“Living by Faith”

October 26, 2008

Habakkuk 2:1-4

Luke 10:1-9, 17-20

On October 31, 1517, Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses against abuses in the Church to the door of Wittenberg Castle bringing to a full blaze the Reformation that had been smoldering for some time. Today is Reformation Sunday, an opportunity to reflect on what it means to be Protestant Christians almost 500 years after the beginning of that Reformation.

Protestants have always been willing to question authority. The “No” of Protestantism is important because it contains the divine and human protest against any absolute claim made for a relative reality—even if that claim is made by a Protestant church.[1]  Protestant belief and practice places healthy restraints on the human tendency to deify political or economic systems or individual leaders. It insists that all systems and all leaders are accountable to a higher authority.

The “No” of Protestantism is important.

But Protestantism also has a “Yes.” As a result, at our best, we are always looking for new ways of being faithful people in changing times. Out of the Protestant Reformation came key Western values—social reform, individual religious conviction, hard work, and the rejection of corruption, hypocrisy, and empty ritual.[2]

Mainline denominations, such as the United Church of Christ are descendants of the great Protestant reformers who challenged empires and reordered societies. The traditions we bear have continually fostered important innovation in meeting social needs. These traditions have produced powerful voices of prophetic judgment and have frequently given birth to great movements of moral protest—again, saying “no” but also saying “yes.”

In the past fifty years alone, it was Mainline Protestants who addressed such issues as racism and civil rights, the well-being of children and families, nuclear weapons, Vietnam, the role of the U.S. in Central America, the first and second Gulf Wars, the shifting line of separation between church and state, hunger and homelessness and poverty in America.

Today, Mainline Protestants are experiencing a renewed sense of mission and strength in many places, including, I think, in this congregation. Claiming our proud history, we are finding new ways of addressing current challenges as we live by faith.

And as citizens of a nation fighting two wars in the midst of a global financial meltdown, the only way we can live is by faith.

The choir director at a church I once served told me about a musical “trick” that Martin Luther used in composing the music for the classic Reformation hymn that we sang this morning, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” A few measures before the end of the hymn, Luther shifts from a major to a minor chord. As we sing this hymn, that shift induces a sense of foreboding, a feeling that all is not right.

Normally a composer would then stay in this minor key—and we would continue to feel uneasy. But Luther doesn't continue in this minor mode. He quickly turns it around so that we end up with a sense that “everything will be O.K.”—that, as the final words tell us: God’s “kingdom is forever.”

Luther's hymn speaks of the mighty power of the living God overcoming all the evils that fill this world.

It speaks the word of faith in an uncertain time. Which is why this hymn was so beloved by those German Christians who were part of the resistance against Hitler some seventy years ago.

This hymn speaks the word of faith in an uncertain time. Which is why we are still able to sing it today.

For several years now, our nation has been in a minor key.

The sense of fear and uncertainty following 9/11

turned to fear, uncertainty, and anger over the invasion of Iraq and years of failed tactics there,

turned to fear, uncertainty, anger, and sorrow over events in places like New Orleans and the Gulf Coast, or Abu Ghraib or Guantanamo,

turned to fear, uncertainty, anger, sorrow, and apprehension as the world economy falters.

Throw in a flood and you can understand why so many people feel completely overwhelmed.

Anne Lamott recently wrote that “Fear is appropriate these days, much of the time. Don’t let people tell you that you can’t have faith and fear, as if you have to choose. The old saying goes, ‘Fear is faith that has said its prayers.’” She advises that, “This is the best possible time in the history of the republic both to stay extremely afraid and also to keep the faith: If you feel too much of one, look around deep inside for the other.”

As Protestants, we are called to keep the faith in the midst of fear.

Will everything be O.K. as Luther’s music suggests? We can never be certain. It’s a matter of faith.

“The righteous shall live by faith,” the ancient prophet tells us. Those words that have long been a rallying cry for Protestants speak to us in these uncertain times. We live not by our own strength, nor by our fine moral character. We live neither by our wisdom nor by our financial well-being.

At all times, and in these days especially, we live by faith. We don’t know how the election will turn out, we don’t know what the markets will do, we don’t know what turns Iraq or Afghanistan will take,  we don’t know if there will be a pop quiz in class tomorrow, we don’t know when we shall die. We live by faith, trusting in God’s grace and merciful goodness.

