WE ARE NOT ALONE! NPMC. August 11, 2024
1 Kings 19:1-16
The 4th century Desert Fathers tell the story of a hermit who wanted to understand the meaning of a particular Scripture. He poured over this text day and night, asking God to reveal its meaning. For 70 weeks, he fasted, eating only once a week.
Finally he said to himself: “Look at all the work I have done without getting anywhere. I will go to one of my brothers and ask him.” He had barely gone out the door when an angel of the Lord appeared and spoke to him: “The 70 weeks you fasted did not bring you any closer to God, but now that you have humbled yourself and set out to ask your brother, I have been sent to reveal the meaning of this text.” What he could not find alone, an angel revealed to him as soon as he was willing to seek help from his brothers and sisters.
"Elijah is here!"
Elijah is one of the most mysterious characters in all of Scripture. These were the days of a bitter struggle between monotheism and polytheism. Israel was torn between the God of their escape from Egypt, and the local Baalite fertility gods who promised to influence rains and rams.
Elijah lived on the edge of the desert, a sort of old fashioned nomad who would appear out of nowhere to deliver an important message, and just as mysteriously disappear. The king sent messengers to consult with the prophets at a pagan shrine. On their way, they were accosted by "a man with a garment of hair and a leather belt around his waist" who described their assignment, and sent them back with a sobering message for the king.
That was Elijah's pattern. Burst on the scene with dramatic words or acts; vanish into the wilderness to lament his lack of success; there recoup strength for his next brazen encounter. His struggle seemed a solitary one. We catch only rare glimpses of Elijah consorting with other faithful prophets.
Though there are many important themes available to us in this passage, the one that seems especially poignant this morning is Elijah’s repeated plaintive lament - “I alone am left…” Yet immediately beyond today’s text, Elijah is sent to anoint kings for Syria and Israel, and his own successor. Then God adds: “Yet I will leave seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him.” “I alone am left!” “Seven thousand in Israel…”
The larger truths for Elijah, and for us in our faith journeys, are, first, that there are times when it seems we walk alone. The second truth moves us beyond our lonely private discouragement and despair. There are, after all, those 7, or 7,000, or 7 million others.
I alone am left…
We’ve all heard the old saying: “Laugh, and the world laughs with you/ Weep, and you weep alone.” The author, Ella Wheeler, wrote this in 1883 after reflecting on her day spent on the train en route to a dance. Near her sat a recently bereaved widow dressed in black.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain. (Solitude)
There is truth in Ella Wheeler’s words. During such moments, we do feel very much alone.
This was certainly the case for Elijah. We find Elijah fleeing for his life, an Elijah in abject despair being fed, nourished and instructed by an angel. Both before and after a marvellous private revelation, God asks Elijah, “What are you doing here?” And twice, in verses 10 and 14, Elijah answers like a broken record. His words of self justification, his zeal for the Lord, are followed by a litany of everyone else’s misdeeds. Finally Elijah sums up his predicament in his pithy phrase “I alone am left.” And guess what? They’re seeking my life to take it.
Elijah’s isolation and loneliness feels awfully familiar. During such moments, if we were able to open slightly that shroud of blackness, we might at best catch some strains of an old tune. Many of you will recall that old Appalachian spiritual, “Jesus walked this lonesome valley.” Its origins apparently are a conflation of the Appalachian folk song tradition and the African American spiritual.
In the late 1800s, one of the early collectors of these “lonesome and love tunes” described their setting as a region that “from its inaccessibility (is) a very secluded one. There are but few roads—most of them little better than mountain tracks—and practically no railroads. Indeed, so remote and shut off from outside influence were, until quite recently, these sequestered mountain valleys that the inhabitants have for a hundred years or more been completely isolated and cut off from all traffic with the rest of the world.”
Jesus walked this lonesome valley.
He had to walk it by Himself;
O, nobody else could walk it for Him,
He had to walk it by Himself.
We must walk this lonesome valley;
We have to walk it by ourselves.
Oh, nobody else can walk it for us;
We have to walk it by ourselves.
Go, and anoint…
Elijah certainly walked that lonesome valley, and felt that he was walking that valley alone. “I alone am left,” he sobs. That, and the fear of his enemies, seemed to be Elijah’s last word on the matter. But this was not God’s last word.
“Go,” God said. This God who has spoken to Elijah in a “still small voice,” a “sound of sheer silence,” wants to remind Elijah of some things he in his despair has forgotten. Elijah seemingly cannot name the others who have also been faithful and zealous, even though they have been mentioned throughout these same Scripture passages. What about the Obadiahs who have risked their lives to rescue the hundred prophets of God, and those prophets themselves? What about that servant whom he dismissed just before this story. During such lonely moments, we forget those who share our commitments and struggles. As we turn our energies inward, we distort reality, robbing ourselves of the very supports we so desperately need.
