I doubt that he was the first, but it was Bob Dylan who sang it in the early 1960s: “The times they are a changin’ . . .” But who heeds the words of the prophets?
One of the great joys of parenthood is that eventually your children grow up and if you are lucky, they bless you with grandchildren. Someone once said, “If I had known how fun grandchildren are, I would have had them first.” As you know, I love my grandchildren as Dana and I have been blessed with a great bunch. They are a blast . . . and they are tough. They must be because they have me as their “Papa”. Papa is a teaser. And, as the grandkids have gotten older, they dish it out as well as they receive it.
One grandchild in particular, Finley, holds her own with her Papa. In fact, there are times when she gets the best of me. Recently she informed me that I was no longer a “man”. Nope, I had passed beyond manhood into the realm of “old man”! She is constantly telling me I am an “old man”. Well, to be honest, that hurt. She is no longer in the will . . . Christmas from Nana and Papa is going to be pretty bleak for this one.
But you know what? She’s right. I am an “old man”. According to the World Health Organization, a person over the age of 65 is often referred to as elderly. “Elderly” is just a nice way of saying “old”. I am over the age of 65 . . . I am old! It is a realization that I continue to come to grasp with every day. Finley was right. She is back in the will. Her Christmas bonanza has been restored.
I have to admit it . . . I am old. With my elder status has come the recognition that at some point the world around me has changed. Things are not the way they were way back when . . . fifty years ago, thirty years ago, or even ten years ago. While I was attempting to survive life, things changed. Paradigms changed. People changed. Politics changed. Education changed. Technology has changed. Religion changed. It is like I woke up one day, looked around, and wondered, “Where have the good ol’ days gone?”
Isn’t that it? Isn’t that what we all wonder . . . where have the good ol’ days gone? Especially this morning as we have gathered to celebrate the last service of worship as Joliet Christian Church. We wonder . . . we wonder how we have gotten to this point. And I don’t know what to tell you. For weeks I have been fretting over what I would say this morning because I could give you a myriad of reasons why we are here. And would it matter? Probably not. Yesterday is gone, tomorrow isn’t here, and all we can do is deal with today . . . deal with where we are at.
After more than 115 years as a congregation of the faithful in Joliet, we have reached the end of what we once were. We are here to celebrate the ministry that has occurred in this place . . . the baptisms, weddings, and funerals . . . the potluck dinners, vacation bible schools, bible studies, and a whole lot of coffee fellowships. We are thankful for those who came before us, who are with us . . . the joy of an embrace and laughter . . . the grief we shared. The joyful sound of hymns harmoniously sung. The spontaneous movement of the Spirit. All within the walls made sacred by the faith we have shared in this place.
And yes, they were the good ol’ days . . . but the Spirit is moving, constantly moving. Changing. Growing. That was then and this is now. As Bob Dylan sang, “the times they are a changin’.” In our older age we see it and are coming to realize it. Though it saddens us, we also need to acknowledge that in the end there is a beginning. Isn’t that the way that God works? When one door is shut, doesn’t God leave a window open? Isn’t that how the Spirit works?
God does not abandon us. God is always with us. In what we see as an “end”, God sees as a “beginning”.
One of the toughest things to accept on the journey of faith is that God does not dwell in a certain place . . . for example, this church, this building. We forget that God does not reside in a building or a particular place no matter how swanky of a place it might be. No, God is all around us . . . God is within us. God cannot be contained in a box or a place. God surrounds us like the air that we breathe. God is everywhere and this sanctuary is no more sacred than that room in my house where I kneel and offer my prayers to God. It is all sacred. It is in our awareness that we discover the sacred where we are.
The other tough thing about faith is realizing and accepting that it is a journey. Maybe you have seen the memes on Facebook called Big Panda and Tiny Dragon. They are little conversations between a big panda and tiny dragon who are on an adventure . . . a journey . . . through the seasons and the experiences of life that they encounter. They are written and drawn by British author and artist James Norbury. In a recent one that I saw, Big Panda and Tiny Dragon are making their way down a path. Tiny Dragon is perched on the shoulder of the huge panda lumbering down the path. Big Panda pauses for a moment and asks, “Which is more important, the journey or the destination?”
