10/07/07

2 Timothy 1:1-14 and Luke 17:5-10

Paul speaks of remembering. He writes to Timothy—I am grateful to God—whom I worship with a clear conscience, as my ancestors did---when I remember you constantly in my prayers night and day. Recalling your tears, I long to see you so that I may be filled with joy. I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice, and now I am sure, lives in you. For this reason I remind you to rekindle that gift of God that is with in you.

I remember you in my prayers; I remember your tears, I remember your heritage of faith.

Memory is a very powerful force in our lives. It is a power we ignore to our loss and our peril.

Think of your own memories. You may have moved from one house to another. Sometimes the move is down the street or around the corner, sometimes it is across the country, or even from one side of the world to the other.

There comes a time in moving when all the boxes have been packed. The rooms are empty, the windows bare, the water shut off so that leaky faucet no longer drips, the windows bare. As you walk through the rooms that have been your home you hear the echoes of footsteps, the voices of forgiveness and encouragement. You see the bare rooms full of furniture. You the little girl standing so straight against the wall as you mark her growth with a pencil. You see the young woman dressed to the hilt as her date picks her up for the prom. You see family and friends sitting around the table, sharing stories and lives. You know in these places life was lived. You know the places where the sick bed was, where secrets were shared, where dreams were made, where disappointments were faced. And now prepare to close the door one last time and move on to something new and unknown. You can’t see your memories anymore but they are real. You move them too.

One of the most significant things we do, when we move or receive some kindness is to say thank you to another person. It is common curtsey to do so. Some even say it is a religious act to say, as well as receive, a thank you.

When we are given something, the gift giver recognizes us. Proper manners recognize that we say thank you. But beyond propriety we say yes I know you have recognized me on this occasion. Any gift given out of joy is not given out of responsibility.

We remember so we give.

When we have been given something, we say thank you. To say thank you is to say I have received your gift, and I choose to acknowledge you are important as you have also done for me

To say thank you is for the couple to recognize the family friend for a wedding gift, for the third grade teacher to recognize a student for a Christmas gift, for the single parent to remember the friend who kept the children so she could have time alone.

Timothy speaks of remembering:

I remember your tears, I remember your heritage of faith. And I rekindle the gift of that is within you. The gift of God is a flame. Flame is fire. Fire is light. Light is power. The gift of God is a spirit of power and of love, and of self control.

Our God is a God of memory. The communion table in front of us says—Do this in remembrance of me. Do what? Take, eat the grain from the earth, and drink the fruit of the vine remembering the one who gave us the example of his life and the power of his Spirit. Remembering Jesus Christ is central to our life as a church, our faith as individuals and as a community.

Jesus told us that he was going to prepare a place for us: in my Father’s house are many rooms…” There are rooms waiting for memories to be made right here and now. Memories of the faithful gathered in 2007. Memories of 12 people who journeyed to MS. Memories of young people who shared with us in song and dance the gospel of Jesus Christ. Memories of young people who stood before a session and read their statement of faith. Memories of the ones who mourn as they see the results of the ministry of the one they loved. Memories of women who made quilts for children in transition at Anchor House. Memories of faith being rekindled, of shining a little bit brighter, and little bit stronger.

Memory has power. It is personal power. It is community power.

But when we are really honest with ourselves, we realize that it is hard to rekindle that faith that has grown dim. It is hard to keep our connections with the community of faith, with all the demands in our lives. It is hard to do the things, and to be the kind of people, we know we should do, and be, as disciples of Jesus Christ. It is hard to be a herald and apostle of the gospel, when we live in a world that tells us that faith is irrevalant. It is hard not to live with a spirit of cowardice when it comes to our faith. And like the disciples we cry out Increase our faith!

As I was working on this sermon, a day popped into my mind from the summer of 1979. It was the fourth of July, and it was miserably hot that day, the tempeture was going to be 100+. I think when Anita and I woke up that morning the temperature was already in the mid 70’s. We looked at each other and wondered how we were going to survive the onslaught of the heat that was headed our way. We decided to get in the car and travel up into the mountains of Pennsylvania. We went to a state park, which the Youchegheny River flowed through. At this one point in the river just before the river turned into rapids the water was very shallow, and there were rocks jutting out all over the river. I remember walking into the river with all kinds of people and find a rock to sit against as the cold river rushed over your body. As the day went by we sat in the river and the cold current washed oppressive heat away.

Faith is sort of like that. When we encounter those times when we wonder if there is a faith to rekindle, or there never seems to be enough faith within for what we need to do in life. We step into the river and let this river of faith flow over us. Tracy Chapman sings I am ready. I want to go where the rivers are overflowing. And I’ll be ready to let the rivers wash over me.

When it seems as though our faith is growing dimmer and dimmer. When our faith has been so dry for so long that we have forgotten how to pray. When our faith is not up to the challenge of life and we are ready to leave it behind for something else, we arwe called to step into the river of faith, and let that river wash over us with its life giving waters.

This river of faith that has been fed by people like Timothy’s grandmother, and mother, the apostles, St Francis who taught us to love all of God’s world. Mother Teresa who showed us what it was like to serve God even in the darkest times. You own parents or grandparents who showed courage and love when faced with difficult decisions. A friend or a teacher who went out of their way to bring light into your world with a reconciling word, a healing touch, a prayer of hope. All of this flows through our memories, all of this flows through our faith. People who went before us, people who live out their faith alongside of us. People who are a part of that river of faith.

It is this community memory that gives us life. It is that community memory that is the good treasure that has been entrusted to us.

We remember the echoes of empty houses. We remember to say thank you. We remember that there are people who not only have given us our faith but who constantly feed that faith. We remember Jesus Christ as we gather around this table. We remember the life given to us to share. Let us be gracious and say thank you to the gift giver as we gathered round his table.

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