“Growing up”
Ephesians 4:1-16 (August 4, 2024)
I’m guessing that some of you may have been watching the Olympics this week. Every four years, athletes gather from around the world to compete. For these few weeks of summer, the Olympics dominate the airwaves. They’re a big deal. Especially for those who have been training hard, toning their bodies, honing skills to perfection.
This morning, I want to talk about bodies. But not necessarily athletic ones. I don’t have an athletic body. But I am amazed at the variety of bodies those Olympians have. Each one is perfectly suited to their sport. A swimmer’s body is different from a weight-lifter. A rugby player is not the same as a gymnast. Which gives me some comfort. Every one of us, at every stage of our lives, is different. The important thing is to be the people we’re made to be.
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“I beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called,” says our scripture for today. These summer Sundays we’re focussing on the letter to the Ephesians. And Ephesians presents the church as a certain kind of body, the “body of Christ.”
We, collectively, in this life we share together, are Jesus’ body in the world. Not the historical Jesus, God incarnate in a first-century Jewish, Palestinian man. But rather the Christ who is risen and present by his Spirit among his people in the gathered community of faith.
“Live a life worthy of your calling.” So what is this “body of Christ” meant to look like?
Unity is an important theme in the letter to the Ephesians, which claims that God has broken down the dividing wall of hostility between Jew and Gentile. Jesus has brought us together, creating one new humanity, making peace, reconciling us to God in one body through the cross. (Eph. 2:15-16)
But Paul knows as well as anyone that we have yet to fully live into this new humanity. So he pleads with us, implores us, begs us to live a life worthy of our calling.
Be the people you are called to be! “Be humble, be gentle, be patient.” Do these qualities describe our community of faith? When people come to be among us here at First Mennonite, is this what they discover?
I don’t think it’s far off, actually. Pastors aren’t privy to everything, and maybe there are secrets you’ve been holding back. But it’s hard to keep secrets for long. I don’t see many of us strutting about. Being proud, overbearing, or unkind. I don’t hear “talk” going on behind people’s backs. Or criticism that is harsh and uncalled for.
I think we’re mostly gracious with one another. But of course, we’re not perfect. So this advice still stands as a gentle reminder. Live up to your calling. With humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another.
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I’m struck with that last phrase especially. “Bearing with.” Partly because one of my professors, back in seminary, told us that “agape love”, the divine love that comes from God in the person of Jesus, has to do with “bearing with” and “putting up” and God’s “sticking with” us – even when we turn away.
God does not turn away! We are loved to the very core of our being. And yet … there are times we discount that love, and choose to follow our own tragically destructive path. Isn’t this the story of our lives?
God’s love wants the best for us. And is determined to make it so. Determined to set things right. To forgive and mend and heal and renew. To recreate our lives, so that we can be the beautiful people God intends us to be.
Ephesians reminds us of the thing God is doing, and invites us to be part of it. Live this way. Even with that person who’s hard to live with.
Is there anyone like that in your life? What, here in the church? Of course there is. But we’re called to hang in there with them when the going gets tough.
Olympic athletes train for years. And I guess that’s what being part of a community of faith is all about. It’s a kind of training ground.
A friend of mine says if the church is not presenting a challenge to us then it’s really not doing its job! This is where we learn how to be humble and gentle and patient. By rubbing up against others. And discovery they have their faults, and that we do too. And then learning how to grow beyond that.
Here we discover people at all different stages in their journey of faith. And some are easy to live with and some are not.
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Jesus does not call us to be with people who think and feel and act as we do, in every single detail. But together, we are called to be God’s people, “making every effort,” says the writer of Ephesians, “to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.” Yes, it does take effort. But it’s not up to us alone.
To use an Olympic analogy, being a Christian is meant to be a team activity. We’re part of a Kingdom community. That means more than just one of us. And we don’t get to choose God calls!
Yet for all our differences, there is a unity that goes far deeper. “There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.”
There is a “oneness” to our life together. And we pray for the unity of the church. Not just here, in our own congregation – but the whole church, in its many expressions all around the world.
