Stephen R. Clark
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Delivered June 23, 2019 |
Huntingdon Valley, PA | Huntingdon Valley Presbyterian Church
You can listen to the sermon here:https://www.hvpc.org/sermons/sermon/2019-06-23/memorial-day-redux:-looking-back-remembering-moving-forward
MEMORIAL
DAY REDUX : Looking Back, Remembering, Moving Forward
Joshua 4
Call to Worship -- Colossians 3:16
Let the word of Christ dwell in us richly,
as we teach and admonish one another
in all wisdom,
singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs,
with thankfulness in our hearts to God.
And whatever we do,
in word or deed,
may we do everything
in the name of the Lord Jesus,
giving thanks to God the Father through him.
Come, let us worship Christ the LORD!
Readings --
Joshua 4:1-24, ESV
https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Joshua+4&version=ESV
Introduction / Preamble
Before we get into
today’s sermon I want to mention a couple of things.
First, if you
weren’t aware, BethAnn and I were at the 39th annual Evangelical Presbyterian
Church General Assembly in Colorado last week.
You, through the
Session, sent me. And of course, BethAnn went with me. There were about 1200
hundred representatives from EPC churches around the country. We conducted
business and enjoyed workshops on a variety of topics.
We were especially
blessed to hear from Andrew Brunson and his wife, Norine. Andrew was the
missionary in Turkey who was unjustly detained in 2016 and imprisoned for two
years. It was inspiring and moving to hear from him and his wife.
Another highlight was
the opening worship service. Put 1200 people, a full choir, a great worship
band, and a huge organ in one room -- add the tangible presence of the Holy
Spirit -- well, you can imagine the powerful result.
So, thank you for the
opportunity to represent you as well as gain a much better understanding of the
EPC.
Second, last week
was Father’s Day. In the early service Dan talked about how we have several
women at HVPC -- wives and mothers -- who come to church on Sundays alone. Their
husbands seldom or never attend with them. Yet, these women faithfully attend
and serve in various ways.
Dan expressed how sad
this was, that the men are absent.
I agree. But it’s not
just sad for the women.
I know the men who need
to hear this aren’t here, so I’m counting on you who know them to take this
message to them. And the message is this: Men, you are missing out on a huge
blessing.
While being at the
General Assembly last week, worshipping with 1200 people, and hearing Andrew
Brunson was a great experience. There was something else that provided an even
greater sense of joy.
And that is that I was
there with my wife, BethAnn, my ministry spouse according to her badge. I like
ministry partner better.
I cannot express to you
the depth of the joy I experience on a regular basis as BethAnn and I serve the
Lord together here at HVPC. I love being in church with her. I love serving in
ministry with her. It’s fun. It’s joyful. It’s an amazing blessing.
So, to the men who are
missing in action, let me assure you that there is nothing you are doing on
Sunday morning that is going to bless you more, that will give you more joy,
than being in church with your spouse. Nothing.
Sermon
We create memorials all
the time. We have them scattered around our homes.
I have several coffee mugs I use as pen holders. Each one is special. Each one
has a story. Each one is a memorial to good memories! For example, one is a mug
from Random House, the publishing company. I love this mug!
Years ago I worked at a small Christian book publishing company in South
Plainfield, New Jersey. This was my first time on the east coast. Until then, my
life was spent in central Indiana, southern Missouri, and western Ohio. The
East, and especially Jersey, was new and a little intimidating.
The good thing was that my co-workers were great at making me feel at home. An
older Italian guy, Carl, generously explained that what I referred to as sauce
-- the stuff you put on pasta -- was actually called gravy. Linda, who worked in
our graphics department, did freelance work for a few big name publishers in New
York City, including Random House. She’s the one who got me the mug. I was
thrilled when it showed up on my desk.
Although, the thrill was a little muted when, several months later, I learned
that she’d actually lifted it from the desk of one of the editors at Random
House. At least she washed it before she gave it to me.
Still, I love this mug! It’s like a figurative Ebenezer, a memorial stone of
help, as mentioned in 1 Samuel 7:12.
Every time I look at the mug I remember, not just my coworkers and that sauce is
really gravy, but I also think of the others I met in New Jersey. Some who
became good friends, all who poured themselves into my life to help me meet the
challenge of a new job, a new locale, and a very different culture.
Memories and memorials are important. It was just a few weeks ago we celebrated
Memorial Day by remembering the men and women of the Armed Forces who served and
died in various wars. We also just recognized the 75th anniversary of D-Day. We
remember these events to remind us how valuable our freedom is.
Just Plain Rocks
In the passage from Joshua we’re looking at today, stones and memorials figure
significantly in the story. And it is an amazing story. About 24 rocks.
