April 29, 2012 | 9:30 and 11:00 a.m.

Taking Up Our Life

Hardy H. Kim
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 23
1 John 3:16–24
John 10:11–18

“For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again.”

John 10:17 (NRSV)

It is sufficient if the Word, as we read and understand it, penetrates and dwells within us. . . . As what we have casually overheard follows us for a long time, sticks in our mind, occupies, disturbs, or delights us, without our ability to do anything about it, so in meditation God’s Word seeks to enter in and remain with us. It strives to stir us, to work and operate in us. . . . Then it will do its work in us, often without our being conscious of it.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Life Together

For those of you who have been in the Sanctuary since the very beginning of worship and who have heard all the organ preludes, you have, so far, heard six different settings of the Twenty-Third Psalm—all musical settings, all different.

It is arguably the most beloved of all psalms, and the amazing, seemingly infinite, array of the different versions—literary and musical—allows us to explore the breadth and depth of the psalm’s meaning for us. Its well-known words have been a spiritual support to so many, especially in difficult times. In fact, we recite the King James Bible’s version of the text each time we celebrate Communion at our 9:30 and 11:00 worship services here, so I’m sure the words are a familiar comfort to many of you.

And this is a good thing for us this morning, for experts in the study of worshiping communities tell us that change and newness are very stressful for congregations. And seeing as this is my first time preaching at the 9:30 and 11:00 services here, I thought it would be good to pile on the “comfort” with as many recitations of the Twenty-Third Psalm, just to help us all, myself included, get through the difficult time that is immediately before us.

Seriously, though, I do love the Twenty-Third Psalm. Its images and words have provided care for me and for those around me in many situations where other words and ideas seemed hollow and empty. Yet I do have to admit that there is one part of the psalm, one image in fact, that feels less than comfortable to me. It’s at the beginning of verse 5, where the psalmist says to God, “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” I know this is supposed to make me think of extravagant care and unassailable protection. But instead it just makes me very uneasy.

Some of you might know that I am very enthusiastic about food. I have often been labeled a foodie, and though I’m not sure about that, what I do know is that I love to go seek out a great meal or a new dish that I have never sampled. I love exploring all the different neighborhoods of Chicago, looking for a great culinary experience. When I think about God setting a table for me in the presence of my enemies, there actually is a specific restaurant in Chicago that comes to mind every time. And unfortunately it’s also my favorite Korean restaurant in the city.

I have a bit of a personal connection to the folks who own and run the place, and they always go out of their way to take care of me. It’s usually very busy most evenings, and it’s a very small and cramped restaurant. On top of that, they don’t take reservations. So there’s always a line of people waiting for a table, often spilling out the door and onto the sidewalk. You can wait for thirty to forty-five minutes, sometimes even an hour, to get a seat. But when I walk in with a group and they spot me, they often jump us to the front of the line and seat us immediately. Even if I tell them it’s not necessary, they insist. And this, of course, is a problem.

The dining room is not big, and there is almost no space separating the waiting area from the larger tables at the front. So believe me when I tell you, if you jump the line in front of people who have been waiting forty-five minutes or more for dinner and get your food while they are still standing all around you, then you will truly have a table prepared before you in the presence of your enemies. It’s actually gotten so bad that my wife will not go with me to that restaurant anymore.

Now I know that a restaurant in Chicago was not the setting the psalmist had in mind when scribing a meditation about God’s all-surpassing care in the midst of trouble. However, as silly as my story might sound, the visceral memory of my discomfort helps me imagine, by contrast, how strong and deep a sense of safety and certainty in God’s presence the psalmist was trying to convey through song: safety and certainty real enough to allow a person to stomach a feast in front of real enemies, not just angry and annoyed strangers.

The incredible, intimate care that produces the unshakable certainty and trust of the psalmist is what Jesus described when he said to his disciples, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. . . . I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep.”

For us Christians—we who would follow Jesus and who have just celebrated the miracle of Easter—any sense of security we have in this world, any notion that we can overcome the difficulties that we face, for us, these can only come from the knowledge that Jesus Christ has willingly laid down his life for us; he is our good shepherd, and we are his sheep.

And this message does seem like simple, straightforward comfort, until we hear the words of 1 John—written in the tradition of John’s Gospel —words that shape the miraculous gift of God’s love in Jesus into an example we are called to follow. We hear this clearly: “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . . . Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” If we trust the author of 1 John and trust that he understood the true significance of God’s work in Jesus for our lives, then it’s clear that our involvement in that work cannot just be to enjoy the safety and comfort that it brings us; we can’t just sit back and relax at the feast. We are not just called to be the sheep; we’re called to follow the way of the shepherd as well.

Before coming back to Fourth Church to serve as Associate Pastor for Evangelism, I served as an associate pastor at a church in Atlanta, Georgia. During my time in Atlanta, I encountered a family that wrestled with doing something along those lines, a family that attempted to do more than simply enjoy their blessings by reaching out to help others. They sought to find a way to be a shepherd to others. And theirs is a story hard to ignore.

Kevin and Joan Salwen and their kids, Hannah and Joseph, somehow came to a point where they realized that they were blessed with far more than they needed. So one day when Hannah (in high school at the time) came to realize the astounding and disturbing reality of homelessness and hunger all around her, she brought up the preposterous idea that her family should sell their house and use half the proceeds to work towards alleviating the suffering she saw in the world. You may have heard about their story on TV, or maybe you’ve seen the book they’ve written about their experience, entitled The Power of Half.

