“Living together – the story we share”
1 Corinthians 15:1-11 (February 9, 2025)
Today we arrive at the third and last in a series of sermons using the lectionary texts from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians. It’s also my last sermon together with you. So you’d think I could come up with some profound, stunning new insight to leave. But alas, as I’ve said all along, these passages remind us of familiar things in the life we share together.
The Christian faith has been handed down through generations – two thousand years, for goodness sake. That’s not to say we shouldn’t hear it in a fresh new way. Or that the Spirit cannot lead us to new insight and understanding.
The pastor of the first pilgrims to arrive in America told them before they departed, “The Lord hath yet more light and truth to break forth from his holy word.”[1]
So don’t go thinking we can just retreat into the past. The Spirit has always led followers of Jesus in bold new directions.
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But before we go any further today, I want to ask if there is a favourite story that you remember from your past.
When I grew up, the Hardy Boys were all the rage. These fictional teenage brothers had exciting adventures and solved mysteries. I read the books voraciously.
What stories have stuck with you over time? Which authors have been most influential: Shaping your point of view? Inspiring? Enlarging your life?
The prominent Canadian author, Margaret Atwood, has said: “You’re never going to kill storytelling, because it’s built into the human plan. We come with it.”[2]
In other words, we are, by nature, storytellers. Whether written and published in a book. Or shared verbally around a blazing fire – like I imagine those ancient Hebrews did, as they reflected on their place in God’s creation. Sometimes we simply repeat them silently to ourselves. The stories we tell take many forms, but there’s no getting away from them.
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What we have in our scripture today is a foundational story of our faith. Without it, none of us would be here, in this church. In any church.
“Now I would remind you,” writes the apostle Paul, “of the good news that I proclaimed to you, which you in turn received …” Paul too is reminding people about something they’ve heard before. “I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received …”
Paul heard a story that changed his life. Then he shared it with others, including the Corinthians. And it changed their lives too. So we are all drawn in to something bigger than ourselves. A community. A way of life. A set of values. A lens through which to view the world.
Where did you first hear the gospel story? How did you find out about it?
I can remember my mom reading to me from a Bible Story book at bedtime. I also remember a Sunday School teacher who loved her students into life. I remember Uncle Donald and Aunt Jean helping me to memorize the 23rd Psalm. I remember the pastor of my church, who prepared me for baptism. So many people who, like the apostle Paul, had received the Good News, and now were sharing it with me!
Can you name some of those folks in your life? Can you say when the story finally began to sink in? How did it touch you? What was its appeal? Why do you hold on to it, even still?
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“For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received …”
I’m struck by that phrase “first importance.” We’re not talking about side matters, controversies. Even denominational distinctives – as important as these may be.
Serving with you has reminded me that the whole church is bigger than any of its parts. I’m grateful that you’ve welcomed this “outsider” into your midst, introducing me to Mennonite ways. Though I feel I’ve barely scratched the surface. (By the way, I received the Anabaptist Study Bible you gifted me, and am looking forward to using it in the days to come.)
Paul tells us to stay focussed. Hold to the centre. Allow that to inform who we are and the way we live.
There’s a lot of crazy chaos in the world right now, some of it rather serious. The church too can get sidetracked into silly things.
I value this wise motto, which you may have heard before: “In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity.”[3] That sentiment should always be our guide.
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So what is the essential thing, the story at the heart of our faith? Can you tell me?
For the apostle Paul, it boils down to this: Christ died for our sins, was buried, and was raised on the third day. All of this in accordance with the scriptures.
You see, it all fits into a much longer narrative, that goes back to the beginning of time. The story of a God who created the world, and called a people, and walked with them, and loved them through thick and thin. The story of Jesus grows out of that.
No wonder Easter has always been the great celebration at the heart of our faith community. No wonder we meet to worship every “Lord’s Day,” the first day of the week. Death and resurrection. A life given in love. New life promised to God’s creation!
The story of Jesus is simple, but life-changing. Paul says the Corinthians are being saved by it. Changed, redeemed, altered. For good! Jesus has a way of doing that to us, doesn’t he?
“I love to tell the story, ’Tis pleasant to repeat what seems, each time I tell it, more wonderfully sweet. …”[4] It’s amazing how this story’s been handed down, all these years. Still fresh, powerful. Still incredibly “sweet”.
