“Turning Life Around”
Sermon Preached by
The Rev. Dr. Andrew Stirling
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Text: 1 Peter 1:17-23
For me this week has in some ways been a week of pathos, of seeing three things that affected me profoundly.
The first was an e-mail that I received on Monday informing me that one of North America's most historic churches, a congregation that has had a powerful ministry for 50 years, had reached such a financial crisis with a debt load of over $55 million that it could potentially go into receivership and close. That church is the famous Crystal Cathedral with its magnificent minister, Dr. Robert Schuller. I felt the pathos of hearing that.
Like many of you, on Sunday afternoon I watched The Masters, and while I confess that I was cheering for the little Englishman, Westwood to win (for obvious reasons) when it came down to the last few holes, I was cheering for Phil. And when he came off the final green triumphant and embraced his wife, who has been struggling with breast cancer and he wouldn't let her go, I felt the pathos of the moment.
Later on last week I visited a hospital. Fortunately it was someone who did not have a major ailment and after having visited, I went down into the rotunda and bought a coffee. As I was in the line-up a young woman purchased something for herself and clearly for someone else, but as she got to the till, I could see that tears were rolling down her face. They were so great in fact that she kept looking forward, she would not turn back. She tried to block the movement of her tears with the palm of her hand, but they were too great and she couldn't.
Finally she paid for her items, mopped her face up to the best of her ability, but the stains of the tears were still there. She tried to put on a brave face. She walked across the rotunda to a seat in the corner and there in a wheelchair was a young boy. She looked at the boy and gave him what she had purchased for him. She tried to put on a smile but it was a fake smile. The boy had his leg amputated and was sitting there with a bandage over the stump of his leg. She tried, as his mother, to make the best of it.
I thought about those three moments this week, and I thought about our text from 1 Peter and that magnificent passage where he quotes from the great prophet, Isaiah, “All men, all people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field: the grass withers and the flowers fall.” Classic Christian theology as embodied in the words of the great Thomas â Kempis, that magnificent 15th century theologian who would say this in a very famous Latin phrase that has worked its way through hymns and operas ever since: sic transit gloria mundi! (Thus passes the glory of the world!) It is so true. We are so perishable, we are so vulnerable, we are like the flowers of the field.
Writing to the early Christians, many of whom were suffering persecution at the hands of the Romans and under Nero, Peter wrote his magnificent First Epistle. He did it to try to convey a sense of hope and courage in the face of trial and difficulty. This great Book of Peter went all across the known Christian world at the time, for such was its power and its authority. First Peter tries to convince the early Christians not to buckle under the pressure and torment of paganism, not to buckle under the hand and the might of oppression and power, and not to return to their former pagan days that put their trust in silver and gold and perishable things.
Peter tried to convey to them that in this perishable world, in a world that fades and passes away, they should hold on to the immutable power of God and of God's Word and in holding on to that, find a source of strength in their lives that will enable them to withstand the fragility of their situation. In this glorious text in 1 Peter, he is saying something to the world in which he lived, but also to the world in which we live. There is an equality of power in effect to what is said here across the ages for he wants to uphold first of all the distinctive quality of the Christian life.
It is fair enough to say that in his era there were still many great thinkers and philosophers and people who held good views. It wasn't that there wasn't a moral compass; it was that often it wasn't listened to and heard. Take for example the great Plutarch, who himself was a follower of Plato. He believed that God's will could be known through God's revelations, just as Christians and Jews do, and that through God's intervention in history and in time, people could know what constitutes the moral foundation of their lives.
Plutarch was someone who really advocated a moral compass for both Greek and Roman people. His wonderful work, Moralia, is a work of art on moral thought and philosophy. Similarly, the great Epictetus, who in his Dialogues also believed, as a Stoic philosopher, that there was a need for everyone to have a moral compass, to have a foundation in their lives, to know the difference between right and wrong, between truth and falsehood. It wasn't as if there weren't philosophers around in the pagan world who knew the truth and knew what should be done.