To quickly recap, Joshua had one man from each of the 12 tribes pick up one
stone from the middle of the riverbed near where the priests were standing with
the Ark of the Covenant. These 12 stones were taken to the side of the river
where they were stacked into a memorial.
At the same time, Joshua took 12 stones from the riverbed and stacked them in
the riverbed near where the priests stood.
Two memorials of 12 stones each. One in the river. One on the river bank. 24
stones all together. And there is nothing special about these rocks.
Because they are river rocks, they are likely smooth and a little rounded, which
probably didn’t make for easy stacking. Neither are they large boulders since
they could be easily carried. So, ultimately we’re probably not talking about
particularly large or impressive stacks of stones.
So, why did they take the time? What was the point?
Here they are at a momentous occasion in their history, excitement is running
high, big things are about to happen, and they take the time to make two piles
of rocks. Why?
Because, through Joshua, they HEARD THE VOICE OF GOD tell them what to do. Which
was to make memorials with rocks.
Then, with Joshua, they OBEYED THE VOICE OF GOD, and did what they were told.
Finally, standing in the Promised Land, they got behind Joshua and FOLLOWED THE
VOICE OF GOD.
Hearing The Voice Of God
So how did they hear God’s voice?
Not to be presumptuous, but kind of like we hear it every week. Like you’re
hearing it right now.
Joshua marks a turning point as to how people primarily hear from God. Prior to
this time, it was fairly common for God to show up and manifest in some form as
he gave direction and instruction.
In the Garden, he walked with Adam and Eve in the cool of the evening. When God
decided he needed to take action against Sodom and Gomorrah, the Lord and his
angels visited Abraham to clue him in.
When Moses was recruited, God spoke to him directly from a burning bush. And as
they wandered in the wilderness, Moses frequently heard from God directly,
including receiving the tablets of stone from God. Joshua was right there
witnessing many of these events.
Now, something is different. Joshua leans on the written word available at that
time, the Torah, the writings of Moses, and on prayer. His prayers and the
prayers of the people.
In other words, the access Joshua had to God is the same as our access to
God. He heard from God the same way we can hear from God. And as
Dan pointed out a couple of weeks ago, this God that we enjoy a relationship
with now is the same God that Joshua and the children of Israel
worshipped then.
Same God. Same access. Let that sink in a moment.
Obeying The Voice Of God
Once they heard the voice of God, as shared by Joshua, the people obeyed.
This is a big deal.
For the first time in 40 years, there was no smoke, no fire, no lightning or
thunder, no booming voice giving directions. Joshua prayed and heard from God.
He told the people of God what he heard from God. The people of God acted on the
word of God as delivered and did exactly as God directed.
After 40 years they finally get it right!
There is no quibbling, no second guessing, no complaining.
When they left Egypt, before they even got across the Red Sea, and they realized
Pharaoh was coming after them, they complained to Moses in Exodus 14:12, “For it
would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the
wilderness.” And that was just the beginning of their complaints. But none of
that is happening now.
They simply obey.
Before, they crossed out of captivity in Egypt into sifting
in the desert.
Now, they were leaving the sifting behind and entering into conquest.
Obedience is essential when entering the Promised Land.
Following The Voice Of God
Just as they finally make it into the Promised Land, it’s time to celebrate
Passover. As Exodus 12:14 states about Passover: “This is a day to remember.
Each year, from generation to generation, you must celebrate it as a special
festival to the Lord.”
As they make new memories, new memorials, they are celebrating and recalling
other memorials and memories. God is making them pause to recall and reflect.
They’ve come a long way as a people. Think of the contrast of this time compared
to the first Passover. You can read the story in Exodus 12.
At the first Passover, the firstborn of man and beast died. Except, the children
of Israel weren’t touched. It was this event that finally pushed Pharaoh to let
the people go.
Forty years later, here they are in the Promised Land, at last.
For forty years they followed the voice of God, sometimes reluctantly. Sometimes
they were defiant and disobedient, and that cost them dearly.
Now, this new generation is still following the voice of God, but with far more
confidence and a better understanding of who God is and how He’s got their
backs. They hear, obey, and get ready to battle the forces of darkness.
The Point Of The Memorials
They obediently stacked stones, internalized the memory of what God did,
celebrated Passover, and as we will see in coming weeks, moved forward with
inhabiting the Promised Land.
You could say, first they rocked...and then they rolled!
So, what was the point of the memorial stones, this Ebenezer of sorts?
The pile of rocks -- the physical memorial -- was not the point. Instead, the
stones were to: remind the people of how God miraculously got them across
the Jordan, serve as a visual teaching tool for instructing their
children about God, and stand as a sign to “all the peoples of the earth”
that God was THE God, the one true God, the God above all other gods.
