The Archbishop said that it was his belief that modern people are not “totally devoid” of interest in God.  It was his observation that the “behavior of the many thousands who visit cathedrals and churches all over the world as tourists show that many of them have a residual faith that is stirred by the ‘signals of transcendence’ which they find in such places.”

Residual faith?  Signals of transcendence?  What is the meaning of these terms?  Residual faith is the residue or remnants of a faith once held by a person but no longer.  Faith has not totally disappeared, but so little of it is left that one would not be thought of as a person of faith.  Occasionally, however, something happens that stirs that residual faith, causing a person to wonder if there might be something to this faith business after all.  Whatever that “something” is that thaws a frozen faith, we call it “signals of transcendence.”  It is a hint that there is another Reality beyond the material realties of daily life.

Something happens.  It may be, as the Archbishop said, that you are a tourist in one of the grand cathedrals of Europe, and the magnitude and beauty of the cathedral evoke a question:  What moved people to build such a thing?  Is the cathedral a monument to the human ego, or a signal of transcendence, a hint of God?

Something happens.  It may be a crisis in one’s life.  You have a heart attack, and find yourself in an ICU bed hooked up to all kinds of machines; and you wonder if you have reached the end of your rope.  But you have time to think, and you think about things that you didn’t give much thought to before, like what have I been doing with my life all these years?  You think about death and wonder if there really is anything beyond death.  You may even think about church and why you quit going; and the honest truth is, you don’t know why you quit going, your life just got so busy with other things that God and church became afterthoughts; or like Scarlett O’Hara said, “I’ll think about that tomorrow.”  And while lying in that ICU bed, you realize that tomorrow has come.  Indeed, tomorrow has come, and it has come with a great question mark, like a word from on high, a “signal of transcendence.”

So, whether we are people of great faith or of residual faith, things happen to us.  And the things that happen to us often stir up the great human questions of life:  Who am I?  What is the purpose of my life?  Where am I going?  And over the long centuries of history, a certain group of people have found their answers in the Mystery named God, and in following the One in whom and through whom we have seen the nature of the

Mystery.  These people formed a community and called it Church – the place that practices a faith that keeps your life from falling apart.

To be a Christian is to be joined, to be put in connection with others so that our stories cannot be told without somehow also their stories being told.  Through such telling and retellings we believe that God makes us part of God’s story.”

Nowhere is our connection more visible than in the church.  It is in the church where we learn the story of God and God’s connection to the people of Israel in the Old Testament; and in the New Testament, we see that story extended and broadened to include the Gentiles through Jesus Christ.

Our story continues through the Church, and it is in the church that we find ourselves in good company among good people who have good stories to tell.  Part of my personal story is how the good people of Faith responded to me on the occasion of my sister’s death.  You sent flowers and cards, and many of you spoke a personal word to me.  You even saved some food for Trisha and me from last Sunday’s covered-dish lunch!  I felt truly connected and in good company.  It is this kind of connection that holds people to the church.  And, of course, everyone needs to experience the connection in times of death or other crises, and not just the pastor.  At Faith we try to do that, even though sometimes the communication is not as effective as it ought to be.  But we will keep trying until we get it perfect.

Years ago, I read a little book about the church in which the author said that everyone needs “a little parish of the heart.”  That is so true, for when we are experiencing difficult times in our lives, it is just such a little parish of the heart from which we receive our encouragement and support and the strength to persevere in life.  It is in knowing that we are surrounded by that good company of God’s people that keeps us from losing heart and giving up.  Indeed, Christianity is connections.  I love to see that connection on Sunday morning.  My dream is to stand up in the pulpit one Sunday morning and see every chair filled, to have a dozen children connecting with me for the children’s storytime, and more youth than we know what to do with.  I know you share that dream also.

The month of September is almost gone.  Before we know it, we will be looking forward to Christmas.  I wonder how close we could come to filling up the chairs between now and Christmas if each of us committed to being present on Sunday morning?  That’s a dozen Sundays – 12 Sundays!  Can we go to church 12 Sundays in a row, excluding someone who has to work on Sundays, or someone who is really sick?  Is that unrealistic in this day and age?  That would be some connection to witness!

And just think about the good company in which you would find yourself.

John Greenleaf Whittier, in a hymn he wrote entitled “Within the Maddening Maze of Things,” wrote:

I know not where his islands lift

Their fronded palms in air;

I only know I cannot drift

Don

In a similar way, I have heard people say “My church” with a great deal of pride. While we may not pat our chests or point to the sky, we may say a silent prayer of thanks for “my church.”