Then God comes to us whether in the wind, earthquake, fire, or still small voice, and says “Go.” And that “Go” is followed by listing particular people with whom Elijah is to establish contact, people who will share Elijah’s purposes and struggle. In fact, even beyond those named, there is a yet larger number of people who share Elijah’s faith, a further 7,000 who have not bowed their knees to Baal.
A Togetherness Project
Christian faith was never envisioned as a solitary personal individualized project. Almost all the New Testament epistles are letters to groups of Christians, churches, or are letters to their leaders, replete with advice on how to help their congregations live better together as bodies of believers. Even the one notable exception, Philemon, is a letter to a Christian slaveowner, entreating him to receive his former slave as a brother. They are in this faith together.
Hebrews 10:23-25 admonishes us:
"Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful. And let us consider one another in order to stir up love and good works, not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as is the manner of some, but exhorting one another, and so much the more as you see the Day approaching."
Many of you have experienced the support of this and other communities as you have faced important moments in your lives. Fellow believers have rejoiced with you in the birth of a child, have supported you in times of deep grief.
In his seminal work, What is an Anabaptist Christian, Palmer Becker answered his own questions about what are the “sacred” core values of Anabaptist Christians. He summarized those as 1. Jesus is the center of our faith. 2. Community is the center of our lives. 3. Reconciliation is the center of our work.
That is all well and good, but how do we deal with our Elijah moments. Like most North American Christians, we Mennonites have witnessed the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic on our community life, on church attendance. One recent survey noted that roughly a third of North Americans have stopped going to church. Most of us remember times when church balconies were full to bursting, when most of our neighbours also headed off Sunday mornings to their churches. We wonder why Mennonite churches are not immune to such patterns, why we alone are remaining faithful.
If “community is the centre of our lives,” if living the Christ life is a togetherness project, why are we so few in the global scene?
Those 7,000 plus
It is understandable that we may at times share Elijah’s sense of despair. But God has a larger picture. Just as God pointed out to Elijah that there were still 7,000 who had not bowed down to Baal, so we need to remember that we are part of much larger provincial, national and international bodies of believers spawned by that Anabaptist vision. Furthermore, there are Christians in mainline, Catholic and Evangelical circles who are leaders in advancing the core convictions of our Anabaptist forebears,
Next January 21st will be the 500th anniversary of those first adult baptisms in Zurich that sparked the Anabaptist Reformation. The Mennonite World Conference now counts almost 1.5 million baptized believers in over 10,000 churches. There are far more Mennonites in the global south, Africa, Asia and South America than in North America and Europe.
And if all the Mennonite churches were to falter, there are several neo-Anabaptist thinkers and groups springing up here and in Europe, both mega churches and house churches, groups that have captured the core Anabaptist vision. The British churchman Stuart Murray helped bolster this movement with his 2010 book, The Naked Anabaptist, his attempt to focus the core gifts of the Anabaptist Reformation. Many of these groups make ample use of small intentional discipleship groups and engage in radical peace making.
We are far from alone with our understanding of the core callings of our Christian faith.
And We are Called to Go
But the story of Elijah does not end with his despair, his sense of “I alone am left.” We have that iconic story of Elijah standing on the mountain as the wind roared, an earthquake shook, and a fire burned. It was then in the sheer silence that God spoke clearly to Elijah.
First, God allows Elijah to repeat yet again his complaint. ““I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.”
God has heard this lament, this broken record, before, but now God speaks. And the first divine word is “Go.”
And that is God’s first word to us as well. In Elijah’s case, there are specific things God wants the prophet to do, anointing kings and a successor.
I wonder if that is not the pattern for us as well during our times of discouragement. We can, and often do, spin the broken record, underscoring our being alone, our vulnerability.
But God says “Go.” Make contact with those other faithful ones. Do something about the current situation, whether that be speaking about our faith, acting upon that faith, comforting that grieving widow, supporting that grandchild, donating to that worthy cause, praying for peace. We too can anoint those forces for change.
And then comes that divine zinger. We didn’t read verse 18. But I will read it now. “Yet I will leave seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him.”
You are definitely not alone, Elijah. And neither are we. There are those thousands of fellow believers, millions in fact. And some of them are right here, and also in our neighbourhood and in our city and province and country.
We are not alone. And for that, we give God thanks.
“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.
✠
“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.
✠
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.
✠
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.
✠
“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.”
✠
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.
✠
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.
✠
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)
✠
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?
✠
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.
✠
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.
✠
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.
✠
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.