Early in the new year, we hosted a service that was part of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. Followers of Jesus here in our city came together across denominational lines. It was a cold winter day and there weren’t that many people. But we prayed. And we bore witness to this truth Ephesians speaks of: That the church is fundamentally one body. Despite appearances, sometimes, to the contrary. This is not to gloss over differences. Or to say that our convictions don’t matter. But it is to acknowledge that all of us are on a journey 
together. That none of us have fully arrived.
Ephesians says that “each of us was given grace according to the measure of Christ’s gift.” These gifts are given to “equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God.”
What are your gifts? What have you been given to contribute to the whole?
In a world of tearing down, we’re called to build each other up. In a world full of division, we are called to demonstrate God’s new humanity. The church is God’s instrument for healing and reconciliation. It is nothing less than the body of our risen Lord here on earth. That is amazing thing to say! It includes both privilege and responsibility.
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“We must no longer be children, tossed to and fro and blown about by every wind of doctrine. … But “speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ.”
When I hear these words I wonder, are we being admonished? Don’t behave as little children! Rather, put aside your childish ways.
Maturity, you know, does not come automatically as we age. I’ve met young people who are wise beyond their years. And I’ve also met older people who shock me with how little they’ve learned.
“Grow up in every way,” says the writer of Ephesians. In character. In faith. In your treatment of other people. In your walk of discipleship. Live as fully fledged members of this community of faith.
And what does that look like? Well, I think it looks like Jesus!
I remember, when I was kid, people asking me what I wanted to be when I grew up. Maybe that question isn’t asked so much any more. We’ve learned to value people at all stages: The playfulness of childhood. The vitality of youth. The strength and athleticism of young adults. The productivity of middle age. The experience and wisdom of the elderly. Every part of life has its strength and beauty.
But what is the ultimate goal of our lives? And what is the mark of a church that has become what it’s meant to be? Please be warned: It’s not the size of the church, the age of the church, the wealth of the church, the programs of the church. But rather this one thing: It looks like Jesus!
When people look at our congregation here at First Mennonite, what do you think they see? I’m talking about more than superficial things. Would they see a church that looks like Jesus?
Or maybe this would be more realistic: Would they see a people who are striving to be that kind of church? A people who are on the way? A people on the move? With their eyes on something greater, something better, something that calls us forward, step by step, on our lifelong journey? Until we reach “the measure of the full stature of Christ.”
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Watching the Olympics, it’s wonderful to see people who win their competition. To be the best in the world. They step up to the platform. A medal is placed around their neck. Their country’s anthem is played. The crowd cheers, and they beam with joy.
Do you know what makes God beam with joy? It’s when any of us reach the end of the race and become completely the people God has created us to be. It’s when the fullness of God has filled our life. When the image of Christ has been lived out.
Then we shall stand before the throne and take our place among the saints of God. And maybe someone in the crowd will whisper: “Don’t they look like Jesus?”
We’re not there yet. But that is the goal. May the Christ who calls forth a new humanity bless us on our journey. Amen.
“Rooted and grounded in love”
Ephesians 3:14-21 (July 28, 2024)
Our scripture reading this morning begins with prayer. “For this reason,” the writer of Ephesians says, “I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth takes its name.” 
I bow my knees. I pray. He prays for the church: for us, for you and me.
But I wonder if this prayer sounds anything like the kind of prayers that you offer? Of course, I don’t presume to know what your inner life with God is like. I just know that for me, sometimes little things can take centre stage.
“Help me through this next thing in my life, Lord. Give me strength for the challenge of this day: this appointment, this encounter, this thing that needs to be fixed. Whatever it is …” And don’t get me wrong, these are not bad things to pray for! We have a God who cares for every little detail. The birds of the air, the lilies of the field – none of them go unnoticed to the one who gives us life.
Certainly, it’s OK to pray for little things. But in this prayer, the writer of Ephesians has larger things in view. He prays for the whole church. For all the people of God. The “you” being prayed for throughout this passage is you plural. “That you, the church, may be strengthened by the Spirit. That Christ may dwell among you and within you.”
