Sermon by Reverend Dr. John W. Mann | January 14, 2024

John 1:43-51

Some dreaming is the brain’s way of clearing out the clutter of everyday living and restoring order to our thought processes. Most dreams are forgotten soon after we wake up.

Some dreams stay with us. They are the way that our sub-conscience mind speaks to us when our waking defenses are not in play.

Some dreams, I believe are God’s way getting through to us. As such, they are not so much a part of our imagination as they are a part of God’s vision for what is possible. There are stories in the bible about God reaching out to people through dreams. There was Joseph in the Old Testament who knew how to interpret the meaning of dreams. Jacob dreamed of a ladder reaching to heaven, with angels climbing up and down it; a vision of God’s messengers moving through the world. And Joseph the husband of Mary; God told him through dreams what he needed to do.

I’ve heard many people tell of their dreams. And they will say that some dreams are like no other dreams; they seem too real. The truth of the matter is like how St. Paul describes seeing a reflection in a misty mirror. Someday the truth of the matter will be revealed.

I can think of three dreams that had a powerful effect on my life. One was in my twenties and it was a vision of what might be. One was in my forties and it was an affirmation of God’s love. One was in my sixties, a recurring dream of what was yet to be, and which has since come to pass. Is it merely wishful thinking on our part? What is faith though if not wishful thinking? Hoping for what we do not yet see.

The story is told in John’s portrait of Jesus of his encounter with a dreamer.

When Jesus met a man named Nathaniel he said, “Now here’s a true Israelite; a man of truth and integrity.”

Something about the way Jesus described him struck a chord. Nathaniel, somewhat cautiously said, “How do you know me?”

Jesus told him, “I saw you sitting under the fig tree.”

He saw him sitting under the fig tree. That seems rather vague. But because of that Nathaniel decided to follow Jesus. Something is going on under the surface. What does that mean “sitting under the fig tree?” Perhaps there was something about the experience that Nathaniel thought was a private moment – some thought, prayer, wandering of the mind, singing of a song that captured for him the moment of, “This is me, this is who I am, this is my heart and soul, my hopes and dreams.” 

Maybe Nathaniel was in crisis. “Lord show me the way.”

Whatever it was, Jesus said, “I saw you there.” That was enough.

“Sitting under the fig tree” is related to the metaphor of “gathering figs.” Gathering figs is a metaphor for study, for searching for knowledge, truth and understanding. Gathering figs is daydreaming.

Some people see that as a waste of time. What good can come from your silly dreams?

What good have dreamers ever done? We might ask, what good have artists ever done, or what good are the people who make the music or tell the stories? What good are the teachers?

Tomorrow, the 15^th of January is a national holiday in America – Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. There will be observances around the country and people will recite excerpts from his speeches – most notably his “I Have a Dream” speech that he gave in Washington DC in 1963.

In one sense the holiday that memorializes Dr. King is a way that a nation honors what he stood for. Yet in another sense, by memorializing the prophet, the dreamer, the system takes ownership of what he stood for and disempowers the dream. Dreams don’t become reality just because we wish them into being. Dreams become reality through hard work in the light of day and through the darkest night.

A few years ago we took a tour down memory lane to the places where my wife Lindsay lived when she was growing up in Mississippi and Alabama. In Starkville, Mississippi where her dad had been the Presbyterian minister, we visited had a small park a block off Main Street that celebrates various people who made a difference in the struggle for civil rights. On a Brick wall there were large pictures displayed of people who said and did significant things in the struggle for equality. Along with each picture was that person’s story.

One picture was of a woman named Fannie Lou Hamer. She was arrested when we she tried to register to vote. She became a voting rights activist and one time she was arrested and thrown in the county jail. The deputies in the jail selected two male inmates and gave them blackjacks and forced them to beat Mrs. Hamer to within an inch of her life. When she underwent surgery at the hands of a white doctor she was sterilized against her will.

She never quit, but she did say in a nationally televised speech, “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.”

Lindsay’s dad was the minister at the Presbyterian Church in Starkville. It was a large, prestigious congregation. It was the sort of church that after being there for a suitable time, he could write his ticket to the big leagues. But churches like that have certain expectations. The expectation is that the pastor doesn’t make waves; the pastor should know his or her place. The pastor goes along to get along.

Some folks can do that. There are adjustments to be made, compromises with one’s own sense of integrity. And some folks can’t do that. Lindsay’s dad was fired because he insisted that his children would attend the integrated public school rather than the newly built all-white academy. In the south of the 1960’s and 70’s that meant he was kicked off the path to big steeple churches. A troublemaker and rabble rouser. But maybe that’s what it took for him to find his true calling. He started gathering figs and wrote books as a result.

We happened to meet the pastor at the Presbyterian Church in Starkville. We talked about how far things have come since the 60’s and 70’s days. We were reminded of how far things have yet to go when we asked him what he thought of the park just off Main Street. Though he had lived in that town for some years and the park was mere blocks from his church he said, “I’ve never seen that. I’ll need to get over there one of these days.”

“I’ll need to do that one of these days,” is another way of saying, “I will never get around to it.”

Sometimes if I pass by a church building that no longer houses a congregation, I wonder about the people who used to occupy it as a community of faith. I wonder about what their life was like as a church. What would the people back then think if they could see their building now in its new role? Would they have done anything differently? Could they have?

One time I wrote a description of what my “dream” church would look like.  It would be a church where the people love God whole-heartedly and love their neighbors as themselves. One that welcomes all of God’s children, not because they’ve earned the right to be there, but because Jesus invited them to the table.

This would be a church in which stewardship is not about raising money for the budget, but about raising Christians for the kingdom of God.

A gathering where people have more questions than answers, who think critically and take Scripture and its mandates seriously, so that people do more than give lip service to ideals like peace and justice and where people stand up for what they believe even if it isn’t the popular thing to do.

A church that has a vision for service to its community and for mission in a world that is bigger than “our own backyard.”

Somewhere young people are valued and encouraged; where old people can share their wisdom; where leaders roll up their sleeves and serve. A fellowship that doesn’t personalize conflict and where the common ground of faith in Christ is stronger than the differences.

A church where doing its work is in itself a source of spiritual enrichment. Where laughter is heard, where the kitchen gets used and where little kids run around the fellowship hall. Where the carpets get worn out because people walk on them and where people don’t worry about smudges because that’s how custodians make a living.

I dream of a church where people will step out on faith and live their hopes and not their fears.

That is my calling. So far, I have not been disappointed.

“I know you,” says Jesus.

I heard you weeping.

I heard you singing in the shower.

I saw you walking along the road.

I was sitting next to you that time in the car.

I was with you when you dreamed.

I am with you now.

Amen.