Last Sunday after Trinity

2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18

Recently the New Testament readings in the Lectionary have been from the pastoral epistles, and I have taken the opportunity to preach a mini-series which you may recall I introduced as letters from an older Christian to a younger Christian. Letters full of wisdom and encouragement, written with affection to friends wrestling with how their faith relates to their experience of life, with all its challenges. And today we come to the culmination, as Paul shares end-of-life wisdom.

We are so privileged to get to read over Timothy’s shoulder; for we are a congregation where many of us are living in the final years of life – a season, beautiful in its own time, towards which we all journey – alongside others who are both younger and younger in the faith.

The first thing I want us to note are these words: ‘As for me, I am already being poured out as a libation, and the time of my departure has come.’ (2 Timothy 4:6).

Paul describes the inevitable acceleration towards the end of life as being poured out, as an offering to God. For Paul, approaching death has meaning and purpose, in itself – as well as the hope that life does not end in death, hope that sustains us in our longing to see Jesus face-to-face. This last season is not a diminished experience of life, but a different one. One that comes with great loss, undoubtedly; but also with its own gift, its own calling. As the elderly mother of a friend of mine wrote recently:

‘I have moved to a different country of late: the country of old age, weakness, increasing helplessness, and grief. This is also a country with time for prayer and reflection; of deepening relationships, and increasing sensitivity to the beauty of the world around, to the kindness of others; a place of unexpected gifts, sometimes from what seem the most unlikely places.

‘As I travel around this country, I frequently experience fear, acute anxiety, depression, grief and at times panic.

‘It is also a place where I am trying to learn to trust; to trust that God is a God of love, who cares for us; to try to discern God’s love and care for us all, even though there are many times when I struggle to do so; to not close my eyes and my ears, or “harden my heart”, because if I do that, if I don’t try to trust, God cannot help me.’

The image of being poured out as a libation might call to mind Jesus’ first miracle, as recorded in John’s Gospel, turning water contained in large clay jars into wine, drawn out for a wedding banquet, a sign that revealed his glory (John 2:1-11).

It might call to mind Mary of Bethany, pouring out costly fragrant perfume over Jesus’ feet; in front of Judas, who, caught-up in himself, cannot understand why this is as necessary in its time as public works of service (John 12:1-8).

It might also call to mind Paul’s own imagery of our lives being like treasure contained in clay jars, ‘always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies. For while we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus may be made visible in our mortal flesh.’ (2 Corinthians 4:7-12).

The wine is being poured out. It cannot defy gravity, and flow back into the vessel. Indeed, the clay jar that had contained it is soon to be broken, by careless hands. But not before it has been taken up by loving hands, nail-scarred hands, the life within blessed and transformed, a foretaste of glory.

We enact this Sunday by Sunday, as different members of the congregation bring the wine forward, and it is poured out into the chalice. Yes, we do this to remember Jesus’ blood poured out for us; but we are also offering ourselves, our souls and bodies as a living sacrifice of thanks and praise. The wine is ‘fruit of the earth and work of human hands’ … and it is also symbol of our lives poured out in response to the one who poured out his life for us. This returned love is a holy mystery, and one which surely becomes more poignant as we intentionally face death, whether through aging or illness.

The second thing I want us to note are these words: ‘But the Lord stood by me and gave me strength…’ (2 Timothy 4:17a). In his trial, Paul’s friends deserted him. On the surface, Paul is on trial before the authorities and his friends can’t face it, just as Jesus’ disciples deserted him, out of complex emotions of fear and sorrow. But I think that we can also quite legitimately read these verses beneath the surface: that Paul’s younger companions could not yet face what he had to face, could not go where he had to go – the end of life – and that Paul, while understanding and gracious, did not want Timothy to be so unprepared.

I have been a member of local churches that are made up predominantly of younger people, and I have been a member of local churches that are made up predominantly of older people. Those of us who are younger need those of us who are older, need to learn from you how to experience life in all its fullness even as outwardly we are wasting away. And those of us who are older need those of us who are younger, need your support in a society that withdraws from the elderly out of a pathological fear of aging and dying. One of the beautiful things about the Minster is multi-generational families. And my hope and prayer is that this is a community where the more frail our members become, the more valued they are. Not in false ways that resist the new thing that the Spirit is doing in any given moment, but in faithful ways that anticipate and respond to the Spirit, in prayerful trust and joy, as together we learn to stand with Jesus who unfailingly stands by us.

A week ago, I had the most profound spiritual encounter as I served the bread at Communion. I found myself mesmerised by the hands of each who came forward to receive Jesus, especially the older hands with fingers bent by age. Your hands are beautiful. They shine with future glory that has been seeping into the present over many years. As I ministered to you, you ministered to me; you showed me what it looks like to be poured out as a libation, lives reaching beyond themselves, beyond outward circumstance, reaching out for Jesus where the intangible is made tangible.

