Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost
September 24, 2023

Running on Faith!

Lucy Forster-Smith
Senior Associate Pastor

Psalm 145:1–8
Philippians 3:4–16

Often, when people tell the story of how they come to faith, how they find their way home to Christ, it is a story much like the words in the hymn “Amazing Grace”: “I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see. … Through many dangers, toils, and snares, I have already come.” And this is certainly a faith narrative that holds much power and also integrity for so many of us. But in the verses that we have just read from Philippians, Paul the Apostle tells his own story, which is quite counter to the typical faith testimony.

Paul might be seen as a sort of braggadocio. He launches into his identity as a good Jew: circumcised on the eighth day, part of the people of Israel and the lofty tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews, blameless under the law. He packs in the credentials and proudly exhibits them as he describes himself zealous for God as he persecuted the church.

Yes, he lays out his lofty pedigree for the Philippians. Why would he do this? Wouldn’t you think he would be ashamed, particularly of the last point? What we don’t see here is that the church at Philippi was in a very fancy, gold coast kind of place. It was a Roman city, where Paul planted a church, the first church on European soil. This was the evolved church in a setting of heightened class consciousness. The place was one where there was an imperial cult — the coins, statues, processions, games, feasts, inscriptions bespoke a cult of an emperor. Caesar Augustus was the savior and lord.

So, knowing that, do you see what Paul is doing here? He is laying out his own background in a very credential-conscious context to a sophisticated faith community, where Paul’s missionary journeys planted churches in settings very different from the places Jesus spent most of his time engaging — farmlands and fishing villages. But actually this is not the end of the story but the beginning!

We can imagine the church at Philippi reading this letter from Paul, nodding heads, ready to let anyone who might question their odd and seemingly backward faith in a peasant king Jesus from Palestine know that their founder, Paul, has it together. He has moved in important circles. He knows his way around. It is great to associate with him.

But this is momentary, because Paul makes a quick move from laying out his credentials to a very moving and high stakes challenge. He states that all that he built his life on, from infancy to that moment on the Damascus Road—all he had gained he counts as loss for the sake of Christ. Yes, it is all loss. It is rubbish; it is dung — the real translation — compared with knowing Christ. This is the radical upending of life itself — a radical reordering — coming into an intimate engagement with the living Christ. His credential is knowing Christ, and all else compared to this is loss. It is a lost-and-found story but one built on Christ.

Paul recounts being found by Christ on that road going to Damascus. Saul is blinded. Saul stumbles to Damascus, and after three days, with scales over Saul’s eyes, Jesus sends a messenger, Ananias, to minister to Saul, and upon entering the house where Saul was, Ananias laid hands on him and said, “Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus who appeared to you on the road by which you came, has sent me that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” And the scales fell, and Paul regained his sight, and he began the most awakening, jarring, soul-engaging life. Paul was found by Christ, and Paul came home to a new identity. It is almost like someone is saying, “Brother Paul, welcome home.”

What would it be like if our faith community had a powerful conversion experience, coming fully home to Christ? What would our life together be like if we began where Paul did, with our identity shaped by a clear commitment to our tradition — unashamed of all that has been here in this place.

We have a remarkable history as a congregation. We’ve weathered fires, both literally and figuratively, in our life together. We’ve found our life here within the City of Chicago, planted here on the corner of Michigan Avenue and Delaware, drawing into this place some of the civic, cultural, educational, and business leaders of this city. We have engaged some of the most pressing issues of our lives. Every one of us has a part this day as we contribute as a congregation to feeding, clothing, supporting children, young and older adults, educating, building community among those who feel lost and lonely. And that vision continues to shine out of our partner in mission, Chicago Lights.

And all of this is only for starters. Yes, we can be proud of our tradition, our robust history, and so very many of you who remember and who shaped this. And we also are living at a time in history when there is a sea change, a coming unstuck of all we thought was certain and reliable. Yes, as we shift our gaze to the future we honor that which lies behind and we look ahead to what the Apostle Paul describes as the race before us. We are called to fix our gaze on the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus. And as we fix our gaze, our feet start to move, and the reality is that it is pressing, stretching, pushing, straining, temples pounding, heart pumping, and muscles aching.

