Philippians 3:17-21
March 15
David A. Davis
Jump to audio

A few weeks ago, I led a webinar for Presbyterian pastors in Ohio and Michigan on preaching on the occasion of the celebration of baptism and communion. The title was Preaching Between Font and Table. You can guess that the content was designed to encourage preachers to engage the imagery and theology of the sacraments in their sermons. To see the sermon as an opportunity for teaching the congregation more about the sacraments and to see the sacraments as a means of deepening the congregation’s engagement and participation in the proclamation of the word. At one point during some questions and answers, an older pastor shared that he was serving a small congregation in farm country about an hour from Columbus, OH. “Dave, I appreciate your invitation and challenge to us to use the sacraments more as a tool for preaching. But it is a real challenge in my context.” He went on to share that he couldn’t remember the last time they celebrated a baptism. As I thought with gratitude about how often we gather at the fount here at Nassau Church, I tried to offer a word of encouragement and suggested a baby-less baptismal sermon or a “remember your baptism and rejoice” sermon because the sacrament of baptism is such an important sign for us, a gift of grace, in our life in Christ.

April’s baptism this morning is indeed a celebration for Shawn and Allegra and their entire family. But it is a celebration, a sign, and a seal, for all of us. A sign and seal for all of us every time we gather here. In the Reformed theological tradition, we believe that at our baptism we are ordained to the priesthood of all believers. St. Augustine wrote that the sacraments are “a visible sign of an invisible grace.” The Reformer John Calvin wrote that the sacraments are “an outward sign by which the Lord seals on our consciences the promises of God’s good will toward us.” A visible, outward sign of God’s unending grace poured out. Baptism is a visible mark that we belong body and soul forever to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. A sign that drips with the love of God that nothing and no one will ever be able to take away from us. Baptism is a sign that God will walk with April all the days of her life, that the invisible grace and the presence of the Holy Spirit will go with her. It is a once and future sign for all the baptized that leans into the very resurrection promise of God. The waters of baptism. A sign that our citizenship is in heaven.

Philippians 3:17-21

New Testament scholar Matt Novenson, teaching Philippians 3 here this morning, shared with me over lunch this week that the use of the Greek word for “citizenship” is unique to Paul here in Philippians. Paul uses the word earlier in the first chapter: “Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ”.  Live your life as a citizen worthy of the gospel of Christ. Citizenship. An uncommon word in the Greek New Testament and an uncommon word in the letter of Paul. Matt suggested that, as Philippi was a colony of Rome, the use of the term, the contrast, the play on words would not have been lost on the Philippian Christians in receipt of Paul’s letter. Perhaps, akin to the question of the psalmist, “how could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?” (Ps 137). Or the priestly prayer of Jesus in the Gospel of John. “I have given them your word”, Jesus prayed, “and the world has hated them because they do not belong to the world just as I do not belong to the world” (Jn 17:14). Or Paul in Romans 12. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what the will of God is- what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Rom 12:2). “Our citizenship is heaven”, Paul writes to the church in Philippi.

If you grew up in a church, or were in a youth group, or went to a retreat where the common practice was to underline important verses, verses that struck you, verses emphasized by the preacher or keynote speaker, verses to memorize, pretty much all of chapter 3 would be underlined in your bible. Paul on his yearning “to know Christ and the power of his resurrection”. Paul on the righteousness of Jesus Christ. Paul on pressing on and forgetting what lies behind. Paul on the prize of the heavenly call of God in Jesus Christ and being of the same mind and holding on to what we have attained in and through Jesus Christ, who has made us his own! And as the glorious rhetoric that sings of the tremendous, unmerited gift of our life in Christ echoes off the walls of Philippians, chapter 3, Paul reminds the Philippian Christians, those who take the name of Christian, the church, and you and me that the tremendous, unmeritied gift of the Risen Christ making us his own makes a difference in how we live our lives. Paul exhorts the Philippian Christians, those who take the name of Christian, the church, and you and me,  to believe and so live because our citizenship is in heaven.

Years ago, a colleague who was serving at the time as the pastor of the Woods Memorial Presbyterian Church in Annapolis was proud to show a group of us the new sanctuary that had only been finished a year or so before our visit. Being there in Annapolis, one can imagine there were some nautical features to the architecture. There was also a columbarium in the rear wall of the sanctuary, celebrating the presence of the great cloud of witnesses, the communion of saints, the pastor explained. What he was most pleased to show us was the baptismal fount. The rather large fount was in the center of the center aisle, right at the second pew. As we gathered around the fount, he invited us to look down. The fount was bolted to the floor with several very large bolts. That fount isn’t going anywhere. “Now, when a bride and groom ask me to move the fount for their wedding, I can say, ‘Sorry, I really can’t.’” He went on to ask us, “Is there a more important day to remember your baptism than when you are making your solemn vows to one another?” Before God and these witnesses, beginning life together and affirm that our citizenship is in heaven.

