A sermon preached at St. George’s Anglican Church Calgary by the Rev. Clara King on July 1, 2018.
Canada Day
Colossians 3:12-17
John 15:12-17
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts, be always acceptable to you, O Lord, our Strength and our Redeemer. Amen.
Michael and I were married on April 19, 2015 – and on that day, we sat together in the front pew at St. Stephen’s Calgary, and we listened to this epistle reading which Susan read for us today:
As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love…[Col 3:12-14a]
Now, no one, listening to that reading on that day, would have expected that this was something we’d already mastered – right? No one would have expected that this passage described perfectly our relationship already! Everyone would have known that this was good, godly advice to a couple embarking on a journey of love and faithfulness.
Imagine you had been there; and imagine if you knew some story or some example when you’d seen us not live up to this charge, to clothe ourselves with “compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience” – would you have thought us a failure? Of course not! You would know that we were at the beginning of our journey, and that whether we ever fully achieved what Paul describes here, or not, it remains good, godly advice for a couple as they begin their journey together.
But here today, we are not at a wedding. And sometimes, somehow I don’t know how, when we listen to these words as individuals, in the midst of our journeys, these words can sound less like good, godly advice, and more like judgement: “clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience” – and if you don’t, you’re some kind of fake!
How powerfully our thoughts can change this text from good, godly advice into words of judgment and disapproval, against which our lives are to be measured.
How often does this happen when we read passages like this in Scripture? We hear Jesus say, “this is my commandment: that you love one another”; and we hear a criticism of how we treat one another.
But truly friends, the purpose of these passages, these exhortations, is to give us good, godly advice. Not to judge us; not to punish us: to guide us, and encourage us, and to set our feet on a certain kind of journey.
And when we read this passage to couples on their wedding day, we anticipate that it may take many years to learn compassion and kindness and humility and meekness, and patience together – and that they’ll go through phases together, where there’s more of it, and other phases that they have to struggle through, where there’s less.
And friends, it is true for each of us in our own lives also. This good, godly advice, this sound wisdom from Paul, isn’t intended to be some kind of report card where we must keep all the boxes ticked. It is advice to set our lives upon a certain kind of journey – a journey which is intended to, and will take, most if not all of our lives.
It is, in fact, a very beautiful invitation – an invitation to a life of ever-increasing spiritual health and wellbeing; by which we ourselves, as well as the world around us can be benefitted.
Let me give you an example of what I’m talking about: This past week in my Musings, I said to you, “I am learning new healthy ways of working!” I have said that to you before. In fact, I have said it every year since I came here, three years ago. “I’m learning new healthy ways of working!”
But saying it again this year doesn’t mean that I’ve failed utterly in the past two years, to find healthy ways of working! It doesn’t mean that each year, I slip back into the unhealthy patterns I had when I started in your midst. In fact, quite the contrary.
Each year, I learn new habits and new patterns, and each year I grow stronger and healthier – and yet the horizon is always ahead of me. Each year, when I come to the summer, and reflect on the year that has passed (and take a huge deep breath from the gallop of all that we do together from Christmas to Pentecost!), I can see opportunities for more health: opportunities to do things slightly different, or manage my email a slightly different way (I’m truly terrible at managing my emails!); I see opportunities to get sick less often, and grow more deeply rooted in prayer and faith; opportunities, in short, to take my own next steps on my own journey of faith and perseverance, so that I grow steadily in stamina and I become more likely to go the distance, with health and strength, in my ministry – and in our ministry together.
That’s what I mean when I say to you, “I’m learning new healthy ways of working!” And wouldn’t it be wonderful if, 20 years from now, I’m still saying to my congregation each year, “I’m learning new healthy ways of working”.
For the horizon is always ahead of us, friends. We face challenges in our lives – sometimes deep and desperate challenges, and we learn new ways to go forward: in health if we try; and sometimes in old, unhealthy patterns if we don’t pay attention.
But the choice is ours: every minute of our lives, we get to choose: here, now: will I grow in compassion? here, now: will I try a little more kindness? here, now: can I learn something about humility? But the big transitions of our lives, we face many opportunities all at once, to look for and find, with hard work, paths very different than the ones we’ve known before: paths immeasurably more beautiful, more full of hope, and health, and love, and all those good things - than we’ve ever known before.
And that’s what Paul encourages us to look for, with the grace of God; and with the help of Jesus. To look to the next horizon in our journeys of faith, and get curious about how we can get there, and what might lie beyond; if, indeed, we grow in things like compassion and kindness and humility and meekness, and patience - and love and faith – and health.
May Christ bless us on our way; may he help us to find that next horizon, and, curiously, to peek over the edge, and see what journey lies beyond. Amen.