Pastor Lyle’s sermon from April 20, 2008:

We are called

John 14:1-14; 1 Peter 2:2-10

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Not far from my apartment in St. Andrews, Scotland stood what was once one of the largest, most magnificent cathedrals in all of Europe. It took more than 150 years to build from the mid-twelfth to the early fourteenth century. Within another 150 years, its destruction had begun, wrought by wind and rain and finally by overzealous Scottish reformers who could no longer stand anything that smacked of Roman Catholicism. By the time I got there to those shores another 450 years later, there was little left. All that remained of this once grand structure built to the glory of Christ was one long wall, part of the main entrance, a handful of outbuildings, and the faded tombstones of the cemetery. This once great center of Christianity in northern Britain was now nothing more than a broken shell, a reminder of what was once there, perhaps, and a tourist attraction for folks like me, but nothing more.

Or was this the case? As I spent more time in the city, I began to learn its history. And one of the things I learned was that many of the stones that had once stood proudly as part of the cathedral now were scattered throughout town. These stones could be seen as crucial building blocks in newer buildings, no longer supporting the single structure of the cathedral but instead spread out to give strength and foundation to the whole city. And so, even though the cathedral is gone, the stones continue to live in new ways, unexpected to the architects who spent so long, so much time, toil, and treasure building the cathedral.

Ninety-two years ago a group of Lutherans in Appleton decided it was time to build a new church. I suspect that they would be surprised by many things about First English today, for who knows how such a project of faith will play itself out over so many years? But one thing I think they would see is that our magnificent buildings have become places where living stones are made for unexpected purposes in the kingdom of God. Trusting in the secure place in the Father’s house, they sought to build in this world upon the cornerstone that was rejected, Jesus Christ our Lord. Within these walls our rough edges of sin have been polished in the waters of baptism; our lives have been sustained by the holy word and the blessed sacraments; our very existences have been transformed by the one who was killed and yet now in Easter joy lives forever, the foundation of all the good in this world that we do or dare or dream.

Today we look to continue that dream. We are called. We are called to step forward in faith through this capital appeal. The St. Andrews Cathedral teaches us two lessons today. The first, perhaps, is obvious but best to not leave it unstated: If you don’t take care of buildings, eventually they’ll fall down. Not the goal we envision for our houses of faith nor how we would want to steward these gifts that have been passed on to us. But even more are we reminded that this isn’t about the buildings, that it never has been and never will be about the buildings. It is about having places where God’s people, where we and our children and children as yet unimagined, can have our rocky lives made into living stones, so that we can go out and be God’s building blocks in this world that so desperately needs to hear of Jesus Christ, the Way, and the Truth, and the Life for all people. Like Thomas, we can’t always see the way. Yet we are called. Like Philip, we demand more signs than we’re going to get. Yet we are called. Called by the risen Christ to build up this body so that we can go forth as light to the world, salt for the earth, as a visible sign for all the world to see; called to new life in the endless joy of Easter. We are called. Amen.

Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed!