Why So We Say the Apostles' Creed, a sermon based on Genesis 1: 1-4 and 2nd Corinthians 13: 11-13, preached on May 31, 2026

If you look at your order of worship, you’ll see that the title for my sermon today takes the form of a question. Thinking about this 10-week sermon series on the Apostles’ Creed, your pastors thought it best to begin by asking, “Why do we say the Apostles’ Creed?” What’s the purpose of this ritual that we take part in, Sunday after Sunday? Each week I ask, “Friends, what do you believe?” Is it like Pavlov’s Dog that you recite without thinking, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty? Why do we say the Apostles’ Creed? If the unexamined life is not worth living, then the unexamined ritual is not worth doing. Rather than keep the tradition for the sake of tradition, consider with me why we say the Apostles’ Creed that this element of the worship service might have a greater depth of meaning. So why do we do it? Reason number 1: because it is good for a group of people to remember that they pretty much believe the same thing. Have you thought about that? Think with me about all that we have in common. While we all have a favorite hymn, and my favorite hymn is not the same as your favorite hymn, we sing out of the same hymnal. We may have a different favorite Bible verse, yet we read from the same Bible. We sit in different pews, yet we are under the same roof, and we all stand together and say, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty” because there are virtues that unify us. There are standards that we hold in common. With one voice, we say, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty.” Before we even get to the meaning of that phrase, which is the subject for next Sunday’s sermon, consider the miracle of saying something together, and I say it is a miracle, for we live in a divided nation, yet each Sunday, we stand in agreement. To stand in agreement is noteworthy, for as a people, we are not all that agreeable. Some of us argue with our waiters, which doesn’t make any sense. To argue with a person who has ample time to spit in what you’re about to eat is foolish, yet people still do it. Some also argue with their television sets. Your TV can’t hear you, yet many do that as well. Some of us even argue with ourselves. It’s been said by my friend Steve Lebow, the Rabbi Emeritus of Temple Kol Emeth in East Cobb, that whenever there are two Jewish people gathered, there are at least three different opinions, yet here we stand to say, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty.” Remember that in a world of uncertainty, you believe in something, and don’t forget that you stand with the person next to you to share core convictions that you have in common, for a divided house cannot stand. I once heard a story about a man who, shipwrecked, lived on a deserted island alone for five years. When his rescuers came, he first wanted to show them around. There were three huts. “The first is my house,” he said. “The second is my church.” “What’s the third?” his rescuers asked. “That’s the church I used to go to. I don’t go there anymore. I couldn’t get along with those people.” Let’s talk about “those people.” There is diversity of opinion and background within this church. You don’t all vote the same way. You don’t think the same way. Some have been members here for generations. Others are here for the first time today. Some of us dip our French fries into ketchup; others, like barbarians, squirt their ketchup on top. Some wake up and drink coffee and others, orange juice. Some come to church for the music; others for their Sunday school class. I once knew a man who said that he just came to church for the hugs. In this culture of isolation, we join here as a family of faith, a community of believers, members all in the household of God. Our differences are miniscule compared to our common convictions. Our accomplishments give no one a reason to boast, for we are all in need of the Savior’s grace. When we rediscover what we share, it changes the way we interact, not only with the people in here, but the people out there. Last week, I was blessed to chaperone our high school mission trip. I’m so glad I did, even though I got home at 11:00 last night and am suffering from severe sleep deprivation. My daughters were less than enthusiastic about their dad going on this trip, but they eventually relented, and I’m so thankful because I got to see them in action. I watched as our little youth group became a community. That’s what happens when you’re stuck in a van for hours without a phone in your hands. Our youth group voted to leave their phones at home for the trip because they know that their phones keep them from talking with each other. Without their phones, talking with each other is what they did. They also served the Lord all over Georgia and Alabama. During the trip, we volunteered here at the Pantry on Church in the rain. The next day, we drove downtown to feed unhoused men and women along Ponce de Leon. The pastor we partnered with there encouraged our kids to get to know the people they fed. Introducing us to his leadership team, he mentioned that one of the people who was organizing the meal we’d serve still spent his nights without a roof over his head. Before we even started, we were rubbing shoulders with different kinds of people. It was an uncomfortable thing to eat with people who look different and smell different rather than just put food in their hands, so at first, the members of our group were standoffish. They were being asked to talk with people they typically avert their eyes from, yet slowly, in the breaking of the bread, they recognized that people who find shelter in bus stops and spend rainy days in public libraries are just people. People with needs, yes, but also people who could quote Scripture, and who wanted to encourage our young people. People with names and stories and wants and dreams. Some with college degrees. Others with artistic gifts. One man we ran into twice used the money people gave him to buy pens and markers that he used to create beautiful artwork, intricate masterpieces that he carried in plastic bags to protect from the elements. We asked him if he sold them, and he said he simply created them for the glory of God. Isn’t it good to remember our common faith that binds us together? Notice with me the Apostle Paul in our second Scripture lesson; as he closed his letter to the church in Corinth, he writes, “Finally, brothers and sisters, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you. Greet one another with a holy kiss.” I just love that. It makes me think about changing the way we pass the peace of Christ. “Greet one another with a holy kiss.” Maybe that’s a little too much, but you can’t kiss someone you don’t trust, and you can’t trust someone if you don’t know where they’re coming from, so let us remember that we share common convictions. We all stand to say that we believe the same thing. Remember that, for we live in a land of paranoia and anxiety. A world of suspicion and fear. Our culture, be it the news, the media, or social media, keeps us so focused on the darkness that we forget about the Light. Whether we are high school freshmen who walk through the halls of the high school fearful of whoever comes around the corner or adults living alone going days or weeks without hearing anyone call them by name, when we offer each other welcome, we provide a gift, and when we are attuned to convictions we share in common, it helps us to feel a little less alone. There’s a great line from the author of the book Theo of Golden that so many people are reading. In an interview, the author said that Theo helps a town of individuals remember that they are neighbors. Would you remember that the person sitting next to you is your brother, and that your sister lives across the street? Would you dare to live that hymn we grew up singing? We are one in the Spirit. We are one in the Lord. And we pray that all unity will one day be restored. And they’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love. Yes, they’ll know we are Christians by our love. Another incredible experience we had last week on that high school mission trip was eating food prepared from chefs born in the Congo, Ethiopia, and East Asia. Before we tried what they prepared, our high school students were asked by our hosts about their favorite exotic food. “What’s something adventurous that you like to eat?” they asked, and Thomas Foster said, “Fiber One Cereal.” Now think about this with me. Thomas Foster’s idea of exotic is Fiber One Cereal, and yet, he was served salad made with tea leaves from Myanmar, wet bread spiced with seasonings he’d never heard of from Ethiopia, and the fried pastries served at Congolese weddings, yet he tried all of it. They all did. They ate the food that they were served. They were welcomed by the chefs who served it. They were learning that while there are movements that claim to be Christian at work within our nation right now that so focus on what makes us different, the way of Jesus reminds us that what truly matters is not where we come from or whom we vote for but the faith that we share: “I believe in God, the Father Almighty.” Not everyone in here looks the same or dresses the same, we’re not all from the same generation, we don’t have the same amount of melanin in our skin, some of us have more hair on our heads and others less, yet we all say, “I believe.” I believe the same as you and you as me, for the body is weak when it is divided, but we are strong when we stand together in faith. Would you stand with me now? Together, let us say what we believe.