And I imagine that I will have a similarly holy goose-bump moment when the wine is brought forward and poured out in just a little while.

So if you are old, or if you are dying, may the Holy Spirit yet again transform the wine of your life, along with the wine in the chalice, that you might carry the presence of Jesus into the world.

And if you are young, and that season of being poured out lies many years ahead, may the Holy Spirit strengthen you again to stand alongside those being poured out, however painful that might be. Amen.

Twenty-first Sunday After Trinity

Genesis 32:22-31 and Luke 18:1-8 and 2 Timothy 3:14-4:5

Three stories of struggle.

The first is a story of a man coming home. He has been away from home for many years. He ran away from home, because he had dishonoured his family and his brother intended to kill him. And tomorrow, they will come face-to-face again. Imagine what Jacob must be wrestling with, on the inside. He sends everyone else ahead of him, so he can face the darkness alone. But God comes and wrestles with him, all night long, until daybreak. Many years before, on the first night of his flight to safety, God had made a promise to Jacob. A promise never to leave him alone and, one day, to bring him back home (Genesis 28:10-22). God was not going to let Jacob give him the slip now.

The second story is a parable Jesus told, about a widow struggling for justice. The judge in this story is a caricature of the most ungodly person you could imagine, someone who openly disregards the greatest instruction, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.’ (Deuteronomy 6:4, 5)

and also, ‘You shall not render an unjust judgement … with justice you shall judge your neighbour … you shall love your neighbour as yourself: I am the Lord.’ (Leviticus 19:15-18)

and again, ‘Cursed be anyone who deprives the alien, the orphan, and the widow of justice.’ (Deuteronomy 27:19).

The appointment of such a man to a position over others is in every imaginable way bad news for anyone of integrity. But if even someone who has removed himself so far from God, and placed himself so far above other people, will eventually do what is right – albeit out of self-interest – then we can be sure that God – who is loving and just – will grant justice, however long he must wrestle, with us, against unjust actions.

Moreover, it is through such struggle – to live out a society marked by love, expressed by justice; to live such a life even against the flow – that faith is kept alive.

And finally, a letter, from Paul to Timothy, full of encouragement to keep struggling: continue … be persistent … endure …

What have you been struggling with this week? For some of us, it has been mental health issues [World Mental Health Day, 10 October]. For others, the inequality faced on a daily basis by girls and women in the world [International Day Of The Girl Child, 11 October; and the US Presidential election campaign]. For some, it has been the pursuit of a place of refuge. For yet others, the journey deeper into growing old, where loss overtakes gain and past overshadows future, and yet even in this strange new land God may be found faithful. For some it has been the demands of work; or the emptying nest; or the uncertainty of our immediate future; or the madness of the world … or any combination of the above. You are not alone.

One of the things Paul tells Timothy is that God breathes life into scripture, to create a wrestling-partner for us: for humans, whom God fashioned from clay and breathed his life into. Here we stand, today, facing this struggle or that: all of which are very real; but none of which are new. And God has given us a wrestling-partner, full of experience, full of records of our ancestors who struggled before us. Full of parables: did you know the word ‘parable,’ describing a story thrown into the mix of our everyday lives, means ‘to throw down beside’? That sounds like a wrestling move to me. And coaches, too, like Jesus and Paul, and others. Teaching us, challenging us, correcting us, training us; with the goal of our being shaped for a life of working for good in the world.

When I go for a run, there are times when I think, ‘Why am I doing this? It hurts too much. Is it worth it?’ In a similar way, sometimes the things we read in scripture knock the wind out of us, pin us to the ground in a painful hold. And at such times we get to cry out, with Jacob, ‘I will not let you go, unless you bless me.’ There must be a blessing here, however hard it is to see right now. Please, bless me, or else there is just death, not a dying to myself in order to find life in its fullness. Oh, and my limp? My scars? They are my testimony to God’s faithfulness and healing in the past.

What have you been struggling with this week? You are not alone. Today we come together, whether the time is favourable or unfavourable, because God intends to bless the world through us, and will not let us go.

Nineteenth Sunday after Trinity

2 Timothy 1:1-14

It has been a few weeks since I preached at this service, and I want to pick up the occasional series hearing Paul’s letters to younger believers. Last time, we considered his letter to Philemon, and this time we’re listening-in on his second letter to Timothy. Here’s the background:

On several occasions, Paul found himself in prison. Most often this was, ostensibly at least, for his own safety. People opposed to his message would stir up a riot, and, instead of imprisoning them for disturbance of the peace, the authorities found it more expedient to detain Paul. Eventually, Paul, a Roman citizen by birth, appealed to the Emperor for his freedom, and so found himself detained, transported, and eventually under house arrest in Rome. It is from there that he wrote to Timothy. Now, there is a school of thought that sees this as being the final months of Paul’s life; and there is another school of thought that thinks Paul was granted his freedom by the Emperor, travelled – as he had hoped to do – to Spain, carrying the gospel there before ending up back in Rome, back in prison, and only then executed for his faith. We simply can’t say, for certain.

