Leavers’ Eucharist, The
Queen’s College,
Gen 12.1-4a
1 Cor 9.19-23
Mark 8.27-38
I would like to invite all of you this evening to
Drop
Dead!
Get Lost!
and
Stay Put!
DROP DEAD!!!
Many of us have heard these words in years past as the ultimate
cutting remark, cutting the other person dead, as a crude denial of the worth of
their humanity.
But
that is not what I mean. For,
‘Drop Dead!’ epitomises part of the joyous invitation into Christ that I
would hold before you.
| I have been crucified with Christ; I live, but no longer I, but Christ lives in me, and that which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself up for me. (Gal 2.20) |
I live, but no longer 'I', this
self-centred, self-sufficient, defensive and threatened ego, but Christ lives in
me ---
And the way to this freedom lies in
heeding the words of tonight's gospel to take up one's cross and follow Jesus,
so that Paul can express it as 'I have been crucified with Christ'.
Think of the impact of that in the
first century AD. Here was the most humiliating, ignominious and shameful
form of death that was known. Here. equalled only by being boiled in oil,
was the most excruciatingly cruel and painful form of execution known in the
first century world.
And yet, Paul, with deep joy, can
assert that the only way to live in Christ is to be abidingly crucified with
him. And all the evangelists bear witness that the only way to know Jesus
as the Lord of one's whole life is to go with him in the way of the Cross.
Now, all of us, staff, students and
families alike, have come here together at Queen's to learn Christ, and I would
suggest to you that the only way to continue to learn Christ is to learn to die,
in effect, to drop dead.
Let me spell out what I mean.
We all have come to Queen's with some level of assurance that we have been
called by God to use this time to grow more deeply into Christ. We have
all come with a vision of Christ, a knowledge of the Father who sent him, and an
experience of the power of the Spirit in our lives. Some students have
come with years of experience as local preachers or licensed lay readers behind
them.
And yet, all students at Queen's have
been required to look at how to speak, how ton relax and how to move, followed
by how to conduct worship and how to prepare sermons. Those who most need
help in these areas are very often those who are most sure that they are already
quite competent, thank-you. Time and again one is called to heed the
invitation to Drop Dead to off-putting mannerisms of voice or body that may
hinder our effective showing forth of Christ.
In our understanding of the
scriptures, of worship, of theology, of ourselves and of others, we are
repeatedly invited to Drop Dead in order that we may enter more deeply into
learning Christ, in order that we may completely show forth the whole
Christ. Only thus may we, with St Paul, be able to say, "Be imitators
of me as I am of Christ".
Let us face it. It is painful
to die. 'I have been crucified with Christ' is no platitude. It is a
very costly cry, even if a joyful one. And Paul is able to say it only
because he has made the leap of faith into the one who loves him, even the Son
of God who showed his love by dying for him, the love of God from which nothing
can separate us, not even our studies or the chapel.
If we get the wrong answer to an
arithmetic problem, it doesn't bother us too much, for we have not staked our
lives on it. But when we are invited to consider whether or not we may be
inadequate or even wrong in our understanding and our attitudes in what pertains
to our ministry, either present or future, this can be very threatening, for
these are matters that are very central to our own sense of well-being.
It has been said that one cannot
learn anything that one does not know already. That is, unless you and I
are prepared to hear it, unless we are prepared to bear the cost of hearing it,
it cannot be heard, for it can be too threatening to our own sense of
self-identity.
It is only if we know ourselves to be
held with love as the uniquely beloved that we can dare to hear the challenge to
'Drop Dead' to our old ways and to enter into new ways in Christ.
And so there is a task that falls to
each and everyone of us, to hold one another in love and acceptance in Christ,
so that each of us and those with whom we shall minister, may be free, for the
sake of growing into Christ, to hear and to heed the gracious invitation to DROP
DEAD.
If you now, indeed, are
ready to Drop Dead, then it is time to tell you - RIGHT HERE AND NOW - GET
LOST!!!
If someone is giving you a hard
time, when you are feeling tired and irritable, then you may well tell that
person, either crudely or politely, to 'Get Lost!'
But just now I did not simply tell
you to 'Get Lost', but rather, to 'Get lost - right here and now'.
Let's start with 'right here and
now'.