It is striking to me that when it comes to this heavenly citizenship, Paul doesn’t go to great lengths to describe the life of discipleship here. There is no list of the fruit of the Spirit. That’s Galatians. No reference to the gifts of the Spirit. That’s Ephesians. No exultation to love. That’s Corinthians. No, bound by the chains of the empire, Paul, writing from prison, chooses to warn the Philippians about the many “who live as the enemy of the cross of Christ.” Paul doesn’t identify the enemies of the cross of Christ. But I am guessing that, sort of like his use of the word “citizenship”, the Philippian Christians living under the reign of the Roman empire know exactly who Paul is referring to. He didn’t have to be specific. “I have told you about them before, many times. Now I tell you through tears.” Paul chooses to point to what must be obvious to the followers of the Risen Christ in Philippi. “Their end is destruction, their god is the belly; and their glory is their shame; their minds are set on earthly things.” But…but no. Not us. Not you. Not the disciples of the Lord Jesus. “Our citizenship is in heaven.” We cling to our heavenly citizenship and press on, wanting to know Christ and the power of his resurrection. Believing that he has the power to make us and this old world a new creation. With that power, he works to bring all things subject not to the whims of the emperor and the evil of the empire, but to himself, the One who sees visions of a kingdom come on earth, as it is in heaven.

Baptism is a sign of that kingdom. The kingdom come on earth, as it is in heaven. The kingdom Jesus announced in Luke after he stood up to read from the scroll of Isaiah. “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing,” he said as all the eyes of those who listened were fixed on him. Baptism is an outward sign of the kingdom of God. The coming kingdom, the prophets proclaimed. “They shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.” (Is 2).  You know it as well as I do. Every time we come to these waters and splash in the waters of the invisible grace of God, every time we look into the face of a beloved child of God, there is an unspoken, yet fervent prayer that the world will be a better place for the one baptized. That Paul’s more excellent way of love will wash over the world, and those whose citizenship is in heaven will, by God’s grace and the gift of the Holy Spirit, be the hands and feet of Christ in making this old, broken world a new one. Standing with one hand in the waters of the matchless grace of Jesus and with the other anointing the creation God called good with the faithfulness of our lives. Our citizenship is in heaven!

That same group of pastors around the fount at Woods Memorial were again around a fount, probably a decade later. This one was in the sanctuary of the Pinnacle Presbyterian Church in Scottsdale, Arizona. The architecture of the Pinnacle Church also reflects its surroundings in the desert landscape of the southwest. The sanctuary organ is to the front and right of the chancel. Floor-to-ceiling windows are behind the chancel, the table, the pulpit, and the lectern. Outside the windows, there is a dry stream bed, a wadi that runs alongside the church. The baptismal fount is on the front left, and the design is intended to provide the sense that the wadi flows into the fount. It doesn’t, of course. The fount is self-contained with water running into the fount. A pump keeps it running most of the time. Think fountain and hot tub kind of arrangement. It is very striking. Though when we were there, the pastor shared that the fount had been leaking despite several attempts to fix it. We could see the water leaking out at the base near our feet onto the stone floor of the nave of the sanctuary, with a little stream forming toward the pews.

It occurred to me then, and it occurs to me now, that it is not a bad image, really. A fount that leaks with the waters of baptism, the waters that are a visible sign of God’s invisible grace. A fount that leaks toward the body of Christ, called by Jesus and sent by Jesus out into the world. That in and through the disciples of Jesus, the baptismal waters leak into the world. Not just with a little stream but with an everflowing stream; the waters of justice and the streams of righteousness. April, you and me. Signed and sealed by the grace, the love, the resurrection promise, and the salvation of our God in and through Jesus Christ.

You whose citizenship is heaven, remember your baptism and rejoice.

Philippians 2:19-30
March 8
David A. Davis
Jump to audio

The second half of the second chapter of the Apostle Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians reads like the announcements in a service of worship. First comes a soaring opening hymn that trumpets the cross of Christ and the divine exaltation of Christ. “In the cross of Christ I glory, towering o’er the wrecks of time, all the light of sacred story, gathers round its head sublime.” The congregation gathers in God’s name and through song and prayer offers praise and adoration to God in and through Jesus Christ, the glorified Son of God, the radiant Savior of the world. The people of God acknowledge and confess who they are, whose they are, and to whom they belong. And right there and then, in the flow of the sacred rhythm of worship on the Lord’s Day, sometime before scripture is read and the word is proclaimed and the sacraments are celebrated, sometime early on in the correspondence that is the Sunday morning liturgy; liturgy understood as the work of the people, sometime after a rousing hymn to Christ that everyone knows and everyone remembers, someone stands up and makes the announcement about the Sunday night potluck supper, or tells of the guest speaker coming in a week or so to share their own faith journey, or introduces a Moment of Mission, or shares the news about birth and death in the community of faith.

“I hope in the Lord Jesus”,  Paul writes, “to send Timothy to you soon, so that I may be cheered by news of you….and I trust in the Lord that I will also come soon…Still, I think it is necessary to send to you Epaphroditus, my brother and co-worker and fellow soldier, your messenger and minister to my need.”

