Sermon by Tom Are Jr. | June 15, 2025 | Fourth Presbyterian Church

Trinity Sunday
June 15, 2025

Remember What Time It Is

Tom Are Jr.
Interim Pastor
Upon his retirement after thirty-nine years of ministry

Psalm 131
Mark 1:9–15

My friend Kathy worked with me at Village Presbyterian Church. One day she asked, “What is that on your bookshelf?” I said, “Kathy, you should know that. It’s a clock.” She said, “Well, I know that, but it doesn’t work. I have met with you every week for two years, and the clock always reads the same time. It never changes. Why do you have a broken clock on your shelf?”

I said, “I’ll tell you sometime.” And I will tell you too, but not yet.

Jesus began his ministry with these words: “The kingdom of God has drawn near.” His entire ministry was about that — the kingdom, the life, the way of God. Here we sometimes refer to it as God’s promised day. What do you think that day will be like?

Maybe like Amos you think of it as a day when justice rolls down like waters because we finally prefer to be fair than to be privileged.

Maybe like Isaiah you think of swords beaten into plowshares because it finally makes more sense for us to feed one another than to kill one another.

Maybe like Mary you think of the hungry being filled with good things, and the haughty right-sized in their breeches.

Maybe you think of simpler things, like old wounds being healed.

Or rest and peace and being able to lay down the burdens of the day.

Jesus thought that promised day would be a day when all that has gone wrong would be made right, redeemed. And while Jesus proclaimed that day is near, it is not yet here.

Yet it has been my experience that from time to time we get a glimpse of it. A little bit of that promise breaks into the present.

It happens here at Fourth Church from time to time. The love of God shows up in such palpable ways that the boldest promises of Jesus seem to be drawing nearer. And it seems impossible not to live toward them.

Last summer we arrived for worship and discovered that our “Black Lives Matter to God and to Us” signage on Michigan Avenue had been defaced. About that time, our Pride banner was also stolen. Maybe someone took it not because they objected but because they thought it was cool. Some were really discouraged by those acts that occurred in the dark of night, but I have to say, I saw it differently. Someone can steal our banner or deface our sign, but they can’t change the fact that people of color and people of the LGBTQIA community are welcome here, they belong here, because you understand that the church is always stronger when we are known for whom we welcome in than for whom we keep out. Such commitments do not demonstrate the fullness of God’s promised day, but it seems to me it’s a glimpse.

About a month ago I was walking down by the lake, trying to convince myself it was spring, and someone called my name — Pastor Tom. It was my friend Charles. He asked, “Is there lunch at the church today?” “Not today, Charles, it’s Saturday. But come tomorrow for Sunday Night Supper.” “I’ll be there,” he said. “I love that Sunday Night Supper.”

You can’t be church without a table. Not just a table like the one in this chancel, but anytime we are at table together there’s a little bit of church going on. Ask anyone who has been at the tables of Sunday Night Supper, and they will tell you there’s more than bread being broken and more than conversation being shared; it is a glimpse into God’s promised day. For surely the day is coming when all will be welcomed and there will be enough to go around and the grumbling noises of empty bellies will be replaced with songs of table blessings. Sometimes the love of God shows up so clearly here that we cannot help but be inspired to live toward God’s ultimate promises.

There was another moment like that. We gathered in this sanctuary to claim the promise of the resurrection. To hear again “I am the resurrection and the life.” To hear again “I go to prepare a place for you and I will come again and take you to myself.” But this time we gathered to claim that promise for John Buchanan. I am sure many of you came that day carrying with you your memories of John standing in this pulpit and proclaiming resurrection for one you loved. But this time we gathered to claim that promise for him and to celebrate that he was united with his Lord and reunited with his beloved Sue. And that day looked like the General Assembly had come to Fourth Church, for this congregation was peppered with pastors from across the country, many of whom had served you as associates and, having learned how to be church from you, are now leading congregations in far-flung places. And others who have been touched by the ministry of this congregation and had to be here. It wasn’t the fullness of God’s promised day, but for me it was a glimpse of it, as the church gathered together to claim that the boldest promises of God can be trusted.

I have only been with you for twenty months, but I have learned that God has a practice of showing up here from time to time and granting you a glimpse of God’s promised day.

It happened in Gratz Room 5A. For a year the Pastor Nominating Committee had been meeting and discussing, maybe sometimes arguing, and always praying. They were called to acquaint themselves with the leadership of the Presbyterian Church (USA) and find the person God was preparing to lead this magnificent church. They honored the process, and they respected each other, and almost unexpectedly there was a moment when they realized to a person that God was leading them to the Reverend Dr. Camille Cook Howe. As one person said to me, “You could feel the Spirit of God moving in the room — like Pentecost.” And it seemed that way again when, on May 18, they shared their joy in having been led to your next pastor and you exploded in applause — twice! I know it wasn’t the fullness of God’s promised day, but it sure was a glimpse.

