Other sermons.           

In The Fellowship of the Ring, Gandalf tells Frodo, “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”  What a profound and succinct stewardship message!

  In the epic clash between good and evil played out in J.R.R. Tolkien’s trilogy, these words drive the development of plot and character.  And they hold true in life as well, including our lives as followers of Jesus and as members of a particular faith community.  What strikes me about Frodo and his companions is that in ways individual, communal and historic, they kept faith.

  When Frodo stepped forward to say, “I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way,” he appeared to be speaking not of his own volition but out of some deep, unknown force propelling him toward this mission.  When Boromir gave his life after trying to take the Ring from Frodo, believing he could be immune to its evil powers in pursuit of his desire to save his people, he was keeping faith with the Fellowship.  And when Aragorn solicited the help of the Army of the Dead, he asked them in the name of a promise given long before to his ancestors. 

  Isn’t keeping faith what God asks of us?  To make a commitment and trust that the way will be shown to us – and that God will keep faith with us along that way?  To keep faith with our companions on the journey as we strive together to achieve common goals?  To honor those who have come before and built the foundation on which we build for the future?  I discovered The Lord of the Rings in middle age, and I am always moved by its messages:  (1) we all continually have choices about what we do personally with the times we are given, and (2) if we choose personal sacrifice for a greater good, then one cannot do it alone:  success is only possible with a fellowship of faithful companions equally committed to the endeavor and equally prepared to sacrifice.

  When I look back on my five-year journey of deepening understanding of faith and stewardship, I see the landmarks in what I call “mind pictures.”  Although I didn’t know it at the time, my journey began on a warm, sunny spring day in 1998 when I was hanging laundry out in my back yard and Jim Todhunter, our senior minister called me.

  It was a difficult and pivotal moment in Christ Congregational Church’s (otherwise known as CCC’s) history.  Joey Noble, our associate minister, was dying of cancer.  Many in our congregation could not accept that emotionally, and it was taking a lot of energy to sustain the church while supporting Joey in her struggle to maintain her ministry while she battled her disease.  At the same time, CCC had been working for over a year on an aspiration identified in a recent self-study to improve our aging building.  We had already taken some substantial, risky and controversial steps by purchasing three neighboring houses and by retaining an architect to develop options.  Neither of these steps appeared to be moving us ahead in any coherent, constructive way – our energy was diffused; our emotions were in turmoil; we couldn’t see the way.

  Jim had located a UCC minister with experience in advising churches contemplating capital projects, and he wanted to talk about whether it was the right time to bring Michael Downs to talk to the leadership.  To this day, I don’t know why I found myself saying, “I think we should keep on going.  God isn’t going to send us more than we can handle.”

  Within three months I found myself co-chairing CCC’s Building Design Committee whose first task was to obtain congregational approval to retain an architect to help us develop a master plan for the building and the property.  In October 1998, five days after the congregation approved that step, Joey died, having generously sacrificed precious time, energy, and leadership in her last weeks to persuade her church family that their church was right to move forward on this journey.  In the midst of grief, keeping faith with Joey and with other past leaders who had sacrificed in building and sustaining CCC became a tacit, powerful force supporting us as we felt our way down an unmarked road toward a future whose promise lay in keeping faith with God and with each other.

  That period from the summer of 1998 until we moved back into our renovated building on May 19, 2002 was a time of phenomenal sacrifice and amazing stewardship from the entire church.  It was sacrifice built on faith, yes, but also on the history of CCC – what the experience of journeying together in faith and covenanting with each other to share our joys and sorrows, our despair and our doubt, our conviction and our energy – had meant to each of us as individuals.

  We looked soberly at our situation and at what Michael had shown us in a bell-curve visual – churches do not plateau; they are either growing or dying.  On the dying side, there is a point of no return; when a church passes that point, the end is inevitable, albeit perhaps long in coming.  Collectively, we said, “Not us – this community means everything to us, and we want to share it.”  Although we didn’t frame it this way at the time, we essentially had two choices:  to hope the past would sustain us or to take a leap of faith and build for the future.  We knew that taking that leap of faith meant more than a future capital campaign:  it meant a commitment to grow our current programs and staffing, and, at a minimum, sustain our commitment to mission and to the wider church.  Following Joey’s death, we not only hired an interim minister for a 5-year period, we charged her with growing our youth and Christian education programs, and she did.  And, we added a half-time position for programming for older adults, and he created and developed a thriving program that continues to grow.

  So began our journey.  I know other leaders at CCC – and there were many – a committed fellowship was essential – were as permanently affected by encountering the Holy Spirit moving in our lives in profound ways as I was.  My story is their story as well.  It is scary, humbling and uplifting to be entrusted with $4.5 million of your friends’ money!  And it is scary, humbling and uplifting to be entrusted with their hopes and dreams for their faith community.  And it is scary, humbling and uplifting to inherit and grow the legacy of those who built the church over the previous 50 years.

  As we strove to build consensus around how to build CCC’s future, Jim kept preaching that the endeavor wasn’t about the building or about spending money on ourselves or about choosing between a nice space and helping others, it was about discerning what God is calling us to be in the world.  Not being much of a pray-er, I wasn’t quite sure how or when one is sure one has discerned anything God might be saying about doing his work.  I kept waiting to hear voices, but I never did.  At some point, I realized I needed to find my own way to talk to and listen for God on this journey because there was no way I and we could complete this undertaking on our own.  I needed a God who would keep faith with us.

