The world is a shiny place

Revelation 21:10-22:5

The world is a shiny place.  It sparkes and glimmers.  Especially this time of year, when the sun reflects off the water, when the sun gives light to the spring flowers and the colors pop.

The world is a shiny place.  It’s warmth compels us into the light, calls us to shake out the winter cobwebs, to feel hope, to sense the possibilities.

The world is a shiny place.

Right?

I want to believe that.  I really, really do.  But this week has been hard on my optimism.

This week, while listening to my son’s school orchestra rehearsal, I heard three teens from the high school talking.  Two seniors were telling a freshman student , “Next year, you won’t have music or art or team sports.”  I watched these high schoolers talk about this, while I listened to the middle school orchestra saw out  the peppy pop tune, “I feel good”.  All this while I held in my hands a long list of the names of government officials given  that I need to send letters to, pleading with them, begging them to let the public school system continue at current funding.  A funding that is already pathetic.

The world is a shiny place?

Meanwhile, in the federal government, the sequester has impacted millions of poor people in this country—meals on wheels, and other food funding is slashed, head start funding has been cut, many federal employees are furloughed or terminated.  That has not impacted congress.  But, when the airlines are delayed because of the sequester, the congress jumps into action.  They said that they could not have travel being disturbed.  Food and education, on the other hand…

The world doesn’t feel too shiny.  It feels tarnished and beaten down.

In the book of Revelation, the spirit gives a vision to John of what will be.  I probably say this a lot, but this truly is one of my favorite text in the bible.  It’s the last story in the bible, and it speaks to the first story.  The bible starts in the garden but ends in a city.  A city with a garden in it.  A city with the tree of life, where people can freely eat from that tree whenever they choose, without fear of punishment.

That image alone is healing for me.  It’s a word of hope for this city dweller, who is sometimes beaten down by the difficult aspect of city life.  Like poverty and inequality, lack of resources, and being in close proximity to a variety of people; people that I have to love, but don’t always like.

But there is much more to this story than just a hopeful image.

In this story from the book of Revelation, John is taken to the top of a high mountain, and there the spirit points out the holy city of Jerusalem descending from the heavens.  They had to go up to the top of the mountain to see this happening.  In this beautiful, shining city, there is no need for a place of worship.  Because God is in the city, and the city is lit, shining because of the glory of God.

Not only is the city lit up by God and God’s shiny radiance, but those who come into the city are also shining and glorious.  God and God’s people together bring good things to this shiny city.

Perhaps this is my own ridiculous take on things, but sometimes life being too good and wonderful sounds kindof dull.  But we are assured in this text that this city is not a homogeneous or boring place.  God’s glorious city is made up of many nations, many people and many languages.  This is a multi-cultural, multi-ethnic city, and it is flourishing.  The gates of the city are wide open.  They are never shut in the day, and there is never night.

And from the center of the city flows the river of life.  The water is clean, and runs through the streets of the city.  And the fruit which is nourished by this clean water then nourishes the people of God .

This holy city of Jerusalem is not based in fear.  It is not about trying to protect or hold things back.  It’s about openness, flow, prosperity, enough for everyone.

This is a pretty exciting image of a city.  And it’s the opposite of the city as we know it.

In our lives, we spend so much time keeping things out, protecting what is ours, closing our doors and gates, keeping water out of our basements and streets.  Water flowing down the street would make news in our city—and not in a good way.  Gates left open, doors lefts open—they are all signs of disaster or stupidity.  We can’t have these gates and doors open.  We must hold on, protect what is ours, be careful of the bad people out there.

But in this Holy city of God, the city illuminated by God’s glory, and by the glory of God’s people, unclean things don’t enter.  People bring into the city their glory and honor.  Good things come into the city and good thing leave.

There’s so much from this text that is appealing.  The open gates, the abundance, the difference that is welcome among all people.  The shining, unmistakable presence of God.

