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Larry R. Hayward
August 29, 2004
Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Privilege of Pointing
Deuteronomy 34:1-9
John 1:19-23

The time has come to say goodbye.

The vote on Magnet for Ministry has occurred.
Renovation has begun.
Every staff member — except Joan Riley — has moved to a temporary office.

The time has come to say goodbye.

Before I begin the sermon I want simply to thank all of your for your response to my leaving — both your responses as individuals and your response as a congregation:

For the gratitude you have shown
For the genuine happiness you have expressed for me
For the 5+ pounds you have added to my weight through your ministry of "taking the departing minister to dinner"

I am grateful.

The speed with which you moved to begin renovation
The speed and thoroughness with which you are moving to secure an Interim Pastor
The energy level you are showing as a Session and congregation

All allow me to leave this fine place with full confidence in your future. The work we have done together these past fourteen years has indeed made our church a stronger Magnet for Ministry.

Let us pray. Lord God, as is my prayer with all words I have spoken in this place, to these people, so may it be with today's words: Use my speaking, their hearing, for an event of grace the shape and impact of which lies beyond our power of predicting or planning. In the name of Christ. Amen.

On this day, I want to preach three "mini-sermons."

Sermon #1 is based on Deuteronomy. It comes from the end of Moses' life. Moses, as you will recall, led the people of Israel for many years.

Against his own lack of self-confidence, he led God's people out of slavery.
Against his own flawed humanity — he was, after all, a murderer — he received the Law.
Against his own moments of sin and doubt, of which there were many, he was one of few people to see God "face to face."

Yet as important as was Moses' role in leading the people out of slavery, Moses himself never entered the Promised Land. As Margaret just read:

The Lord showed Moses all the land,
From Gilead to the valley of Jericho.

The Lord told Moses: "This is the land I swore to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob."

Then the Lord said:
"I have let you see it with your eyes,
But you shall not go over there."

God called Joshua, not Moses, to lead the people into the long-awaited Land of Promise. [1]

Many of you have remarked, and doubtless more thought:
"I always knew Larry would leave, but I thought it would be after the renovation."
To be honest: I thought it would be after the renovation. But the reality is God has called me here to lead you to the edge of the Promised Land and God will call someone else to lead you in it and through it.

What all of us have learned theologically is this: The tasks God puts before any slice of God's people are larger than the leaders God calls to lead. The tasks are larger than the individual participants or any generation of participants.

From a Biblical standpoint, it was always more important that the people of Israel enter the Promised Land than that Moses be the leader who crossed the borders with them.
Likewise, it has always been more important that we assess our past, be honest about our present, and to the best of our ability discern the will of God for our future than it is for me to be the leader or for any one of us to be a participant.
The promises and purposes of God for the people of Israel were always larger than any of its leaders: Abraham, Sarah, Moses, Miriam, Joshua, Ruth, Elijah, Elisha.
Likewise, the promises and purposes of God for First Presbyterian Church have always been larger than Edward Burkhalter, Alvin Magary, Robert Little, Ted Lilley, Francis Pritchard, John Shew, Calvin De Vries, Larry Hayward.

The promises and purposes of God for First Presbyterian Church are larger than minister who stands in this pulpit full of flaws and fortune.

I will probably never preach in a Sanctuary as beautiful as the Sanctuary that will stand at Fifth Street and Third Avenue Southeast, but I have played my part in it, and that is honor enough. For that part I am grateful to God and for that opportunity I am appreciative to you.

II.

For Sermon #2, we fast-forward to the New Testament, to one of the many accounts of the life of John the Baptist. John, you will remember, came before Christ and pointed the way to Christ.

When asked who he was, John said:

I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness,
"Make straight the way of the Lord." [2]

It was the role of John the Baptist to point to Christ.

My friends, all of us who take it upon ourselves to preach assume a role that is no more than that of John the Baptist. We merely stand among you, as one of you, called to point to Christ.

Sometimes our pointing is clear.
Sometimes our pointing is accurate.
Sometimes our finger is strong and straight.

But often

We point from a fog.
Sometimes our finger is weak and crooked, our nails, dirty, bitten, torn.
Often, the Christ to whom we point has not yet emerged from the fog that surrounds him, that blocks us from seeing him clearly

All we can ever do is point. To claim to do more — as some ministers implicitly do — is an exercise in egotism, in blasphemy, and, I dare say, in religious terrorism.