Timothy and Epaphroditus. Timothy. It is like a son working with a father in the work of the gospel, Paul says. “No one will be more genuinely concerned for you and your welfare.” Epaphroditus, brother, co-worker, fellow soldier, minister to his need. Paul calls him the messenger of the church at Philippi. Other translations say “representative,” but the Greek word is apostle. Epaphroditus, your apostle. The readers of scripture never learn anything more about Epaphroditus. He leaves the bible stage never to come back. But Paul calls him an apostle. “He wants to see you because he knows you have heard how sick he was. He was so sick he almost died, but he wants to come and let you know he is okay. God had mercy. You can imagine my grief if he died. Like me, he “came close to death for the work of Christ.” “Welcome him then in the Lord with all joy, and honor such people.” Honor such people. Honor people like Epaphroditus. Honor Epaphroditus,

After “let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.” After “he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave….being found in human form, he humbled himself  and became obedient to the point of death.” After “God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father.’ Not long after THAT, Paul, writing from prison, writing in chains, extoling the glorified Risen Christ, Paul says to the church at Philippi, “let me tell you about Timothy and Epaphroditus. You should honor people like them.

Professor Dan Migliore taught at Princeton Seminary and worshipped in these pews as a part of the Nassau Church community of faith for more than fifty years. Dan died this week, surrounded by those who loved him most. Just a few weeks ago, Dan told me that he taught more than 4,000 students at the seminary in the Introduction to Theology class alone. It is impossible to quantify the impact of Dan Migliore on the church of Jesus Christ through his teaching of generations of pastors, including me. Two weeks ago, as I was working on my sermon, I pulled a commentary on Philemon and Philippians off my shelf. The author of the commentary is Dr. Migliore. To give you a glimpse of the privilege and honor of my ministry here at Nassau, the book is inscribed. “For Dave Davis, dear friend, valued colleague in ministry, and faithful preacher of the Word of God. Dan Migliore September 19, 2014”.

It is indeed fitting this week, as Dan Migliore joins the Church Triumphant, to draw upon his faith to help us seek understanding when it comes to this rather jarring transition in Philippians 2. Here in one chapter, from the glorious rhetoric and poetry that proclaims the self-emptying of Jesus as servant and exalts Christ as Lord of all, to the church newsletter. Yes, a disconnected, even disorienting move that leaves the reader wanting to just read on and pay little attention to Timothy and Epaphroditus.

Allow me to let my friend Dan have the ah-ha moment of the sermon. May his memory be a blessing. To this exact conundrum in the last part the second chapter, offering his take on Paul turning to Timothy and Epaphroditus, Dan writes “As we have emphasized repeatedly, there cannot be the least doubt that, for Paul, what Christ did in emptying himself and becoming obedient even to death on the cross stands far about any acts of humility, love, service, and sacrifice on the part of his disciples. Christ is the supreme example because he is also and exclusively our Savior. Yet the free grace of God in Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit enables his followers to participate and bear witness to-sometimes a costly witness to- his work….For Paul, he concludes, “an analogy can be discerned between the way of the Savior and the way of his faithful servants….No more than an analogy! No more than a faint resemblance.”

In other words, in Timothy’s faithful work of the gospel alongside the Apostle Paul, and in Epaphroditus’ care for the prisoner, his looking not to his own interest but to the interest of others, there is a glimpse, a whiff, an echo of the work of Christ. A Christ-like witness in the mundane, yet holy, in the ordinary, yet extraordinary, in the nitty gritty but actually profound aspects of what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ, the self-emptied exalted Son of God. That by his grace, his grace alone, you and I are called to be Christ-like to one another. Or as the hymnwriter puts it, “Will you let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you? Pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant too”.

“If, then, there is any comfort in Christ, any consolation from love, any partnership in the Spirit, any tender affection and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or empty conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus”.  You don’t need me or any preacher to tell you how absolutely, positively, literally, how counter-cultural, other-worldly, hard to find anywhere in the public square that such Christ-like behavior is today. What is also of note here in Philippians 2, according to the biblical witness, we’re not talking about Martin Luther, or Dietrich Bonhoeffer, or Martin Luther King, or Mother Theresa, or some other saint or martyr or giant in the church’s history; the history of the Christian witness. Yes, Timothy is the recipient of a few biblical letters, and Epaphroditus is not mentioned anywhere else. So on the bible’s scale, they are minor characters at best. Epaphroditus and Timothy. “Honor such people.”

During the program year of 2005-06, Nassau Presbyterian Church and Witherspoon Street Presbyterian Church joined together to celebrate 250 years of Presbyterianism in Princeton. We had opening and closing worship in McCarter Theater, four banners were made that rotate 2 by 2 between the two congregations, other celebrations took place, and there was a series of academic lectures on the history that were then published in the Journey of Presbyterian History. Professor Jim Moorhead, who was a student of Dr. Migliore, then taught alongside him for decades. Dr. Moorhead’s lecture was about Presbyterians in Princeton and at the Seminary in the 1920’s. One line in that lecture I have carried with me and returned to on more than one occasion. As he spoke about the blistering theological debates of the time and the iron fist of Jim Crow at its height, Professor Moorhead asked what impact it all had on the two congregations. “Part of the charm of congregational life,” he said, “is that through its enduring patterns of worship and devotion, it allows people to look beyond temporary issues and connect them with the rhythms of the eternal.”

