“Finally, Beloved…” (Philippians 4:8-23)

I don’t think it was ulterior. However, there was a motive behind my choosing Paul’s letter to the Philippians for my last few weeks of preaching at Messiah. It was all so that we could come to the verses before us this morning, which begin, “Finally, beloved…” How do we sum up ten and a half years of journeying together in Christ—ten and a half years in which so much water has gone under our collective bridge here at Messiah and yet for me at least have gone by so unbelievably quickly? It seems like just yesterday that Karen and I were sitting towards the back of the sanctuary on a Sunday morning and asking ourselves, “Is this where God is leading us?” As we left the service and walked along Ford Parkway to our car, I well remember her words: “I think I could worship in that church.” And the rest is history.

Now here we are, “Finally…” It should come as no surprise to you after hearing me preach all these years that that word “finally” is not quite as final in the original Greek as it is in English. You will find it translated elsewhere in the New Testament in such ways as “furthermore” or “from now on” or “beyond that”.[1] I recognize that these are my final words to you as your rector, as part of that precious and hallowed relationship that we have enjoyed as congregation and pastor over more than a decade. Yet I want them not to be a retrospective but prospective, looking ahead to the future that God has in store for you. But first just a little retrospection…

Brothers and sisters

In our NRSV pew Bibles Paul addresses his readers as “beloved”. The word he actually uses is “brothers”—or, more accurately, “brothers and sisters” since he clearly intended to include not only the men but also the women in the congregation such as Euodia and Syntyche. While no doubt “beloved” is an appropriate way to address one’s fellow Christians, it seems to me that “brothers and sisters” says something that is considerably more profound, that describes us at a much deeper level.

Three Sundays ago the Gospel reading included the incident in which Jesus was teaching and healing and members of his family came looking for him. We read that Jesus responded, “ ‘Who are my mother and my brothers?’ And looking at those who sat around him, he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother’ ” (Mark 3:33-35). In these early weeks of Pentecost in the Eucharistic Prayer we have been making the acclamation,

Leader  We are brothers and sisters through his blood.

All         We have died together,
  we will rise together,
  we will live together.

Our reason for going back to Nova Scotia is to be reunited with members of our family—primarily our son, our daughter-in-law and three adorable grandsons. Yet what Jesus was teaching and what we affirm in that acclamation is that there is a bond that unites us more closely even than the ties of blood, and that is the blood of Christ. Karen and I first recognized that bond with Messiah when Gayle Miels and Paul Saxton came to visit us in Halifax and talk with us about Messiah. We knew that we were with kindred spirits and that sense only grew later that summer when we came to Saint Paul and met with members of the search team, the vestry, the staff and others. Now, a decade later, as we have gone through struggles and celebrations together on both individual and communal levels, those ties have only been strengthened and deepened.

While we will be separated by distance and eventually by death, neither of those barriers can break the deep and indissoluble bond that unites us in Christ. Paul was addressing the Philippians from a great distance, and yet still as brothers and sisters, whom he loved and longed for, his joy and his crown. “It is right for me to think this way about all of you,” he wrote, “because I hold you in my heart, for all of you share in God’s grace with me”[2]—and that is the way Karen and I will always feel about you.

Think on … keep on

So it is, to these dear brothers and sisters, that Paul writes some of the most beautiful and inspiring words in all of Scripture:

Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

I want to pause there for just a moment and smell the roses as it were, to breathe into our lungs the rich fragrance of each of those words.

·      “Whatever is true”—not just in the factual sense, but in the moral sense, the things that are true to God as he has revealed himself in Jesus Christ.

·      “Whatever is honorable”, that is, noble, reputable, lofty, majestic, magnificent, sublime.

·      “Whatever is just”: the word here can also mean “righteous” and is often translated that way. Eugene Peterson translates it as “authentic” and rightly so, as it has more to do with being in right relationships than with being right.

·      “Whatever is pure” can refer to chastity, but at its root it carries the sense of awakening awe, such as we find in Psalm 104: “Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom you have made them all!”