Incredibly, Hannah’s naïve and idealistic suggestion was not rejected out of hand by her parents, nor was it actively resisted by her brother. The whole family bought into it; and so they started a process in which the whole family engaged in purging their collective life of the excess that had accumulated in their overly large home. In this process, these parents and children were able to work together to discern a cause they could, collectively, believe in and identified a mission they wished to support.

What impressed me in hearing them talk about their story and in reading their book was the degree to which going through this process made them a strong family, one in which they all, individually and collectively, had clarity and certainty about their purpose.

As Kevin Salwen writes in their book,

We had always called our adventure “the family project,” because first and foremost it was about our family. It was enlightened self-interest. The Secret Sauce to family togetherness was being out in the community for others, regardless of how community was defined—the neighborhood, the city, the world. Friends and others who asked us about the whys, wheres, and hows of our project always focused on the magnitude and experience, the big house, the big donation. . . . They never appreciated the transformational energy of the process. . . . They never saw the internal workings of a family eager to stand for something collectively, to stop accumulating, to get off the treadmill, to unify around a single purpose. For us, the American Dream meant . . . “that sharing can lead to a better life for others.” That didn’t necessarily require huge sacrifice; it just required figuring out what we could give.

Everything the Salwen family said or wrote about their experience of giving up so much—of, in essence, laying down the life that they had had—made it clear that they had gained a far more valuable family life in return, one with clear purpose and a vibrant sense of community. And their experience offers us, I believe, a way to understand how we might be called to follow Jesus and his self-giving example. For Jesus, too, did not simply lay down his life. He himself said, “For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again.”

I believe that we, the community of Fourth Presbyterian Church, have before us a very clear opportunity to take up the call to follow Jesus’ example in new and exciting ways—to lay down our life so that we might take it up again. We face a time of much transition, of change, and of new beginnings. And this can be hard because with these things, inevitably, comes the end of much that we have known. However, if we can turn away from seeing this time as a dark valley to be feared—if we can resist the urge to simply exist as God’s sheep—and if we can embrace this moment as a chance for us to lay down our collective life so that we might take it up again—if we can do these things, I believe amazing things can happen.

In his most recently published book, our own recently retired John Buchanan wrote,

Studies of growing congregations, at a time when mainline denominations are declining numerically, consistently discover that the one characteristic that growing congregations share is not theology, ideology, or worship styles, but a sense of mission. Growing congregations are focused on the world outside the walls of their buildings and are intentional about translating the theological affirmations they make inside into acts of compassion, love, and justice outside. When institutional survival absorbs a church’s energy and imagination and resources, it simply ceases to be very interesting or compelling. When a congregation lives out its faith in and for the sake of its Lord, it is difficult to ignore.

At this time, with a major transition in our community’s leadership taking place and with difficult economic times a daily worry for all who live in Chicago, I am amazed and excited to see a new building emerging right behind where I am standing now. Yes, amazing amounts of energy and sacrifice have gone into the building already, and completing this project is an ongoing challenge and yes, living into the building—to fill it with life and community, to make decisions about programs and priorities for its use—all of this will mean that many things about our life together will change.

Yet, as I think about all the mission activity that will take place in that building and the community that will be created around the new outreach the space will support, when I imagine all the children that will be tutored by members and volunteers and when I consider how the children of our families will be nurtured in the faith in new classrooms, when I dream visions about the individuals and communities that will be welcomed into fellowship in a new dining room and when I consider all the ecumenical and justice-building relationships that will be sealed through shared worship in a new chapel, when I consider all of this, I am filled with joy at the sense of new life being offered to us by the risen Christ who bids us to follow his example.

Even today, in the commissioning of mission trip participants, we can see members of our community giving of their time, talent, and treasure, laying down the lives that they have in order to experience something of the new life to which Jesus calls us. Our members and our community growing in discipleship in Jesus Christ is what can happen through the new space we will enjoy and what our great efforts realizing the new building are all about.

Now I know that Fourth Church is a church that can proudly claim to embody the best of what the church of the twentieth century has been, and the ways that we have always been are not to be lightly discarded. Yet if we cling too tightly to the life we have lived together, if we refuse to let go of ways of being church that are defined by the circumstances of a time past, we will, as John Buchanan warns, “simply [cease] to be very interesting or compelling.”

However if, like the Salwen family, we can see hope in the opportunities and possibilities that lie ahead of us, if we are willing to risk laying down the life that we have had so that we might open possibilities to life that we could not have previously imagined, then we can continue to be transformed into a community that is eager to stand for something collectively, that is unified around a single purpose. Like the Salwens, we just need to figure out what we can give. Then we can translate the theological affirmations we have made inside our walls into acts of compassion, love, and justice that fill up a new building to overflowing, love that will spill out the doors into a city and world in need. Then we will be the best that the church can be in the twenty-first century and beyond. And then our story will be one that is hard to ignore. I promise you this.

So trusting that God loves us, may we remain secure in God’s love, and being secure, let us follow the way of our Lord Jesus Christ. Let us lay down our life to take it up again. Amen.