Sermon by Reverend Dr. John W. Mann | November 3, 2024

Mark 12:28-34

The people in the church where I hung out as a kid were serious about their religion. It was their way, their truth, and their life in a religion of absolutes – heaven or hell – no shades of grey. That seemed good back then; to know God in certain terms with no doubt about it.

Children tend to take things at face value. If the preacher says you need to be saved by the blood of the lamb to avoid going to hell when you die, then I wanted to know to avoid that. Especially since they were always reminding folks, “If you were to die this very night…”

Yet I wondered, “How can you be so sure?” If I asked the minister or people I respected, “How can you be so sure?” they usually said, “Pray about it and God will show you the way.” I had a study bible with different subjects listed and verses you could look up to see what the bible said. All the studying and praying I did still left me wondering.

One time one of the elder pillars of the church came to talk to our young people’s Sunday school class. Harley Halgren, a good old Swede. He was a person of integrity to the core. One of us asked Harley a question. The question was, after all these years what kind of temptations did Harley face?

Harley thought for a moment and then he said, “Doubt. The longer I live the more I struggle with doubt.” I appreciated Harley for that answer. He was an honest man and his answer showed it. If even Harley Halgren was tempted by doubt, then maybe my doubts were a normal part of the journey.

I decided to go to seminary to train to be a church minister, and maybe expand my knowledge of God. I wanted to be one of the people who knew things for sure in a way down deep way. I thought if I spent some time, years even, studying faith, then I would be sure. Someone at church said to me, “Be careful when you go to seminary, John. People go there with good intentions, but they end up losing their faith.”

Losing faith?       That will never happen to me. I will never lose my faith. But sure enough, by the time I was ready to finish seminary, after four years of study, I had indeed “lost my faith.”

There was a time when I could carry God around in a convenient package. But the more I thought about God, and studied the very idea of God, the bigger God became. In time God got so big that God no longer fit into the convenient package that had once been my faith. The belief system I came to seminary with was not the same as the one I carried out the door. Especially since I signed on with the Presbyterians.

My mother said, “At least now you can drink.” The people at my home church were heartbroken. “Poor John Mann,” some of them said. “He lost his faith. He went off and joined the Presbyterians.” What had happened though, I didn’t lose ‘my faith’; I lost ‘their faith.’

That can happen when people outgrow their religious upbringing. One option then is to stop believing altogether. If I can’t trust in an either/or answer for everything, then there must not be a God. Or if one believes God is an angry tyrant that sends to hell if you think the wrong thing, then there must not be a God. If God is merely a violent bully who throws pain into your life to teach you a lesson, then there must not be a God.

Another option, and maybe the harder option than just not believing altogether, is to believe in a God who cannot be contained within the limits of human thinking; to realize that God is beyond measure; that God is mystery. That kind of God raises a lot of questions; questions that don’t have easy answers.

There have been occasions where my faith has been tested, challenged, refined and even lost, then found again. An occasion as simple as walking into the sanctuary. Behind me are a young couple carrying the small white coffin that holds the body of their two-year-old son. The faith that entered through the door is buried in the grave with that child and on the tombstone are carved the words, “Bad things do indeed happen to good people.”

Faith can stay buried and lost; or it can rise from the tomb. If it rises again, it is with the realization that somehow despite it all, God is love and God just has to be bigger than human thinking, and human suffering.

It’s when we give up thinking we must carry God around in a convenient package, that we discover God is carrying us. When we let go of our need to defend God, we discover God doesn’t need our defense. We find out that being certain is not important. Faith is more like the writer describes it as, “Being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” Certainty is the opposite of faith.

People asked Jesus about faith. Some people who were full of their own sense of importance would argue with him about it. He didn’t seem to worry about winning them over. He focused on his mission, to reach people who were open to hear the good news. They were often the ones in the margins. The poor, the sick; the lepers and the outcasts. The sinners and the people broken down by life. The folks who might just be receptive to the message of love; of God saying, “let me share the load.”

One time someone asked Jesus what was the most important rule of life; the first commandment before all others. That was simple: “the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.”

Basically, he was saying, “Put God first. Don’t worry about trying to figure out God or explain God. That you cannot do. Just love God; that you can do.”

That seems odd in a way. In order to know God, love God. You would think that Jesus might say, “In order to know God you need to study on God.” But when you think about it, the people you know the best tend to be the ones you love the most.

That’s probably why Jesus didn’t leave it at a simple answer. He said, “There’s a second one close to it: love your neighbor as yourself.” Don’t worry about trying to earn extra credit through some complicated assignment. Just love God and love your neighbor. That is a formula that has yet to be improved upon.

The guy who asked Jesus that question was duly impressed.

Jesus told him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.”

I like that. It’s as if he offered the guy a blessing: you are not far from the kingdom of God. It’s like when you’re lost and you stop and ask someone for directions and they say, “You’re not far.”

I like that as a blessing because it says don’t worry about arriving. Just be content with not far to go, getting it close, almost there, always some way that it can be tweaked and perfected. Never perfect, but close enough to be good enough.

The funny thing about losing your faith and God getting way too big to be contained within human limitations is that you begin to see God’s possibilities. The possibilities that Jesus pointed to in his teachings; the kind of possibilities that he died for; but also the possibilities that could not be killed.

Love your neighbor as yourself – Some Christians cling to the idea that we should “love the sinner but hate the sin.” However, no one owns the copyright on love. When I hear someone say, “Love the sinner, but hate the sin,” I often say, “Then tell me your sins so that I might find something about you to hate.” Up until now I just loved you.”

What might our lives, as a community, as a society begin to look like if we authentically treated love as the greatest commandment? Imagine the possibilities. God is beyond measure and God’s possibilities are without limit.

When I was a child, I wanted certainty in matters of faith; in matters of life itself. Now I see faith as the assurance of things hoped for and certainty of things unseen. Like God, hope is without limits. Sometime around twenty-five years ago I came across some writings of a fellow named Bruce Prewer from Australia. He wrote a statement of faith that touches the breadth and depth of hope. I found it to be a guiding light –

“Although I may spend all my days with disjointed relationships around and conflicts within me, I believe in ultimate reconciliation.      

I believe in the reconciling of all things through the grace of Christ.

Personal relationships shall not remain locked in alienation forever.

Misunderstanding and suspicion shall not always subvert openness.

Resentment and revenge shall not prevail over forgiveness.

Tyranny and exploitation, shall not perpetually trample on justice

Violence, terrorism and war, shall not always outgun peace.

Carelessness and apathy shall not forever diffuse compassion.

Personal and political deceits shall not overwhelm integrity.

Prejudice and discrimination and shall never strangle goodwill.

Graft and corruption shall not put paid to honor and trust.

Ignorance and blind dogmatism shall not finally divide and rule over truth.

I believe in peace.

I believe in grace.

I believe in love.

I believe in God.

Because I believe in Christ, I believe that love will have the last word.”

Amen