All Saints Sunday. One of those many blips on the radar screen of our busy lives that scarcely raise an eyebrow. You pull into the pit stop that is worship on Sunday morning, expecting the crew to come rushing out and give you the lift that you need, the new tires, the refuel, checking that rattling noise coming from under the hood somewhere and you hope that it isn’t serious because you’ve got to get back out there before you fall too far back in the race. We sit in the pew with our engines running because this is at best a momentary lull in the busyness that is our lives these days, a catching of the breath before entering into the never-ending stream of machine and metal, of tasks and responsibilities, of needs and hurts we are too busy to pay attention to.
Our restless eyes settle for a fly’s second on the words “All Saints Sunday” before flitting off on their continual search for something meaningful. Or at best distracting. Something that will help us avoid the questions that we don’t really want to answer, or even contemplate for too long. Questions like are we wasting our time here this morning, is there anything to all of this, or is it all an elaborate hoax, smoke and mirrors with nothing behind the curtain after all?
Wow, where did that come from? How did a reflection on the minor recognition of All Saints lead to fundamental questions of faith? I’m not really sure, except that we Protestants (Yes, I know United Methodists aren’t technically Protestants - but that is an issue for another day) have always had an uneasy relationship with those called Saints. We want to take a more New Testament view than the Roman Catholic one and see saints as any follower of Christ and not just the extra-ordinary ones. But even so, the very word conjures images of certainty and perfection (yeah, ok, yet another essay for another day - darn that John Wesley anyway). Something beyond our reach anyway, we are just getting by, we are just plugging along wondering if we are coming close to breaking even in this faith thing anyway, being right at least as often as we are wrong.
No one is going to look at us and consider us saints. That’s for darn sure. Oh, well, maybe when we are dead and gone and folks have forgotten how shaky we were, how sketchy - that’s Maddie’s latest word for everything that just isn’t quite right, a bit dubious, a bit edgy, a bit ... sketchy.
Admit it, it is out of our reach, this status, this goal, this light - this unapproachable light. We can’t get there, so why bother? Why remind ourselves by commemorating something called All Saints Sunday? I mean besides the fact that it is on our calendars. Maybe it is about hope. Maybe it is about memory. Maybe it is about legacy. And maybe it is about putting one foot in front of the other.
1 Timothy 6:12-19 Fight the good fight of the faith; take hold of the eternal life, to which you were called and for which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses. 13 In the presence of God, who gives life to all things, and of Christ Jesus, who in his testimony before Pontius Pilate made the good confession, I charge you 14 to keep the commandment without spot or blame until the manifestation of our Lord Jesus Christ, 15 which he will bring about at the right time-- he who is the blessed and only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords. 16 It is he alone who has immortality and dwells in unapproachable light, whom no one has ever seen or can see; to him be honor and eternal dominion. Amen. 17 As for those who in the present age are rich, command them not to be haughty, or to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but rather on God who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. 18 They are to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share, 19 thus storing up for themselves the treasure of a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of the life that really is life.
I can’t decide if Paul’s instructions to Timothy here are encouraging or frustrating. On the one hand he holds out this image, this golden ring of an existence that is seemingly within our reach. “Fight the good fight, take hold of the eternal life to which you were called and for which you made the good confession.” It seems like we could just reach out and grab it, just work a little harder, just strive a little bit more, set our alarms a little earlier and we would have it in the bag.
But then, he has that middle bit, that doxology of sorts, like he breaks into song in the middle of his dictation. And he reminds us that we won’t make it. At least that is what it sounds like. “It is he alone,” not you, not me, “who has immortality and dwells in the unapproachable light.” The impossible dream, the unreachable goal, so why bother? I mean, good for him and all, but not sure what it does for us. For me. For you.
Except that as Paul presents it, it seems like an invitation, not a warning, not a boundary. It is an entrance into something more wonderful than we can even imagine. This unapproachable light is not inaccessible, just unapproachable. Huh? Why would he go on to talk about building a foundation if there was no possibility of standing in that light? Why would he invite us to take hold of the life that really is life if there was nothing there to take hold of?
It is there. I believe it. That light, that life. It is there. I know that sometimes it seems unapproachable. I know that sometimes it seems like it isn’t for us, I know that sometimes it seems so far from where we are and even where we are heading. And yet, I believe it, with my whole being I believe it. And sometimes I see it in the hands and hearts of the saints around me.
Maybe we focus on those who have gone on ahead of us on this Sunday because they aren’t distracted by the world we live in any more. They aren’t wrapped up in a million things, trying to do this and that and the other thing hoping that one of them will make sense before they are done. Plus the memory of them reminds us that there are things beyond our vision that are worth working toward, there are values you can’t put in a bank that are worth grabbing hold of. We read those names and are reminded that life is bigger than what is right in front of our eyes. That legacy really does mean something. And if we can learn from them, if we can retain something that they taught us or showed us or gave to us, then we are even more blessed.
And then we can begin to live to be remembered. Not by shining so brightly that everyone is dazzled by our brilliance, but by living our lives pointing to something beyond us. By giving to something bigger than ourselves and our own comfort. By building a foundation that others can build on. By giving of ourselves for others so that we are not remembered for ourselves but for our generosity of spirit, of time, of money, of life. We give ourselves away in order to find ourselves. Or to be found.
