There’s a chill in the air these days. Winter’s is fast approaching, and with it the darkness of its shortened days. The leaves are all but gone, and the cold wind seeks out every nook and cranny, driving us from outdoor chores and recreation, to inside and inside pursuits. Playing board games. Baking cookies. Gathering around the dinner table and sharing a good meal. Sitting close to the woodstove or fireplace. And telling stories. This is a good season for stories—for spinning yarns of days gone by, for telling tales of daring-do and adventure, for hearing accounts of characters both good and evil, and of situations both tragic and comedic. Fables, fairy tales, legends, and anecdotes. Stories.
I have a story to tell you this morning, my children. A story of hope and perseverance, a story of hard work and sacrifice, a story of love and commitment. A story of faith. Faith in God’s goodness and grace and abundance and steadfastness.. A true story.
You all are in this story, my children, as am I—all of us together. In a way, it’s really many stories, all intersecting with each other and all converging towards a unified conclusion. In other ways, it is two stories—one wrapped up in the other, the characters in the one taking their cues and motivations from the other. But mostly it is one big story, and as I said—we are in it—caught up and drawn on by the compelling content of its narrative flow. This is a story of you and I, a story both of those who went before us and those who will follow us, a story of God, a story of love poured out for us, A story of mission, a story of ministry, a story of stewardship—a story of the church, a story of this church.. Gather round then, my children and listen.
They say the church is not a building, but a people. And they’re right—and wrong. The church is people. People like you and me. But not just any people. The church is a people gathered around the good news of Jesus Christ, a people fed with God’s word, a people sent out with that word and with that good news to gather and feed others in Christ’s name. And then to send them out.
The church is a people set apart, who in response to God’s steadfast love and abundant gifts, commit themselves to living in the story of how God creates, cares for, and redeems all that we can see or experience. A people who commit to give their hours and days, their labor and abilities, and their riches in coin or in kind to move that story ever onwards towards its promised end. No. The church is not a building.
But you know that, don’t you, my children? For long it was—sixteen years and more—that you were the church without a church building. It started with a dream and a desire to tell people the story of God’s forgiveness through Jesus Christ. A man was sent to witness to the community and gather those led to him by the Spirit. An apostle he would have been called in New Testament times. The group met in a house at first, like the first Christians did in the early days of the church. A small group of believers gathered together by their common desire to present a Lutheran witness to the community. And then more people came. And then more. The infant church bounced between several larger meeting places as it grew, eventually settling in at the elementary school—a central hub of the town’s communal life. Paul would probably have picked the same location himself based on that fact. Speaking of Paul, you also met under a tent occasionally—which would certainly have pleased that old tentmaker.
Finally, with eyes towards a future generation of Christians, you built this place—not as a museum or clubhouse—but as a mission outpost. A place to come and be nourished, trained and refreshed for the truly vital portion of the mission—that which takes place between Sundays.
And what a beautiful place it is—a place of worship, or meditation, of music and art, a place of youthful laughter and energy, a place of deep and quiet spirituality—God is present here in the word, in the sacraments, and in the body of Christ, the church—his people. Together we worship here, we share meals here, we console each other and pray for one another within these walls, children play here and various community groups share the space. This building is central to your witness to the community and to your ministry. It is central, but not the center.
You know what the center is. Because once upon a time, you came to be a part of this church. You were baptized into God’s Church, but somehow you came to be involved in this local expression of that Church, Messiah in Amherst. Do you remember that day? The year? Where the church was meeting? Who the Pastor was? Turn to someone now—not your wife or husband! Turn to them and tell them briefly the story of how you came to be at Messiah. Go ahead—I’ll wait for you.
