"What's Mine Is Ours; What's Ours Is God's"

- Acts 4:32-35 -

 

The reading of today's lesson from Acts, along with a look at today's sermon title, is likely to produce one of those "uh-oh" moments for the person in the pew.  If I were sitting where you are, and some preacher read those words to me, and if I'd taken the time to look at the sermon title, my response would be: "Uh-oh!  I bet he's going to talk about money."  Or: "Uh-oh! He's going to spout some of that left-wing, socialism stuff at me and try to convince me that the first Christians were a bunch of commies."  Or: "Uh-oh!  He's going to tell me that I have to give away everything I have to the poor before I can follow Jesus."

Is that what you're about to hear?  Well, in the words of a commercial for a certain car rental agency: "Not exactly."  This sermon does deal with stewardship.  Stewardship.  Not money.  Not budgets.  Not pledge cards.  Stewardship.  In this case, the care, maintenance, and preservation of Christian fellowship.  It's not about politics or economics.  Beyond reiterating God's demand to place everything in our lives, including our money and possessions, under the Lordship of Jesus Christ, it's not a plea to do anything that might be considered socially or financially radical.  So, if you've been holding your breath, go ahead and let it out.  Relax.

But don't relax too much.  What you're about to hear just might be more painful than a sermon about money, politics, or economics.  What you're about to hear is a sermon about love: the love of God that the world sees reflected in us as we live together in this thing we call the church.  God's love is a gift.  The fellowship of the church is a gift.  The love we show to one another is a gift.  If we're not good stewards of those gifts, we might as well be pouring our tithes, our offerings, our programs, our meetings, our budgets, our hopes, and our dreams down a rat hole.  If we don't love one another in this place with the kind of love described in I Corinthians 13 and the hymn "Blest Be the Tie That Binds," then we need to close the church’s doors and go spend our time, money, and energies elsewhere.

Now you can say, "Uh-oh!"  We can all say, "Uh-oh!"  Because odds are that none of us is as good a steward of God's love as we ought to be.  Do we pray for our fellow members of the Body of Christ as often as we can?  Do we practice acceptance, tolerance, and forgiveness with all our brothers and sisters?  Are we patient and kind with one another?  When one of us comes up missing on a Sunday morning, do we care?  When one of us is hurting, do we all hurt?  Do we criticize more than we console?  Do we get our noses out of joint when we're not in charge?  Do we pick up our marbles and go home when things don't go our way?  Can we disagree without being disagreeable?  Can I love you and you love me on those days when we're unlovable?

Those are the "uh-oh" questions of Christian living, the answers to which define our stewardship of God's love and often explain our stewardship, or lack thereof, of God's other good gifts.  Those earliest Christians were obviously good stewards of God's love.  They, in the words of the text, "were of one heart and soul... great grace was upon them all... there was not a needy person among them."  They took care of one another. 

The miracle of that first church in Jerusalem was not its radical economic practices.  The miracle of that church - the miracle of any community of Christian faith - was the Spirit-inspired willingness of its members to love one another unselfishly: their willingness to break down the sinful barriers that protected their imperfectly human hearts, and open themselves totally to God and one another. 

Their willingness to put everything they had at one another's disposal was an outward sign of an inward change in the deepest parts of who they were.  As they responded to the radically redeeming love of God made known in Christ, and as they opened their hearts to the radically transforming power of God's Spirit, they began dealing with one another in some rather radical ways.  The upshot of which was that, in the words of Acts 2, they had "the goodwill of all the people... and day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved."     

Thus it was that good stewardship translated itself into effective evangelism, mission work, social ministry, and pastoral care.  Goodwill in the community.  New members.  No hunger or homelessness within the Body of Christ.  No selfishness.  No me and mine.  Just ours.  And God's.  As it is with all God's gifts, we cannot hoard God's love.  We possess it only by giving it, and ourselves, away.

This does not mean that we have to recreate that first church in Jerusalem in order to be faithful stewards of God's love: to do evangelism; to do mission; to reach out in the name of Jesus to those around us; to care for one another.  We can't go back and be who they were.  No church since has been quite like that one.  However, in the words of Reginald Fuller, "... whatever form it may take, in any given society, there must always be some expression of [such Christ-like love and care] in the life of the Christian community if it is to retain its integrity." 

That brings it back to us, to right here and right now.  That brings us back to how we're responding to God's love in our dealings with one another.  Are our hearts open to one another?  Do my needs mean anything to you?  Do yours mean anything to me?  Are you praying for me?  Am I praying for you?  Is there room in my life for you and room in yours for me?  Am I really your brother in Christ?  Are you truly my brother or sister in the Lord?  When I hurt do you hurt?  When you celebrate do I celebrate?  Do we break bread together?  Are we welcome in one another's homes? 

What does the world out there see when it takes a look at our fellowship?  Does it see a church that truly is a "fellowship of kindred minds" in which "we share our mutual woes; our mutual burdens bear; and often for each other flows a sympathizing tear?"  Or does it see something else, something that chases people away rather than drawing them closer?  Does it see the love of God in action?  Or does it see some other power at work?  Does it see healing?  Does it see caring?  Does it see nurture?  Does it see grace, mercy, acceptance, and forgiveness?  Or does it see the same old stuff it sees everywhere else?  When the question is asked, "Are you of one heart and soul?" is our answer "uh-oh?" or is it "Amen?"

Is Grace Presbyterian Church a congregation whose fellowship in Christ inspires the goodwill of our surrounding community?  Is our church an inviting place to be?  When we sing the words “they’ll know we are Christians by our love,” are we conveying the truth about who we are or just congratulating ourselves with a pious but false platitude?  Are we ready to put our hearts, souls, lives, and resources where are mouths are?  Are we striving to really be a church or merely content to play at it? 

Those are stewardship questions, questions that really ought to cause us to say, “Uh-oh?”  Amen.