But, what is also appealing about this text is our role in it.  The rulers of the earth will bring their glory to the city.  All people will bring their glory and honor into the holy city of Jerusalem.  God will be light for the people of the city of Jerusalem and together, God and the people will reign forever.

This co-creation, co-glory work is ours with God.  It is reminiscent of the Genesis story.  God created all things and everything was good.  God put humans in the garden to “till it and keep it”—to care for it.  And in that garden  a river flowed and nourished the land, and that land nourished the people.

In the creation story, God gave the people food, and there was no shame in eating the food, until the people were not honest with God and themselves.  Then there was shame.  But in the new Jerusalem, there is no shame in eating any of the fruit.  It’s all accessible.  It’s all food that we need.  All are fed.  It is glorious.

This says clearly what is said in the creation story—that we are co-creators with God.  But, that’s something that we often miss in the creation story, so it’s reinforced by John in the final vision given to him by God.  Together, we make that new Jerusalem a shiny city.  Together— by the light of God’s glory—we make that city a beautiful, wonderful and open place.  We are co creators in the reign of God.

Lest you feel a little overwhelmed by this whole co-creator idea, and lest your perfectionist tendencies flare up, let me remind you of what is in the Genesis story, but is not in the revelation story:  fear.  Adam and Eve were afraid, but here in the city of God, no one is afraid.

Remember friends, this is Easter season, the season of resurrection.  This is the season where we remember what Jesus did and how Jesus lived after the resurrection.  He lived without fear, without vengeance, and he taught us about what it’s like to live with our gates open.

With the news about the school district and the sequesters these last few weeks, I have urges to lock tightly the gates of the city, or to move away from the city altogether.  How are we to live in this world?

We live with arms open, we live with hope, we live as co-creators in the reign of God.  We eat from the tree of life, and drink from the clean waters it gives.

We—the people of God, co-creators in this new Jerusalem—may not fully see this city, but it is coming in the clouds in all its glory.

And the world—though it feels tarnished today—will be a shiny place, free of fear, free of shame, and full of God’s radiant, glory.  AMEN

Who are we to hinder God?

Acts 11:1-18; Revelation 21:1-6

I work for a dying institution.

It’s true.  While our numbers here are growing, in the rest of North America, the church is dying.  People in this nation have been fearing this and grieving the decline in prominence of the church for some time, and statistics confirm it—the church and its influence is shrinking.

I come from a family of men who also worked for dying institutions.  My father and grandfather both worked for a coal burning plant in South Jersey.  It was directly across the Delaware River from DuPont’s Chemical plant—it was quite a site of pollution, and the pollution hovered over that corner of New Jersey and Delaware like a dark crown.

My father and grandfather were union guys, and fought for the right to have fair pay, good healthcare and a pension.  Much of that has also gone by the wayside, but not for their lack of trying.

My other grandfather was an itinerant farmer, working small acreages at a time.  He eventually had to stop this work when he could no longer support his family of ten, even with the free labor that came with a large family.  The farming industry was taking over the small farms in my grandfather’s community, and he couldn’t compete.

I come from a long line of people who work for systems and institutions that are dying or nearly dead.

I’m working with two biblical texts in the sermon today—our readings from Acts and Revelation.  And, they have something to say about the dying church.

In the book of Acts, we hear the story of Peter’s vision of the sheet full of “unclean” animals.  This may be the first time you’ve heard this story, but it’s actually the third time Peter has told this story so far in the book of Acts.  Apparently, it’s a story that bears repeating—often.

In this version of the story, the Hebrew believers from Jerusalem took issue with Peter visiting the Gentile believers and eating with them.  The version from the inclusive bible, printed in your bulletin, says “So you have been visiting the Gentiles and eating with them, have you?”  I actually prefer the New Revised Standard Version’s interpretation a little better—“Why do you go to uncircumcised men and eat with them?”