The poet and AIDS activist D. A. Powell envisions words of John the Baptist as John points to Christ.

when [Christ] comes he is neither sun nor shade: a china doll a perfect orb. when he comes he speaks upon the sea

when he speaks his voice is an island to rest upon. he sings [he sings like france joli: come to me and i will comfort you. when he comes]

when he comes I receive him in my apartment: messy, yes but he blinds himself for my sake [no, he would trip, wouldn't he?]

he blinds me for his sake. yes, this actually happens so that the world with its coins with its poodles does not startle

I am not special: have lied stolen fought. have been unkind when I await him in the dark I'm not without lascivious thoughts

and yet he comes to me in dreams: "I would not let you marry" he says: "for I did love you so and kept you for my own"

his exaltation is a little sour. his clothes a bit dingy
he is not golden and robed in light and he smells a bit

but he comes. and the furnace grows dim. the devil and the neighbors and traffic along market street: all go silent. the disease

and all he has given me he takes back. laying his sturdy bones on top of me: a cloak an ache a thief in the night. he comes [3]

Notice the language poet projects John using to describe Christ:

"[Christ] speaks upon the sea"

"his voice is an island to rest upon"

"he comes to [us] in dreams."

The language poet depicts John using to describe himself is also insightful:

"I receive him in my apartment: messy, yes but he blinds himself for my sake"

"I am not special"

"I…have lied stolen fought."

My friends, it has been a privilege to point — from my own dryness — to the One who "speaks on the sea."
It has been an honor to point from my own unrest to the One who is "an island to rest upon."
It has been my honor to point from my own sleeplessness to One who "comes to [us] in dreams."
Like John, I have been privileged to point to Christ. Unlike John, I have been privileged to point to Christ in your midst.

III.

Sermon #3 is from a text not in the Bible, but from one of the many children in our church whose faith is being formed daily in this place.

Taylor Courtright has just started second grade. Taylor comes to worship and Sunday School every week with her mother, sister, and brother. A few weeks ago, it dawned on Taylor that I was leaving.

When Taylor came to this realization, her eyes widened, her brow furrowed.

We might expect Taylor to have said: "Who is going to be our minister?"

Instead, Taylor said: "Who will be his friends?"

I trust friends await me in the future. But Taylor has verbalized what I know to be true in the present: You have been my friends.

You have been my friends
Through 194 baptisms,
121 weddings,
185 funerals,
And the reception of well over 425 new members.

You have been my friends
When I showed up in Cedar Rapids,
Age 35,
Assuming that if I preached, taught, visited,
All would be well.

You have been my friends
When I came to realize
That in today's world
A church cannot be all things to all people.

You have been my friends
As together
We forged a common understanding — a common vision — of how we — First Presbyterian Church —
Are called to worship God.

You have been my friends
As together we have become a healthier church,
Marching to the edge of the Promised Land.

You have been my friends
As I sought to raise my children.

You have been my friends
As you gave me privacy and distance
After I made a difficult and necessary decision
To end a long-term marriage.

You have been my friends
As I became single,
Took up writing, renewed an interest in baseball.

You have been my friends
As you listened to me
Sunday after Sunday,
Point to Christ with jagged finger,
As you offered comments

Sometimes affirmative
Sometimes questioning
Sometimes critical

Yet in the spirit of mutual search, mutual pointing.

You have been my friends
When you invited me into your most personal times:

When you graduated
And when you retired

When you became pregnant
And when you lost a child

When you got a new job
Or lost an old one

When you licked cancer
Or accepted that it was licking you

When your spouse
was rushed to the Emergency Room

When you married
When you divorced

When you sat next to one who lay dying.

You have been my friends
When you met me at 5:00 a.m. in the parking lot
To ride a charter bus
To Cleveland or Chicago
To behold our national pastime.

You have been my friends
When you learned to say "Ya'll"
And when you understood that when I offered you a Coke I meant any number of products that you refer to as "soda" or "pop."

You have been my friends
As I have passed through
The most significant period of my personal life,
The most trying period of my professional life,
And the most significant outward achievement
Of my ministry.

You have been my friends
As I have come to my deepest reverence for God,
My closest walk with Christ,
My most beautiful experiences of the Spirit.

You have been my friends
As my prayer life has found its way
Up rugged terrain
To a beautiful vista.

You have been my friends
As I have come to be the happiest
I have ever been in my life.

You have been my friends
As this city has become my home,
Described in The Elephant Man as
"a place we never have to leave."

I have been privileged to be your leader when we marched to the edge of the Promised Land.

I have been privileged to point to Christ in your midst.

In your company, I have been privileged to feel Christ
"[lay] his sturdy bones/on top of me: a cloak an ache a thief in the night."

I give thanks to God
That Taylor has it right:
You have been my friends.

Amen.

1 Deuteronomy 34:1-12. go back
2 John 1:23. go back
3 D. A. Powell, "[when he comes he is neither sun nor shade: a china doll]," in Cocktails. I encountered this poem during a lecture by Katie Ford at the Summer Writing Festival, University of Iowa, July 22, 2004. go back

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First Presbyterian Church of Cedar Rapids
310 Fifth Street SE Cedar Rapids, IA 52401
Phone: 319-364-6148
E-mail: church@fpccr.org