  God challenged my need.  Another mind picture is of me and my friend and co-chair, Tom, after a progress meeting one gray, spring morning, slogging ankle deep in mud across what was to become our new parking lot.  There was a gaping three-story hole in the back of the church, bobcats – little workhorse machines -- were running into and out of our basement via a huge pit in the ground, a pile of expensively excavated bedrock was waiting to be hauled away, and sump pumps were holding recently discovered springs at bay under what was to be our new main entry.  We were struggling to get to know our construction team, deal effectively with Fred, our curmudgeonly contractor, and learn a whole new language of construction.  Tom looked at me and said, “Did you ever imagine it would be like this?”  “No,” I said.  I think we looked and felt pretty small in God’s eyes at that moment.

  There were other low and terrifying moments.  I’m not sure how long it took me to realize that God was walking with me and with us every step of the way.  And then one morning, on my daily walk to Metro, as I was struggling again to pray as opposed to wrestling with the pros and cons of the current pressing problem, I found myself just letting go and talking to God.  I said, “God, I’m not a pray-er.  I’m just not very good at that.  I’m a problem solver, and I need You to talk to.  I don’t even know what to say to You – I just need to know that, whatever I’m saying and however I’m saying it, You’re listening.”  I still didn’t hear any answering voice, but as God’s and my conversations continued, one day this thought just popped into my mind:  No matter what, having embarked on this course of action in faith that we were doing our best to discern God’s will for us, God was not going to let us get to the end of the journey and say, “Ha!  Gotcha!”  With absolute conviction and certainty, I knew that wasn’t the kind of God I believed in and that wasn’t the kind of God who was waiting for us to discern the way.

  I can’t say the journey got any easier after that, but it was certainly transformed.  When new problems emerged – and they did; when tempers got short – and they did; when the endless night meetings became acrimonious – and they did, I kept thinking, “We’re not going to hear ‘Ha! Gotcha’.”  There IS a way through this and God is with us.

  Throughout those four years, my absolute conviction that we were in the care of a loving and watchful God informed and sustained every decision Tom and I made and my husband, Jim, and I made.  Jim and I gave substantially out of our retirement savings to the capital campaign sure that somehow – and we still don’t know how – with God’s help, we’ll be able to retire before we die.  We not only gave to our annual stewardship campaign, we increased our pledges, as did many of our friends.  Having given to the building, how could we not give to sustain and grow our staff, our programs and our mission?  We had a future to protect!

  At United Christian Parish, you also are at a pivotal point in your journey.  You have a rich heritage of inclusiveness and diversity and of community service.  Perhaps you have become convinced, as I was – and am, that a building simply provides a foundation for doing God’s work in the world.  When every parishioner has a safe and accessible place in which to praise and thank God and in which – and from which -- to participate in Christian work and fellowship, then that place becomes just one part of the foundation for a church’s mission.  But a building is nothing without the spirit of the people in it.  In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus tells us to give our earthly treasure away and store up treasures in heaven for there is where our heart is. 

  My heart is with my fellowship at CCC.  All of us were transformed by our journey, not because the project was successful, although it was, but because we sacrificed together, struggled together, gave generously and courageously together of all our earthly wealth:  our money, our time, our energy, and our spirits.  We emerged stronger in community and stronger in faith, witnesses indeed to God’s wonders and mighty works.

  In closing, I’d like to share one last mind picture.  By May 2002, the leadership was exhausted.  Tempers were getting short – we were ready to go home.  One final decision remained.  Fred, the curmudgeonly contractor, had promised for weeks we could worship in our own sanctuary on May 19.  At the progress meeting on May 14, Fred told us the fire marshal had not yet OK’d the building for occupancy, and he wouldn’t be back until Friday afternoon.  Once again, Jim, Tom and I were on the phone.  God hadn’t given us more than we could handle yet, and we quickly reached a mutual decision – no matter what, we were worshipping at CCC on May 19 – we were NOT going back to our “wilderness journey home” as we called it -- Marvin Memorial Methodist Church.  We alerted the congregation to listen to our EVENT line late on Friday for directions but to count on being at CCC on Sunday.  At 3 p.m. on Friday, Fred called me at work and said “You’re in.”  The word went forth and an army of members showed up on Saturday to clean the building, move furniture, and stock restrooms.  On a brilliant, chilly, glorious Sunday morning, we assembled in our new parking lot so we could enter our newly renovated home together.  We really can’t know the way when we decide what to do with the times that are given to us.  In deciding to put our treasure where our heart is and to keep faith with the fellowship, our hope of a glorious new day is a real one.

  Before this journey began, I hadn’t given stewardship much thought at all.  Every year, my husband and I worked through our disagreements on how much to pledge.  Giving so much of everything I had to give over four years transformed my relationship to God and, therefore, transformed my understanding of stewardship.  Stewardship is more than giving money and it’s more than caring for & using wisely what we’ve been given– it’s keeping faith with one’s promises to God and to others, trusting that God will provide all that we need if we have the courage to build on what God has given us.  May God be with United Christian Parish and with all of you as you pledge your treasure to where your heart is today and as you journey together in building for the future.  Amen.

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