My takeaway from Jim’s line, why I carry it with me, is not that congregations ignore the complexities, the challenges, the head-spinning and head-splitting impact the world brings, and stick heads into some kind of naïve religious sand. No, quite the opposite. I take Dr. Moorhead, who, along with Dr. Migliore, spent their careers not just as academics, but as Drs of the church. My takeaway is that when disciples in the Body of Christ face the complexities, the challenges, the head-spinning, head-splitting impact the world brings, as the church raises its prophetic voice and as Christians seek to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God, all in big steps and little steps, the church is still the church. And the ingrained patterns of congregational life by God’s grace and in the power of the Holy Spirit, hold each of us closer to the heart of God. When war is once again unleashed, or maybe better said, when wars never cease, and masked federal agents roam the streets, and our neighbors are frightened, and the lines at food pantries, including the one downstairs, are pretty much out the door, and the idolatry of gun violence and the Second Amendment never lessens, the church still does church. We still take food to a family sitting vigil at the bedside of a dying loved one. We still bury our dear. We still baptize our children and teach them to love their neighbor and to sing about Jesus. We still gather to praise and to pray and to yes, rejoice. We still yearn to look not to our own interests but to the interests of others. We still look, by the grace and power of Christ the Lord of all, to somehow be Christ-like to one another and in the world. “Honor such people”, Paul wrote.

Every now and then, on a Sunday morning, on some occasions, at coffee hour between services, we have what we call around the church office, “an expanded coffee hour.” Jose Cintron prepares special food beyond our normal coffee hour fare. You may not know this, but during the first service, from where I sit here in the chancel, as Jose is cooking, the appetizing, enticing aroma wafts in just a bit. Just a whiff. I might be the only one who can smell it. Just a whiff. Just the slightest resemblance, Dr Migliore wrote, the slightest resemblance in our Christ-like witness to Christ himself, the self-emptied, exalted Savior and Lord. Just a whiff.  Not just every now and then, but every Sunday, every Sunday, I sit there, and I stand here, and I look out at you, and I get just the slightest glimpse, a bit of a wiff, the faintest echo of Jesus himself. And I have to tell you, it is very much a part, you are very much a part of what holds me close to the heart of God.

Philippians 1:27-30
March 1
David A. Davis
Jump to audio

Only. The word is either lost on the scripture’s page or maybe it leaps off the scripture’s page. Only. In the Greek text, this only. Only this. Only. Sort of a strange way to start a sentence. If I have done my homework well, it is not at all that common a way to start a sentence on the scripture’s page either. Only. The very few times I could find a sentence starting with only in the New Testament, were in the writings of Paul. Paul, here in Philippians. Here in what I read to you from chapter 1. And in chapter 3 at verse 16, Paul writes, “Only let us hold fast to what we have attained.” Only. In II Timothy, Paul writes, “Only Luke is with me. Get Mark and bring him with you.” But that’s a different meaning. Only. “Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.” The translation on the bulletin cover this morning is from the Common English Bible: “Most important, live together in a manner worthy of Christ’s gospel.” In his commentary on The Epistle to the Philippians, Karl Barth offers this translation of the Greek text: “Just one thing!” “Just one thing! Live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.”

Just one thing. Here in Chapter 1 of Philippians, the Apostle Paul expresses his deep gratitude for the church. Thanking God for their sharing the gospel. He tells them of his confidence that Christ is at work among them, doing good work. He writes of his profound love and compassion for them and prays that their love would overflow more and more. He shares with the church that his imprisonment has actually served to spread the gospel and that, even in chains, he and others will not stop boldly proclaiming the gospel without fear.  All that matters is that Christ is proclaimed. Early on in his letter to the Philippians, Paul wrestles with the imminent possibility of his own death while insisting that he continues to rejoice. Christ shall be exalted either in his life or in his death. “For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain.” Paul knows his life and his death are in God’s hands and he expresses his desire to see them again so that together they can boast, and bask, and live in Christ.

After all of that, just here in the first chapter of Philippians- the church’s faithfulness, love and compassion for one another, his imprisonment, the bold proclamation of the gospel, life and death, and life together in Christ- after all of that. Only. Only. Just one thing. Most important. “Live your live in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.” We should not forget that the Apostle Paul is the one who writes in Romans about the remnant chosen by grace. “If it is by grace, it is no longer on the basis of works, otherwise grace would no longer be grace.” (Rom 11:8). And as I quoted from Ephesians last week: “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God- not the results of works, so that no one may boast.” The Apostle Paul on saved by grace, not by works. But Paul continues there in the 2^nd chapter of Ephesians, “For we are what God has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.” Or in other words, “Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ!” Only.