Ever since I have been able to understand what the word, “uncircumcised” meant, I’ve wondered—how on earth could the Hebrew believers tell who was circumcised and who was not?  How humiliating and derogatory to differentiate a people group based on whether or not a man was circumcised.  But I think this differentiation is derogatory with intention.  The Jerusalem believers were not thrilled that this new group was part of the early church.  There was a sense that the unclean were coming into the church, and that was not ok with the Jewish followers of Jesus.  This message was not for them, was it?

So, Peter told the story of his vision—his vision of the unclean animals coming down from heaven in a white sheet, and the voice of God saying, “Kill and eat, Peter.”  And Peter finished his story by saying to the skeptical followers in Jerusalem, “Who am I to hinder God?”

Who am I to hinder God?  That’s a powerful statement, made more powerful by the Hebrew meaning of the name of God, a meaning that the Jewish followers of Jesus knew well.  The name of God—YHVH—means “I am who I am” or “I will be who I will be.”  Or—to say it another way—I cannot be hindered.  I—your God—cannot be contained.

Our second text—the one from Revelation—is, I believe, saying a similar thing to us about God.  Here the writer is talking to the future church, “See—said God—I am making all things new.”  God said this to a persecuted church, a martyred people, who were being killed for their faith, and for following the way of Jesus.  To this dying church, God said, “See, I am making all things new.”  That is a God that cannot be hindered—not by death or division.

The story in the book of Acts, and words of John in the book of Revelation are words to the church.  They are words to those early followers who were wondering why this church looked so much different than what they imagined.  They are words to followers of Christ who perhaps thought that Christianity would be more victorious and less dangerous and less bloody than it had become.  And to these new followers, God said, “don’t hold God back.”  “See, I am making all things new.”

Today, the future of the church feels rather uncertain.  So, the words from the scripture are more important than ever.  Who are we to hinder God?  God is making all things new.

The church of the future will not look anything like we expect it to.  It will not be what we hope or think it will be.  It will be what it will be.  God will do what God will do.  Who are we to hinder God, to stand in the way of God’s plan?

But, I’m afraid that we often do stand in the way.  We hinder God by worrying about who will pass on our legacy—who will keep the church going just as we have. We hinder God by fretting about who will tell the story, who will keep this alive.  But who are we to hinder God?  Behold, God is making all things new.

We hinder God by worrying about a person’s citizenship, much like the early Christians worried about who was or was not circumcised.  We hinder God by worrying about a person’s ethnicity, sexual orientation, marital status and class.  We hinder God by judging our fellow brothers and sister’s Mennonite credentials by their last name, by what Mennonite institution they may or may not have attended, and by who they may be related to.  But who are we to hinder God?  God is making all things new.

The church that is becoming is much like the resurrection—it’s not what we expect it will be.  Like the resurrection, it is messy, frightening, and leaves us fearful.  Like the resurrection, it is filled with unknowns.

But, like the resurrection, God is not hindered by us.  God cannot be contained.  God is making all things new.  God is not contained by our rules about who should be in the church, what the church should look like, or how the church should be worshipping.  God is not stopped by our rules about citizenship, ethnicity, status or class.  Our rules and boundaries do not even register to God.

My father and grandfather worked for a dying industry.  And—to be completely honest—I’m glad that plant eventually shut down.  The problem of pollution is getting better day by day in my home state of New Jersey.  The water is getting a little bit cleaner and the air is a little less toxic.  Through new technology, cleaner forms of energy are being produced in my home state.  Things are being made new.

My farming grandfather had to find other work when the big farms took over.  But new movements are responding to the big farms—community supported agriculture, the local food movement, farmers markets—the farming industry is slowly being made new.

Like my father, and both of my grandfathers, I work for a dying institution.  The fact that you are here today probably means that you are too.  Perhaps it should worry me that the church is dying.  Maybe I should be looking for a different line of work.  That should have me trying to plug up the cracks in the structures, trying to save what’s left.  But, honestly I’m not too worried about it.  This institution is falling apart.  It’s failing.  But, God will make the church what God chooses to make it.  God will make all things new.

Who are we to hinder God?

AMEN