And here’s the most important thing, toward the end of the prayer: “That you might know the love of Christ and, knowing that, be filled with all the fullness of God.” You see, these are big things. This is a big prayer. And love is at the centre of it all.
The lectionary passages for these next several weeks offer us an opportunity to reflect on the letter to the Ephesians. And that’s where I’d like to focus. Because I think it has some important things to say to us. Today we hear Paul’s prayer that we might know the love of Christ, that we might comprehend its enormous dimensions, and be rooted and grounded in the soil of God’s love.
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Now there’s a danger in sermonizing about this. And I’m not quite sure how to overcome it. The problem is that, for us, love can seem to be a nice idea, but not much more. Love, we think, is the stuff of fairy tales and romance and greeting cards. An emotional indulgence. And yet, in our heart of hearts, don’t we have a sense that God’s love is something more?
Still, we come to church, as we’ve been coming all these years. And every Sunday, I’d venture to say, somewhere in the service, we hear that word love. In our music, in our prayers, in 100 different sermons. Every Sunday, all our lives.
You know what the danger is? The danger is we hear that word again and we tune out. Love? Been there, done that. We’ve heard it 1,000 times before. Don’t we know it all already?
Tell us something new, Pastor! Except new isn’t always what we need to hear. Sometimes we need to be reminded of things we know already. Sometimes we need to be drawn back, back to the centre of who God is, and who we are, and what the church is supposed to be all about.
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I remember being on vacation one time, and Lindsay and I went to church. It was a little church, and not all that friendly. I don’t think anyone said a word to us, though we were clearly visitors. No one felt the need to make us welcome.
In the sermon, the Pastor said the problem with the church writ large, by which he meant all those other churches, was that there was too much preaching on love. Yes, that’s right, too much love being poured out from the pulpit. In fact, he said, one of the churches nearby had recently been struck by lightning. Clearly it was God’s judgement upon them. Yikes!
Now let me say that there are many dimensions to our faith and many subjects worth preaching on. But too much love? I don’t know. When I think about my own life, I think there are times I have not been loving enough. And I want to know more about that. And I want to grow deeper into the love that brought this creation into being. The love that sent Jesus our Lord to redeem it when it went astray. The love that is the life-blood of each and every one of us.
Without love, says Paul, in that famous passage from the first letter to the Corinthians, we are nothing more than noisy gongs or clanging cymbals. We can have prophetic powers, great knowledge, many accomplishments. But without love we’re nothing. (1 Cor. 13:1-3)
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Ephesians talks about the whole church being “rooted and grounded in love.” Because that is the very foundation of who we are. It’s the ground on which we stand. That is the soil, the rich fertile soil, that gives us life.
“Rooted and grounded in love,” says Ephesians, “as Christ is dwelling in our hearts through faith.” This is one of those passages that imagines God as a cosmic gardener. Planting us like seeds in soil that is saturated with love. Love is what makes us grow. Without love, we wither up and die.
We know this to be true. From the moment of our birth, as we are held and cradled and comforted in the arms of our earthly parents, it is love that forms and shapes our lives. The love of families and friends and communities and churches.
If you think that none of that matters, then consider those who’ve not known love – but only neglect or indifference. Or twisted love, which is abuse. Or selfish love, which takes advantage of and uses others. These are all sick distortions of the generous, life-giving love that comes from God. A love that generates life in all its goodness and beauty and fullness.
Ephesians prays that we might be filled with all the fullness of God! This is no small thing. No trivial matter that may or may not be part of the church’s life.
“I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth takes its name.”
This prayer is addressed to the Father of all people. Every family, all nations, cultures and ethnicities. This one God is Creator of all. So if you were thinking of drawing lines and limiting that love – offering it only to people like you, who are part of your particular tribe, forget it!
We all have this tendency, don’t we? We love our own people, people we know, who look like us, and talk like us, and agree with us. But growing beyond those lines of demarcation can be challenging.