Timothy, whom Paul met on his travels, was like a son to him. That is to say, Paul assumed the role of Timothy’s father, to apprentice Timothy up to eventually take over from him, much as Moses had done with Joshua, and Elijah had done with Elisha. They had travelled together, co-authored letters to churches together, and in time Paul had appointed Timothy to be overseer of the church he [Paul] had planted in Ephesus. But with Paul imprisoned in Rome, Timothy was having a wobble.

We’ll come back to Paul and Timothy, but first I want to tell you about Benjamin and Ali. Many of you will know that Benjamin and Ali are brothers from Iran who have become part of our Minster family since arriving in Sunderland earlier this year. Ali was only 17 when they arrived. We celebrated his 18th birthday recently; and the next time they went to Middlesbrough to report to the police, as asylum seekers have to do on a regular basis, they were detained and transported to an immigration Removal Centre in Scotland. You see, they had passed through Germany on their journey to claim asylum in the UK, and so our officials say that they must claim asylum there. So they are currently in detention, awaiting deportation.

Some of you have written to their solicitor and to our MP, and many people are praying for them. The place where they are being kept is by no means terrible – they are not free, but the facilities are good, and the staff seem kind – but being removed there has been a traumatic experience, and we are concerned for their wellbeing. Chris went up to see them last Monday, and Jo and I drove up to visit them on Friday. Our observation would be that Ali is coping better than he was at first – though he still has a one-to-one officer with him at all times making sure he is okay – but that Benjamin is struggling more than he was to begin with. They were both overjoyed to see us, and to hear the love we brought with us from you. We continue to pray for them, that God would somehow be at work in their circumstances to bring about good for them, and to redeem that which has been far from good.

With our brothers and our whole community in mind, let us return to Paul and Timothy. Paul was detained under house arrest, and Timothy was experiencing what we might call a crisis of faith. In response, Paul asks Timothy to look at the situation from a different perspective.

The first thing I want us to note is that Paul sees his circumstances as an opportunity to share in Jesus’ experience; to be able to identify, in however small a way, with what was done to Jesus. You see, Jesus is not only our Saviour but also our Lord, who calls us to follow him, who seeks to conform our lives more fully to his; who does not promise to keep us from bodily harm but in whom we have the promise of being saved even from the clutches of death. Paul sees his imprisonment as a privilege he did not have when he was free. And in the light of that, he asks Timothy to see his own freedom, and Paul’s imprisonment, as opportunity to experience oneness with Jesus through suffering the things he suffered. This is not about seeking out trouble, but rather about expecting it, about not being surprised by it. Benjamin and Ali came to this country to follow Jesus, and find themselves imprisoned and rejected – and Jesus is right there with them.

The next thing I want us to note is that Paul turns his circumstances completely on their head, as an opportunity to embrace a greater understanding of the gospel. He uses the very language of imprisonment under guard to encourage Timothy to entrust himself to God as the one who will guard his life – remember, Paul has been turned over to a guard for his personal safety. Moreover, God has asked Timothy to be guard over the life God has entrusted him with, with the help of the Holy Spirit. In verses 12-14, Paul uses the words ‘trust,’ ‘guard,’ ‘entrusted,’ ‘guard,’ and ‘entrusted’ again, to fully develop his point: even prison can be used by the Holy Spirit for our spiritual growth, and that of others. It is an unexpected and frankly an audacious move! Far from a disaster, God is at work to bring good out of circumstances that are not great. Likewise, what has happened to Benjamin and Ali ought to encourage us to reflect on our lives and ask what we need to entrust to God, what good treasure has been entrusted to us.

Leading on from that, the final thing I want us to note is that Paul encourages Timothy to rekindle or fan into flame the gift that God has given him, which was publicly recognised when Paul laid hands of blessing and commissioning on Timothy. We’re not told what the gift was – wouldn’t you like to know? – but Paul does tell us about how he has stirred up his own God-given gifts of being a herald and an apostle and a teacher, even while under house arrest. In these circumstances, the herald gets to proclaim the gospel to the household of the Emperor, the apostle is sent to the very heart of the Roman Empire, and the teacher has opportunity to write to his disciple. God has given each one of us a gift or gifts with which to play our part. How will we rekindle them when they die down, as will happen again and again? Benjamin has practical, hands-on gifts, and he is hoping to make a wooden holding cross in the workshop. Ali is more academic, hopes to be a doctor one day, and we encouraged him to make whatever use he can of the library. And what of you?

It has been a challenging week. Today is a gift, an opportunity to renew our faith in God who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; God who is Creator, Redeemer, and Life-giver. To be made-anew; to be delivered once again from whatever would hold us captive; to be enlivened to follow Jesus all the way home. Let us not lose hope, but receive power and love and self-discipline, to live within grace, mercy, and peace. Amen.