'Community: a Past, a Present, and a Promise'

“Community: a Past, a Present, and a Promise”
A sermon delivered on March 25, 2007
By Thomas J. Boone, PhD
Isaiah 43:16-21; Philippians 3:5-12

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it

And spills the upper boulders in the sun,

And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.

…No one has seen them made or heard them made,

But at spring mending-time we find them there.

I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;

And on a day we meet to walk the line

And set the wall between us once again.

We keep the wall between us as we go.

To each the boulders that have fallen to each.

And some are loaves and some so nearly balls

We have to use a spell to make them balance:

‘Stay where you are until our backs are turned!”

We wear our fingers rough with handling them.

…He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’

Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder

If I could put a notion in his head:

‘Why do they make good neighbors?...

Before I built a wall I’d ask to know

What I was walling in or walling out,

And to whom I was like to give offense.

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

That wants it down.’ I could say ‘Elves’ to him,

But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather

He said it to himself…

He says again, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’

(“Mending Wall,” by Robert Frost, 1914)

“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,” and “Good fences make good neighbors.” Although “Mending Wall” is a poem about the New England early spring mending time when farmers would repair their boundary walls, it’s clear that Robert Frost is talking about the meaning of community. Because I’m so new to the scene of Central I find myself thinking about community, also, which is what led me to Frost’s poem. Not only that, but your community is always on my mind, and so I find myself asking some questions as I begin a season of Interim ministry here. When we talk about ourselves as a Christian community, what do we mean? Is it our building that makes us unique, or is something else? I think we all know intuitively what makes us a church is not the building itself. So what is it? That’s what I want to focus on today.

But before I answer that question, let’s get back to the fences for a moment. I don’t think Frost had anything against fences per se. An invisible fence, for example, can be a dog-owner’s best use of money. A privacy fence makes a good neighbor when the neighbor behind the fence has a few too many cars, engine blocks, and oil pans in his yard. However, when fences are the type that rip at the heart of what community is about and keep us from moving into God’s intended future for us, which is the message of our scripture today, that’s when we need to examine the fences we’ve built. We build walls because we’ve had a bitter disagreement with someone, maybe we’re lonely or hurting deep down. Some of us have a lot of fear or anger and we build walls to protect ourselves, even in the church. But as Frost wrote, “Something there is that doesn’t like a wall.”

Last week ya’ll impressed me and surprised each other perhaps. I spoke a word of hope, true hope that feeds you from deep down as a church. I said that I want to shut down any talk about closing the doors of this church, and you responded as you would in a concert where someone had elevated your emotions to another level. I’ve reflected on that moment several times, and in some ways it led me to today’s message. You love your church. Central Presbyterian is more than just a building for you. There was a time in your history, and I know some of you remember it, where to hear words of hope like what I said last week would have made you laugh or think I was a fool. Not because you had lost hope, but because at one time such talk would have been considered sheer nonsense. “What do you mean that we won’t close the doors of this church? We have so much going on and so many people, how dare you even suggest such a thing!” But, now, you hear such words and you respond emotionally and deeply.

Your response told me where your hearts are, so I ask myself, “What to do? What to do?” My answer to that question is much different as your Interim Pastor than it would be if I were your called Pastor. As a called Pastor I’d be tempted to get taskforces together on a number of projects that Session identifies and work on getting things built so God’s mission can be achieved boldly and brightly in our neighborhood. If I were your called Pastor, I’d be preaching and teaching about spiritual renewal and hitting the basics of Christian faith time and time again. But, I’m not your called Pastor. As your Interim Pastor, God calls me to a task that must happen before a called Pastor can do good work here, and I’ll be here for as long as it takes to get that task done.

Interim ministry has been described to me by those who have done it many times, as a season of slowing down, and taking stock of who we are as a church community before rushing headlong into a season of productivity under a new Pastor. A season of slowing down. I like the sound of that. What I need to do is to help you slow down a bit, and reflect on those questions we don’t think about when we’re busy figuring out how to do things bigger and better. So, I want to start this week by asking you a basic question: “What makes the people of Central Presbyterian Church a community?” Perhaps no better question exists that you can answer at this point in time, and we shouldn’t rush through answering it either.