We make God’s love too small. We shrink God down to size. Yet this passage from Ephesians calls us to something far greater: A God whose love is enormous, beyond our imagining!
“I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, (with every child of God who’s ever lived) … now listen to this: “What is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge.”
What are the dimensions of God’s love? Do you know?
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A few years ago I officiated at a wedding. As a token of their appreciation, the couple gave me an unusual gift: something very practical. They bought a tape measure, and had it engraved with their initials and the date. I thought it was a great present, and I’ve been using it ever since.
The tape is not very long – 12 feet. You pull it out to the end, and then you find the word “Caution” in bright red, with an exclamation mark. You should only go past this point to replace the tape. Because you’ve reached the limit.
You can’t use an instrument like that to measure the width and length and height and depth of God’s love. The writer of Ephesians says that God’s love is beyond measure. It would be like me taking my tiny little tape and trying to stretch it all the way across the Grand Canyon.
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Have you ever seen the Grand Canyon? It’s pretty awesome. Our scripture today is inviting us to know the great Grand Canyon of God’s love. “To know the love of Christ, which” the writer freely admits, is beyond our knowing. It surpasses knowledge.
You see, there’s an irony to this prayer and the big thing it holds before us. Paul’s desire is that we know God’s love. And in the very same sentence he says we can never do that! Because it’s far too big. Too broad, too long, too high, too deep. You can’t possibly get your mind around it!
Yet Jesus embodied God’s love, and lived it out among us. Jesus gives to us as much of God as we can humanly receive.
Scholars through the years have pondered this passage, trying to explain it. Augustine said the four dimensions refer to the cross – the top, the bottom, the arms that stretch to either side.
I kind of like that picture! How much does God love us? Well, this much! It is a big love! And if you think you’ve come to the end of it, let me assure you that you have not.
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I remember Lindsay and I taking our children on a hike when they were young. We thought, “Let’s just get up to the top of that next hill, so we can have a view.” And up we started. It was hard work, a steep climb. As we came toward what we thought was the top, our hearts fell. For there was still another hill beyond it. We couldn’t see it from down below.
So we continued. Another climb anticipating a look-off at the top. When we turned around, the view was indeed glorious. We were up so high, we could see so far! But lo and behold we still weren’t at the top.
In the Christian life there is always another hill to climb, another view to behold. We don’t ever get to the end of it, not in this life. But the farther we go the more we see, the deeper we know.
Until we come to the end of our journey. And sometimes it seems our life has closed in to a very small space. The people around us are few. Our physical world becomes small. Our capabilities diminished.
We think we’re at the end. But then God brings us to a new place, a heavenly place more good and beautiful and full of God. A love that is infinite and never-ending. “Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.” (1 Cor. 13:12)
In the end of C.S. Lewis’s books about Narnia, the known land begins to fade into unreality, and a new land opens up. The children are invited to leave the Shadowlands behind. What they thought was so real and so wonderful is only a shadow of what is still to come. “Further up and further in,” they cry as they run toward the love of Aslan.
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A love this big has big implications. I want to leave you with two things this morning.
First of all, the knowledge that you are loved. Even if you don’t feel it, or can’t imagine how. Every one of us has been loved by God before the foundation of the world. Every one of us is loved infinitely and unconditionally. Sometime today, I invite you to find a quiet place where you can set yourself down for a moment and contemplate, with gratitude – the brilliant, dazzling wonder of that love.
And the second thing is this: We are called to be loving people. To live out of the extravagant dimensions of God’s love. So that it flows from us to others, from the church to every family, to the whole creation. Think of someone you find hard to love. Pray that God will stretch your limits and show you how.
Love is not an option for the church, or for any of us who are part of it. The love of God in Jesus is who we are. May we journey together faithfully.
“Let no one’s heart fail”
1 Samuel 17:1a, 4-11, 19-23, 32-49 (June 30, 2024)
This morning we return to our series of readings from the books of Samuel. Today’s story is a great one! It holds our attention, even if we know in advance what the outcome will be.