·      “Whatever is pleasing”—attractive, winsome, admirable, lovely, compelling—being drawn to goodness wherever it is found. And here the opening verse of Psalm 19 comes to mind: “The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.”

·      “Whatever is commendable”, which in the Old King James Version of the Bible was rendered “of good report”, that is, worth listening to, or again, as Eugene Peterson puts it, gracious.

·      “If there is any excellence”, and while we may rightly commend the excellence of a great athlete or artist, scholar or leader, what we are looking at here is really moral excellence, virtue. In the words of Psalm 1, “those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or take the path that sinners tread, or sit in the seat of scoffers; but their delight is in the law of the Lord.”

·      And finally, “if there is anything worthy of praise”—and here Paul means not so much human praise as what brings pleasure to the heart of God.

I took a few moments to see if I could find in the Bible what brings God delight and I came up with this list: uprightness, humility, repentance, thankfulness, purity, truthfulness, mercy, faith, generosity.[3] It sounds peculiarly like the list that Paul has already drawn up for us and given to the Philippians. And so, Paul says, think about these things. Reflect on them. Consider them. Focus on them. Concentrate on them. Probe them. Explore them. Fill your minds with them so that there isn’t room for anything else. It’s all summed up in words that we hear every week and that we will hear later on in this morning’s service: “Lift up your hearts.” To which we answer: “We lift them to the Lord.” And that is something we need to learn to do not just on Sunday mornings as we stand at the Lord’s Table. It is developing a whole posture of mind and heart that we carry with us into every situation, every circumstance, every area of life.

But then Paul says, “Don’t stop there!” Don’t just think: act. “Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me.” I have no need to tell you that the life of discipleship is not just a matter of learning to think in a certain way, but allowing the Holy Spirit to transform the whole of our lives. How many evidences of that have I seen at Messiah over the years, and long may it continue! One of my resolutions as I leave is that I may keep on doing the things that I have been privileged to learn and receive and hear from so many of you.

According to God’s riches

Paul began this passage by writing, “Finally…” Yet more than three hundred words later he still hasn’t finished what he wants to say. I have to admit that I identify with that. There is a part of me that wishes that our time together here at Messiah would never end. A couple of years ago when Bishop Russell Jacobus was preparing for his retirement from the Diocese of Fond du Lac, he told me that he had often wondered how he would know when the time had come. He shared this with another bishop whose wisdom he respected and who said to him, “You probably won’t be able point to anything specific, but you just will.” And so for me also the time has come. I could point to a number of specific factors—age and grandchildren among them. Yet more fundamentally than that, in spite of the regrets and the pain involved, I just know that this is the right time, for me and for all of us. But back to our passage this morning…

Before he concludes, Paul leaves the Philippians with one last gem. It comes in verse 19: “And my God will fully satisfy every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.” As I leave Messiah, I do so with that assurance and I want to leave you with the same assurance. I am so grateful to be able to entrust the pastoral care of this church to Mary Gustafson, whom I believe the Lord has sent to us “for just a time as this”. I have every confidence in the leadership of our Wardens, Rachael, Mark and Anne, who not only share a deep commitment to Christ but carry out their office with wisdom, energy and a true servant heart. And the same may be said of our staff, Jeff, Paul, Ann, Janice, Judy, Bobbie and Lori, all of whom work tirelessly to serve not merely the organizational needs of the church (which they do!), but far more importantly, you its people, and above all Jesus, its Lord.

These have been a pivotal ten years. We have seen parishioners go and come. We have seen our building expand and every new corner be filled to accommodate more ministry. We have been challenged financially and yet have never lacked. We have survived General Conventions. We have pondered our place in the Episcopal Church. We have been blessed by the coming of our Karen brothers and sisters. Our life together has had its unexpected twists and turns. (And surely that is more often than not the way of God, isn’t it, who calls us to walk by faith and not by sight?) Yet who can deny that God’s gracious leading and provision have been evident throughout?

In my first sermon here exactly ten years and ten months ago, I concluded with these words:

My hope and prayer for you and me at Messiah is that we may grow as a community that has no doubt about the power of the gospel—that as we proclaim it and live it we may know daily the wonderful life-giving presence of Jesus in our midst and never be the same as a result.

