Farewell Sermon: Benson, MN; 16 August 2009

The Still-Living God

“’See I am making all things new,’” God tells us this morning in the Book of Revelation (21:5). It doesn’t really feel like it today, though, does it? But it is true nonetheless. God also says, “’I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end’” (21:6). The beginning and the end. Somehow, the end sounds like it’s connected to the beginning. In my first sermon I preached as your pastor, at the very beginning of our ministry together, I discussed how the God of our faith is a living God, one who welcomes and invites questions and even arguments. In the name of following this living God, I urged all of you to come to Board and Council meetings and ask some questions. I dared you to find out what it means when we say we are Pilgrim Congregational United Church of Christ. I encouraged the students in Sunday school—both young and older—to challenge the teachers in what they think. I even invited the entire congregation to question me about the incredibly radical and scandalous things that I would claim from this pulpit the Gospel is saying. (I remember getting some quiet giggles when I said that—something tells me times have changed.) I also added that I planned to challenge all of you as well. I hope I made good on that promise.

Since that time, we’ve been busy. More for interest’s sake, I checked on a couple statistics this past week. During my time as your pastor, I’ve performed 18 baptisms, presided at 40 funerals, officiated at five weddings, made 893 pastoral visits, and preached at two Baccalaureate services. Over the years, we as a congregation have seen such activities as Trunk-or-Treats, increasingly involved old-fashioned Pilgrim Thanksgiving services, a Stations of the Cross Good Friday service, an annual Blessing of the Animals, Trivia Nites, a two-year long radio show, Kid Day breakfasts and parade floats, and Parties in the Park. We’ve shared time together learning about church history, the Bible—both in written form and how it appears in popular films—other world religions; we’ve looked at social and justice issues, and shared many, many meals together, not to mention cups of coffee. (I did not try to count either of those categories.)

In the settings of the wider church, we’ve witnessed quite the interesting period concerning the United Church of Christ, including the “God Is Still Speaking” initiative, the “Bouncer” commercial ads banned from the major TV networks, a controversial General Synod resolution supporting marriage equality, an IRS investigation of our national church offices, the public media attention surrounding Jeremiah Wright (former pastor of our denomination’s largest church), and most recently in our own Minnesota Conference—the passionate, heated, and at times very uncomfortable and ugly conversation about the future of Pilgrim Point Camp. During my time here, we’ve tried many new things, and not all of them worked. But some did. But, one question we might ask ourselves from time to time, what was it all for?

The passage from Revelation ends in an interesting way. We have all this beautiful language about the new heavens and the new earth, and God dwelling right here with the people, and this stuff about the Alpha and Omega—all images dripping with eternal significance—and then the passage ends with God saying, “’To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life’” (21:6). God explains that God is the beginning and the end and then declares, “To the thirsty I will give water.” In some ways, this might sound out of place, but really, it isn’t at all. The reading from Mark we heard today—verses from the first chapter of our earliest gospel—serves as the earliest narrative we have telling us about the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. We’ve heard from Revelation—the end; and here we hear Jesus’ first proclamation—the beginning. “Now after John was arrested,” Mark explains, “Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near (or is at hand)’” (1:14-15).

Of course, as we’ve heard so many times in the last five years, Jesus’ opening words carry not just personal or religious meaning, but radical social and political implications. Under the heel of Rome, good news was always supposed to be about the Emperor, not the God of a conquered people. And this kingdom of God coming near—or worse, being at hand as the Greek can also be translated—represents a direct challenge to the sovereignty of the Empire. From these first words, it is clear that Jesus proclaims a new order with new values, one that flies in the face of the Empire and any powers-that-be that seek to conquer through violence and rule by fear; any system that allows the rich to keep their bellies nice and full, while the poor starve; any social understanding that values the worth and dignity of some folks over others; any political or economic outlook that sees the earth and its resources as belonging exclusively to those in power and not to the God who created it all. These are the systems of thought and power that Jesus attacks in these opening words. I know these verses seem short, but they pack a punch.

The new kingdom that Jesus proclaims and tells so many parables about continues to challenge us today. When the rubber meets the road, the way we look at the world shows how little things have changed since Roman times. In the grand scheme of things, the Empire has yet to fall. Jesus boldly claimed that this God of his continually oppressed and exploited people, the God to whom the world and all that is in it truly belong (Ps. 24:1), the God who is also the Alpha and the Omega—the beginning and the end, as Revelation describes—this eternal God is concerned, eternally, with giving water to the thirsty. Yes, something as simple as that act of mercy has central importance to the Eternal God of the Universe. We’ve heard again and again over the years how the church is mission; that taking part in God’s mission—the mission of compassion, love for enemy as well as neighbor, the mission of caring for and with the least of these (Mt. 25)—that, sisters and brothers is the whole point of church and of the entire Christian life.

Ecclesiastes reminds us that there is a time for everything (3:1), and we know too well the old adage that the only constant is change. But I believe that’s not exactly right. There is another constant—an eternal one: God’s love. Through all the church meetings, all the Bible study classes, all the worship services, all the attempts at new ideas (whether successes or not), this love from God stands forever. And as we’ve heard over and over again (I hope), this love serves both to comfort us and to challenge us. The love of God that always supports us also constantly calls us to be agents of that love, empowers us to serve and work as members of the very Body of Christ. This Body always has Christ as its head and God’s work as its mission, no matter who your pastor happens to be. This much is true always.

I thank you for the opportunity to serve with you as partners in Christ’s service for these last five years. My prayer for all of you is that you continue to sense the presence of the living and loving God sustaining you and impelling you always to be about the work of God in the world. This God we claim—and who claims us—is indeed the Alpha and the Omega, and will continue to seek to give water to the thirsty until all need is quenched.

In this, and in all things, thanks be to God. Amen.