They were marking their territory. Or rather, they were marking God’s territory.
The memorials weren’t about them or anything they accomplished. They were all
about God.
The Value Of Right Memorials
Memorializing -- or remembering -- as a way to internalize and truly embrace the
significance of a special event is a good thing. There’s nothing wrong with
that.
Around this church are several plaques that memorialize people and events.
There’s one in the bell tower, now the Prayer Room, and in the Boyer.
Some names are visible on a few of the windows. Mostly these indicate a
financial gift to the church that had a positive impact.
The piano behind me was given in memory of Stanley Morrison’s wife. I never met
Stanley and he is no longer with us. But I’m sure when he was here in church and
looked at the piano, he was warmed as he thought about his wife. We are also
blessed to have a nice piano, an instrument, a practical tool, that enhances our
worship.
Maintaining this piano, a memorial, is a worthwhile endeavor. However, if we
only cared for the plaque rather than the piano, that would be foolish.
Likewise, if the children of Israel had focused on the physical memorials rather
than what they represented, they would have missed the point.
Notice that they did not build a museum around the stones. They did not set a
guard over the stones. They did not hire a caretaker or do fundraising to ensure
the stones remained in good shape. They didn’t fight over which of the two piles
was more important. And there was nothing special about the stones. They were
just ordinary rocks from a riverbed.
In my hometown of New Castle, Indiana, there’s a park named Memorial Park. It
was established as a living memorial to those who served in World War I. To me
and my friends it was the park with the giant hill where we went sledding, with
the lake where we went ice skating, with the pond where we went row boating. It
was the park with the nifty log cabin shelters where we held birthday parties
and church picnics, and the park where we went to watch fireworks.
Sure, we noticed the cannon at the top of the sledding hill, but we viewed it as
just one more playground thing to climb on.
And then there was the Doughboy.
He stood at the front edge of the main wooded area of the park, at the top of a
hill that sloped down to the highway. Getting up close and personal with the
Doughboy was no easy matter. You had to trek through the woods or along the tree
line, uphill.
According to the Henry County Historical Association, the “Doughboy...depicts a
WWI soldier in full battle attire, carrying an M1903 Springfield rifle in his
left hand while he holds an MK II American grenade in his upraised right hand.”
He was dedicated on Sunday, August 26, 1929 and unveiled by Civil War veteran,
Capt. James Tyner “for a large crowd.”
Whenever we drove by, we waved at him from a distance, and always checked to see
if he was holding his rifle. It frequently disappeared, a prank the older kids
in town liked to pull.
To me, the statue was a novelty. To others in town, it was something far more
important. This became apparent several months ago when certain city leaders
decided it was time to repair, refresh, and relocate the soldier. No one was too
upset about the repair and refresh parts. But the relocate part? That got
people’s dander up plenty.
Social media exploded with protest. The little hometown paper was busy fielding
letters and publishing editorials about the debacle.
Moving the soldier was a sacrilege! Its very location was key to its meaning and
purpose! To move it was a desecration to the memory of both the soldiers it
honored as well as to the committee who had put it up in the first place.
I witnessed all this from a distance. I read the online posts and my sister
filled me in on more details.
Now, the statue is safely relocated next to the park’s main building. It’s well
lighted, has a plaque explaining what it’s all about, is surrounded by flags,
and is easily accessible and viewable by all. It’s convenient for people to
bring their children to see the Doughboy to learn about the sacrifices men and
women made in World War I.
To me, it seems a win-win. But for many others, they’re still grousing and will
never be happy. Their lives are ruined.
What happened is that the importance of the location where it was displayed
became conflated with the meaning and memory behind the statue. Those who
objected to the move insisted the meaning and purpose would be significantly
damaged as a result.
Churches can become obsessed with memorials, often with fatal results.
In his book, Autopsy of a Deceased Church, Thom Rainer explains the
downside of memorials, when they lead people backwards by placing more emphasis
on the past, to the neglect of the future.
He describes being taken to see a closed church. A former elder still had a key
to the building even though it was vacant.
The elder explained, “There is really no market for the property. I’m not sure
what will ultimately happen here.” His assumption was that it would merely
remain abandoned and neglected.
Using a flashlight, the elder led Thom through the church to a room. He shone
the light on the engraved plaque on the door: it was the Lydia Room.
“This is it,” the elder said. “This room was the equivalent of a parlor or
bride’s room in other churches. There was great pride about this room. It had
the nicest furniture. It got first attention before anything else in the
church.”
The elder explained that the room became a focus of dissension. There were
arguments over who could use it and how it could be used.
