So Great a Cloud of Witnesses
Heb. 11:29-12:2; Luke 12: 49-56
Whenever I read this morningís passage from Hebrews, I think about our
old church in
It would be nice, but it wouldnít be exactly honest. No, actually,
this passage brings to my mind two things from
Second, the passage reminds me of my good friend, the Rev. Doug Gerdts. Now Doug was a couple of years ahead of me in
seminary. The Gerdts family lived right around the
corner from us in
This passage is Dougís favorite one in all of scripture. He told me
once that it was the great cloud of witnesses at
Now, by the time Doug told me that, he was well on his way to becoming
the gifted and talented pastor he is today, and he had devised some good
mnemonic devices to know the order of all the books in the Bible ñ something
that I still donít know. I figure thatís why they invented a table of contents.
I tell you these tales of my own ignorance and that of my good friend
and colleague in ministry to underscore an incredibly important theological
insight that is too often overlooked: God is not looking for or waiting around
for perfect people to fill in all the ministry that needs doing around Godís
world.
Look at the folks named in this passage: Rahab
was a prostitute; Gideon was disbelieving enough that he had to test God with a
fleece not once but twice; Barak was reluctant; Samson
was a self-absorbed womanizer; Jepthah was a scheming
deal maker; David ñ well, he had his Bill Clinton problems; and Samuel led the
people into an ill-fated monarchy.
Faithful servants? Well, yes. But perfect? Far from it.
You donít have to be a Biblical scholar ññ or even know all the books
in the Bible ñ to be called into ministry. You donít have to be particularly
pious ñ or even know that Hebrews is in the Christian scriptures ñ to be called
into ministry. You donít have to be spiritually, ecumenically or even
grammatically correct to be called into ministry.
If God were waiting for perfection to call ministers of word and
sacrament, every pulpit in the world would stand empty. If God were waiting for
perfection to call people into public service, every public office would stand
empty. If God were waiting for perfection to call people into teaching, every
classroom would stand empty. If God were waiting for perfection to call people
into parenting, none of us would be here today. If God were waiting for
perfection to call people into the community of faith, every church, every
synagogue, every mosque, every temple would sit empty.
Itís often said that the perfect is the enemy of the good. Perhaps
itís also true that the perfect is the enemy of God ñ at least insofar as our
own recognition of our own limits and imperfections too often stands in the way
of doing what we feel called to do.
The question is not, ìare we good enough to do what we feel called to
do?î Because the answer to that is often, ìno, not today.î Every one of us,
from time to time, feels inadequate to the demands of work or home or school or
parenting or being a good big brother or good child. And every one of us, from
time to time, feels inadequate to the demands of faith, to the calling to be
the
For that, ultimately, is what this passage is all about: how are we to
be the church? Even in naming imperfect models of faith, even in noting the
suffering they endure, the passage from Hebrews urges us on nevertheless. In
spite of who we are, not because of it, we are encouraged to run the race that
is set before us with faith and with perseverance.
Now it struck me as amusing that the lectionary cycle this year brings
us into Hebrews, with all its athletic imagery, just as the Olympics are
beginning. It got me to thinking about sitting on
We watched the elite African runners lead the field running past the
13 mile mark faster than I could run a short sprint. They were beautiful and
awesome to watch.
Iíve done a lot of running over the years, but Iíve never been very
good at it. Now my younger brother, Tim, is a distance runner good enough that
he came within about five minutes of the qualifying time for the Seoul Olympics
in 1988. While there are undoubtedly some significant differences in our
respective levels of basic athletic ability, the biggest difference between my
running and my brotherís is pain tolerance.
Thatís no doubt the reason why the closest Iíve come to a marathon was
in
But Tim has the elite athleteís ability to compartmentalize pain and
keep on running with perseverance the race that is set before him for 26 miles,
385 yards. Not me. When it begins to hurt a little, I slow down; and when it
begins to hurt a lot, I stop.
Clearly, thatís no way to win a marathon. Pain is part of the package.