It’s not just about belief or doctrine or piety or religiosity. According to Paul, it’s about how you live. And living a life worthy of the gospel is not just about the individual. A life worthy of the gospel includes life together as the body of Christ. Paul’s exhortation to the Body of Christ at Philippi is to live a common life together worthy of the gospel. “So that, whether I come and see you or am absent and hear about you, I will know that you are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel…” Standing firm by God’s Spirit along with others. Side by side. Maybe not agreeing about everything, but when it comes to the faith of the gospel, being of one mind. A congregation’s life together is a reflection of the gospel of Jesus Christ. As is so often said in the words of welcome, “we seek to embody the love of God in word and deed in our life together and individually in our life in the world.”

Back in the fall, Cathy and I drove down for the 275^th anniversary of my first congregation, The First Presbyterian Church of Blackwood. At the luncheon, I was talking to the pastor who succeeded me there. As we chatted over lunch, he shared that he was no longer serving a church. He was working as a hospice chaplain. He went on to explain that the pandemic ripped apart the church we went to serve after he left Blackwood. That church is not far from here, over in Hunterdon County. He said there were many strong opinions about protocols and COVID-related decisions, and whatever he and the session decided upset someone, and all sides took it out on him. “Dave, they ate me up and spit me out,” he said. It won’t shock you to know that congregations don’t always stand side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel. Here at Nassau, I know that not everyone agreed with all the decisions, the protocols, and the timing that were made in those days. But I can tell you, I am the only pastor I know, seriously, who did not have a member of their congregation yelling at them. For which I remain deeply grateful to you and to God. The Apostle Paul makes it very clear that living a life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ has everything to do with the collective life of the community of faith.

“I will know that you are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel, and are in no way intimidated by your opponents….This is God’s doing. For God ha graciously granted you the privilege of believing in Christ, but of suffering for Christ as well—since you are having the same struggle that you saw I had and now hear that I still have.”  What can’t be known here is the specifics of what Paul is referring to when it comes to the suffering, the struggle. The struggle Paul is “having now” is clearly a reference to his imprisonment. But his reference to others having the privilege of not just believing in Christ but suffering, struggling for Christ as well, is less clear. And yes, wrapping one’s head and heart around the notion of you and me suffering for Christ is a longer conversation with a whole lot more to ponder historically, theologically, biblically, pastorally.

What I do now, today, this morning, this week, these days, is that it is not hard to ponder the Apostle’s plea for the one thing, the most important, the only. It is not difficult in one’s sacred imagination to ponder living a life in a manner worthy of the gospel and the call not to be intimidated by opponents. It is not difficult these days to acknowledge that you and I have the privilege of not only believing in Christ, but struggling for him as well. Because living our faith, living the faith of Jesus Christ, living the faith in Jesus Christ today, this week, this morning, is difficult. It is a challenge. It isn’t hard to know what to believe but it is really hard to know what to do. And when Paul affirms that it is God’s doing, yes, our salvation is God’s doing. Yes, living in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ is also God’s doing. And living the faith in the face of opponents and the ever-present darkness of the powers and principalities is God’s doing. Believing in Christ and suffering/struggling for him is God’s doing. It’s all God’s doing. God’s doing in Paul’s words. Or in the words of Professor Nancy Lammers Gross, shared in the children’s time in the last few weeks. “God’s got this!” Say that with me, “God’s got this.” Affirming that God’s got this, that it is God’s doing, is the only way I know to live.

As we study one of Paul’s letters this Lent, I want to share with you that I signed a letter this Lent. An open letter signed by hundreds and hundreds of Christian faith leaders around the nation. It is entitled “A Call to Christians in A Crisis of Faith and Democracy”. It is a call for a courageous and faithful witness to the gospel of Jesus Christ today, this week, these days. It was released on Ash Wednesday. Early on, it reads, “As Christians in the United States, representing the breadth of Christian traditions and one part of our nation’s religiously plural society, we are compelled to speak out more boldly at this time.” Later in the letter: “We refuse to baptize domination. We refuse to sanctify cruelty. We refuse to confuse authoritarian power with divine authority. We choose to resist, calling forth the righteous demands of our faith rooted in the teachings of Jesus. Religion should not be used to deify politicians or justify their abuses. When it is, faith ceases to be faithful and becomes a weapon of both heresy and hypocrisy.”

Near the conclusion, several commitments are listed. They are so simple, so Sunday School-like, so basic gospel-like, that it reminds me of how often I have said to you that when it gets harder and harder in the world and the nation to live the faith,  the simplest parts of the gospel become all the more clear and compelling. The list of commitments? Protect and stand with vulnerable people. Love our neighbors. Speak truth to power. Seek peace. Do justice. Strengthen democracy. Practice hope. Ground discipleship in love and prayer.

Yes, clear and compelling. Not complicated, yet not really debatable when it comes to the teaching of Jesus and the writing of Paul. It occurs to me that it is sort of a primer on how to do, how to live, how to be “only”.  David Buttrick, who taught and wrote about preaching for a generation at Vanderbilt, once said that the best measure of faithful preaching is the redemptive life of the community of faith. Not the rhetoric, not the sermonic flourish, not the biblical interpretive twists, not the memorable illustration. No, the faithfulness of the lives of those in the pew.