Peter goes beyond them. He is saying to the world and the Christian community, “Look, it is more than a sense of knowing right and wrong, it is more than having a moral compass. When you become a Christian, you have a new life. You have a whole new orientation to life and existence and meaning. You follow something that is imperishable as opposed to something that is perishable. You have the power of Christ within you, working in your life, enabling you to live a holy and a righteous life. You do not then just base your beliefs on a series of ideas or convictions or moral laws but rather you base your life on the God who has been revealed though the resurrection of Jesus Christ.”
For Peter, there is no question that the Christian leads a new life. He did not want his people turning back to paganism, to putting their trust in power or in lust or in money or in prestige and violence. He wanted them to hold on to the new life in Christ, for he knew this was the distinctive thing in a Christian's existence.
But I sometimes hear an objection to this. Many of you would hear the same thing. If you say this in our day and age, people will object and they will say, “Hold on a minute, does that not require a level of sacrifice? Doesn't it require a religious sense? Does it not require a discipline? Don't we have to give up a lot for the new life in Christ?”
I would respond, as I think Peter would respond to the criticism and to that objection by saying, “But does it not cost to follow the spirit of the world.” Does it not cost human beings a great deal to believe the power of the earth-based wisdom? Is there not a cost to be borne to holding on to the belief that worldly things will give you salvation and hope and meaning?”
I really thought about that just this last week when in our country, here in Canada, we are remembering those who fought in World War I. And, although there are only two veterans left from that war in the world, there is the concern that we will forget what happened. As I thought about that and as I looked at pictures of the second battle of Passchendaele, the one in which so many Canadians were involved, I saw pictures, archival pictures, pictures similar in quality to the ones that we see in the time capsule from our church, of young men up to their necks in mud and water and slime, holding their guns above the sewage and realizing that for an eight kilometre stretch of land, people gave their lives.
Do you know how many people gave their lives in the battles of Passchendaele for eight kilometres of land? A hundred-and-forty-thousand! Is there not a sacrifice that is given to war and enmity and anger and power and vengeance? I think there is. Is there not a cost to be borne even in our day and age for example for the obsessive love of money at the expense so often of family life? I hear time-and-time again of families that do not have time to communicate, families who do not have time for relationships, families that are broken because of the obsessive need to own more and more at the expense of children and family and lives. Is there not a cost to be borne for living for the things of this world? I think there is.
Is there not a cost to be borne for the obsession that people have with sex in our society and, not only with sex, but with sex in an inappropriate way, sex that destroys life? Just ask one of the golfers who played in the Masters and he will probably tell you the cost that is often borne by families and marriages because of an obsession with sex. Yet our society promotes it, advocates it, laughs about it, and then turns on those who are the ones who practice it. What a world of hypocrisy we live in! Is there not a cost to be borne? I think there is.
Is there not a cost to be borne for those who want to climb the corporate ladder by having jealousy for all the people who are above one in the rungs of the ladder and to have to climb above those who are below in order that one might attain greatness and power and authority, and having got there, look down on all those on whose skulls one has trampled. Is it not often seen as virtuous and joyful to climb to the top at the expense of others? There is a cost to be borne!
Is there not a cost to be borne to love gratuitous violence? I think there is. Here, in this city we are discussing whether we are going to allow UFC fighting to come to this city so that we can watch men beating each other up in a cage, to bleed, to break bones, and to be scarred in order that others may get their joy in looking on. Tell me how far have we come from the coliseum of Rome 2,000 years ago? Not very far, I think! Is there not a cost to be borne to love violence at the expense of human dignity?
Don't tell me that faith and religion and the discipline of holy life is the most costly thing. I am with Peter. I think there is more to be gained by the discipline of a holy life in God than there is to be lost. I think there is the knowledge that God is ultimately in charge of our destiny and to wake up each day and know that we are in the hands of that God is for me a source of comfort. I think that it is a source of joy to know that the imperishable power of God's Holy Spirit is working in our lives and granting us the joy and the freedom of God's presence. I think there is tremendous rejoicing in knowing that our consciences are clear not because we have been particularly virtuous, but because we have been forgiven. I think that the joys of the faith and the distinctive quality of the Christian life far outweigh the wonders and the glory of the world: sic transit Gloria mundi!