As a pastor, I can testify to the fact that it is a great joy to hear people speak of “my church” with pride and excitement. We live in critical times, but also in a time of criticism, much of it negative; and much of it directed at the church. Sometimes the criticism is warranted, and sometimes it is not. I think the criticism grows out of an unrealistic expectation of the church. We expect the church somehow to be different from all our other experiences in life. We expect the worship bulletin to be error-free on Sunday morning when our own work is hardly ever error-free. We expect communication within the church to be timely and informative when our own individual communication skills are far from perfect. We expect the church to provide comfortable facilities and programs for every age and pay the bills when due, even though few of us tithe. In short, we expect the church to be perfect when it is made up of very imperfect people.

Lately, I have been patting my chest and pointing to the sky as I speak of Faith UMC as “my church.” For the truth is that Faith is mostly exempt from the kind of criticism outlined above. When I talk with pastors and church members from other churches, I don’t always hear them saying “my church” with a genuine sense of pride and joy. And that is sad.

There is much at Faith that makes me proud to be the pastor. The first thing is our people. The church went through a painful split a few years ago. A faithful core did not leave, but stayed to continue the work of the Lord. Consequently, because of our people’s faith and commitment we have experienced growth, not rapid, overwhelming growth, but small steady, but nevertheless, growth. And if all our active members showed up on the same Sunday, we would be looking at about 70 people in our sanctuary.

Our people are very generous with their gifts. So far, we are in good financial shape. And very generous with time. When people sacrifice a week of their vacation time for Salkehatchie in order to help improve the living conditions of our less fortunate sisters and brothers, that is Christians at their best.

Our people’s service to the church itself is outstanding. No one declines to serve on a committee when asked. The Sunday morning worship service depends not on the pastor alone, but on ushers, greeters, lay readers, nursery workers, the choir, pianist and organist, offering counters, and acolytes. And what can we say about those willing to teach Sunday school, and who do not get discouraged when only 2 or 3 show up?

Our people remind me of our calling to “uphold the church with our presence, our prayers, our gifts, and our service.” If we keep at it, if we persevere with faith, then growth will come.

This is “my church”; and I thank God for you.

Don

On Sunday evening of that same weekend, I received a telephone call from a man who sounded very agitated and angry. He was from Michigan, he said, and was returning from Florida where the promise of a job had come up empty. He claimed to have hitch-hiked from Florida to Columbia, was in need of help, had called 57 churches and got nothing but the run-a-round.

Furthermore, he claimed to have an IQ of 185 and could type 100 words a minute (I do not exaggerate)! By the time he got hold of me, he was bitter, angry and lashing out at us “transparent, hypocritical Christians” (his words, not mine). He never was clear about what he wanted me to do, and when I told him that I didn’t know exactly how to help him, he launched into a verbal and abusive tirade, cursing me with the most obscene and foul words you’ve never heard. Then he slammed down the phone, but called back 3 more times to make sure I got the message.

Later, in reflection, it occurred to me that those two young women and that man all had something in common – life was difficult, so difficult that the pain of it clouded their ability to see a way through.

What do you do when life is difficult? Some people have the inner strength to take responsibility for their situation and work their way through it. Some people have the courage and humility to confess that their problems are beyond their capacity to deal with alone, and thus seek out a competent counselor or pastor. Others are able to cope with the love and support of family and friends.

Another way of coping which is right at hand, but few seem to know it, is through the community of faith, the church. Worship, prayer and the communion of the saints are all a source of strength when life is difficult. Paul, in the letter to the Romans, said, we are “members one another” (5:12). And in Galatians, he writes: “Bear one another’s burdens….” (6:2). What Paul reminds us of is that our strength is in community, a community that surrounds us with love and care. In community, we matter to each other. Faith is not primarily a private, individual thing, but is a communal affair.

In the community of faith we strive to do what that old hymn says: “we share each other’s woes, our mutual burdens bear” (“Blest Be the Tie That Binds,” No. 557, UM Hymnal). And in doing this, we hope to reduce the difficultly of life. There is an old saying that “misery loves company.” A new take on that old proverb is that “misery demands company.”

John Donne was a great English preacher and poet. In one of his famous poems he wrote, “every man’s death diminishes me, therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.” I was involved in the lives of those two young women, and their death diminishes me. And that angry, bitter man reminds me that I cannot be indifferent to his pain and suffering. Our lives are tied together whether we know it or not. But the hope of life is in a community where “we are members one another.”

Don