Lectionary
readings: Acts 16:9-15 and Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5 and John 14:23-29
It
is good to be with you on this the Sixth and penultimate Sunday of Easter. This
coming Thursday is Ascension Day, when we remember Jesus’ return to heaven forty
days after his resurrection; and ten days later we celebrate the outpouring of
the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Those in-between days are traditionally a time of
gathering together to pray, and in recent years the Archbishops of Canterbury
and York have called the Church to a renewal of this observation, under the
banner Thy Kingdom Come. And so today I would like us to consider prayer, and
what corporate prayer might look like here in this place over these days—and
beyond?
Our
first reading today, from the Book of Acts, recounts how the gospel first came
to Europe. It starts with a vision, given to Paul by God. On the day of
Pentecost, Peter had reminded the people of the words of the prophet Joel:
‘in
the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all
flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men
shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.’ (Acts 2:17)
Now,
I don’t know if there is an exact distinction, but I take visions to refer to those
things God calls us to see come into being in our own time, and dreams to refer
to those things we shall not see but will sow the seeds of: as Dr Martin Luther
King said, ‘I have a dream…’ But Paul has a vision, and shared it with friends
who would help him to act on it. And the first thing they search out is ‘a
place of prayer.’ Now, it was Paul’s practice to go first to the local
synagogue, to find those rooted in the story of God; and that they were
searching for a place of prayer, outside the city gate and by the river,
indicates that there was not, at that time, a synagogue in Philippi. And that,
in turn, indicates that there was not, living in Philippi, the minimum thirteen
Jewish men required to have a synagogue.
And
I wonder how often, when we gather to pray, we can raise a minimum of thirteen
men? Easily, on a Sunday morning. But at other times? As when the first church
in Europe was established under the oversight of Lydia, so, often, it is our
women who take the lead in meeting to pray. And while I want to affirm the
women in that—unreservedly—I think it worth throwing out the challenge to our
menfolk to step up and join in…
Our
second reading, from Revelation, depicts the new Jerusalem. And again, it is a
vision, not a dream. That is to say, this vision of a place where the gates
never shut, where the river of life flows, where the tree of life bears its
fruit and its leaves for the healing of the nations, is not primarily a glimpse
of a far-distant future beyond the end horizon of history. It is, first and
foremost, a vision of the triumph of God over the Roman Empire, and of the
church, set free from persecution. It is a vision of what we are called to be. It is a vision of what we are, albeit imperfectly fulfilled. It is
a vision—pray God, a vision, not only a dream—of what the church in Iran might
soon be, freed from persecution. It is a vision depicted in our east window—a
reminder to us of our calling every time we gather together. Gaze upon it: see
the energy with which the river of life flows from the altar to the city and
our entire wider region, symbolised by the coats-of-arms of the City of
Sunderland and the See of Durham. And note the motto of our city: nil desperandum, auspice deo—do not
despair; trust in God—or, as Jesus put it, ‘Do not let your hearts be troubled,
and do not let them be afraid. You heard me say to you, “I am going away, and I
am coming to you.”’
But
perhaps we have yet to consider, what
even is prayer? The former chief rabbi, Lord Jonathan Sacks, said [I
paraphrase] that God sends his blessings, like rain, on all the earth; and that
prayer is adopting the posture of a bucket, to receive and know we have
received blessing and to carry that blessing to others. Or, to put it in a
slightly different way, the river of life flows out to all the earth, and
prayer is the posture of meeting by the river, of coming near, of being
refreshed, perhaps of digging irrigation channels to carry this river—that does
not run dry—to others. Like we see Lydia doing. And, as we see with Paul at the
very start of or readings today, such a posture is possible even as we sleep.
Prayer is a form of whole-of-life orientation. Nonetheless, it will involve
gathering together with others to pray.
What
might it look like to see that heavenly vision fulfilled in this place? Well,
Carol and Adrian are helping us press into 24/7 prayer—gates never shut. We’re
pressing into being a place of welcome—and as part of that, attending to
safeguarding. We’re called to pray for those who experience the night of sorrow
or bereavement; for those who exist but don’t experience the joyful energy of
the water of life. We’re called to pray for and respond to those who
hunger—spiritually, and physically—and to trust God that his provision will not
run out, but bear fruit in regular season. We’re called to pray for the healing
of the nations—including our own deeply divided nation—and to minister healing
and reconciliation to our city.
And
as we seek to live out such a vision of a corporate prayer life, Jesus, in our
Gospel reading, gives us three things that should characterise our experience:
the
presence of the Holy Spirit with us, as our Advocate and teacher;
the
peace of Jesus, that our hearts might not be troubled, even in troubling
circumstances;
and
joy, that springs from sharing in the love of God.
Who
wouldn’t want to be in on such a vision, being made our reality?
Thy Kingdom Come is a call to prayer, and specifically a call to pray for five
friends that they, like Lydia and her household, might come to know Jesus. Five
friends. Who might you pray for—and speak to—between now and Pentecost?
On
Ascension Day—Thursday 30th May (this year)—we will gather at 7.00
p.m. And then, on the weekdays between then and Pentecost—on the 9th
June—we will gather together for Morning Prayer at 9.00 a.m. and for an hour of
prayer at noon. In the evenings, Carol and Adrian will host a time of prayer in
their home, from 7.00 p.m. And from the morning of Saturday 8th June
there will be continuous 24hr prayer until our services on the morning of
Pentecost. Finally, on the evening of Pentecost we will gather here at the
Minster for a time of prayer and worship. So, come and pray, at whatever time
and venue you are able. Since God poured out his Spirit at that Pentecost some
two-thousand years ago, he has not stopped-up the flow. So, come.
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