Both my experience in churches as a member and as a Pastor, as well as what I’ve been reading lately, talk about there being some essential characteristics that make up a healthy church community. First, healthy church communities appreciate their history. They do this in different ways ranging from memorializing their historical documents, observing special days of remembrance during worship, interviewing older members to share with the larger church community, holding different types of banquets to honor landmark achievements, and celebrating the 100^th birthdays of older members. Some churches that have different worship styles, like what goes on here, make a special effort at preserving a traditional service that has been given due attention and is cherished for its uniqueness. I’d like to hear about what we’re doing about all that, because your past is important and it’s worth cherishing. If anyone has made you feel otherwise, then on their behalf accept my apology. This church owes you a debt of gratitude for all that you’ve sacrificed for the ministry here.

But, even the Israelites had to abandon their manna of the past, and eat the bread of the present. So, a second principle of healthy church communities is that they possess a keen sense of where they are in the present, and so does everyone who visits them. They understand that the present, unlike their history, is living and therefore susceptible to things that cause fear among some people: transition of styles, new carpets, movement of pews, new people doing the things that other members used to do, and the list goes on. There are differences of opinion in every family system, and healthy church communities embrace these differences rather than shun them. We’d expect nothing less for our own individual families. Healthy church communities admit their fears, but press the present hard into the minds and vision of everyone who walks into the church building. Healthy congregations don’t talk about letting go of the past as much as they talk about adding to it. Some of the most remarkable and alive churches I’ve been to are not the loud, entertaining ones. Instead, they are the ones that present a simple message about their present, but it’s visible everywhere in pictures, family life centers, art, new paint that suits the modern mindset, and it feels like a home with a clean welcome mat.

Why does the healthy church community do this? Because the people in it know who they are and what they’re about, despite any differences that arise. When we read the Philippians passage it’s obvious that Paul knew who he was and what he was about. He belonged entirely to Christ Jesus and that identity defined his purpose. Compared to Christ’s love, nothing else mattered, even his past. His aim in life was to know Christ more and more because the power of his own life, was in the power of the resurrection. This knowledge gave him a boldness that empowers the church nearly 2,000 years later.

So I ask you: who are you, and what are you about? We are followers of the risen and living Lord, that’s who we are! We’re believers in a Lord who is holy, gracious, and loving, that’s who we are! We’re children of the Most High God, that’s who we are! And what are we about? We’re about glorifying Him in everything we think, say, and do. We’re about the business of our Savior. We’re about making disciples of Jesus out of nations and neighborhoods who don’t know Him. And I’ve got good news for you. There’s no one, no thing, no power, no principality, no decision, no enemy, no force on earth, above it, or beneath it that will EVER remove our identity or make our purpose null and void.

And this brings me to the third characteristic of a healthy church community. A church community that is healthy is not only appreciative of its history, keenly aware and bold about its present, but it’s also convinced that God expects more. The scripture passages today describe about how God wants the church and Christians to press forward for what lies ahead, letting go of anything that shackles them, and refusing to lose sight of their hope. Ultimately God will be bringing us home to a new thing: the new heaven and the new earth. Jesus will come again, and He will create a new community of people from all times and places who have believed in Him. But for those who don’t know God well, such a promise means little if anything because they can’t see it.

Enter the church. A healthy church community understands its role in providing hope for those who are searching for a spiritual home. Jesus fed people and proclaimed good news. He taught the learned and the miserable. He kept hope alive by being a living example of the hope he was proclaiming. People saw him and knew they couldn’t miss out on what he was about. God wants the church to be just like that; to be so appealing as to be irresistible because of the hope it promises.

“Something there is that doesn’t like a wall.” There’s a lot of rancor in the world; let’s provide a place of rest. There’s a lot of loneliness in the world; let’s provide a new community. There’s a lot of pain in the world; let’s provide a place of healing. There’s a lot of loss in the world; let’s provide a source of fulfillment. There’s a lot of anger in the world; let’s provide a place where prayer and faith replace anger. And let’s do this not because we’ve counted the cost and think its good for business, or because we want to be larger and more like we used to be. Let’s do these things because we’ve been humbled by rancor, loneliness, pain, loss, and anger. We’ve seen what these things can do to people and to communities. So, having heard the good news, and being heralds of God’s promises we’ve chosen to press forward toward the hope that God will be making a new thing through us with the walls broken down. Your life as a church depends upon it, because God sometimes lets us experience living amidst the walls so we can know deep-down that we, like Him, never want to see such things again. Amen.