When we realize this—and that’s not always easy to do—we begin to relax. It’s not that there is any less fear or uncertainty. But we recognize that there is something—Someone—greater than our fear; Someone who calls us out of uncertainty into loving engagement with other people and with this hurting world.

Listen again to the words of the Psalmist: “The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter; God utters God's voice, the earth melts.”

In the midst of this tumult, in the midst of the chaos around us today, we hear the invitation: “Come behold the works of the God, who has wrought desolations in the earth.”

The psalmist gives us reason to pause. The works of God are not what we might expect or desire.

No mention here of beautiful autumn colors. No birds singing and people living together in harmony.

The works of God: “making wars to cease to the end of the earth, breaking the bow, shattering the spear, and burning the chariots with fire!” Making peace, it would seem, is not a pretty sight.

What I would like to say is “Don't worry. Everything will be alright.” But those are easy words offering only shallow comfort and no reality.

And yet, when the winds blow and the waters rage, the psalmist reminds us of God's word: “Be still, and know that I am God.”

There is One greater than the storms that rage.

There is One greater than the tumult of the nations.

There is One greater even than us and our problems.

“God is our refuge and our strength, a very present help in trouble.”

It often seems like the world is set in a minor key—we are fearful in the present, worried about the future. In such times we live by faith—confronting our fears even if we aren’t able to overcome them.

In the coming week we get a little help with this. This Friday is Halloween, which, as you know, is short for All Hallows’ Eve. It’s the day before All Saints’ Day. October 31 was the day that Luther made public his protests against the Church.

Halloween—and the days leading up to it—suggest a time of danger and risk, a time when all hell breaks loose, when death and evil seem rampant. That is to say, it suggests a time much like our own.

“This world with devils filled should threaten to undo us,” is how Luther put it.

Luther’s hymn is based on Psalm 43, which we read responsively this morning, beginning with that glorious affirmation: “God is our refuge and our strength.” Sometimes these words are a solid conclusion. Most of the time we speak them as words of hope, a statement of faith in what is not fully known or seen.

Which is why we need Halloween and why this day can give us hope.

There are some conservative Christians who are so worried by this day that they would avoid it entirely. They want to get Halloween parties out of the schools and offer alternatives to trick or treating. They will tell you, mistakenly, about Halloween’s “pagan” roots.

But we need Halloween for what it does—and for what we do on it. What we do on Halloween is to mock evil rather than to acknowledge its control over our lives and our world. Yes, it is a small thing, really, in the face of the great evils that we face. But if an eight year old can dress up as death, well, maybe, death has lost its sting; maybe love is stronger than death. If a child can be a ghost, then, maybe, all that haunts us isn’t as scary as we think; passion as fierce as the grave. When all that threatens can come knocking at our doors, we find that we can handle it.

By faith we live in hope, not despair. By faith we forgive instead of judging. We love instead of despising. We lift up instead of tearing down. We mock the evil around us and within us as a step—just a step—in following the way of Jesus Christ.

This is how October 31 helps us. We begin with mocking evil on Halloween and discover that our faith and our imagination start to develop. We start to envision great good—to truly discover how we overcome evil with good.

As is often the case, we also get a little help from Jesus. Describing a vision, Jesus tells his followers who had been sent out to heal and confront the evil of their time: “I saw Satan falling from heaven…” That is to say, that as the followers of Christ go out into the world, the power of evil comes crashing down. It’s a vision, an image of the triumph of good. We affirm that this triumph began with the Resurrection and continues today with each step we take following in the way of Jesus Christ, each time we actually do share the love of God in this world.

It often seems like the world is set in a minor key—we are fearful in the present, worried about the future. Will everything be all right? I don’t know. No one does. I only know that even now, especially now, we live by faith. In all of this, we recognize that, as Luther’s hymn put it, “Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be loosing.” All our struggles—to love our neighbors, our small efforts for peace and justice, our work to reduce and eliminate hunger—all our struggles are not losing battles because of God’s grace working in us and through us.

We live by faith—faith in the God who is our refuge and our strength, a very help in times of trouble.

We are Protestants.

We live by faith.