Looking Back to Move Forward in Faith

Scripture Lessons: Joshua 24: 1-2a, 14-18 and Ephesians 6:10-20 Sermon Title: Looking Back to Move Forward in Faith Preached on August 22, 2021 Last Sunday the Atlanta Journal Constitution ran an article about CT Vivian’s ties. You know CT Vivian. He was a contemporary of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. He’s one of the heroes of the Civil Rights Movement, and his friends used to kid him for always dressing too nice. Even growing up during the Great Depression his mother and grandmother had him in tailored suits, and this habit lasted throughout his life. In fact, a men’s group he was involved in met every other month and the one rule was that when you came to the meeting you didn’t wear a tie, unless you were CT Vivian, so when he died at the age of 95 in 2020, his children had to decide what to do with all his ties. This is what they did. Along with a note and a picture, in a nice box, they sent them to his friends. The Rev. Jim Lawson, The Rev. Gerald Durley, The Rev. Alphonso Lyons Jr., poet Hank Stewart, author Michael Harvey, graphic artist Donald Bermundez, tech firm founder Noelle Adams, all of them told their CT Vivian tie stories in last Sunday’s paper and they all went something like this: “When I opened the package and saw the tie I remembered CT Vivian, all the times we talked, and how he made me feel special just by the way he was. Thinking of him and our friendship made me tear up and then when I felt the honor of having in my possession something that was once his, the tears really started coming. It’s probably the most meaningful gift I’ve ever received.” That’s powerful, isn’t it? I’m glad they didn’t just take the ties to Goodwill, aren’t you? Have you ever received a gift like that? I have. Andrew Hickman was my neighbor back in Tennessee. He lived just a few houses down, and the day we moved into our house there he showed up to welcome us to town. I had been pulling up carpet, so I was dusty and sweaty the first time we met. He introduced himself and said I looked like an old ally cat, which is what he still calls me. Then he spent the rest of the afternoon helping me pull up carpet. Andrew is the kind of guy who shows up ready for a job like that because he always keeps a pocketknife on him. It’s one his grandfather gave him. That day I noticed it and throughout our seven years as neighbors I saw that knife again and again. On the day we moved out of that house and here to Marietta he walked up, sat down next to me, and without saying a word placed that pocketknife in my hand. It’s one of the most meaningful gifts I’ve ever received. Have you ever received a gift like that? I hope you have. It happened to me again just last week. When I walked into my office upstairs there was a care bear sitting at my desk. You might know that we have a wonderful preschool here, and as I walk through to go to lunch during carpool, I get to know some of the kids. One of the most precious is a little girl named Kate, who is three years old. Last year she baked me cookies. Last week she let me borrow her care bear. It came with a note that said, “Dear Mr. Joe, you will love my pink baby. I love you. I have a flower on my dress. Please return pink baby today when you are done snuggling him. Love, Kate.” Have you ever received a gift like that? I know you have. Every year we give a gift like that to a group of 3rd graders. We just did it again this morning, although it’s not immediately clear that the gift of a Bible is just as significant as a tie from CT Vivian, a pocketknife from Andrew, or a pink baby from Kate. These Bibles we give them are brand new. They’re not the Bibles read by their grandparents. They weren’t held by their uncle the Sunday School teacher. They don’t have the notes in the margin from their mother. The connection, the intimate, precious connection, isn’t immediately obvious, so let me explain some. This morning we read: Joshua gathered all the tribes of Israel to Shechem, and summoned the elders, the heads the judges, and the officers of Israel. And Joshua said to all the people, “It is the Lord our God who brought us and our ancestors up from the Land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery, and who did those great signs in our sight. He protected us along all the way that we went, and among all the peoples through whom we passed... Therefore, we also will serve the Lord, for he is our God.” Now remember that when Joshua said this, Moses, the one who led the people out of slavery in Egypt, had died and had been buried. Who from those days was still around after wandering through the desert for 40 years? You must conclude that many of people there assembled didn’t remember wandering in the wilderness at all, much less slavery in Egypt. They had been born in the Promised Land and that was all they knew. Likely there were others who had just joined the group as they traveled or once they broke ground, yet Joshua here connects all of them to those days which had come before. As a tie from CT Vivian connects those who wear it to the march from Selma Alabama or the great bus boycotts, these words from Joshua connect those who heard him speak that day to the historic struggle for freedom. His words root the young in the legacy that blessed them before they were born. This is the gift of Scripture. The promise of Scripture enables us to sing: This is my story, this is my song even if it happened to some long lost distant relative 25 