"If I Stand"

2 Corinthians 5:1

 ¹Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands.  

   Dear friends in Christ,

            The year was 1988 when a promising young musician enrolled at Friends University in Wichita, Kansas. Already 33 years old, he had attempted for years to get his career off the ground. He had been in a short-lived band, sold a hit single to a prominent artist, and been signed to a recording contract. Things looked pretty good back then. But his first two albums failed to get noticed and the third didn’t seem any more promising. And so he entered the music education program at the university, looking for a fallback option if his performing career continued to fail.

            It was in this program that he took a music theory class, a basic requirement of the degree. And, as part of the class, he was assigned to write a short musical composition for the piano. It was a simple requirement for a longtime musician, and especially one in the midst of writing an entire album. And so he polished one of the pieces he had been writing for the album and submitted it to his professor. It came back with a large red “D” on it.

            Fortunately, for us, the young man wasn’t deterred by the poor grade. He went on to publish that song, along with many others, in an album entitled “Winds of Heaven, Stuff of Earth.” For you see, the musician’s name was Rich Mullins, and the song was “Awesome God.”

            That’s at least how the story was told to me. It may be legend. The only proof that I’ve been able to find is that Awesome God was indeed written while Rich attended Friends University. So you might take it with a grain of salt. Nevertheless, I think it does illustrate one very important point: theory and practice don’t always agree.

            That’s one of many lessons that I’ve learned over the past year. Because, theoretically, I should be up in arms over the fact that there are Baptist hymns sitting in the Hymn Supplements in your pews. Theoretically, I should have spent the last 12 months advocating a return to the sacred liturgy of Divine Service 1 and 2. Theoretically, I should have had nothing to do with a VBS that wasn’t published by CPH. And while preserving my seminary career demands that I tread carefully around endorsing any of these practices, let’s just say I haven’t been tattling on Pastor Meyer to Dr. Nielsen.

            This has been a remarkable year. It’s hard to believe it’s even been a year already. And as Stefani and I pack up our belongings and move on to another phase of our life together, I’m reminded of a song. It’s a song that comes to mind often, and especially when I’m facing the unknown. It was going through my mind when I left for Salem, and it’s going through my mind now. The song is entitled “If I Stand,” and it’s not surprisingly also by Rich Mullins.

            “If I stand, let me stand on the promise that you will pull me through.” That’s the first line of the chorus, and it’s a good one. “I can do all things through him who gives me strength.” “With God, all things are possible.” “Those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” These are the verses that every Christian quotes and clings to when the burdens of life grow almost unbearable. Yet, as I sat on my little red couch, in my little seminary dorm room, next to the woman who is now my wife, both of us literally at the point of tears, I wasn’t thinking any of those things.

No, I had only one thing on my mind: “WHAT AM I DOING? I don’t feel like a vicar. I don’t even feel like a seminary students. In fact, up until a few months ago, I didn’t even feel like a Lutheran.” And I gotta admit, driving out to Salem is probably the closest I’ll ever come to the feel of bungee jumping. Because the ground was rushing up real fast, and I was just praying the line would hold.

But then again, that’s really what faith is. Rich Mullins had it dead right. “Let me stand on the PROMISE that you will pull me through.” The promise that we are not alone in this life. The promise that he is watching every step of faith we take with the love of a father. The promise that he comes to us each and every time that we kneel before this altar and receive his body and blood. The promise of a God who does not break promises.

And yet, so many times it feels like he has. If we’re standing in faith, why do we so often fall? It’s a question I’ve asked myself time and again. Because I have fallen during my time here. I know perfectly well that Pastor Meyer has been disappointed in some aspects of my performance as vicar. Even more importantly, I’ve been disappointed in my performance on numerous occasions. I procrastinate. I get distracted. I get intimated and anxious. And sometimes, well… I’m just downright lazy. And maybe worst of all, I let it get to me. I let Satan discourage me to the point that I feel ashamed to even show my face in here. And there’s really only one way that I can…

            “And if I can't, let me fall on the grace that first brought me to You.” Falling into God’s grace. It’s a concept that’s been redefined for me. Because I’ve realized that grace is so much more than I ever thought it could be. You see, I had always thought of grace as scripture and the sacraments. They are, afterall, the “means of grace.” And that’s absolutely true.

