Pastor, It's Cornelius On The Line ...
Sermon
RESTORING THE FUTURE
First Lesson Sermons For Lent/Easter
There stood Peter, in the very position in which lots of believers have found themselves. It could happen on an airplane, across the desk at work, over the backyard fence, at the laundry with a neighbor from the apartment next door, even with a member of our own family. Someone says, "What do you think the deal is about Jesus, anyway?" or "What goes on at your church for people like me?" or even, "Sometimes I wonder if there even is a God, don't you?"
Some call this Peter's "sermon" in Cornelius' house. I've read it over many times, and it doesn't look like much of a sermon to me. Where is the funny story that is supposed to start things off? Where is the poem by Longfellow at the end? And, of course, it's way too short. No, this is more like a response to a question from a friend. It's as if Cornelius called Peter one day to ask to borrow his lawn mower, and their conversation drifted off into more serious matters, until Cornelius finally said, "Say, Peter, you knew that guy Jesus. What was the deal with him, anyway?" What Peter said is really a story, more than a sermon.
The story comes with three parts:
Part One was the part before Peter had anything to do with the story. Family histories are like that: The days when Great--Grandad came from Sweden on the boat with just the clothes he was wearing, or when Great--Aunt Maggie came west across the prairie with the wagons, or when Grandad dodged bullets as he led his fleeing family across the river into Thailand. Family history is like that; though we may not have been present for all the events, we feel a part of them somehow. The grandparents of a friends of mine came to this country from Scotland, another set was already here, and one thing led to another, all happening before my friend was around to affect the course of events, 'til one day he was born. But our family histories are no less a part of us or less determinative of who we are for our not having been present for part of the story. They are like rivers, running before we encountered them, continuing after we are no longer in them.
That is what the first part of Peter's story was like. He spoke first of the people of Israel. Peter was a Jew, the people of Israel were his people, but they had a long history dating back to the patriarchs, back to the Exodus, back to King David and King Solomon and Noah and Jonah and Job and Ruth and Naomi and Abraham and Sarah, and an additional cast of thousands, all of whom had an impact on the story long before Peter, the fisherman from Galilee, came on the scene. Nevertheless, he knew that that story was his story, it was about his people, it was a story of the many ways in which God had worked in the past to save them and make them a people who would be a blessing for the whole world.
And so, something had to be done, they couldn't just keep news like this to themselves. So they began telling others what had happened. And they began opening their Bibles and suddenly - why hadn't they seen it before? - it looked as though words about who Jesus was and is were spread all over every page. Everywhere they looked they saw something that made them think of him and what he had done and what he was still doing among them.
So they began telling the story to others. They even began telling it to people like Cornelius, who hadn't been part of the family, but it seemed like the right thing to do.
Part Three of Peter's story is the part that really changes things. It is the future part of the story, the part that in the fairy tales would simply say, "And they lived happily ever after." But the future of this story, "The Story of Jesus and How He Changed My Life," was more inviting than that. Peter began invitationally saying, "I truly understand that God shows no partiality," and ended the same way with, "everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness in his name ..." Paul wrote much the same thing in fancier words in Romans 8: "If we know the love of Jesus, we have come to realize that nothing can separate us from the love of God." In other words, Peter tells Cornelius and all the folks in his house who are gathered there that his story can become their story too. That's how it is with the best stories anyway, isn't it? We finish by feeling as though the author had said something true about us as well as the folks in his story. That's the way Peter ends. This story is for us.
Easter is that strange season for the church when those of us who have been hanging around these doors for the past twelve months are called to remember that the story is not just for us, at least not for us alone. The story of Jesus Christ is only a living story inasmuch as we tell it as Peter did, as we finish by inviting Cornelius into the flow of the action so the story can go on. When the phone rings the week before Easter and some stranger on the other end asks, "What time does mass begin at your church, father?" I have to remember it is Cornelius on the line. This is especially important if the person is speaking to one of the women who has served on our pastoral staff, whom no one would mistake for anybody's father! This is someone who perhaps doesn't know all the customs of our church but who is ready to hear the story. More than that, it is often someone hoping to find where he or she might have a part to play in that story. Every one of us has at one time been in Cornelius' shoes. Perhaps some of us here today are in his shoes right now, on the outside of the story, looking for a part to play.
A few years ago, when Billy Graham came to hold a crusade in Portland, Oregon, a friend of mine happened to sit next to someone who had been in the audience the last time Dr. Graham had been in Portland, forty years before. After the sermon, my friend turned to this person and asked what he thought. His response was surprising. First, he said, it was virtually the same sermon he had heard forty years before. Then he said, here is the part that was so surprising, "Isn't that great?"
Great? Great that he hasn't thought of a new thing to say in forty years? No, great that he is still telling the story, the same story, as a way of inviting people to become part of it, carrying on the story--telling with all those Corneliuses outside the church family which Peter began doing so long ago, inviting people in, telling us we can become part of it.
To all of us, Peter's words are still true: "God shows no partiality ... everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness through his name." The church is not a place where we earn our stripes and strive to earn God's love. The only reason we are together at Easter is because Jesus has made us into a fellowship of the forgiven and newly acceptable. That makes us ready and able to play the part in the story God that has in mind for us.