That’s what the unapproachable light means, it seems to me. If we set out to make our own way there, we won’t find it. We can’t get there by dint of our own strength or talents or resources. We can’t get there at all. But if we give ourselves away, if we live not for ourselves but the community around us, loved ones and strangers all, then we just might find ourselves there. And will discover we have walked in that unapproachable light all our lives, lives that full of life that really is life.
Praise God for the Saints who stand in the light. May we join them there.
Shalom,
Derek
Our restless eyes settle for a fly’s second on the words “All Saints Sunday” before flitting off on their continual search for something meaningful. Or at best distracting. Something that will help us avoid the questions that we don’t really want to answer, or even contemplate for too long. Questions like are we wasting our time here this morning, is there anything to all of this, or is it all an elaborate hoax, smoke and mirrors with nothing behind the curtain after all?
Wow, where did that come from? How did a reflection on the minor recognition of All Saints lead to fundamental questions of faith? I’m not really sure, except that we Protestants (Yes, I know United Methodists aren’t technically Protestants - but that is an issue for another day) have always had an uneasy relationship with those called Saints. We want to take a more New Testament view than the Roman Catholic one and see saints as any follower of Christ and not just the extra-ordinary ones. But even so, the very word conjures images of certainty and perfection (yeah, ok, yet another essay for another day - darn that John Wesley anyway). Something beyond our reach anyway, we are just getting by, we are just plugging along wondering if we are coming close to breaking even in this faith thing anyway, being right at least as often as we are wrong.
No one is going to look at us and consider us saints. That’s for darn sure. Oh, well, maybe when we are dead and gone and folks have forgotten how shaky we were, how sketchy - that’s Maddie’s latest word for everything that just isn’t quite right, a bit dubious, a bit edgy, a bit ... sketchy.
Admit it, it is out of our reach, this status, this goal, this light - this unapproachable light. We can’t get there, so why bother? Why remind ourselves by commemorating something called All Saints Sunday? I mean besides the fact that it is on our calendars. Maybe it is about hope. Maybe it is about memory. Maybe it is about legacy. And maybe it is about putting one foot in front of the other.
1 Timothy 6:12-19 Fight the good fight of the faith; take hold of the eternal life, to which you were called and for which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses. 13 In the presence of God, who gives life to all things, and of Christ Jesus, who in his testimony before Pontius Pilate made the good confession, I charge you 14 to keep the commandment without spot or blame until the manifestation of our Lord Jesus Christ, 15 which he will bring about at the right time-- he who is the blessed and only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords. 16 It is he alone who has immortality and dwells in unapproachable light, whom no one has ever seen or can see; to him be honor and eternal dominion. Amen. 17 As for those who in the present age are rich, command them not to be haughty, or to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but rather on God who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. 18 They are to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share, 19 thus storing up for themselves the treasure of a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of the life that really is life.
I can’t decide if Paul’s instructions to Timothy here are encouraging or frustrating. On the one hand he holds out this image, this golden ring of an existence that is seemingly within our reach. “Fight the good fight, take hold of the eternal life to which you were called and for which you made the good confession.” It seems like we could just reach out and grab it, just work a little harder, just strive a little bit more, set our alarms a little earlier and we would have it in the bag.
But then, he has that middle bit, that doxology of sorts, like he breaks into song in the middle of his dictation. And he reminds us that we won’t make it. At least that is what it sounds like. “It is he alone,” not you, not me, “who has immortality and dwells in the unapproachable light.” The impossible dream, the unreachable goal, so why bother? I mean, good for him and all, but not sure what it does for us. For me. For you.
Except that as Paul presents it, it seems like an invitation, not a warning, not a boundary. It is an entrance into something more wonderful than we can even imagine. This unapproachable light is not inaccessible, just unapproachable. Huh? Why would he go on to talk about building a foundation if there was no possibility of standing in that light? Why would he invite us to take hold of the life that really is life if there was nothing there to take hold of?
It is there. I believe it. That light, that life. It is there. I know that sometimes it seems unapproachable. I know that sometimes it seems like it isn’t for us, I know that sometimes it seems so far from where we are and even where we are heading. And yet, I believe it, with my whole being I believe it. And sometimes I see it in the hands and hearts of the saints around me.
Maybe we focus on those who have gone on ahead of us on this Sunday because they aren’t distracted by the world we live in any more. They aren’t wrapped up in a million things, trying to do this and that and the other thing hoping that one of them will make sense before they are done. Plus the memory of them reminds us that there are things beyond our vision that are worth working toward, there are values you can’t put in a bank that are worth grabbing hold of. We read those names and are reminded that life is bigger than what is right in front of our eyes. That legacy really does mean something. And if we can learn from them, if we can retain something that they taught us or showed us or gave to us, then we are even more blessed.
And then we can begin to live to be remembered. Not by shining so brightly that everyone is dazzled by our brilliance, but by living our lives pointing to something beyond us. By giving to something bigger than ourselves and our own comfort. By building a foundation that others can build on. By giving of ourselves for others so that we are not remembered for ourselves but for our generosity of spirit, of time, of money, of life. We give ourselves away in order to find ourselves. Or to be found.
That’s what the unapproachable light means, it seems to me. If we set out to make our own way there, we won’t find it. We can’t get there by dint of our own strength or talents or resources. We can’t get there at all. But if we give ourselves away, if we live not for ourselves but the community around us, loved ones and strangers all, then we just might find ourselves there. And will discover we have walked in that unapproachable light all our lives, lives that full of life that really is life.
Praise God for the Saints who stand in the light. May we join them there.
Shalom,
Derek
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