Little David and giant Goliath. Do you remember this story from your childhood? It does appeal to children who, in a world of adults, can often feel small and powerless.
Children and youth can be heroes, the story proclaims. Little people can accomplish great things. Underdogs can emerge victorious. We can win the day. We can beat the odds!
It’s a message of hope in the face of intimidation. Justice will be done. God will give the victory!
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But now we’re getting ahead of ourselves. So let’s just settle in and listen.
The story is set in the border lands, disputed territory, where the hills of Judea slope down toward the coastal plain of the Mediterranean – an area occupied by a sea-faring people known as the Philistines. They formed an alliance of city-states. And they were bitter enemies of Israel.
These two nations face off against each other: “The Philistines stood on the mountain on the one side, and Israel stood on the mountain on the other side, with a valley between them.” (v.3) Two flanks of armed soldiers.
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And one soldier in particular: Goliath of Gath.
He was a giant! A towering monster of a man, 10 feet tall. He wore a helmet of bronze, and a coat of armour weighing 150 pounds. He was armed to the hilt with javelin, spear and sword – the latest iron-tipped technology.
Goliath represents pure brute force. And he stands before the Israelites with one primary purpose: To instill fear in his opponents.
Every day Goliath would come forward and taunt them. “Today I defy the ranks of Israel,” he would bellow. “Give me a man that we may fight together.”
For days on end Goliath did this. And for days on end, there was no one in the Israelite army that was man enough to fight. Not even the commander in chief, king Saul. Who, remember, was chosen for this very purpose: to defend the nation from external threats.
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Goliath was a scary guy. And I want to pause right here to inquire about the giants who inhabit your world. Who are they? Can you name them?
Who or what stands before you today? It’s probably not a soldier. Though I guess if you’re on the front line in Ukraine, facing a barrage of fire from well equipped hostile forces, you may beg to differ.
For us, however, giants may be dressed in a different sort of armour. And by giant, I’m referring to any force or power that towers above us, diminishing our humanity, making us feel vulnerable.
It may be the giant of cancer that strikes fear in of our hearts. The way we experience this disease, and even the treatment prescribed for its defeat, can be daunting and demoralizing.
Maybe our giant is something different. Maybe it’s a rift in our family that has us standing on two opposite hills with a great separation between us. And all we can do is yell back and forth. How will peace be restored?
There are giants that threaten our society: Like the giant of addiction that is marching through our cities, fueled by opiates and organized crime. It’s a giant that inflicts an enormous cost, making neighbourhoods unsafe, and causing harm to families and loved ones.
We have giant anxieties about our future: The future of our kids, the future of our church, the future of our world. Death looms large over all of us. And the older we get, the closer it comes. How do we slay this looming fear? How can we live more care-free, courageous, confident lives?
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Well, enough of these things. There’s good news in our passage for today: Giants are not invincible! Goliath will meet his match. Just wait till you see his challenger!
At the very moment, when Goliath is delivering his speech, David arrives with a lunchbox full of bread and cheese – a little something for his older brothers.
When he hears the giant, David is outraged: “Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he should defy the armies of the living God?”
Then he turns to Saul, “Let no one’s heart fail because of him; your servant will go and fight with this Philistine.”
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It’s laughable, really. Little David, fresh from the pastureland, all full of bravado.
“You’re just a boy,” says Saul. “You have no experience in battle. And this giant has been a warrior from his youth.” The king dismisses him out of hand. Just a boy. But David has enough cheek to argue.
“I used to keep sheep for my father,” he begins. And then spins a tale of rescuing little lambs from the jaws of bears and lions. David may be young, but already he claims an impressive resume.
“This uncircumcised Philistine shall be like one of them. … The LORD will save me.”
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“OK then,” says Saul. I mean, if the kid really wants to … He proceeds to outfit him with his very own coat of armour. Puts a helmet on his head, straps a sword to his waist.
Now David can hardly walk! David throws it all off. And this is significant, I think. When David goes to battle the giant, Goliath, he will not do so on Goliath’s terms. He puts the armour aside. And takes instead, things that are familiar.