Most important. Just one thing. “Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Jesus Christ…”

Only. Remember the only. Never forget the only. Together Body of Christ at Nassau Church, today, this week, these days, let’s lean into, let’s commit, let’s live the only.

Philemon
February 22
David A. Davis
Jump to audio

“When I remember you in my prayers [Onesimus], I always thank my God because I hear of your love for all the saints and your faith toward the Lord Jesus. I pray that the sharing of your faith may become effective when you perceive all the good that we may do for Christ. I have indeed received much joy and encouragement from your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, my brother.” I pray that your faith may become more effective, more powerful, more active as you perceive all the good that we may do for Christ. All the good we do for Christ. The good we do for Christ.

Paul’s Letter to Philemon is notable for its brevity. Compared with the rest of the Apostles’ canon, it is also notable for the lack of a profound theological argument, as in Romans. Or the poetic style reflected in Paul’s description of Christ in Colossians: “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.” Or the soaring proclamation of resurrection hope in I Corinthians 15. Or the affirmation of the bedrock of the faith in Ephesians: “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.” As the Letter to Philemon sits in Paul’s portfolio, some may think it is rather….pedestrian.

Paul is under house arrest for preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Writing from Rome, maybe Ephesus. It’s a letter to Philemon, Apphia, Archippus, and the church in the house. Paul writes an appeal for Onesimus, who has become like a son to Paul. Onesimus, whose name means “useful,” is a slave previously working in Philemon’s home. Some suggest that maybe Philemon had dispatched Onesimus to assist Paul during his incarceration, and it has long since passed the time when Onesimus was due to return. It could be that Paul is sending Onesimus back to Philemon in hopes that Philemon would allow him to return to Paul. Of course, more importantly, Paul is asking for a reconciling transformation in their relationship. That Philemon would welcome Onesimus back “no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother—especially to me, but how much more to you, both in the flesh and in the Lord.” The Apostle underscores his request with the offer to cover any expenses incurred or any wrongs while Onesimus was away. “Charge that to my account…I will repay it”.

It is also striking how this oh so short biblical letter that somehow made the canon formed by the church councils is so un-bible like. Little to none when it comes to reflecting that strange old world of the bible. No demons. No healings. No loaves and fishes multiplied. No walking on water. No miracle. No thousands are joining the church. No tongues of fire and people hearing in their own tongue. No Damascus road voice from heaven and blindness, and conversation for Paul. No, Paul is writing to Philemon on behalf of one man, a slave. And Paul is asking Philemon to love him.

Your love for all the saints. Joy and encouragement from your love. An old man writing and appealing based on love. An old man appealing for a younger man who has become like a son to him. An appeal for love. “Welcome him as you would welcome me.” Oh, and prepare your guest room for me. Pray that I can come and see you soon. A letter so un-bible like. And yet, a letter so everyday. A letter so like the church in the house. The body of Christ. Little talk about faith, but a letter packed full of faith. No theology in words, but a profound theological statement about life in Christ. Not a lot of writing about religious things, but what is described is holy. No religious talk. Just a letter that is full of talk about the Christ-like life. The Apostle Paul, writing from imprisonment bound by the empire, asks Philemon for a radical love that upends culture and humanity’s entrenched way of life. The kind of love that turns upside down how the world works, and challenges how empires and principalities function, and threatens those in power who seek wrap the weak and most vulnerable in chains. This short letter devoid of miracles is actually quite miraculous. Paul appeals for one man named Onesimus. Paul is asking for the very love of Jesus Christ to be unleashed, set free, and on the loose in and through the church in the house. Paul asks Philemon to imagine and to so live all the good we can for Christ.

This week, I started reading Mother Emanuel: Two Centuries of Race, Resistance, and Forgiveness in One Charleston Church. It is written by Kevin Sack, who, as a journalist for the NYTimes, was assigned to cover the horrible murders at the Mother Emanuel AME Church 10 years ago in Charleston, South Carolina. Nine African Americans were shot and killed during their weeknight bible study by a young white man who bought the gun with money his father gave him. The author, along with anyone else following the story at the time, was so struck by the forgiveness voiced by family members almost immediately in the aftermath of their loved ones being murdered. He and they describe a kind of otherworldly, almost divine experience of forgiveness. Kevin Sack set out to write about the history of Mother Emanuel in the context of the African American experience.

The book begins with a detailed description of what the church folks at Emanuel came to call “The tragedy”. The chapter concludes with the author telling of the funeral for the pastor, the Rev. Clementa Carlos Pinckney, conducted at the local college arena. You will remember that President Obama gave the eulogy and concluded the homily singing “Amazing Grace.” Sack writes that the president scrapped what his speechwriters gave him and “rebuilt the scaffolding of the eulogy” around the hymn. Just before starting to sing, President Obama quoted the novelist Marilynne Robinson, who defined grace as “that reservoir of goodness”. “That reservoir of goodness that enabled humans to treat each other with extraordinary generosity.” To be honest, revisiting President Obama’s sermon that day while looking out at the nation today was a bit disheartening. “If we can find that grace,” he preached, “anything is possible. If we can tap that grace, everything can change.” Then, after a pause, he started to sing.