God has a practice of stopping by here from time to time and drawing us closer to that day.

My friend Kathy asked, “Why do you have a broken clock on your shelf? It always says it’s 6:59.” I said, “Because it always is 6:59.”

When I was a kid, the rule in our house was Christmas morning did not start until 7:00. My father was a pastor, and so he spent every Christmas Eve at the church. He would come home after the last service and enter the land of “some assembly required.” Finally he would crawl into bed in the wee hours. Hence the rule, “Do not wake the parents before 7:00. If you do, Santa will take everything back.”

So we didn’t. But my siblings and I would watch the clock on my mother’s bedside table from the hallway. Beginning about 5:30.

It was an old clock like this one. It’s a John the Baptist forerunner to the digital clock, where the numbers just fall down on a spool. We would watch as each minute passed, another number would drop. But the oddest thing was when the clock reached 6:59 the clock would break. Every year. Time stood still. 6:59 is the longest minute in time. It is the leap year of minutes.

We would wait, and we would wait, and we would wait until at last the double zeros would fall, and before they fully came to rest we were on our parents’ bed. “It’s Christmas, it’s Christmas, it’s Christmas. Aren’t you excited.”

I look back on that moment as one of the best moments of my childhood. I didn’t know what would happen next. I didn’t know what was waiting in the other room, but I knew enough about Christmas that I knew it would be good.

Why am I telling you this? Because I know what time it is.

It’s 6:59.

I say that because I don’t know what will happen with you in the years to come. I don’t know the specifics of your ministry and how you will reflect the light of Christ to this city and beyond, but I know enough about God and I now know enough about you that I know it will be good.

Your own history testifies that God has a practice of showing up here from time to time, granting a glimpse of that promised day. From time to time the love of God can be so palpable among you that it makes it seem like that promised day is being drawn a bit closer and we cannot help but live toward it.

I told you this in October of 2023. It was my first sermon here.

In 1987 on a bright September day, Chief Justice Warren Burger spoke honoring the bicentennial of the drafting of the US Constitution. Burger said, “If we … [keep] faith with the vision of the founders … we will have done our part to see that the great new idea of government — by we the people — remains in place.” Burger believed our calling is to stay true to a vision held in 1787.

Associate Justice Thurgood Marshall offered an alternative voice. Marshall had argued Brown v. Board of Education before the Court in 1954, and in 1967 became the first African American to sit on the highest court in the land. Marshall warned, “The focus of this celebration invites a complacent belief that the vision of those … in Philadelphia already yielded the ‘more perfect Union’ it is said we now enjoy.” Marshall added, “The government the Framers devised was defective from the start, requiring amendments, a civil war, and momentous social transformation” to better realize the promise of a more just society. Credit for the Constitution in its present meaning belonged not to the Framers, Marshall concluded, but “to those who refused to acquiesce in outdated notions of ‘liberty,’ ‘justice,’ and ‘equality’ and who strived to better them” (Michael J. Graetz and Linda Greenhouse, The Burger Court and the Rise of the Judicial Right, p. 2).

Marshall believed in America but only because he trusted America is still becoming. He believed in an America he could not yet see or perhaps only see in glimpses. But he trusted she was out there and worth living toward.

Some of you found yourselves moved to protest this week because, like Marshall, you have a hope for a better tomorrow.

Jesus said the kingdom of God has drawn near. He gave his whole life living toward that promised day. And I have seen that you do too.

I don’t know what God will do among you in the years and decades to come, but I know enough about God and I now know enough about you to know this for certain: it’s 6:59.

Do not be discouraged. The values you hold, the commitments you cherish, the practices you embody stand in tension with so much of the culture these days, which means they have never mattered more. Your ministry is vital and I trust this: God will continue to show up here. Because the days ahead of us matter as much to God as the days that have gone by.

So do not be discouraged…

Remember Amos, who promised the day will come when justice will roll down like waters.

And Isaiah, who promised the day will come when swords will be beaten into plowshares.

And old John of Patmos, who promised God will wipe every tear from our eyes, for it is not we who die but death that dies.

I have learned of God’s practice to show up here from time to time, and I have learned of your commitment to do the good that is yours to do.

So I don’t need to know the specifics of what tomorrow will bring, but I know it will be good. Fourth Church, keep living toward God’s promised day. Because it’s 6:59. It’s always 6:59.