BRINGING CHURCH BACK to the TABLE
WORSHIP & PICNIC IN THE PARK
John 15:1-5, 12-13; Romans 12:3-5, 9-11; Hebrews 10:23-25
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God is love.
There is nothing more fundamentally true about God, than that.
The God we discover in scripture—
both the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament—
shows a God who is moved, again and again and again,
by a deep and abiding and unconditional love.
God created this world we live in . . . out of love.
And God’s love was expressed most fully,
when God created, and sought to commune with, human beings.
That’s the starting point for our theology.
God loves.
God loves us, and wants our love in return.
God longs for us to flourish,
to fulfill our created purpose—
and we were created to be
in harmony with God and creation,
living fruitful lives that extend God’s love
to those around us.
So . . . church at the table
is where we embody this love
in daily life and ordinary relationships.
It’s where we belong . . . in the deepest sense of the word.
_____________________
That all sounds so good, and so right,
and . . . so hard to pull off successfully, in real life.
It’s human nature to protect ourselves.
And my desire for protection and security is in tension
with my desire for community and belonging.
Because, to protect myself,
I need to hold tight to whatever is shielding me
from pain or discomfort or loss.
But to belong to others in community,
I need to relax my grip on that shield,
and depend on the free will of others
to treat me kindly and justly.
I need to risk being disappointed sometimes.
So it’s a constant dance,
this thing of belonging, and community.
We all want it. We need it. We search for it.
But we can’t make it happen.
We can only open ourselves to it.
It’s a gift we can only put ourselves in position to receive.
_____________________
In scripture, we have many metaphors for belonging.
Jesus talked about a vine and branches,
in one of our readings today from John’s Gospel.
We are all connected to each other,
due to our common connection to the main vine.
In this case, Jesus said he was the vine.
And each branch has its own role to play.
We are each responsible to “abide.”
That’s not a passive thing on our part.
Abiding requires continual openness,
a constant inflow and outflow of life.
If we choose to isolate for protection,
we cut off the flow,
and we lose our connection to the vine.
Same with the body analogy Paul uses so often,
including today’s text from Romans 12.
The body of Christ is manifold and diverse.
There are many, many parts to it.
And every part has a singular, and essential, function.
Our functions are all different, and all needed.
So Paul’s words of advice are
“let God’s love flow” . . . unimpeded
Let love be genuine; hate what is evil; hold fast to what is good;
love one another with mutual affection;
outdo one another in showing honor.
And later, the writer of the letter to the Hebrews, which we heard,
gave us an even more pointed directive,
if we want to flourish and belong in community . . . writing,
“let us consider how to provoke one another
to love and good deeds,
not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some,
but encouraging one another,
and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”
_____________________
So what does it really mean . . . in practical ways,
to truly belong in a group that
“provokes each other to love and good deeds,” (Hebrews 10)
or that
“outdoes each other in showing honor,” (Romans 12)
or that
“lays down one’s life for each other.” (John 15)
That is the heart of the question we’ve been pondering as a church,
for the last year or so,
as we have reflected on the meaning of belonging,
and the meaning of membership.
How do we bring together these equally important values—
on the one hand,
affirmation, love, affection, respect,
honoring others, even at personal cost,
and on the other hand,
advocating for what is good and right,
going deep with each other,
being secure enough with each other to provoke each other
toward the life God intends for us.
In other words,
full acceptance of who we are, as we are,
and active loving engagement with one another,
helping each other become
the best version of ourselves.
_____________________
There are many nuances to that question,
and different ways to approach it.
I’ll just suggest one, as food for thought this morning.
And that is, the sequence matters.
One needs to come before the other.
The full acceptance and love for each other,
for who we are, as we are,
needs to come first.
We must know, beyond doubt, that we are loved and valued
and chosen to be included in this community, full stop.
Without a deep and secure knowing that we belong, and are loved,
we are in no position to be provoked by others
to become something more than we are now.
It takes relational depth, and trust built over time,
if we’re going to have any integrity
when we try to call out the best in someone else
who has not yet discovered their best.
Depth. Time. Love. Patience.
It takes all that.
And a willingness to keep loving and keep including,
even when we don’t see any movement
in the direction we’d like to see.
And to make it even more challenging,
let’s admit that we ourselves
may also need someone to call out our best in us,
that we are neglecting to see.
In fact, that “someone” just might turn out to be
the very one we were wishing would change.
All our knowledge is incomplete.
We are wise if we live like that’s the case.
And put our heart and soul into the main job,
of making sure our fellow travelers know they are loved,
and are chosen, and that they belong at our table.
I’ll end with an anecdote and an invitation.
The anecdote comes from the author Anne LaMott,
who wrote, in her book Grace Eventually,
about a Sunday School game she would play
when she taught the pre-kindergarten class at her church.
She called the game “loved and chosen.”
Here is what she writes about the scene in her classroom,
with the children on the floor, and she, sitting on a couch.
Here are Anne’s words . . .
I sat on the couch, and glanced around slowly
in a goofy, menacing way,
and then said, “Is anyone here wearing
a blue sweatshirt with Pokemon on it?”
A four-year-old looked down at his chest,
astonished to discover that he matched this description,
like . . . what are the odds?
He raised his hand.
“Come over here to the couch, I said.
You are so loved and so chosen.”
He clutched at himself like a beauty pageant finalist.
Then I asked if anyone that day was wearing
green socks with brown shoes?
a Giants cap? an argyle vest?
Each of them turned out to be loved and chosen,
which does not happen so often . . .”
And they all ended up on the couch.
Because everyone is loved and chosen.
I believe Anne is right. A foundational truth about God,
is that God loves us, and God chooses us.
Now the invitation . . .
You’re probably ready to get up and stretch a little.
So go ahead, stand and stretch.
Now, in a second, I’m going to invite you
to turn to the person on your left or your right,
and say, “You are loved. You are chosen. You belong.”
Or maybe even walk around a bit,
and find someone else to say that to,
either just because you want to,
or because you think they might need to hear it,
or someone you may not even know.
I assure you, that everyone here deserves those words today,
“You are loved. You are chosen. You belong.”
So I invite you to be the one to deliver those words to them.
And of course, others will be saying them back to you.
“You are loved. You are chosen. You belong.” Go.
_____________________
Now I invite us to return to our seats,
and prepare for a song of response.
And it occurs to me this might be a good time to add something,
in light of the attempted assassination
of former president Trump last evening.
It’s shocking and disturbing for everyone of us
who want to live in peace with all our neighbors.
And it comes during one of our most difficult seasons
in our public and political life,
when chaos and demonization of the other is par for the course.
My invitation this morning to speak love and belonging to others,
should not only apply to other members of the church,
or to our own faith community.
Our missional task in this moment,
is to reassure every human being of their worth,
of their inherent goodness,
and make that our dominant message.
We don’t have much control over how
the political machinery,
and social media,
and public press,
are going to spin this thing,
and react, and point fingers.
We do have control over ourselves,
at the small scale,
at the table,
with each other,
with our neighbors,
across the backyard fence,
to let love have both the first and last word.
The song of response Karen chose, days ago,
fits both my sermon, and current events.
The words are,
Between darkness and light I will always walk;
and wherever I will go,
I will open a window of light,
and will plant the seeds of love.
May it be so.
—Phil Kniss, July 14, 2024
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