Tiny Dragon responds, “The company.”
Which reveals the third and toughest aspect about the journey of faith . . . it is the company that is important.
Those are the three keys to understanding this morning and our purpose for being here. This is not the end . . . it is a beginning. Three months ago, in the last sermon I preached in this pulpit, I said this . . . we are on a journey . . . a never-ending journey towards the Holy. But throughout that journey there are going to be times when we come to a fork in the road. Remember what I said? Yeah, I said you pick it up . . . just like that baseball Zen master, Yogi Berra said. You pick it up and you keep going. You do so because it is not the end . . . it is a new beginning . . . on the journey.
And we do it with those who are with us . . . with those we encounter along the way . . . because, remember, it is not the destination it is the “company.” It is in the “company” that we discover the Holy. In some congregations they acknowledge a great truth during the time of greeting in worship—that the Holy is with us, always with us. In that moment they turn to the people around them and greet them by saying, “The Jesus in me acknowledges the Jesus in you.” It is the company that makes the difference.
In this time of ending the truth is that God does not live in temples or sanctuaries built by human hands. That God is not contained or confined. This building . . . this sanctuary . . . is a place of respite during this journey we are on. But it is not the dwelling place of God . . . God is wherever we are if we are willing to open ourselves to God’s presence in the world around us. God is around us, with us, and in us. We are never alone, especially when we are loving and supportive of one another throughout the journey.
This morning I have shared two scripture readings . . . one commemorates the last meal that Jesus had with his disciples and his admonishment to receive it in “remembrance of me”. The other is a description of the early church . . . time before they built temples or sanctuaries . . . a time of beginning.
Let us not forget that as we gather around the Lord’s Table that what we are participating in is a prelude to what appears to be an ending. It is the last meal that Jesus eats with his disciples . . . the end is near . . . the party is over . . . and the hangover is worse than anyone should ever have to endure. Jesus dies. He is crucified. That is a pretty big slamming of the door shut on the story.
Yet is it?
Well, we know that it is not. We know that there is a resurrection. We know that the disciples go out and share the “good news” of Jesus. We know that the movement bursts forth from the dying embers of a fire thought to be extinguished. It just didn’t happen in the way that everyone thought it would . . . it changed. They devoted themselves to the teachings, fellowship, to the breaking of bread, and prayer. They cared for one another. Looked out for one another. Gathered for meals, broke bread, and ate together. Through it all they were always praising God. But there was no “building” . . . no “church”. There was just themselves and the journey that they shared together.
And they were blessed. The writer of the Book of Acts tells us: “And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being save.”
They remembered. They remembered the one who showed them the way . . . the way to live, to love, and to make the journey. The Holy was with them. Jesus said, “Do this in remembrance of me.” That was not the postlude, but the new prelude . . . the start of a new beginning. In this church and in our homes, if we are mindful of what we are doing, we affirm this every time we break bread. This is not the end . . . it is the beginning.
There are no words that I can say that will take the sadness of what this morning represents away. It is what it is. Yet, I contend that it is not the end. It is not the end because we are not alone . . . God is with us. God’s Spirit moves among us. And we remember. The Spirit never stops moving . . . never stops growing . . . always is beckoning us further down the journey.
Thus, it is up to us. As we old folks like to do . . . we remember. I love to tell the stories of how it used to be to my grandchildren, but I don’t lament missing the good ol’ days. No, I offer a question . . . where is it that God is calling me now? What new adventure does God have for me? As a lot of Montanans like to say, “The mountains are calling, and I must go.” This morning, God is calling, and it is time for us to go.
And we go with hope. We go with hope during this season of hope . . . during this season of Advent. Advent is a call to new beginnings. We go because we remember . . . it is up to us to continue the story wherever it is that God leads us. Fear not for this is not the end, it is the beginning. God is with us. Amen.