The second objection is that this is all based on eternal life and is not eternal life a way of avoiding the challenges and the needs of the world around us? In an article that was written in the National Post of April 1, John Moore, who I love to listen to on 1010 Radio, made the case that belief in eternal life is an impediment to caring for starvation and poverty and justice in this world. He argued against the need for belief in eternity.
I would say to John and the many people who share his views, and I have run into them often when I speak outside this church, people will tell me exactly the same thing as John did. I respond by saying: “You do not understand eternal life. You think that eternal life is some sort of pie-in-the-sky when you die, just some sort of heavenly reward.” And, I said this on Easter Sunday: eternity is not just some eternal destination, the end of a long road. I would say eternal life is God breaking into that very road and that very journey and that very life.
The belief that eternity is an impediment for caring for starvation and poverty is based on the erroneous belief that God is not concerned with this world but only with the next. I say that the Christian Gospel reveals a God who is as concerned with this life because of the next. In God's great heavenly presence, the power of the Resurrection is a reminder of God breaking into this very world with love and compassion and justice.
I would say that if you place your trust only in earthly things, if you hitch your star only to the things that are right before you and do not recognize the power and the presence of God, you become absorbed with yourself at the expense of others. you do not care for the starving, because you are trying to elevate yourself. You become self-absorbed as opposed to God-absorbed. You crave material things at the expense of human relationships.
No! To those who say eternity is contrary to justice and righteousness here on earth, I would say the exact opposite, for I am with C. S. Lewis who states that if all human beings are meant to live forever and be immortal creatures, how much more should we then love them here and now, for all men are like grass, and their glory is like the flowers of the field, but the Word of God lasts forever. There is a distinctive quality to the Christian life. There is holiness to it. There is a compassion for the other. There is a love for the world. And, there is the belief in the imperishable as opposed to perishable.
There is one last thing that Peter would say to us. He writes at the end of this section in the Epistle that love must be sincere, that you do not hold on to empty things, but have brotherly and sisterly love. His words shook the world. His comments changed history.
Three hundred years after the death of Jesus, the Christian Empire was officially Christian and apart from all the problems that might have been caused because of political alliances or the machinations of Constantine, the fact remains that the Christian community was a winsome community in a pagan world and people wanted to belong to it. They wanted to belong to it because of its love and its compassion and because of its sense of the presence of God. Isn't it fascinating that 2,000 years after Peter talks about imperishable things, we are talking about what he believed, worshipping the God that he adored, as opposed to the pantheon of gods who are no longer recognized? Isn't it amazing how immutable his words are?
You know my friends, a couple of weeks ago, when we opened up the time capsule for Timothy Eaton Church to make it presentable today, after we finished the exhibit, I went back to my office and I felt overwhelmed. I don't know why really, I just did. I felt deeply privileged to have been able to look into the world of those who lived 100 years ago, to see their photographs, their coins, their newspapers. But, there was something much more: I felt their faith, I looked at their Bible study guides, I looked at the sermon that was preached in memory of Timothy Eaton himself, and how Christian it was. I looked at the Bible and the Hymn Book and the Methodist prayer and I thought there is something profoundly mutable about the bond of faith between us now and them, 100 years ago, something so powerful that it transcends time.
Oh, the times have changed. They placed those items in that box dressed to the nines! They placed them in there before Passchendaele and Ypres and Normandy. They placed them there before the moon landing and the nuclear bombs. They didn't have iPods to capture it. They could not download it from the Web. They did all this before the Toronto Maple Leafs won the Stanley Cup, which of course might never happen again!
They did so many things in a different era and yet, as I look back there is a commonality to it - the commonality of faith, like the imperishable things. The people who placed those items are gone, but their faith isn't. Their era is over, but their beliefs are not. They cannot speak to us again from the grave but they still speak the Word of God. For, all men are like grass. Their glory falls away: sic transit Gloria mundi, thus passes the glory of the world. But, the glory of God lasts forever! Amen.