Once upon a time you came to be a part of this church and each of your’s story is now a part of Messiah’s story, just as Messiah’s story is a part of the larger story of the Church. And a big part of Messiah’s story is about stewardship. Stewardship modeled by members and the church as a whole, and stewardship modeled for this church by others
Stewardship modeled by members who give gleefully of their time for jobs that are sometimes thankless, sometimes forgotten, but always for the sake of Christ. Members who without a second thought bid exorbitant amounts on a rubber chicken because they know the funds will go to charity. A congregation that gives 24% of its giving away, so that other organizations might serve the community and the world. That’s two tithes! This congregation models good stewardship of God’s gifts. You understand that stewardship is more than supporting a budget, more than paying bills. It is a way of being in the world that includes all others needs along with your own. It is an attitude of abundance over scarcity—the recognition of the enormity of God’s gifts to us and the responsibility that we inherit to use them wisely and carefully, joyfully and sacrificially, gracefully and gratefully. We know we are stewards—caretakers of all that there is for the benefit of all who are here. We know this and model it.
Maybe that’s because good stewardship was modeled for you first. To fund a new mission start the investment over the period from inception to self-sufficiency is close to one million dollars. That all came from people pockets—and from other churches. Including a church that could see even beyond their own mission’s end to the excitement of your beginnings. Good stewards all. Perhaps they rubbed off on you.
In fact, I’m almost sure of it because I know that you support many other causes with your time and treasure. There’s Lutheran Social Services, and Lutheran Disaster response, and the Share food pantry, and Augusta Victoria Hospital, and Anne Marie House and so many others. Call out now, if you will, one of the names of the organizations you support besides this church. Let’s hear from you! And so now their stories are interwoven with our story here at Messiah.
As is our story with that of Jesus and the early church. Jesus knew a thing or two about stewardship himself. In fact you’ll find that even when he’s not talking about it specifically, there’s still underlying tones of it. For instance, Jesus was teaching in the temple one day and some of the people exclaimed over the beauty of the building—its majesty and architecture and adornment. Jesus told them that the day would come when not stone would be left upon another. And then he talked some about the end times. Which doesn’t seem to be a stewardship lesson at first blush.
But if you know something about ancient Judaic temple worship you would realize that the temple in Jerusalem was the intersection of the earthly and heavenly, the place where the people believed God was. So their whole system of worship and salvation was wrapped up in that one building, and in the sacrificial system that supported it.
By saying that the time would come when it would be destroyed was radical, to say the least. But what Jesus is saying is that the church is not a building, it’s a people. And that the time allotted to them is best spent witnessing to the good news that God is not locked up in a temple (or a church), but is loose in the world, and that he wants to be in relationship with all of us. That’s stewardship.
Now, what’s the moral of this story? Where does it intersect with Messiah’s ongoing story? Well, since stewards is what we are as the church, then you could say it is that stewardship is not a building, it’s how you live your life! Meaning that stewardship has nothing to do with mortgage payments, or oil bills, or paychecks, or maintenance, or Sunday school supplies or any of the other myriad expenditures that it has as an organization. Stewardship is being thankful caretakers of what God has entrusted to us, and therefore we are stewards 24/7, 365 days a year.
So, grocery shopping is an opportunity to be a good steward. Cleaning out your closet is a chance to practice good stewardship. You can be a good steward at work, at school, on the soccer field, in a traffic jam, and when you do your Christmas shopping. You can even be a good steward at the dump (I mean transfer station!). Stewardship is a part of your leisure time, how you spend it. Stewardship is part of your budget, again how you spend it. 10 – 10 – 80. Stewardship impacts every choice you make, every decision you make, every alternative you consider.
Stewardship is not giving to the church. (Someone please revive the treasurer.) Yes. That’s a part of stewardship. But the bulk of it is wrapped up in your attitude before God. So, these are the questions you have to ask yourselves. Will you live in the abundance God has provided and partner with God in the care and redemption of all creation? Will you thankfully and generously share from that abundance, trusting in God’s care? Will you come before God this morning and lay on the altar a commitment to this ministry, so that it may continue to serve God with joy and faithfulness? Will you say “take my life that I may be consecrated Lord to thee?” Will you answer God’s call with “Here I am, Lord!”? Will you lay claim to your baptism and live your life as a steward of God?
My children, the story goes on from here—yours, mine, ours—the Church’s, and God’s. What will the next chapter be?
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