            And yet, those very same “means of grace” can be lived by God’s people. They can be lived in words of encouragement from a close friend. In a wife who offers support and help at every opportunity. In a supervisor who forgives over and over and over again. In a congregation that just overflows with compliments and praise, to the point that I actually start to believe God did something good with all my failures. God’s grace is always there. But sometimes its takes God’s people before we hear it.

            As you can see, my time in Salem has been one of tremendous development and change. But I don’t think I’m the only one who has changed during the past year. From what I’ve seen, Salem as a congregation has done its fair share of changing as well. A new vicar. A praise band. A new A/V system. Two services. New youth counselors. The beginnings of a building program. I don’t think there’s been a month that’s gone by that one committee or another hasn’t been discussing something that would drastically effect the congregation.

            And quite frankly, I’m thrilled by it. Even if an idea or program gets shot down or put on hold, at least you were thinking and didn’t let yourself be intimidated by it. And people around this community will notice that. There is something unmistakably alive and attractive about a church that has goals and is actively pursuing them. A church that has joy about its mission and proclaims that joy to the community.

            “If I sing, let me sing for the joy that has born in me these songs.” Never lose that song. Never let anyone take it away. In my opinion, there is no greater crime that a Christian can commit than to tell another Christian, “You are expressing the joy of the Lord in the wrong way.”

            King David faced that problem. As he brought the Ark of the Covenant into Jerusalem for the first time, a joy welled up inside of him that was so great that he cast aside his royal robes and danced with all his might. Here was a king in a solemn procession before all of Israel, dancing with the people in the equivalent of shorts and a t-shirt. A woman noticed. She pulled David aside and scolded him. “You’re being undignified,” she said. His reply? “I’ll become even more ‘undignified’ than this for my God.”

            Now, am I saying that Pastor and I should show up to church on Sunday morning in shorts and a t-shirt and we should all dance around in a giant party? No… though it might be kinda fun. What I am saying is that this room is filled with talented people who want nothing more than to glorify God with everything that he has given them. Like the Parable of the Talents, they want to go out and see what God can do with their gifts. And if we hinder them for one second, we have not only buried our talents, but we’ve buried theirs as well. And Christ had some pretty harsh words for people who hold back the growth of his kingdom. Sing your praise to the Lord. And never, ever, be ashamed to share what God has given you.

            Well, if I preach any more, I’ll probably make this the longest sermon I’ve preached all year. But I still have one more line to the chorus of the song. It’s a good one to close on. “And if I weep let it be as a man who is longing for his home.” ‘Home’ is an interesting concept for a young seminary student like me. If you include our move tomorrow, I will have changed residence a total of 9 times in the last 8 years. And I still have at least one more to go next year. 10 moves in 9 years. It’s kinda hard to even know what ‘home’ is.

            And yet, I do know what home is. Because I have seen someone longing for their home. I have seen it on the faces of Adolf Krug and Orena Robinson, two of the oldest and most faithful members of our congregation. I saw it on the face of Frank Sager as I gave him communion for the last time a week before he died. And I’ve seen it on the faces of those who know that their loved ones are indeed home. Glenn Bergmann and Bill Bauman and even Marilyn Meyer.

            It is an amazing gift that we have. To long for a home we’ve never seen, and yet know with absolutely certainty that it is a far better home than any we’ve had here on earth. As St Paul says, “For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands.” And so I leave you today, not as a man who is leaving one home and going to another. But as a man who is longing for the home that will bring us all together. And until that day, I pray that the peace that passes all understanding would keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus at all times.

Amen.