To use Paul’s language, the preacher that day was pointing to all the good we can do for Christ. Standing up in the midst of an unspeakable, unimaginable tragedy and daring to believe that ordinary people can do extraordinary acts of love and forgiveness, empowered, emboldened, and inspirit by God’s grace. Standing up this morning and daring to believe that ordinary people can do extraordinary acts of love and forgiveness, empowered, emboldened, and inspirit by God’s grace.  To use Paul’s own words, daring to believe that there is “a still more excellent way.”  It is not aspirational. It is prophetic. “If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or clanging symbol. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.” In First Corinthians, Paul preaches it. In Philemon, Paul, Onesimus, Philemon, and the church in the house….they live it. The only reason scholars can offer for how this short, pedestrian yet miraculous letter stayed in the canon is that Philemon must have said yes. Everyone knew Philemon said yes. He said “yes” to love and all the good we can do for Christ.

Come to the Table this morning to be nourished for your life in Christ this afternoon. Christ invites you to join the Table fellowship along with his disciples, the great cloud of witnesses, the communion of saints, and the church that’s in the house. Come with praise and thanksgiving to remember the One who could talk theology with the best of them in the synagogue and go and eat with sinners afterward. He would argue with the most educated and most powerful and then go hang out with the outcasts and touch the unclean. The Messiah, the Savior of the whole world, the Ruler of the Universe, lived, died, and rose again with a kind of radical love that upends culture and humanity’s entrenched way of life. A kind of love that turns upside down how the world works, and challenges how empires and principalities function, and threatens those in power who seek wrap the weak and most vulnerable in chains.

Here at the Table, the words are few: “Take, eat, this is my body broken for you”. The words of Jesus, who gave his life for our sins and the sins of the world. Here, around this table, we affirm our life in Christ, and by his grace all the good we can do for him. For it is Jesus Christ who takes your hand, and turns to the Creator and says, “Charge it to my account.”

“When I remember you in my prayers [Paul writes to the church in the house]], I always thank my God because I hear of your love for all the saints and your faith toward the Lord Jesus. I pray that the sharing of your faith may become effective when you perceive all the good that we may do for Christ. I have indeed received much joy and encouragement from your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, my siblings in Christ.”

Luke 9:28-36
February 15
Eric Barreto
Jump to audio

Psalm 112
February 8
David A. Davis
Jump to audio

“For the righteous will never be moved; they will be remembered forever.”

Louise Goss was the most elegant and eloquent woman of faith. Her passion and gift for music, her life-long commitment as a music educator, and her deep and abiding faith, it all came together in her in a way that made her an absolute connoisseur of Christian worship. And she would wear that mantle of authority with such humility and a commitment to never say an unkind word about anybody. She was a member of this congregation for 69 years. She joined the great cloud of witnesses a few months shy of her 100^th birthday. I once went to visit Louise after Easter in her room at the old Merwick Long Term Care Center behind the YM/YWCA campus. Seems strange to say it, but there was a heat wave that early spring. Only hot air was blowing out of the HVAC unit in Louise’s room. It was really uncomfortable in there. “Louise, can you believe this heat?’ I said with a groan. “David, I don’t think in all of my life I have seen a string of more beautiful days. They’ve just been stunning, haven’t they?” There in a room with barely a view outside to creation, the words were said with such joy, and fulfillment, and contentment, and gratitude, and affirmation, and it was so clear that her words went far beyond the weather! It was her summary statement of life: a string of more beautiful days.

I remember an Advent Sunday at the church door. Louse Goss just beamed with joy, and as I bent down to greet her, she took two hands off her walker and put them on my cheeks, and said, “David, that was the best Advent service I have ever experienced.” I teased her and said, “Louise, you told me that last year!” She didn’t miss a beat. Right away, Louise said, “I know, and it just keeps getting better!” It occurs to me that she was talking about more than a hymn, or a prayer, or a worship service. Louise was sharing her affirmation of faith and life in the Body of Christ. No one could greatly delight in the Lord like Louise Goss.

“For the righteous will never be moved; they will be remembered forever.”

Bob and Helen Duncan moved into the Glen Acres neighborhood in the early 1960’s. Established by the Princeton Housing Group, Glen Acres was an intentionally integrated neighborhood right off Alexander Road, just this side of Rt 1. Bob died in 2019, and Helen moved not too long ago to Reston Va to be near family. After Bob died, a church member wrote to tell me of the conversation he had with Bob when he was a relatively new member of the church, and Bob and another elder came to see him on behalf of the nominating committee, asking him to become an elder. Bob explained a fundamental part of Presbyterian Church governance that maintains that each elder is not expected to represent or vote the will of the congregation. No, each elder is to discern the will of God and vote their own conscience as led by the Spirit. Bob said it better. He told the much younger church member that  “each elder is to ask themselves ‘what would Jesus do’”. Of course, Bob Duncan wasn’t referring to some kind of pious, self-righteous morality. He was referring to leaders in the church committed to welcoming the stranger, feeding the hungry, visiting the sick, showing mercy, and speaking for justice and righteousness. Few embodied this congregation’s commitment to justice more than Bob Duncan.

