Sermon

Living Stories

May 21, 2017
Acts 17:22-31; John 14:15-21
Speaker:

Once upon a time…

Those words got your attention, didn’t they?

We humans love stories. And we really love a good story. One that keeps us engaged, is relatable, maybe giving us some space for laughter or tears, and one that is, on some level, believable.

We like it when we can trust a story. We like to feel safe enough within a story to allow our minds to stretch beyond the expectations and boundaries of ‘reality’ that we live within in our daily lives.

We like to have the opportunity to see things in new ways, and to experience things that we most likely wouldn’t experience in our own lives but can experience vicariously through the characters of a story.

We like to find connection in a story. To be able to relate to the experiences of another and feel the comfort that they too are in solidarity with us – that we are not alone.

Of course we don’t just like to experience connection and solidarity through story – we also like to experience those things in our ‘real’ lives.

That’s why many of us are here today – we come to communities like church to find connection, to remember that we are not alone on the journey, and to gain bits of strength and courage to choose to be in solidarity with others as we move out from these walls and into the spaces of our daily living.

Luke/the writer of Acts likes a good story too. That’s what the book of Acts is, a series of stories capturing the adventures of the early church and the migration of that church across the Roman Empire and particularly beyond the walls of the Jewish synagogues and even the Jewish community. The book of Acts reinforces Jesus’ message that God’s love and presence is for all people. That all people are God’s chosen people, created by God, sustained in life by God, and called into living in the solidarity of relationship with and for each other and God.

This is the message that all scriptures are telling the story of, but today we are looking particularly at the story Luke tells of Paul at the Areopagus. The Areopagus is a large rock formation in Athens, a place that historically served as a court of hearing – particularly for trials of homicide. Paul finds himself at the Areopagus to defend himself because of claims that he is a babbler, a preacher of foreign divinities.

While in Athens up to this point he has been spending his time reasoning with both the Jews in the synagogue and in the marketplace with whoever happens to be there. He is in discussions with them because he has found Athens to be a city full of idols – literal idols made from silver, gold, and stone. Paul is a man on a mission to teach people about the nature of Christ, a nature that had been bound to the form of Jesus in his life and ministry, a nature that was released into the world in a new and unfettered way through the resurrection. As a teacher of an unfettered Christ who unleashes God’s presence upon all things, it troubled Paul’s mind and spirit to see so many idols and to know that, even the community of believers in Athens were willing to live in the midst of such idolatry.

Just as his spirit was troubled by the presence of idols in the city, his message of this invisible Christ of the resurrection sounded like strange news to the Athenians’ ears. And so he is called, or possibly arrested and taken to the Areopagus to defend himself.

And defend himself he does. In a respectful, well-crafted speech, following the patterns of ancient rhetoric. He begins with a compliment:

Citizens of Athens, I note that in every respect you are scrupulously religious.

You know, we humans, we like to be complimented, and when we are, we tend to listen to what comes next – in case there are more good words to be said about us. Paul’s compliment on the devoutness of the Athenians gains him attentive ears. He follows the compliment up with an acknowledgement that he has walked around and spent time looking at the shrines of Athens. Another point for Paul. He has invested energy in appreciating the beloved artifacts and holy sites of these people – even siting a specific alter he found inscribed ‘To an Unknown God.’

Seemingly on a roll with these compliments and validations, he next calls them ignorant and offers to educate them on the true nature of God.

Now, what you are worshiping in ignorance I intend to make known to you.

It is a blunt transition that cuts right to the heart of Paul’s message. He has not come to Athens, or on the journey of mission in general, to affirm people in the stagnancy of their lives. He has come with a new message, a new story that is in fact a very old story made new by the resurrection of Christ. It is the story of God’s nearness to all of creation, from the beginning of time and in each moment since, now, and to come.

Paul declares:

God is the One who gives everyone life, breath – everything…God [does] this so that human beings [might] seek, reach out for, and perhaps find the One who is not really far from any of us – the One in whom we live and move and have our being.     

If we have ears to hear it – it’s a lovely story. We live, move, and have our very being in God.

A lovely story that can also be a hard story. Particularly because it calls us to action, it asks us to participate, and challenges us to choose to believe that we live, move, and have our very being in something bigger than our own selves.

It requires what poet and author Samuel Taylor Coleridge coined a willing suspension of disbelief. The suspension of disbelief is what allows us to engage in and be moved by stories. To suspend our disbelief is to choose to believe what, in theory, should be unbelievable. It is to choose to set aside our critical and logical structures in order to create space for possibility.