While the path may not have been entirely smooth and there were bumps and potholes and even the occasional sidetrack along the way, I hope that that has been our experience together. It has certainly been mine and I will not leave this place or you people the same as when I came. But I do leave in full confidence that “my God will fully satisfy your every need according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus”.

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[1]     See 1 Corinthians 1:16; Galatians 6:17; 1 Thessalonians 4:1 (KJV); 2 Timothy 4:8.

[2]     Philippians 1:7, alternative translation

[3]     See 1 Chronicles 29:7; Psalm 149:4; Psalm 51:17; Luke 15:7,10; Psalm 69:30,31; Proverbs 11:20; Proverbs 12:22; Micah 6:7,8; Micah 7:18; Hebrews 11:6; Philippians 4:18

“Dead and Alive” (Ephesians 2:1-10)

In three weeks’ time, as the sun is just beginning to show its first rays over the horizon, a little band of us will gather for what has to be one of the most dramatic services of the church year: the Easter Sunrise Vigil. As we gather around the newly lighted Paschal candle and sound the first Alleluia since Epiphany, we will hear once again the remarkable vision of Ezekiel in the valley of dry bones. I can never hear that reading without feeling tingles going down my spine. So allow me to read it to you this morning.

The hand of the Lord came upon me, and he brought me out by the Spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. He said to me, “Mortal, can these bones live?” I answered, “O Lord God, you know.” Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live…” So I prophesied as I had been commanded; and as I prophesied, suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. I looked, and there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them; but there was no breath in them. Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, mortal, and say to the breath: Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.” I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude. Then he said to me, “Mortal, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.’ Therefore prophesy, and say to them, ‘Thus says the Lord God: I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people… And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people. I will put my Spirit within you, and you shall live…,’ says the Lord.”

Of course Ezekiel’s immediate reference was to the fact that the nation of Judah had been conquered, its people taken from their land and transported into captivity in Babylon. Yet Christians have recognized in that dramatic scene a deeper lesson. It is not just ancient Judah that has been held in captivity. Jesus warned, “Very truly, I tell you, everyone who commits sin is the slave of sin.” (John 8:34) And in his letter to the Romans the apostle Paul reminds his readers that they had once been held captive and enslaved by sin (Romans 6:6,17).

Our condition

We find that same theme underlying the opening verses in this morning’s reading from the Letter to the Ephesians. There, Paul begins by reminding his readers of their natural condition outside of Christ. He lays it out in graphic terms and we will find that he does not leave a single stone unturned. “You were dead through the trespasses and sins in which you once lived.” The two words he uses for sin here each have slightly different shades of meaning. The first has to do with stumbling or straying from a path. Jesus warned, “Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it.” (Matthew 6:13,14) The second word brings with it the idea of falling short or missing the mark. Paul defines it for us in Romans 3:23, where he writes, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” Putting the two together, we recognize that sin encompasses both intentional acts and unintentional failures. We recognized that fact it in our confession in this morning’s worship when we acknowledged, “We have left undone what we ought to have done, and we have done what we ought not to have done.”

Paul goes on to elaborate three ways in which this works out in our lives: following the course of this world, following what he calls “the ruler of the power of the air”, and following the passions of our flesh. It’s not quite the same order, but our Book of Common Prayer summarizes this in the three renunciations that precede a baptism. The candidate is asked,

Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?
I renounce them.

Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?
I renounce them.

Do you renounce all sinful desires that draw you from the love of God?
I renounce them.

And so on the one side we have all the persuasive powers of the world around us—advertisers, peers, media and a whole host of others all attempting to pressure us into their mold. On the other we have the devil himself with his vast array of lies and deceit. And if that were not enough we have within us the capacity to choose and to commit unimaginable acts of evil. Bishop Handley Moule put it well a century ago when he wrote, “Man is not merely a sufferer; he is a runaway, a criminal, a rebel, a conspirator.”[1]

Uncomfortable as it is, Paul has held a mirror up to us. As we look on with Ezekiel at the valley of dry bones, we see ourselves and we cry, “Who will rescue me from this body of death?”