Moving with this metaphor as itís employed in scripture, then, the author of
Hebrews is clearly telling us that suffering is part of the journey of faith.
Likewise, in our gospel reading from Luke, Jesus promises not comfort
and peace, but a baptism of fire and strife and division. This life of faith is
not a bed of roses. Rather than a victorís laurel wreath, the reward, it seems,
is a crown of thorns.
Certainly, there will be suffering along the way. If we are doing our
jobs as Christians, there will be scars for we are broken people living in a
fallen world. The powers and principalities are not make-believe ghosts from
horror films ñ they are real and they haunt the land.
Why bother, then? Why not opt out? Why not sit on the sidelines with a
muffin and a latte?
Perhaps, if I were another kind of theologian, now would be the time
for an alter call, the time to paint a picture of the fires of hell on the one
hand and the glories of salvation on the other, the time to tell you that we
run the race to win that glory.
But I am not that kind of theologian. I do not believe that to be so.
After all, as the litany of the faithful clearly demonstrates, God is not
waiting upon our perfection. God is not waiting upon us to win anything.
Indeed, ultimately it seems to me that the dominant metaphor breaks
down right here, for the imagery of athletic competition inevitably caries with
it ideas about winners and losers. We donít run the race of faith to sort out winners
and losers, to see whoís in and whoís out, to determine who is deserving in
Godís eyes.
As for me, I run this race because while I know that there is pain and
suffering along the way, there is also deep and profound joy in the running.
There is incredible connection and community to be found and forged with my
companions along the way as we run together.
I do not run this race because I am any better than those who run
other races or who run no race at all. I do not run this race in pursuit of my
own salvation; nor do I run it to sort out whoís in and whoís out, whoís saved
and whoís not.
No, I run this race because we are people of the way, called into the
world for a particular mission that requires movement. That mission, that
particular calling, is to share a singular, simple insight that belongs to
those who call on the name of Christ, who seek to journey after the one who
said ìfollow meî: we know ourselves to be beloved and we know that all of
creation is likewise beloved. We are called, charged, sent out to share that
gospel. We are the disciples of the One sent because ìGod so loved the worldî
(John
As the theologian Douglas John Hall puts it, ìThe Christian gospel
isnít about the perfect church; itís about the perfect love of God.î[1]
We run this race not to earn Godís love, but to participate in it and
witness to it in a world that too often does not know itself to be beloved. We
run it together, as church, rather than as individuals, because faith seeks
community,[2]
and Christian faith, in particular, is a ministry of reconciliation, as Paul
told the church at Corinth (2 Cor. 5:18).
The aim of this ministry ñ the finish line, if you will, or the great
end of the church as our Book of Order
names it ñ is nothing less than the salvation of humankind. We donít achieve
that ñ we participate in it. For, at our best, when we are a community of
reconciliation engaged in ministries of reconciliation, we are ìan exhibition
of the
The great cloud of witnesses is not sitting on the sideline sipping
latte. Itís right here, right now, running with us. We are part of it ñ for
each other and for those whose lives we touch. Stopping to pick up those who
trip and stumble along the way. Binding one another up, bearing one anotherís
burdens ñ not to win Godís favor but to share in Godís creative joy and extend
it a little bit further where we can with what gifts we have in the little time
that is ours.
We have seen a picture of the end of the race: the powers do not win.
God does. We are the people of Easter. We are a resurrection people. We trust
in our very running that though the route may be long and tortuous, passing by
way of the cross, our lives do not end there ñ they begin.
God has, and does and will guide the feet of the faithful; and our
running is not in vain. Amen.
Rev. Dr. David E. Ensign
[1] Douglas John Hall, Why Christian? (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998), 123.
[2] Ibid., 136.
[3] The
Great Ends of the Church (G-1.0200 in the Book
of Order) are ìthe proclamation of the gospel for the salvation of
humankind; the shelter, nurture, and spiritual fellowship of the children of
God; the maintenance of divine worship; the preservation of the truth; the
promotion of social righteousness; and the exhibition of the