Sermons

“Relational Faith: Individuals Interconnected Indispensably”

Psalm 19:1-4; I Corinthians 12:12-27 – Rev. Rebecca Littlejohn

Vista La Mesa Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), La Mesa, California – January 27, 2019

 Holy God, bless the speaking and the hearing of these words that we might joyfully recognize our need for one another and share the good news.  In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

Today is the last Sunday of our four-part sermon series aimed at helping us re-commit to the process of transformation we embarked upon last summer.  We are working toward becoming a church that cultivates vitality and growth in ministry and members.  This month, we’ve been looking at some aspects of our faith as they relate to such a mission.  First, we reminded ourselves that our faith is “attractional,” that is, if we reveal Jesus, Jesus himself will draw people in, just as he has always done.  Then, on the Sunday when the church traditionally remembers Jesus’ baptism, we talked about how our faith in “consequential,” that is, getting baptized and committing to following Jesus has consequences for our lives.  Last week, we rejoiced to learn that our faith is also “celebrational,” as we explored our religious obligation to party once in a while and celebrated what God has been doing here at VLM since we made these commitments 8 months ago.

Today, for the last part of this review, we’re finally going to talk about one of the aspects of our faith that is likely one of the first things you bring up when you talk about our church.  Our faith is relational; it happens in community.  This is simultaneously one of the most obvious and inviting things about our faith, and one of the hardest things about it.  How often have you told people our congregation is like a family, as if “family” isn’t a word with piles and piles of baggage for many people?  We Disciples of Christ love the Bible’s “Body of Christ” imagery.  First Corinthians 12 is one of our most favorite passages.  If I had to guess what scripture is used most often in youth or church camp services in Disciples circles, I would put my money on this one every time.  We love how it reminds us that every single person has a part to play, and that all those parts are important.  We love how it clarifies that none of us is complete on our own.  We love its reinforcement of our “priesthood of all believers” ethos.  But in our excitement about embracing the Body of Christ, we often ignore the nuanced warnings Paul has incorporated into this passage.  We sometimes gloss over the difficulties of actually living as the Body of Christ on a daily basis, as opposed to celebrating the idea of it in a series of occasional events.

Now mind you, I still think what Paul is writing about here is a cause for celebration.  But without hearing the warnings implied, we can’t fully appreciate what we’re celebrating.  So let’s take a closer look.  We begin in verse 13 with Paul’s acknowledgement that there are structural realities – divisions of race, ethnicity, religion and socioeconomic status – that conspire to keep us separated.  These differences shape our experiences, assumptions, perspectives and beliefs in ways that can make it challenging to truly connect with one another across those lines.  Paul’s good news is that the power of Christ both makes that connection possible and calls us to work toward it.  We are both united and called to work toward unity.

The second warning comes in verses 15-17.  It’s interesting to me that Paul puts these verses before verse 21.  In verses 15 & 16, he shows what an astute observer of human nature he is.  He knows how easy it is for us to focus on what we are not.  He knows how many of us are obsessively looking for a reason we don’t really belong.  He knows how smoothly we manage to diminish our own gifts and assume nobody wants us or needs us.  We don’t always realize how detrimental these self-defeating attitudes are to our community and especially our congregation.  They deprive all of us of many of the gifts God has bestowed upon our church, when we think we’re just being “humble” or “realistic”.  But here is the good news: “If the foot would say, ‘Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,’ that would not make it any less a part of the body.  And if the ear would say, ‘Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,’ that would not make it any less a part of the body.”  It’s not about what you aren’t; it’s about what you are!  It’s not about what you can’t do; it’s about what you can do!

Again, I find it fascinating that Paul puts that problem before the one he brings up in verse 21.  Paul doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who had trouble offering his gifts to the community.  His tendencies are more likely reflected here where it says “The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I have no need of you,’ nor again the head to the feet, ‘I have no need of you.’”  Again, because of those differences mentioned back in verse 13 and so many other differences of personality, upbringing and opportunity, some of us, rather than holding back, are more likely to insist that we have the greatest gifts to offer, the ones that are truly helpful and probably the only things really needed.  We somehow try to believe that we can “belong” on our own.  This is just as delusional, Paul teaches, as thinking the community doesn’t need our gifts and therefore we don’t belong.

The amazing thing about human nature is that any one of us can be guilty of either of these seemingly opposite delusions at any given time.  We may feel confident about our ability to keep a ministry organized but feel alienated by conversations about stewardship.  We may feel nervous about our capacity to lead prayer but let our leadership of a committee go to our heads.  We may know ourselves to be caring and compassionate toward church members in need but find ourselves judging new members because they do things differently than we’re used to.  Oh, beloved Body of Christ, it is such a struggle!

Our faith is relational, and we know that’s a good thing.  We know that we all have a deep need to belong.  We know that we function best in community.  But it’s also true that church is often hard and a lot of the time it’s because churches are full of people.  People who are shaped by the categories they’re part of and the personalities they have and the gifts they’ve learned to hide or share.  People who want to belong, but also to dictate the terms of what belonging means.

And then there’s all that stuff Paul says about honor and respect and how we clothe the “less respectable” members with greater honor, as if we’re not all highly attuned to whether we’re being treated differently because people feel sorry for us or think we’re ignorant.  Sometimes even our attempts to help others feel more deeply that they belong backfire, because we’re often as bad at receiving gifts as we are at offering them.  Rather than admit that our feelings were hurt and that we know that’s why someone is now buttering us up, we get offended that they would think we need such special treatment.  We’re quick to assume that if someone is trying to “clothe us with greater honor” it’s because they consider us less honorable.  Oh, beloved Body of Christ, it’s such a struggle!

Is this what we’ve committed to enthusiastically inviting people to join?  This morass of feelings and assumptions and low self-esteem and pride and line-drawing and buttering up?  Why on earth would anyone want to become part of that?  Should we be warning people when we invite them to church that there will be other people there?  One would think they would probably assume as much.  Indeed, there have been some days when we’ve hastened to let visitors know that usually there are a lot more people here.  How is it that we can give thanks that our faith is relational when we know that makes it extra hard?

At some level, it’s simply because it beats the alternative.  Community is hard, but it’s so much better than loneliness and alienation.  Belonging is a struggle, but it’s so much better than not belonging.  And though I’ve painted a pretty off-putting picture of what it’s like to be church together, you all know that there are also many, many beautiful moments when we see with complete clarity the blessings that community brings into our lives.  You know what it’s like when this community comes together and lives out the gospel.  You know what it’s like when someone new comes along and offers a gift we didn’t know we were missing.  You know what it’s like when you’re suffering and the community suffers with you, or you’re rejoicing and that joy is magnified by being shared by your family of faith.

There are people who have not experienced that beauty.  There are people who do not know those blessings yet.  They are longing to belong.  They are longing to be part of something bigger than themselves, and not just bigger, but more important, something with a purpose that matters.  There are people out there who need to find their place in the Body of Christ, who need to know that their gift is a vital piece of what God is doing in the world.  We need to be about finding them and letting them know that is possible here.

It would be nice if we could communicate this good news like the heavens and the firmament and day and night do, without words or speech, as described in Psalm 19.  But that’s not how it works for us.  We need to find the words to describe what’s happening here, how our relational faith brings blessings into our lives and into our world.  We need to tell the stories.  We need to share the good news, with whatever words people can hear.  It’s not good news because it’s easy; it’s good news because it brings life.  We must share it as broadly as we can, and we must do it together.  Alleluia and Amen!