Love Stories

Acts 10:44-48; John 15:9-17

May 6, 2018

Some folks – mostly first-year seminarians in my experience – say that you ought to be able to sum up the arc of scripture in a single sentence. By the time you’ve made it through a year of seminary – are, honestly, of good Sunday School – you ought to realize that the arc of scripture is so filled with oddities and contradictions that no summary statement will suffice.

Nevertheless, here’s mine: scripture is the stories of the Creator’s restless desire for deep relationship with creation, and of the creature’s deep desire for relationship with the Creator. In other words, the Bible is a love story, or, better, a collection of love stories. Perhaps that’s is why the best-known single verse in Christian scripture begins simply, “for God so love the world.”

Now, of course, there are as many different love stories as there are loves and lovers. The good ones seldom follow a straight-line narrative. Or, as Willie Nelson might put it, “true love travels on a gravel road.” Of course, as the very impressive clergyman of Princess Bride fames reminds, “true love will follow you the rest of your life.”

Somewhere between Willie and The Princess Bride lies some truth. If, as the author of I John insists, “God is love,” then that love is from everlasting to everlasting. In other words, true love will follow you the rest of your life.

Most of our lives, most of the time, don’t follow particularly straight paths. Our lives don’t unfold in predictable ways, and the roads less traveled ironically turn out to be the ones that most of us are on.

I was talking with a friend this week who shared an anecdote about a man who has put off and put off joining my friend’s church. Eventually, my friend asked the man why, and he told her, “when you talk about joining the church you tell folks that everyone is always welcome to come and worship and share in the life of the church, but if they become members of the church they are committing to giving of their time and talents and treasure. I knew I was going to be away a lot so I couldn’t make that commitment. But what I like most about this church is that the door swings both ways. People can come and they can go, and it’s OK.”

I loved that image: the door swings both ways. I love it because it’s an image of human freedom, but, more than that, it’s an image of God’s love because whichever side of the door you’re on, and whether you are coming in or going out, God’s love is with you. As the psalmist sings, “you guard my coming in and you guard my going out.” We are guarded in love, always.

That is where our story begins and where it ends: the love of God that breathes life into us at our borning cry and the love of God that receives us when we breathe our last.

We live from breath to breath, and from love to love.

The story from Acts reminds us that this divine love, this loving Spirit, cannot be controlled by our rites and religions, our tribes and traditions. We don’t get to keep the door.

That fact can be threatening. “The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles.” One imagines that some of them were, in fact, appalled that even the Gentiles had received the gifts of the Spirit. After all, what good is it being the chosen people if God isn’t very choosy?

That realization deepens the message that Jesus gives his disciples in John’s gospel: “As the Father has love me, so I have loved you; abide in my love.” Jesus has already told them, “you didn’t choose me, I chose you.” So, what good is it to be chosen if God isn’t very choosy?

Perhaps the key is not in who’s chosen, but, instead, in what we’re chosen for. We’re chosen for love – to love one another as Christ loved his disciples. To love one another in radical, risky ways. To love one another to the point of being willing to give up one’s life for the sake of the beloved other, any beloved other, every beloved other.

You see, to give of time, talent, and treasure is the easy part. To be part of the body of Christ in the world is to remember what happened to the actual body of Christ in the world. That is to say, what happened to the real body of Jesus of Nazareth in the real world was what happened when Jesus was willing to give up his life for the cause of those he loved.

That’s a love story, and it’s the love story at the heart of our faith.

So, what are you willing to risk for the cause of those you love?

I invite you to think about this broadly. It’s easy to circumscribe our love to family, to tribe, to those just like us. Jesus didn’t do that. The disciples were, to be honest, a motley crew, but clearly, a crew for whom Jesus had a passionate love. Their concerns were his concerns. His heart broke for them.

So, for whom does your heart break? What are their concerns that you can make your own? What are you willing to risk on their behalf?

I invite you now to take the slip of paper you received when you came in. On it, I invite you to write down your brief response to those questions: for whom does your heart break? What are their concerns that you can make your own? What are you willing to risk on their behalf?

In a moment, we’re going to sing together our closing hymn. As we sing, I invite you to come, gather round the table, drop the paper in the basket, and remain gathered around the table.

You see, we do not do this risky, challenging, work of love alone. Jesus called forth a new community to share this loving work. We are that community. Our work is love. This is our story to tell. Amen.