Several years ago, Bob and Bill Wakefield were invited to speak at Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church in NYC to share Nassau’s ministries of immigration and refugee justice. They told the story of John Nasir. Along with others, Bob and Bill worked tirelessly to get John, an undocumented immigrant, released from the Elizabeth detention center. During the question and answers up there in the adult ed class at 5^th Avenue,  a member of the church asked them about all the time, effort, and legal fees spent for just one person. They both shared with me later how stunned they were by the question and the tone of the questioner.  It was Bill Wakefield who responded, “Well, how else would you do it?” Bill Wakefield also told me in no uncertain terms that his passion for social justice and the gospel and Matthew 25 was inspired by Bob Duncan. A light rising in the darkness shining for mercy and justice.

“For the righteous will never be moved; they will be remembered forever.”

Just the other day, I asked at a staff meeting if folks remembered the Sunday morning when Ruth Wyatt called into worship from the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge. We didn’t have the technology we have now in this room, but John Baker, our sound engineer at the time, made it work. Ruth had brain cancer. Ruth and her family joined a walk to raise awareness and money for research. What I remember most about that moving morning, as I stood here at the pulpit talking to Ruth, was how Ruth just kept saying “thank you” over and over again. Like so many of the followers of Jesus I have visited over the years who were enduring horribly disease, one always came away from a visit with Ruth being humbled by what she gave to you, even at her sickest.

Ruth died almost 20 years ago, but I still remember the visits. Ruth always said thank you, no matter what was being done for her or who was doing it. Ruth was more inclined to enjoy every conversation and to crave the laughter when a friend would bring some stories rather than wrestle with questions that had no answers. Ruth would rise to the occasion of a visit so others could feel a bit more comfortable. She craved intentional conversations with those closest to her. She basked in the unquantifiable love of her family, her friends, her church, and her God. She was content to relish the treasures of life even in the midst of illness. She never let the brokenness of her body take away from the God-given treasure of her life and the treasure of her hope for the life to come. Her heart was firm and secure in the Lord. Her heart was steady and not afraid.

“For the righteous will never be moved; they will be remembered forever.”

I watched Jim Fitzpatrick sit in a pew over by that window and shed tears during at least one hymn every Sunday for pretty much sixteen years. The son of a Methodist preacher, Jim craved the hymns and preaching of the church like the food we eat and the air we breathe. In April of 2014, Jim wrote a note to the Session of Nassau Church.

“I will never forget the time when I was listening to David Davis as he was at the peroration pitch of deliverance. I was so engrossed to the extent of not watching my speedometer and ran right into a Maryland speed trap for a cost of over $200. I was not dangerous; I was just enthralled with what David was saying. It was worth the fine, but I could not persuade the state trooper that this fine should be better put to use in our hunger offering. When I sayeth unto him verily, verily that was the case, the cop sayeth back to me in clear, definitive terms that I could my verilys and Maryland would keep the money.”

Jim was a man of many words, both in his speaking and in his writing. That might be a bit of an understatement. To listen to him tell a story at a dinner party in his home was to often feel like he would go on for eternity. He once told me he got an F on a three-page paper in college because he wrote one long sentence. It was grammatically correct, he insisted.  It was so striking to me that when Jim Fitzpatrick talked about his faith, especially the older he got, he would use very few words. One afternoon at their home on Palmer Square, Jim started to tell me of the debt and gratitude he felt toward God. It was a level of gratitude, he said, that came with a profound sense of responsibility; responsibility to give back, to try to be faithful, to contribute to the common good, and to offer thanks and praise in worship. But he had come to the conclusion that his entire relationship to God could be described by gratitude.

We had another conversation one day over lunch, sitting at two TV trays in the apartment down on Palmer Square. Jim had more beverages in front of him than he could drink in a week. There was a glass of water, a can of Ensure, a mug of something I guessed was coffee or tea and a glass of what I assumed was apple juice. A bit later, he offered me a sip and told me it was scotch. It was during that conversation we talked about eternity, about heaven. “I know people get all worked up about what to believe, and they have trouble with this scripture or that”, Jim said. “It doesn’t seem to me to be all that complicated. For me it all comes down, the gospel all comes to down to love. The promise is God’s everlasting love. That’s enough for me, he said. I don’t need any more than that.  God’s everlasting love”. Blessed are those who entrust their lives now and forever to God’s steadfast love.

“For the righteous will never be moved; they will be remembered forever.”

Louise, Bob, Bill, Ruth, Jim. I remember them and so, so, so many more. How about you? Who do you remember? They will be remembered forever. “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus…” They will be remembered forever and we shall never be moved.