It is an act of faith.

And faith is an action. So often religious communities have treated faith as a noun – as something that you either have or don’t. Something you can either get right, or you get wrong. In this community we are committed to understanding that faith isn’t an answer or a destination – it is a journey. It is a story that we are living into with God, with ourselves, and with each other. It is questions and answers, it is laughter and tears, it is life and death, it is loneliness and companionship. It is every dichotomy you can possibly imagine because faith itself is a dichotomy. It is choosing to embrace a journey that balances the critical/logical structures of our human experience and a willing suspension of disbelief.

Both ends of the spectrum are necessary. We need critical vision to keep us looking for the truth beyond what is presented on the surface. This is especially important in this day and age when social media, news outlets, and even the leaders of our land would have us looking intently in one direction when the truth is right behind us. We need to pay attention to the structures and powers at play.

As active people of faith, we are called to be vigilant and critical [investigative not necessarily negative] of the world around us – God has created us to be seekers and finders of God’s truth and justice.

God has also created and gifted us with the ability to step aside from our critical lenses so that we may experience the fullness of life in unexpected ways.

As active people of faith, we are also called to pause from our logical critiques so that we may seek and find the presence and love of God which is all around us.

As I was exploring this concept of the suspension of disbelief this week I came across an example that talked about it like this: when you go to a puppet show you aren’t focused on the strings or hands moving the puppets about, [again I acknowledge that it is part of our responsibility to be aware of who is pulling the strings and telling the stories] yet if we are only focused on those strings or hands, we’re missing the experience of the story.

And we are called to live into the story. We are created and plopped down into this world as living stories of God’s love with and for each other. So much of our tangible daily living feels mundane and unimportant. And yet, it is all of those moments from day to day that make us who we are and create the story that our lives are becoming. A story wrapped up in the middle of God’s story as we live, move and have our very being in the presence of God – which means that even our most mundane moments are holy.

I experienced a living reminder of that this week. I had the opportunity to participate in career day at University Park Elementary School where Christy N. teaches and where several kids from this church attend school. Christy sets up career day each year [and I know several other people from this congregation have had the chance to participate – Herb Reed was there with me this week, I know Cindy and David C. have also been participants in the past.] she invites folks of various professions to come to the school and sit on a panel in front of a gym full of 3rd-6th graders. The kids have a list of professions and they have a list of questions and as they go through the list of questions the panelists write their answers on a white board so the kids can get the information about the panelists so they can try to guess who on the panel is what profession on their list.

It is an exercise in critical thinking, logic, and breaking down assumptions about what we think different professions require. It is also pure joy and connection as strangers come into a room bringing only the hidden story of their lives with them and allow the kids to slowly glean bits of those stories through the collection of fairly mundane facts that provide a bigger picture of who these strangers are and what they do in the world. It is a seemingly simple and yet profoundly meaningful experience of awareness that the stories of our lives provide opportunities for us to connect with each other in unexpected ways.

The suspension of disbelief allows us to live into the story of our lives with openness, grace, and hope. It invites us to embrace the awareness that all moments of our lives are lived at the heart of God’s story of love. As we choose to live into and live out the story of God’s love, Jesus reminds us that God also chooses to live into our story with us through the presence of the Spirit.

[From John 14]

If you love me and obey the command I give you [and that command is: Love, Love, Love], I will ask the One who sent me to give you another Paraclete, another Helper to be with you always – the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot accept since the world neither sees her nor recognizes her; but you can recognize the Spirit because she remains with you and will be within you.

This is the Spirit of God. A helper to us. A Spirit that resides within us revealing God’s presence in the world around us as we journey the dichotomous road of critical engagement and suspension of disbelief that comes on the path of faith.

We are much like Paul, when we spend time looking at the world that surrounds us it is easy to see idolatry all around. Perhaps not idols of gold, silver and stone, but we live amidst the distractions of money, power, and screens. It is easy to be troubled in mind and spirit these days. As people of faith, we should be.

And, as people of faith, we are also called to lean into the story of our lives with an understanding that God is all around and that the Spirit is within us helping us, stretching us, to be bold living stories of God’s love. When we choose to look at all that surrounds us with Love – everything begins to take on new meaning. Connections are found, solidarity becomes empowerment for action, and hope flourishes in spaces of possibility.

May we live into those space of possibility – actively engaging the living story of our lives with vigilance and love and choosing to remember that while we live, move and have our being in God, God also lives and moves within us.