Surely there is someone here today who has come hoping for a word that lets you know that you belong, that the story we rehearse here week after week is also your story. Well, here is that word. Believe in Jesus and accept salvation in his name. Do that with me as we pray, and you will find it is just the beginning of a whole new chapter in the amazing story of faith.
Some call this Peter's "sermon" in Cornelius' house. I've read it over many times, and it doesn't look like much of a sermon to me. Where is the funny story that is supposed to start things off? Where is the poem by Longfellow at the end? And, of course, it's way too short. No, this is more like a response to a question from a friend. It's as if Cornelius called Peter one day to ask to borrow his lawn mower, and their conversation drifted off into more serious matters, until Cornelius finally said, "Say, Peter, you knew that guy Jesus. What was the deal with him, anyway?" What Peter said is really a story, more than a sermon.
The story comes with three parts:
Part One was the part before Peter had anything to do with the story. Family histories are like that: The days when Great--Grandad came from Sweden on the boat with just the clothes he was wearing, or when Great--Aunt Maggie came west across the prairie with the wagons, or when Grandad dodged bullets as he led his fleeing family across the river into Thailand. Family history is like that; though we may not have been present for all the events, we feel a part of them somehow. The grandparents of a friends of mine came to this country from Scotland, another set was already here, and one thing led to another, all happening before my friend was around to affect the course of events, 'til one day he was born. But our family histories are no less a part of us or less determinative of who we are for our not having been present for part of the story. They are like rivers, running before we encountered them, continuing after we are no longer in them.
That is what the first part of Peter's story was like. He spoke first of the people of Israel. Peter was a Jew, the people of Israel were his people, but they had a long history dating back to the patriarchs, back to the Exodus, back to King David and King Solomon and Noah and Jonah and Job and Ruth and Naomi and Abraham and Sarah, and an additional cast of thousands, all of whom had an impact on the story long before Peter, the fisherman from Galilee, came on the scene. Nevertheless, he knew that that story was his story, it was about his people, it was a story of the many ways in which God had worked in the past to save them and make them a people who would be a blessing for the whole world.
And so, something had to be done, they couldn't just keep news like this to themselves. So they began telling others what had happened. And they began opening their Bibles and suddenly - why hadn't they seen it before? - it looked as though words about who Jesus was and is were spread all over every page. Everywhere they looked they saw something that made them think of him and what he had done and what he was still doing among them.
So they began telling the story to others. They even began telling it to people like Cornelius, who hadn't been part of the family, but it seemed like the right thing to do.
Part Three of Peter's story is the part that really changes things. It is the future part of the story, the part that in the fairy tales would simply say, "And they lived happily ever after." But the future of this story, "The Story of Jesus and How He Changed My Life," was more inviting than that. Peter began invitationally saying, "I truly understand that God shows no partiality," and ended the same way with, "everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness in his name ..." Paul wrote much the same thing in fancier words in Romans 8: "If we know the love of Jesus, we have come to realize that nothing can separate us from the love of God." In other words, Peter tells Cornelius and all the folks in his house who are gathered there that his story can become their story too. That's how it is with the best stories anyway, isn't it? We finish by feeling as though the author had said something true about us as well as the folks in his story. That's the way Peter ends. This story is for us.
Easter is that strange season for the church when those of us who have been hanging around these doors for the past twelve months are called to remember that the story is not just for us, at least not for us alone. The story of Jesus Christ is only a living story inasmuch as we tell it as Peter did, as we finish by inviting Cornelius into the flow of the action so the story can go on. When the phone rings the week before Easter and some stranger on the other end asks, "What time does mass begin at your church, father?" I have to remember it is Cornelius on the line. This is especially important if the person is speaking to one of the women who has served on our pastoral staff, whom no one would mistake for anybody's father! This is someone who perhaps doesn't know all the customs of our church but who is ready to hear the story. More than that, it is often someone hoping to find where he or she might have a part to play in that story. Every one of us has at one time been in Cornelius' shoes. Perhaps some of us here today are in his shoes right now, on the outside of the story, looking for a part to play.
A few years ago, when Billy Graham came to hold a crusade in Portland, Oregon, a friend of mine happened to sit next to someone who had been in the audience the last time Dr. Graham had been in Portland, forty years before. After the sermon, my friend turned to this person and asked what he thought. His response was surprising. First, he said, it was virtually the same sermon he had heard forty years before. Then he said, here is the part that was so surprising, "Isn't that great?"
Great? Great that he hasn't thought of a new thing to say in forty years? No, great that he is still telling the story, the same story, as a way of inviting people to become part of it, carrying on the story--telling with all those Corneliuses outside the church family which Peter began doing so long ago, inviting people in, telling us we can become part of it.
To all of us, Peter's words are still true: "God shows no partiality ... everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness through his name." The church is not a place where we earn our stripes and strive to earn God's love. The only reason we are together at Easter is because Jesus has made us into a fellowship of the forgiven and newly acceptable. That makes us ready and able to play the part in the story God that has in mind for us.
Surely there is someone here today who has come hoping for a word that lets you know that you belong, that the story we rehearse here week after week is also your story. Well, here is that word. Believe in Jesus and accept salvation in his name. Do that with me as we pray, and you will find it is just the beginning of a whole new chapter in the amazing story of faith.
