Are there some stones in our spiritual foundation that are slightly out of whack, enough so that we might stumble over them from time to time? Of course, we each have our own particular obstacles to becoming the kind of disciples we hope to be; but I want to suggest there are three that are likely shared by all of us. And by naming them we might just begin to avoid them the next time, to sidestep them, and then perhaps begin to help each other do the heavy lifting needed to push them back into the foundation where they can serve the appropriate load-bearing function God intends in the building of this spiritual house.
Our first stumbling stone is the temptation to believe and in some, the conviction, that who we are, what we’re worth, is… what we own, what we can hold in our hand. And though we could point to those familiar examples of rampant consumerism, and our urge to accumulate possessions, and spending way too much of our treasure on things we don’t need at all—which was pretty much the theme of last Sunday’s sermon—there is a far more immediate illustration that goes straight to the root of that stumble.
How do you feel about being here for worship at Town Hall this morning? It’s really OK, and I am so grateful to all of you who did the legwork to make it happen when it needed to. But I’ll be honest: I’m a little uneasy here, not because it isn’t a safe and decent space, or because there’s the odd sensation of this mirror behind me, but because it’s unfamiliar, it feels a little unnatural, maybe it’s a little harder to get a sense of God’s presence because I’ve become so used to encountering God in the space of our sanctuary. And therein lies the stumble: God is as present here in this civic space as God is in the sacred space I’m missing this morning. You and I together are as much the church of Jesus Christ as we are when we happen to be in that 1808 meetinghouse. But that feeling that things aren’t quite OK without the right physical surroundings is exactly the basic human feeling of vulnerability that can drive adults to buy huge houses and cars they can’t afford, that drives nations to battle over borders and resources, that drives individuals to suspend kindness and community to get whatever sort of power or glory they want, and that can drive some churches to become more like museums and clannish enclaves and less living communities.
The unnerving truth is that our possessions—even beloved church buildings—can’t save us. They aren’t what make a faithful person or, as Peter puts it, what makes a spiritual house. If concrete possessions become too high on the priority list, they become a stumbling stone—that’s true for nations, and local governments, and churches and, to the point, for you and me. As flesh and blood creatures we need physical, tangible things to help us get along in life and in faith. And when we can muscle that big load-bearing stone back in its proper place, our possessions become part of the foundation for building a spiritual life, not the life itself. Being here today is a blessed reminder that we are the church, not the building we love. The building matters, but it’s just part of the foundation for the spiritual house.
The second stone that is likely to fall out of plumb has to do with what we allow to go into us. My early teachers used to say things like, “Jonathan, if you can dream it, you can do it.” That was encouragement to envision being successful in life, being happy, having dreams and goals and going out and making them happen. I still believe that truth, but it cuts both ways. If we surround ourselves with positive role models, good and decent people, if our dreams are positive, about affirming life and helping others and being grateful, we will live into them. But if we fill our heads with negative dreams and painful images, those may very well, or have already, come true, too.
We are a very cynical culture; we tend to be problem identifiers far more often than problem solvers. Our sources of daily news all live by the maxim, “If it bleeds, it leads.” We fill up our leisure time watching television talking heads moderate arguments about everything that’s wrong with the world, the country, the government, the left, the right, and the person they happen to be arguing with; we delight in reality TV which seems to draw the worst from the participants; we play video games which reward the most violent of behavior, simulated though it is. Much of what we call entertainment is just empty. But what is the point in filling up one’s head, one’s consciousness and unconsciousness with everything that’s wrong, everything that magnifies anxiety and conflict, that delights in how low we can go?
This is not political position, and I’m not suggesting doing away with First Amendment rights or banning everything that isn’t rosy. But whether we have a firm or crumbling foundation for our spiritual life comes down to choices you and I make every day. We are creatures that are shaped, formed, influenced and inspired by our environment. What we put into our souls is as important as what we put into our stomachs. A balanced life requires that we acknowledge and understand and express and address the painful and difficult parts of human life: that’s a load-bearing part of a well-aligned foundation. But it doesn’t mean a steady, exclusive diet of it in children or in adults. Part of the ongoing stewardship of this life is learning to sidestep the lure of the negative. The foundation of God’s spiritual house is made stronger when we fill our minds and hearts with images and ideas that shape and inspire us positively. This isn’t Norman Vincent Peale, this is common sense.
And the third stone I think all of us need to keep resetting into the firm foundation has to do with the way we treat each other day to day. When that stone gets out of place, it can throw the whole foundation off, and while I know how hard you and I try to avoid stumbling that way, it may be the hardest of all. We all know we’re losing the commonness of courtesy, and if that sounds a bit Victorian, it’s not, because it matters a lot. Part of me says that families just don’t have the time or energy these days to reinforce lessons in children for being courteous to and mindful of others. But that can’t be it alone, because adults are just as bad, if not worse: I see adults cut in line ahead of me every day; I interact with clerks who act like I’m imposing on them for asking a question; I hear people make comments about strangers to their faces; I see others going for seconds before the line has gone through once. And the anonymity of being in a closed vehicle brings out an absolutely amazing degree of disregard and selfishness. Basic civility is being replaced by instantaneous vulgarity and knee-jerk dismissal.
Even for those of us who really try, there can be an atmosphere of suspicion and self-protection in the most innocent of circumstances. We hold people at a distance while we inwardly rage at the rudeness and insensitivity we see and experience. It seems such a small thing, really, but when it happens constantly the effect builds up, it changes us, it nurtures apprehension and mistrust. And for those who already seem to be on a steady diet of negativity—that second stone out of place—it confirms quite nicely that the world is indeed a cold, bleak place. Good stewardship is holding firm to our sense of civility and courtesy; it’s a basic stone in the foundation of any community. That doesn’t mean we limit truth telling in love and choose instead to nod and smile politely all the time; it means the words and actions we use in relationship, even at the surface, need to be thoughtful and intentional.
Friends, the foundation of our spiritual house becomes firmer every day—that’s happening literally across the way, and inwardly every day you and I try to be better and better disciples of Jesus Christ. But there are some big stones in those foundations that need constant attention to stay solid, steady, and secure. We’re going to dedicate our pledges in a few minutes, and that’s an important piece of our stewardship of the foundation, maybe we could think of it as a keystone, but it’s not the only one. We are also called to be stewards of spiritual stones, to keep some from falling out of place causing us to stumble.
We are called to be stewards of our possessions, and that means not only taking care of and giving thanks for physical things, but being vigilant to not allow those things to take over our lives and attention. We are called to be stewards of what we allow to enter our hearts and souls; we can’t and shouldn’t avoid harsh realities that need faithful attention, but we have to choose carefully, and willingly allow positive, inspiring, uplifting people and circumstances free access to us before the negative. And we are called to be stewards of each other, most simply in the form of how we choose to interact on ordinary days, choosing kind words and giving benefit of the doubt over clever barbs and distancing suspicion.
A house—a church building or a spiritual community—is built stone by stone, carefully and thoughtfully laid out. With Christ as the cornerstone, let God continue build you and me—and us together—into such a strong, spiritual house, and then enable us to be good and faithful stewards of it.