God’s action

At this point we come to what is the pivotal word in the passage. Indeed, I believe it may be the most important word in the whole Bible. “You were dead through the trespasses and sins in which you once lived… We were by nature children of wrath… But…” “But God made us alive.” We will hear it again in this morning’s service as we kneel before receiving communion. “We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs from under your table. But…” “But you are the same Lord, whose nature is always to have mercy.”

How has he done this? How has God brought us from death to life? Paul actually had to invent three words to explain what has happened. They are found in verses 4 and 6. God has made us alive with Christ; he has raised us up with Christ; and he has seated us with Christ. Do you see how each of these three actions corresponds with a stage in Jesus’ ministry? In a few moments’ time we will recite them in the Nicene Creed: “On the third day he rose again…, he ascended into heaven, and is seated at the right hand of the Father”—the resurrection, ascension and reign of Christ.

What Paul is telling us in this passage is these truths apply not only to Jesus. They apply also to those who put their trust in him. And so the Bible assures us that, just as Jesus has been raised from the dead, so too we are called and empowered to walk in newness of life. Just as Jesus has ascended into heaven, we know that he has prepared a place for us that we may be with him. Just as Jesus is seated at the right hand of the Father, so also we share the hope of reigning with him in glory.

In Christ God has done for us what we could never do for ourselves. Dead bones do not come alive of their own will. So, says Paul, it is “by grace you have been saved”. Indeed, to drive the point home he says it twice. “By grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God—not the result of works, so that no one may boast.”

We heard this theme repeatedly from Bishop Bruce MacPherson as he spoke here last weekend about the living water that Jesus came to bring. He told of his own experience in the church as a young executive—how he thought that God must be proud to have him as a member of his church, to be serving in the vestry and on the finance committee. Yet it was only late one night as he came into the church alone and knelt before the cross that he came to the realization that it was all God’s doing, all through grace, and he received Christ into his life.

No doubt the Christians in Ephesus could all identify with that experience. The key, though, is to remember it, never to let it fade from our hearts and minds. As the people of Israel were preparing to enter the Promised Land, Moses warned them, “Do not say to yourself, ‘My power and the might of my own hand have gotten me this wealth.’ But remember the Lord your God, for it is he … who led you through the great and terrible wilderness, who made water flow for you from flint rock, and fed you in the wilderness with manna that your ancestors did not know…” (Deuteronomy 8:17-18,15-16) By grace you have been saved.

God’s intention

Way back in university I had a friend who never tired of reminding us that we have not only been saved from, but we have also been saved for. It was an important lesson, and obviously it has stuck with me ever since. God has rescued us from the clutches of sin, the world and the devil. He has brought us back from death. These are wonderful truths, in which we glory. Yet they are only half the story. And to dwell on them as there were no more to it is to turn the Christian faith into something less than it is. It would be like an apple tree that doesn’t produce apples or a grape vine that doesn’t produce grapes.

Yes, God has saved us for a purpose—and we find that purpose in the final verse of this morning’s passage. Let me read it to you from the New International Version. “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” God has saved us not only so that we might enjoy a place in heaven, but also so that we might join in his work in the world—so that we might be partners with him in making his new creation a reality within the old.

It is a bold claim. One of the criticisms leveled at the first Christians was that they were turning the world upside down. Wherever they went, things happened. We can think of Christians who have done that in remarkable ways down through the centuries, men and women like Francis of Assisi, or William Wilberforce who brought down the West Indian slave trade, or George Müller who was responsible for the rescue of more than 10,000 orphans, or in our own day Mother Teresa.

Few of us can aspire to that kind of greatness. Yet within our families, within our neighborhoods, on the job site or in school, we must believe that God has placed us there for a purpose, for his purpose. Let us never cease to be grateful to God, who has brought us from death to life. And let us never cease to be agents of that life, to share that life, to do the good works that God has prepared in advance for you and me to do.

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[1]     Ephesian Studies, 67