Many of us have come to this college
from the 'real world' - the world of commerce and industry, the world of working
with real people with real problems in the social services, education, nursing
and the like. And a large number of us will be going out at the end of
this service both literally and symbolically into the real world of circuit
ministry and parish life. How often we find ourselves looking back to our
jobs or ahead to our ministry as being the place where life is real and
earnest. I think most of us feel that at times, and perhaps some of us
feel that most of the time. But I would suggest to you that there is a
very substantial amount of heresy in this view, and that unless we come to terms
with it, this feeling will stunt our ministry in Christ - not only in the
future, but RIGHT HERE AND NOW.
For we have come from the real world,
and we shall go to the real world, but we shall only do so in the fullness of
Christ as re recognize and live with the fact that we are in the real world,
God's world, the world he has placed us in, RIGHT - HERE -AND - NOW, in The
Queen's College, Birmingham.
There is a part of us, perhaps of all
of us, that doesn't always like to hear that. It is like being in the
countryside, looking for a place to spread our blanket, have a picnic, and take
a nap. We look across a fence and see how green the grass looks on the
other side. We see nothing but the tops of the grass, and it looks
continuous and velvety, as though we could like on it in comfort. But yet
is we look down at our feet right where we are, we do not see nothing but
grass. Instead we see some hummocks of grass, quite a bit of dirt, and
probably a number of pebbles and stones. Not at all the kind of place we
would choose to lie down on.
And so, in high hopes, we clamber
over the fence to the greener pasture, only to find that we are confronted once
more by hummocks of grass, patches of bare earth, pebbles and stones, and quite
likely with thistles or nettles thrown in for good measure. And now it
is the grass on the other side of the fence that looks greener and more
inviting.
This all too human propensity for
climbing over the fence to reach seemingly greener pastures is simply being met
in another form when we find ourselves beginning sentences with the words, 'If
only ...' or 'Just wait until ...'.
But as one real wag has put it, 'If
only circumstances had been different, I would have been the same person'.
For it is not so much what happens to us that determines who we are as it
is how we react to it. And that brings us right back to here and
now at The Queen's College, Birmingham.
I suspect that many of us have looked
across the fence, so to speak, at the prospect of coming to a theological
college with great anticipation. Here was where we were going to find a
truly committed Christian community, united in purpose and vision. Here
was where we were going to be equipped and built up for our future ministry,
building a superstructure of skills and knowledge upon the solid base of our
life and faith, gaining the confidence to express a clear and cogent reason for
the faith that is in us.
But in the event we have found
ourselves in a community more diverse in outlook than we expected, often far
less united in expectations than we had hoped for. We have come with at
least some degree of confidence that we truly understood the Christian faith,
that we had grasped the scriptures, that, in some sense, we were all right,
Jack! And then we found that in many areas our confidence started to
crumble. Much of what we had taken for granted as being solid stone
foundations seemed to be attacked with air hammers wielded by the teaching staff
and sometimes even by our own familiar friends. It doesn't seem like what
we thought we came for, and we feel that we don't need anyone to tell us to get
lost, for we have already gotten lost, right here and now. Perhaps we look
across the fence and wonder if we shouldn't have gone to an all-Methodist
college or an all-URC or an all-Anglican one. Well, I went to an
all-Anglican college, and I experienced exactly the same thing, so I really do
not think that would help at all. For, unless I am very mistaken, this
experience is a well-nigh universal one that is simply par for the course.
And I would go even further and say
that I think it is an experience that is quite properly and even necessarily a
part of our ministerial formation, pertaining not just to right here and now at
Queen's, but to the whole of our future ministry. For we are the ones
called to minister to the whole of a Christian congregation and beyond.
Each of us has a way of understanding
the Christian faith and all that it entails that especially makes sense and
appeals to us. But if we are to minister to all of the people whom God
loves, then we must get alongside them, not where we are, not where we wish they
were, nut where they are, with their own pattern of belief and practice.
With St Paul, in the reading we heard from 1 Corinthians, our calling is to
become all things to all people - not in the sense of being wishy-washy, but in
the sense of helping them in terms that they can understand and affirm, to see
the grace, the demand, the opportunities and even the judgement that face them
in their own situations in the light of the Gospel. Starting from where
they are, our calling will be to deepen and extend their vision and commitment.