I hear some of you saying, “OK, Forster-Smith, that is for the young.” And at many levels, yes, that is true. But we are propelled in this race by the magnificent power of God in Jesus Christ. And all of this, and I mean all of this, is centered not in achievement or competition or trappings that have a hold on us but is centered where Paul began — in knowing Christ.

One of the ways we know Christ is to pay attention to how and where Jesus shows up in our life together here at Fourth Church. For the past nine months, every Thursday afternoon at 4:00 p.m. a small group of dedicated church members have gathered with a couple of us staff members to listen, lean into, learn, and search for Christ as we’ve considered what God is calling this congregation to be and do through the long-range plan for Fourth Church. We’ve launched into listening to you, as more than 650 of you sent your responses to a survey and had conversations with our consultants about our life here at Fourth Church. We’ve leaned into realizing that you deeply care about our life together. You are an opinionated bunch, yes! And I think that has to do with your depth of commitment and deep care as you have your eyes on knowing Jesus.

You’ve told us that you are lonely and long to know one another. You want to belong! You sustain your membership in this church because you believe that God’s word through preaching, music, beauty, and the joy human engagement is alive in this place. You have a passion for justice, for racial equity, for full inclusion of our LGBTQIA+ community, for a prophetic word that shakes us from complacency or helplessness, and you long for a community that takes faith so seriously that we reach for a stirring, soul enlivening formation of faith. And you are waiting for God’s next move — God’s joyous, enlivening, loneliness-shattering community that will build on our tradition and look to God’s future by stepping up in faith. You are calling us to a home that is radically intergenerational, composed of mentors, peers, little ones, ancient ones, the blessing of pets — yes, pets are very important. And there is something in the constellation of this home-base, that includes generations, legacy, storytelling, familiarity — family.

Sometimes we think we are going it alone in this work here at Fourth Church. We are a large, prominent congregation, and there is some pressure to look perfect, to have it together, to never show weakness or vulnerability. Sometimes our polity gets in the way — all that decently-and-in-order way of engaging. But I am convinced that we have just begun. That our call is to take some risks for the gospel. To know Jesus Christ in his fullness, which means that we know the joy of the light shining out of his face and also, we join in an unflinching look at a world that is still in great need.

To know Jesus in his fullness, as the Apostle Paul put on his running shoes to investigate, is to dare to live with a hearty abandon, trusting, truly trusting, that in this very community you are welcomed by God, are included no matter who you are. And as we launch our stewardship season, you are asked to contribute. Yes, financially, from your means, but to contribute your time and that talent that you long ago buried. Dig it up, friend, and contribute that as well.

As I was thinking about preaching this sermon, a package came in the mail to me. It was from a friend I have not heard from in several years. When I opened the package, a book fell out entitled Wild Idea. I quickly realized this book from my friend, Fritz, a Presbyterian clergy brother, as his magnum opus, the story of his life’s project. It told of his dream of buying a farm and creating a learning community that would explore earth, spirit, and future. It narrates the vision of a community of eco-pioneers, who decided to take a risk along with Fritz, to walk the way of God’s abundant spirit people. And as I read the introduction I was inspired by Fritz’s words:

“I want to convey the picture of this organization, the Whidbey Institute as a ‘chalice.’ We have sought to be the carrier of a sacred regard for the earth and the bearer of regenerative power. I hope that our passion is evident. We have worked together with strong conviction, with the earth in mind. We have sought to be loving friends. We are working to become more inclusive. We have arrived at a place of new beginnings.” (Fritz Hull, Wild Idea: The Whidbey Institute Story, introduction)

I love the image of the chalice, a holy vessel. And I believe Fourth Church has been blessed in this way. I love the passion, the inclusivity, and especially a recognition, like Paul the Apostle’s call to that church in Philippi, that when we run the race, we are always arriving at a place of new beginnings.

This place, Fourth Presbyterian Church, is, I am convinced, a holy vessel of love, a place that knows Christ. And our call is to offer the chalice of blessing to one another, offering the generous chalice of hope to this community and each other and seeking to know Jesus through our witness to each other, here in God’s home, and our witness to this community through the hands we extend. We are called to strain toward the prize of God’s astonishing call to us for such a time as this. Let it be so. Amen.

Sermon © Fourth Presbyterian Church