Being outside our comfort zone is a critical, healthy, spiritual exercise. Should we persist together in this adventure, I believe we will grow in ways that are both vital and healthy to the future of Faith Lutheran Church; persisting together in this adventure will also deepen our walk with God.

I want to encourage you over the next two months to embrace this challenge, not shy away form it, maintain the vision, not lose heart, and pray always! Because God is already and always merciful and just.

(1) Marianne Williamson, “Tears to Triumph; The Spiritual Journey from Suffering to Enlightenment”, HarperOne, New York, 2016, p.84-85

Rekindle what’s hidden

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I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you. For this reason I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you … (2 Timothy 1:5-6)

In his affectionate and encouraging letter to Timothy, Paul uses language that suggests Timothy’s faith is as yet undisclosed. Or, his faithfulness is in question. Paul uses a rhetorical, emphatic form of speech — “I am sure” — in the middle of his affirmation. In the letter Paul exhorts Timothy “not to be ashamed” of the gospel.

Paul then validates Timothy’s faith by appealing to his elders — his mother and grandmother. Surely theirs was a robust faith! Surely their faith was recognized by the community, evident by some religious standard:

Perhaps Eunice and Lois both worshipped every Sunday, in the community. Perhaps Eunice and Lois both were the generous type with their money, their time, and their treasures. Perhaps both women of the faith served as deacons, helped the poor, taught the young, reached out to the wayward. Surely, these were women of faith!

But, Timothy? He doesn’t seem to be doing the same things or in the same way his parents and grandparents did. What’s wrong? Is Timothy able to take on the mantle of leadership for which Paul is grooming him? Surely the apple couldn’t have fallen too far from the tree! Surely, this faith that so lived vibrantly in his family must also be somewhere in him. Paul even exhorts Timothy to take some responsibility in fanning the flame of faith in his own life — to ‘rekindle’ this gift of God hidden, up to this point in time. Bring it out to the open!

When we meet Timothy here, he has not yet expressed his faith in a way recognized by the community. Or in himself. And obviously he needs encouragement to get going. This first chapter in Paul’s second letter to Timothy is all about encouraging Timothy and building him up by reminding him of the seed hidden deep within his heart.

Retired pastor of our church and former chaplain general of the Canadian Armed Forces, the Rev Stanley Johnstone, wrote recently about something unexpected that was found during a restoration project of a Hawker Hurricane aircraft. A Hawker Hurricane was the main fighter aircraft of the Royal Air Force and other British Empire air forces early in World War Two.

During the restoration process of this aircraft, which had been recovered from the bottom of the English Channel, the workers found something in the engine compartment that was not supposed to be there. It certainly was not in the original technical specifications. On a small chain was a medallion of Saint Joseph — patron saint of travellers, workers and the universal church. This medallion had been very carefully installed such that it was not visible and would not interfere with the aircraft during its service life.

You can only imagine the day this aircraft was first assembled, when it received its engine: The worker had placed this medallion hidden deep in the engine compartment. She (the great majority of factory workers were women) did a very deliberate and purposeful thing. Had this addition been discovered by an inspector, no doubt she would have been seriously reprimanded about putting foreign objects into an airframe. 

She took a risk, and did it anyway. She had obviously thought through it carefully. Cleary, her prime concern was for those who would have to fly this machine under grim and stressful circumstances.

In a sense, this was the worker’s way of expressing her faith. She was offering, in her own way, a prayer for wartime pilots, many of whom were just out of high school. It’s wonderful to contemplate that we, some seventy-five years later, would be able to appreciate her prayer — her expression of faith — that at first did not go recognized. Even the pilots who flew that Hawker Hurricane didn’t know about the prayer being offered for them, but was still hidden close to them, in their most dire circumstances. (1)

In Paul’s letter to Timothy not only do we learn about the nature of faith — as a gift from God — we also are challenged to consider how this faith is demonstrated from generation to generation.


This morning we baptize baby Sebastian. Infant baptism is a practice that first and foremost recognizes faith as a gift from God, supported through the faith of parents, grandparents and the community of faith surrounding him. In time, and with support, we pray the seed of faith planted in Sebastian will grow and flourish. We may not be able to see this faith according to our adult standards as yet. But that doesn’t mean the seed isn’t there, or even that Sebastian isn’t expressing his faith in his own, baby way.

Many of us who have been around the church for decades are concerned that younger generations today aren’t doing their share anymore, or doing faith in a way we have come to recognize it.

Younger generations, we say, aren’t committed to the same projects we have always supported. Younger generations aren’t buying into ‘doing church’ in ways that for many of us have been a source of great comfort and meaning over the years.

But, as Marshall Goldsmith expressed in his book, “What Got You Here Won’t Get You There” (2). Perhaps we should borrow his title as a good mantra for the church today when it comes to the variety of ways we can express, and give form, to our faith, moving into the future.

Making adaptive change in the community of faith doesn’t mean the gift of faith is not present anymore, deep within the hearts of our children and youth. It doesn’t mean there isn’t a deep longing for connection with God among younger generations, to find meaning and making a difference in the world today.

We will sometimes confuse the form of faith with the function of faith. And, the church today may very well be challenged to consider a more public, outward/external expression of faith. Thinking, for example, of our programs as how they meet a public or specific community need rather than an internal need.

What our younger generations need is to be encouraged, like Timothy was by Paul, to appreciate the gift of faith within them. And to find ways of expressing that faith that are meaningful to them. And to support them in their initiatives. That’s a worthwhile cause! It starts by asking them: What would you like to do? And then supporting them in doing that.


I pray Sebastian will grow in a community of faith that will honour his gifts, his unique passions. I pray Sebastian will grow in a community of faith that will encourage the expression of his faith, even though it might look differently than what we are used to. I pray Sebastian will grow in a community of faith that he is not afraid of, because “God did not give us a spirit of cowardice”; rather, that each of us can be emboldened to express our faith in “a spirit of power, love and self-discipline” (v.7)

Because each of us has the gift of faith buried deep within our hearts. Yes. And this gift is just waiting to emerge and flower into a beautiful reflection of God’s love, power and truth in the world. The gift of faith is already given you. The gift of faith has already been offered. We have it. Each of us has it. It’s time we give each other permission to exercise that gift of faith.

(1) Stanley Johnstone, “Johanniter Herald” (Vol. XXXIII, No.3, 2016), p.3-4

(2) Marshall Goldsmith, “What Got You Here Won’t Get You There” (Hyperion, 2007)