With Abraham,
who, for obedience to God, left the security of his country, his kindred and his
father's house, to go he knew not where, I would invite you to continue in the
years ahead in the freedom to 'get lost': the freedom to say, 'I don't know'
rather than to trot out preconceived solutions or answers; the freedom to avoid
seeking our own security by taking up a simplistic position or by imposing an
overly-simple decision; the freedom to avoid stereotyping people and situations
in order that we may feel that we are in command. Above all, the freedom
to try to get alongside people so that with St Paul we may become a servant of
all. For he who seeks to save his own life shall lose it, so get on with
it, and 'Get lost'.
Now I am going to encourage you
who are leaving to 'stay put'. If this doesn't have the pungency of
'Drop dead' and 'Get lost', then let me give it to you in another form. We
have all heard the saying, 'Don't just stand there - do something!'
Well, let me turn it around for you: 'Don't just do something - stand
there!'.
From the vision we have shared here
at Queen's, we know full well that we are to go out and 'do
something'. Perhaps not quite so obvious is: 'Don't just do something -
stand there!' Let me spell it out with three sayings:
From St Paul: 'I planted, Apollos
watered, but God gave the increase'.
From the Russian novelist, Feodor
Dostoyevsky: 'God sees the truth, but waits'.
And from the title of a Bach cantata:
'Gottes Zeit ist die allebeste Zeit', or in language understanded of the people,
'God's time is the in-every-way best time'.
Following Paul, we can launch out in
faith, knowing that it is God who will give the increase. Following
Dostoyevsky, we can persevere, knowing that nothing will be lost.
Following Bach's affirmation, we can be patient in waiting, knowing that our
efforts will bear fruit in God's good time, for in him is our hope.
When you get top your parish or
circuit, you will probably experience a honeymoon period of perhaps the first
year. This may well be followed by a rough period when everything seems
top rock the boat, especially if you try to do anything significant. When
that happens, stick it through - stand there - and the boat will eventually
right itself.
Don't be a hasty judge of people -
when we judge in haste, we are all too often wrong. When we first arrive
in parish or circuit, some people will be very helpful, and it will be a great
temptation to think that they are the ones who really count for something.
But beware: they may be buttering you
up to be on 'their side' against the superintendent or the vicar, or more simply
to get you in their pocket. But when the going gets rough, they may well
fall away because you no longer fit their image.
There is only one image you are to
fulfil: the image of Christ who is the image of God, conformed to God's
sovereignty, the grace and demand of his love, his justice, his mercy - and
showing it to all without favourites.
You will also find that there are
reticent people who do not fawn all over you when you come, but who will stay
true when the going gets rough.
'God sees the truth, but
waits.' You wait, too - don't be hasty in judgement.
You will; be working with and for people.
If you are working with things, you can change them, manipulate them at will,
like changing a car's headlights, adjusting the carburettor, etc. But
people have wills of their own. You want to elicit love - therefore you
will have to bide your time. Things - you can often change; [people - you
can't change; you can only wait for them to change. You are to love them
as they are, not as you wish they were. You will not effectively minister
to people if you insist on changing them.
Two final things: Firstly,
beware of building an empire, a personality cult, or something which runs on
your dynamism alone: 'I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the
increase'. You will inherit a cure, you will share it with others, and you
will hand it on. Far netter to build patiently on it, to repair and
remodel, than to tear it down.
Secondly, persevere to the end of
your time there - up to the last day - and then you may ask your parishioners
and members of the congregation to do the same. And they will be able to
say, 'Our pastor left the day he left and not one day sooner'. For that is
how we shall walk with the Risen Lord who never leaves us.
God's time is the best time.
God sees the truth, but waits.
I planted, Apollos watered, but God
gave the increase.
'Don't just do something - stand
there!
It is the love of God in
Christ Jesus that sustains us, impels us and constrains us. It sustains us
so that we may dare to drop dead. It impels us into openness and
vulnerability that leads us to get lost. And it constrains us into
patience and perseverance, so that we may heed the cry of: 'Don't just do
something, stand there!'.
As we, both those who are leaving and
those who are staying, gather together for this last time around the Lord's
Table for the great feast of love, I would, one again, invite you to learn
Christ by entering into the joyful pain, the painful joy, of responding to the
call: Don't just do something - stand there! Get lost! - and above all,
Drop dead!