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There’s a point at which the story of Jesus and our own personal stories are bound to intersect.
I picture it like those two disciples on the Emmaus Road. Remember how it goes?
They’re walking along the path, living out their lives – which happened to be grim and rather hopeless.
We all have our stories: Some are sad and some are joyful. And probably, for most of us, it’s a mix of both.
So these two are walking along, wrapped up in their own little world, when suddenly a stranger comes along. Who happens to be Jesus. But they don’t recognize him.
He opens the scriptures. Helps them to see the events they’ve been living through as part of something bigger. Which is God’s story.
And this is the point where our two narratives come to meet. Our personal stories encounter the presence and purpose of the living God.
They invite the stranger in. Bread is broken. Eyes are opened! And so they see … How everything has changed. And nothing can ever be the same. And it sends them running back to Jerusalem to tell others.
He’s alive! The one who suffered and died, has defeated death. And we have seen him and walked with him.
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We all have our story. For me, it’s a pretty ordinary one.
You may think our present world is chaotic, but, as I think back, I can remember all kinds of things swirling around us in the 60’s and 70’s when I was growing up, especially south of the border: The assassination of a president, the Vietnam war, race riots and civil rights, hippie culture, drugs, rock and roll, free love, a lunar landing. Here at home, we had the FLQ.
Those were tumultuous times! Many of my classmates in Sunday School stopped attending church when they reached a certain age, never to return.
But somehow God found me and hung on tight. In baptism I made a commitment, which I have never regretted.
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What’s your story? And tell me this: In what way has God’s story entered into it? Each one of us is unique, you know. We all have a special place here, in the community of faith, and ultimately in the Reign of God. None of our living is lost. Everything can be turned into something good and beautiful.
Paul calls himself the “least of the apostles,” unfit for ministry, because of his violence and bloody self-righteousness.
“But by the grace of God I am what I am,” he writes, “and God’s grace toward me has not been in vain.” God’s grace can take any of our lives, however broken and messed up we may be, and use us for some creative purpose.
Each of our stories may be caught up into a larger story that stretches beyond time and leads to life.
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But now, here’s the last thing I want to say. Stories are one thing. Sometimes we think there’s nothing to them, that they are a form of entertainment perhaps, purely fiction.
Giovanni Antonio Galli, 1585-1652.
In our passage of scripture, Paul points to the reality of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Jesus was raised “in accordance with the scriptures.”
And then he appeared! To Cephas, then the twelve. Paul says, “he appeared to more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time, most of whom are still alive …” So ahead, ask them. This is more than fantasy.
The physical appearances of Jesus may be finished now, more or less. I’ve certainly never seen him, and I doubt I will. Those of us who follow Jesus today encounter him in a different way. But it’s no less real.
A starlit night, a moment of wondrous awe. A sound, a vision that brings me to tears. A faint echo of that voice that comes from beyond my own being. A flicker of light that will not be extinguished. A power that takes hold of me. A universe that embraces me. A “love that wilt not let me go.”
If there was no reality to the Gospel Story, it surely would have died out many years ago. And yet it persists! It’s maybe the most persistent thing on earth.
I pray that, in the days to come, the living Christ will continue to lead our congregation, and each of us individually.
We never know everything that lies ahead. We may be uncertain of the way. But we do not walk alone. The One who died, was buried, and raised to life on the third day – he goes with us. He will keep us.
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That’s nothing new. I know you’ve heard it before. But I’m here … well, “To remind you, brothers and sisters, of the good news that I proclaimed to you, which you in turn received, in which also you are being saved, if you hold firmly to the message …”
It may be familiar. But it’s also the very centre of our life together in the community of faith.
Well that’s my story and I’m sticking to it! In fact, it’s a story that belongs to all of us. May we treasure it! Stand within it. Hold the message firmly to the end. Amen.
[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Robinson_(pastor), Accessed February 6, 2025.
[2] https://www.azquotes.com/quotes/topics/storytelling.html, Accessed February 6, 2025.
[3] Variously attributed, but probably comes from a little-known German Lutheran theologian, Rupertus Meldenius, in 1627.
[4] Catherine Hankey, 1866. HWB #398.