generations removed. Even if this is the first time you are hearing about the great deliverance from slavery, you are an heir to the promise, a child of the Creator, a member of the household of God. You don’t have to have been there to inherit the legacy. You don’t have to have lived it to benefit from the struggle. You don’t have to be a blood relative to be a part of the family. You don’t have to have done it yourself to know that it can be done. Consider your personal Bible and hear me quote again, “It is the Lord our God who brought us and our ancestors up from the Land of Egypt.” Let yourself feel those first-person pronouns, for we are not readers of history but heirs to the promise. This is our story. This is our song. That’s a powerful thing, isn’t it? It’s a gift is what it is. In the pages of those Bibles are the stories of our people. In those pages are the stories of fights won and battles lost, wayward women redeemed, arrogant men humbled, a father’s love and a brother’s hatred, stories of forgiveness, vengeance, good times celebrated, bad times that we made it through, and most of all, within those pages is the truth about a God who has been with us from the very beginning knitting us together in our mother’s wombs and who will be with us to welcome us through the pearly gates into the Kingdom of Heaven. That’s the truth. He never slumbers nor sleeps nor forsakes you. Why? Because you are his people. You are His child. Ask the little ones about it. They know. They sing: Jesus loves me this I know. How do you know it? For the Bible tells me so. I learned all about it here in this church. Mrs. Corley and her husband Jimmy were my Sunday School teachers. Mrs. Vivian Stephens taught us to sing. This is a song she passed on to me that I can still remember, and I hum it to myself from time to time: I am a promise, I am a possibility I am a promise, with a capital “P” I am a great big bundle of Potentiality Newly back here in Marietta, just a few years ago, I sang that song again with Bob and Vivian Stephens in their living room. She had the pages ready and the music at her piano. She looked at me and she said, “I knew it then. You were a promise, now you’re a reality,” and it made me cry then and it makes me cry now because there are things that people pass down that make all the difference. A tie. A pocketknife. A care bear. A song. The Bible you’ve been given. We carry things around with us and they help us keep going. Think about what your father kept on the top of his dresser or what your great-grandmother put in her young husband’s hand as he went off to fight in a war. The objects have power, not because the thing has power but because the person, the person who couldn’t be with them, somehow is. A janitor named Tom Kiefer started taking pictures of the items confiscated by Border Patrol on the border of the United States and Mexico. Those who journeyed up from Central or South America carried with them things like toothpaste, combs, and soap. Kids brought their toy cars. So many carried with them a pocket sized, blue New Testament from the Gideons. Why? It’s because there are moments in life when all you need to keep going is the reminder that you are not alone. You need a reminder that people, our people, have made it through hard times before, and somehow even they are still with us. Just as they kept going, we will keep going. Just as they persevered, we will persevere. Just as they ran their race in faith, so will we. But if you’re empty handed, how will you remember? If you don’t know the song you won’t be able to hum it to yourself when you need to be reminded, and if you don’t know the stories, you’ll think you’re facing hardship all on your own. That’s an actual fact. It’s been proven more than once that children who have grandparents and know their stories are more resilient than children who don’t. And I don’t have any data on this, but I’m still going out on this limb to say, that if you know that while David was running for his life, he was writing psalms and that when Jesus was on the cross, he quoted on of them, you’ll be more likely to sing your way through hardship. Not only that, but if you know that God made this earth and knit you together, than you’ll be less likely to throw yourself away. So, here’s the problem: many Bibles are collecting dust and too many Sundays School Classes are half full to nearly empty, which means that we are sending children out into an uncertain world defenseless. That there is armor for our children to wear, but they need us to suit them up, for the stories must be heard for them to do us or our children any good. The songs must be sung. The ties must be worn, the pocketknives must be used, and the care bares must be snuggled. The belt of truth must be fastened, the breastplate of righteousness must be put on. The shoes must be laced, the shield must be taken up, the helmet must be put on the quench the flaming arrows of hopelessness and discord. If we are to persevere, give yourself, give your children, every advantage. For the Word of God is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. Amid all the changing words of this generation, there is truth. Despite all the misdirection and confusion, there is a road map. And no matter how alone we might sometimes feel, the Words of Scripture remind us all of this one life changing fact, this truth that enables us to make it through all the hard things: we are not alone. For God is ever by our side. Halleluiah! Amen.