H. Michael Brewer
Crescent Springs Presbyterian
July 4, 2004
YOURS TRULY, JESUS
2 Corinthians 3:1-3
The New Testament offers so many ways to think of the church, but one of the most overlooked images comes from the 2
Letter to the Corinthians. In that letter Paul says the church is a living letter, written by the hand of Christ, written in the ink of
the Holy Spirit, written in our hearts for God to behold, written in our lives for the world to read. I like that, but I wonder: if
we’re God’s letter to the world, what kind of letter are we? Or better yet, what kind of letter are we meant to be?
First of all, the church is a letter from home. I’ve done some traveling, and when you’re on the other side of the world
there’s nothing better than getting a letter from home, because in one way or another every letter from home always says the
same thing: “I love you; hurry back.” That’s our message to the world: God loves you and wants you to come home. That’s
the gospel truth that Christ has entrusted to us, the truth Christ wants us to proclaim to the world.
There are all kinds of truths, aren’t there? Big ones and little ones. I came across an article in which little kids shared great
truths that they had discovered in life:
1. “No matter how hard you try you cannot baptize a cat.”
2. “When your mom is mad at your dad, don’t let her brush your hair.”
3. “You can’t trust a dog to watch your food for you.”
4. “Don’t sneeze when somebody is cutting your hair.”
5. “You can’t hide a piece of broccoli in a glass of milk.”
6. “Never wear polka-dot underwear under white shorts, no matter how cute the underwear is.”
We’ve got a great truth to share with all God’s children. God loves you so much that God sent Jesus into the world so
that we can find our way home and live with God forever. That’s a truth you can bank on. And if we don’t deliver that truth,
who will? The government? The schools? The TV producers? For better or worse, this truth has been placed in our hands.
God has written the gospel across our lives, and it’s our job to spread it around. The world is dying to know the good news
of Jesus Christ. God forgive us if we keep that good news sealed in the envelope and never deliver it.
What kind of a letter is the church? The church is a love letter. Jesus said, “I give you a new commandment, that you
love one another as I have loved you.” Jesus didn’t say, “I suggest that you love each other.” He didn’t say, “You can try this
out and see if it works.” He didn’t say, “This is optional for extra credit.” What he did say was, “Here’s a commandment for
anyone who wants to follow me. Love each other.”
We had a woman who joined our congregation a couple of years ago. She was a member eight weeks to the day and
then she left. And during that eight weeks she never once set foot inside the building. That may sound like a failure to you, but
I count it one of our great success stories.
Carolyn was 89 year olds when she joined us, and she was dying. She was a long-time member of a congregation in
Cincinnati, but when she moved across the river to Kentucky to spend her last months in her son’s home, she felt she ought to
have a local church. No one in her family attended our church, but she’d heard some stories about us and she called me to
come for a visit. We had a nice chat and she asked if she could unite with our congregation.
In the two months that followed, our deacons made regular visits to Carolyn, delivering tapes of the worship service. We
added her to the prayer chain and mentioned her aloud nearly every Sunday. My elders and I took Communion to her
regularly. People carried casseroles and desserts to the house. We did the stuff the church is supposed to do. We did all this
for a woman who was virtually a stranger to us and yet also one of us. At the funeral a member of the family came to me and
said, “I heard about the way you took care of Aunt Carolyn. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve never been a churchgoer, but if
I lived around here, I would join this church today.”
When we get it right in the church, we are a love letter. And when outsiders see that love, they want in.
The church is also a letter of commitment. The Quakers are not much interested in symbols. Their worship places are
pretty bare, but I’m told that Quakers sometimes allow one symbol to be displayed in their meeting-halls. It is the picture of an
ox between an altar and a plow. And underneath are the words: “Sacrifice or service, whatever God asks.”
I don’t want to take the cross out of our churches, friends. The cross reminds us of what God has done for us. But maybe
under every cross we ought to hang a yoke, a yoke that asks, “What are you doing for God?”
The story is told of a Franciscan monk in Australia who was assigned to be the guide and “gofer” to Mother Teresa when
she visited New South Wales. Thrilled and excited at the prospect of being so close to this great woman, he dreamed of how
much he would learn from her and what they would talk about. But during her visit, he became frustrated. Although he was
constantly near her, the friar never had the opportunity to say one word to Mother Teresa. There were always other people
for her to meet.
Finally, her tour was over, and she was due to fly to New Delhi. In desperation, the Franciscan friar spoke to Mother
Teresa: “If I pay my own fare to New Delhi, can I sit next to you on the plane so I can talk to you and learn from you?”
Mother Teresa looked at him. “You have enough money to buy airfare to New Guinea?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied eagerly.
“Then give that money to the poor,” she said. “You’ll learn more from that than anything I can tell you.”
Christ is trusting us to carry on his unfinished ministry to the sick and lost and hungry and the poor. We are the body of
Christ. We are the living presence of the one who said, “I have come to be the servant of all.” Our lives and our church should
show that.
Last, but not least, the church of Jesus Christ is a joyful letter to the world.
You’ve heard the story about the little girl who was sitting with her mother in church one Sunday when she noticed on the wall
a bronze plaque bearing a dozen names. “What’s that?” she asked her mother. Her mother leaned over and whispered,
“Those are people who died in the service.” The little girl said, “Was it the 8:30 service or the 11:00 service?”
That’s how a lot of people think of the church, and I’m not sure they’re entirely on the wrong track. I don’t get to visit
other churches very often, but we almost always worship when we’re on vacation. Generally, it’s a depressing experience.
Gosh, I’m tired of dry preaching, half-hearted singing, boring worship and sour-faced saints. And if joyless worship bugs me,
just think how God must feel about it!
On one vacation we visited a large, formal Presbyterian Church, and I guess we weren’t the only visitors that Sunday.
One woman didn’t seem to fit with the program. She kept shouting out “Amen,” during the sermon. Finally an usher came
over and in a loud whisper he asked, “Lady, what are you doing?” She said, “I’m praising the Lord.” And he said, “Settle
down. Church is no place for that sort of thing.”
Okay, I made that up, but I’ve been in churches where it could happen. A church with no room for joy is a church with no
room for the Holy Spirit.
The church is a letter—a letter from home bringing tidings of love and commitment and joy. Christ has written his love
across the blank page of our lives. In baptism he has signed and sealed us. By the power of his Spirit he has sent us into the
world. All we really have to do is carry faithfully the message of Christ. We can do that. With God’s help, we can be the letter
Christ wants us to be. We can be the church.
Soli Deo Gloria!