Reading the Bible can be like going into a time machine — we go back to another age when life was quite different than what we experience today.  In this sermon for April 13, 2008 — which was Confirmation Sunday in our congregation — I reflect a little about the particular kind of time machine that the Bible can be …

 Awesome

Psalm 23 (sung)  Acts 2:42-47

Even though it has probably been overused in recent years, the word “awe” is a wonderful word – wonderful because it conveys not just one single emotion, but a whole set of emotions that seem like they ought to be incompatible: dread, veneration, and wonder. It is the feeling we get when we are overwhelmed by an experience: not just surprised or impressed, but moved to a sense of the holy, and suddenly aware of our own small place in the universe.

 

The story we just heard from the Book of Acts tells us that “Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. …” [Acts 2:43] And “everyone,” in this case, refers to the 3000 people who heard Peter preach and were so overcome with his message that they were baptized on the spot. Interestingly, Luke (who seems to have written the book of Acts) does not tell us anything about the wonders and signs that were being done by the apostles. Instead, he tells us what the new Christians were doing. Here’s the report:

· They “were together”

· They “had all things in common” – that is, they shared what they had

· They “would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need” – that is, they were generous with those in need

· They “spent much time together in the temple,” – that is, they worshipped together

· They “broke bread at home”

· They “ate their food with glad and generous hearts” – they enjoyed being with one another

· They were “praising God and having the goodwill of all the people”

All of that ought to sound familiar, because these are pretty much the things that we do today to be the church.

Whenever I come see myself like that in a scripture passage, I am reminded that the Bible is a kind of Time Machine. While we can’t actually travel back in history, we do hear in the Bible the stories of our ancestors in the faith, and we can catch glimpses of what it must have looked like in the earliest days of the church – when the apostles were filled with the mystery of the Resurrection and there was excitement and – yes – awe in the followers of Jesus.

What I learn from that Time Machine this morning is that faith always has two faces. On the one hand are the marvelous, transforming, complex experiences that bring us awe, and on the other hand are the mundane, everyday, simple practices of being a Christian disciple. The things that bring us awe cannot really be scheduled, planned, or even foreseen. They come upon us as a gift, stir up our feelings, lift our spirits, and leave us grateful, tired, and eager to share our experience with other people. The things that are disciplines, on the other hand, are precisely those things that we schedule, plan, and foresee. We know that there is an opportunity to say grace before every meal, a chance to worship every Sunday morning, a chance to pray every day. We know that we could write in our journals regularly, volunteer at the food bank, or help with Meals on Wheels.

Churches are, as a rule, really good about the regular, routine parts of the life of faith. We have regular worship services, classes and groups, and opportunities to serve others and to work for peace and justice. One of the really good things about belonging to a church is having a community to help us stay with these habits of faith over the long haul. Most of us would weary of these practices if we didn’t have others to share them with.

The particular challenge for churches is to be just as good at recognizing and welcoming the moments of awe that come to us. We’re inclined to try to produce them, as though we could order up God’s grace to arrive whenever it is convenient for us. Contrariwise, we are also inclined to try to ignore them when they seem untidy, out of control, or just inconvenient. It would be healthier – and more faithful – if we would remember that it is not our job to control or manage awe, it is our job to recognize, receive, and give thanks for those moments of holiness that come over us.

Some of you may know the contemporary hymn with these lyrics:

Our God is an awesome God,
He reigns from heaven above,
With wisdom, power and love,
Our God is an awesome God!

I love the words, but I can’t help wishing that the Michael W. Smith (who wrote these lyrics) had included a “spiritual impact statement” (you know, like an environmental impact statement, warning of the probable consequences of some action). Because the truth is that awe changes us. Once we have encountered the Holy One, had our breath taken away, been dazzled by the light, been overcome by the depth of the silence – however it happens – we are transformed forever. We can’t usually explain what has happened to us; we can’t entirely share it with people who weren’t present with us at the time. What we can do is realize that we have climbed into that Time Machine and returned to the days of “glad and generous hearts,” when “Awe came upon everyone.” That is the story of our ancestors in the faith, and it is our story, too.

Amen.