He takes his staff in hand. Goes to the river, picks out five smooth stones. Puts them in his shepherd’s bag. And grabs his sling.
What do you have, I wonder? What do you already know? What familiar gifts might you use for the purpose of slaying your giants?
As a child, I used to think that a sling-shot was the neatest thing. I would try and make one using a wooden branch and some elastic bands, or a piece of old inner tube from my bicycle. And I would set up some tin cans and try to shoot them. I seem to remember aiming at squirrels too. Thank goodness I never hit one!
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David marches out toward Goliath who, scripture says, “disdained him, for he was only a youth, ruddy and handsome in appearance.”
“Am I a dog, that you come to me with sticks?” Are you here to play games, little one?
The giant borrows a page from Mohammed Ali and begins to trash talk this pretend young warrior who’s entered the ring. “I’ll give your flesh to the birds of the air …”
Intimidation, you see, is how giants work. Puffing themselves up. Making you feel small and helpless and completely inadequate. And if they succeed in that, they’ve pretty much won already.
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But David is not intimidated. And he has some trash talk of his own.
“You come to me with sword and spear and javelin; but I come to you in the name of the LORD of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This very day the LORD will deliver you into my hand …”
Then David, who’s nimble on his feet, runs toward him, swings that sling, and …
One well-placed rock is all it takes to fell a monster! They are not as powerful as we think.
Yes, little people can slay dangerous ogres. Given courage, and keeping our wits about us, we can emerge victorious on the other side.
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Before I say more, I want to share something I’ve been pondering these last few weeks, since I knew this would be our passage for today. And that is … how we, as a community of Mennonites, a peace church, understand a story like this and begin to apply it to our lives.
God knows the world is full of violence, threats, weapons of war, brutal loss of life.
Do you know what David did next? He grabbed Goliath’s sword and cut off his head. Then carried it about, showing it off as a sort of trophy. Meanwhile, the Israelite army massacred the Philistines and pillaged their camp.
You can say “It was a different time back then,” but it doesn’t look all that different to me.
The thing is, that’s not the kind of world I want to live in! And those early Anabaptists, I believe, were right when they said it is not the way of Jesus.
Put the sword away! “Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.” (Matt. 5:44)
If you’re going to put on armour, let it be “the breastplate of righteousness … take the shield of faith … the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.” (Ephesians 6:14-17)
As Christians, we often find ourselves caught in a tough moral dilemma. How do we maintain a peace witness? It’s a question of conscience that many have had to wrestle with at a very personal level.
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Here’s what I think we can say. The battles we face are not just military ones. In fact, the biggest giants in the world may not live “out there” at all. Instead, they may reside within! And it’s not by our own strength that we will succeed.
David tells Goliath, “The LORD does not save by sword and spear; for the battle is the LORD’s …” It’s not ours to win.
Sometimes, humanly speaking, we don’t win. The giant seems to prevail. At least in the short term. Disease, addictions, divisions in our families, anxieties and worries. Injustices in the world. Too often these appear to carry the day. Even though we have wielded our prayers and done what we could.
Death is the greatest giant of all. Yet that battle is not ours to win.
Like David, we are called to be faithful and courageous in life-long service. And, ultimately, in the end, simply to put our trust in God. Surely, we believe, God’s purpose will prevail.
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A few weeks ago I mentioned that these biblical stories in the books of Samuel were stitched together centuries later, in another time of national crisis. Living as exiles and captives under Babylonian rule, the people of God remembered these stories and the words of their beloved king: “Let no one’s heart fail!”
In all the ups and downs of life, we are never alone. God is with us!
And sometimes we are called to be a David. In a world of giants, we may be the one anointed by God. That little person called to speak a word, or bear witness to a presence beyond ourselves. To stand fast in the face of insurmountable odds. To speak what we know. To use whatever we’ve been given. To share courage and hope with others whom we love.
Think of the giants in your life. Things that intimidate and make you anxious. Could you be a David? The victory will be the LORD’s. Let no one’s heart fail! May we be God’s faithful servants. Amen.