“The arguments were pretty ugly,” said the elder. “And I don’t think I knew it
at the time, but looking back, our focus on this room marked the beginning of
our steep decline.”
The elder paused, looked at Thom, and said, “I know [the church] died for a lot
of reasons, but the fights over this room are the clearest markers I have that
point to the closing of the doors. It seems so silly, so sad now,” he said. “We
were fighting over a stupid room while the church died.”
Last month, Dr. Ken Priddy, an expert in church revitalization, spent a weekend
with us. He explained what he called the vision triangle which involves content,
context, and containers.
Content is the Word of God, the gospel. This is our message. Our reason
for being. Why we do what we do. And it is non-negotiable.
Context is our audience; to whom we do what we do. The people here, but
far more importantly the people in our community to whom we are called to go and
share the Gospel. The lost sheep in need of rescue.
Context is semi-negotiable. This means that we can’t control the demographics of
our community. But we can manage how we respond based on who we are as a church,
the gifts and resources we possess, the more apparent needs, and so forth.
Finally there is the container. Containers are simply the means and
methods we use to take the Content out to the Context. The programs. The way we
share the gospel. It’s how we do what we do. This is completely negotiable. For
example, while a community church baseball league can be a good thing, it may
not be the best container for outreach in a community that favors soccer. Or
would prefer a book club. Or is searching for financial peace.
Too often, churches elevate containers to content status. They fall into the
mistake of believing that the one way they do something is the only way. That
their method is as “holy” as the content. Or how a room has been used for the
past 20 years is the way it must continue to be used and furnished, even though
the church’s needs have shifted.
With the Doughboy, people who were upset with the move had conflated the content
-- honoring those who served -- with the container -- where the statue was
placed.
In the story about the Lydia Room, the people in the church became obsessed with
maintaining a room based on memories and purposes from the past. They lost sight
of their calling to go out to reach the lost and meet needs of the present.
As I said earlier, I have memorials -- mugs -- around my house. But mugs break
or get lost. The better memorials are those I hold in my heart and mind.
As I’ve shared before, I grew up in a small Pentecostal church. It was a great
church and it was a wonderful way to grow up.
Almost every Sunday evening, at the evangelistic service, there was an altar
call. Nearly everyone went down. The women on one side. The men on the other.
When I was smaller, I went down, too. Or, rather, was taken down.
Not particularly prone to prayer in my smaller years, I’d sit and lean up
against the altar, or simply lay on the floor, as over me -- literally over me
-- dad and the other men prayed. Out loud. In earnest.
What an image! What a memory! What a mental memorial!
This image comes to me from time to time, reminding me of the faithfulness of my
father, and the wonderful, godly heritage he and those men passed on. It
encourages me to move forward in faith.
Other memorials -- memories -- include my mother’s emotive singing of her
favorite hymns during the song service. I’ve mentioned it before, that when we
sing certain hymns that she loved, I can almost hear her voice again.
Another is my grandmother Clark dancing in the Spirit. You may think
Pentecostals are wacky, but there is substance and mystery at work there.
Mamaw would dance around the sanctuary, hands in the air, eyes closed, winding
in and out of the narrow rows of seats, praising God and never tripping or
bumping into anything or anyone. It was an amazing sight to behold.
My parents and my grandmother have all gone on to glory. The church I grew up in
is no longer in the same building. The old church building is owned by someone
else and houses a clothing and food ministry. To meet the needs of this new
ministry, a lot of reconfiguring took place inside the building.
Yet, these mental memorials. These precious memories are still with me. Unlike a
few of my mugs, or the stone memorials Joshua and the twelve men assembled
thousands of years ago. They’re gone.
But guess what? The story of those stone memorials and what God did in bringing
the children of Israel through the desert and into the Promised Land -- we’re
still talking about it to this day! Right now! The story -- the history -- lives
on and continues to serve as inspiration for us as we serve and follow God now.
Right here in Huntingdon Valley.
There are rooms and items in this church that some insist can’t be changed,
can’t be reconfigured, can’t be removed, can’t be replaced. Even though changes
are necessary to serve the expanding needs of our church, needs that will always
change if we are a truly growing and healthy church.
This building is merely a flexible container to facilitate delivering the
immutable content of the Gospel to a needy context, to a community in need of
Jesus Christ.
We are not called to serve this building. We are called to hear the voice of
God. Obey the voice of God. To internalize and follow the voice of God. And to
go!
We are not called to serve memorials, or even to serve memories. Rather, our
memorials and memories are to serve us, as goads and encouragement to move
forward. To change, to adapt, to grow, and to go!
Our marching orders have been issued and recorded in Matthew 28:16-20:
“And Jesus came and
said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go
therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of
the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe
all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end
of the age.”
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Let’s pray.
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