“The Way of Faith and Hope”

Amos 5:4, 6, 14-15

Luke 17:5‑10

In recent months, we’ve put up some signs throughout our church building to help visitors find their way around a little better. New people join us for worship each week. We have weddings and other events open to people who have never been here before. And it helps visitors who arrive on Sunday—or any other day—to know where they will find the sanctuary, the offices, the restrooms, or fellowship hall. When you come through our doors for the first time with a baby, it's nice to see the sign that tells where the nursery is.

I’d like to suggest that we need one more sign around here. At the main doors of our buildings there should be a sign that reads: “Servants’ Entrance.” Such a sign would be a reminder that each one of us enters and leaves this place not as a person of privilege but as a servant. We come here, not to press our own agendas and needs but, as the covenant of this congregation puts it, “to walk together in the ways of Jesus Christ made known and to be made known to us.”

That’s what Jesus suggests in the lesson from Luke that we just heard, isn’t it? In fact, he implies that we should think of ourselves as waiters and waitresses—table servers in the realm of God.

The summer before I started seminary, I worked as a cook in a restaurant in Cambridge, Massachusetts. In the light of this morning’s New Testament lesson I’d say that’s where my theological education actually began. The waitresses were in some way models of the Christian life.

Two of the waitresses were sisters named Faith and Hope—and I am not making this up. They were from a large family and had sisters named Grace, Prudence, and Charity. Faith and Hope were experts at serving, balancing several plates of food up and down their arms. They would maneuver around all sorts of obstacles, juggling a multitude of items all at once.

We are servants of God—and you know what a balancing act life can be.

Your family, your job, and your friends all need attention. One way or another you’re involved in the political life of our nation and this city. You'd like to get a little time for yourself. You hear the prophet Amos says “Seek good, act justly” and then Jesus comes along spelling out what that means: “Love your neighbor, forgive others.” The demands grow, you’ve got full plates up and down your arms. And the lawn still needs to be mowed and the house cleaned!

A lot of people feel like they’re balancing more and more. The demands of living are great. The demands of following Christ can seem only burdensome at times—an extra load to carry.

We may be servants, but if you’re like me, you often feel that you’re about ready to drop a tray of dishes.

So the cry of the apostles: “Lord, increase our faith!” seems so far removed from our concerns. We would shout instead:

Lord, increase the number of hours in the day!

Lord, increase the amount of money in our bank account!

Lord, increase my stamina!

Many people could use more time, more money, more energy. But more faith?

The concrete world makes real demands on each one of us. What difference will more faith, or deeper faith, make?

Let's be clear right away. Faith is not a “spiritual” matter, if by spiritual we mean something disconnected from the rest of the world. Faith is not about escape from the world, but involvement in it. Because “faith” is the confidence that tells us that we can live fully in this world and in this world bear witness to the love of God shown in Jesus Christ. Faith tells you that you can succeed in a world that wants you to fail.

Would more faith make a difference for you? That would certainly go along with much common wisdom today. If a little bit of something is good, more of it must be great.

In reality, however, the faith that you have already is sufficient.

Jesus does not reprimand those who ask for more faith. Instead he affirms the faith we have—even the mustard seed size faith. And he invites us to live out the full possibilities of that faith.

Faith is the confidence to live out our commitments, knowing that it is God working through us. Faith grows as we live out those commitments in season and out of season.

With commitment and confidence we come and go through the door marked “servants’ entrance,” balancing the demands placed upon us, hoping nothing drops, looking for some rest.

And in doing this, we discover what is often referred to as “grace”—the strange and happy way in which the living God does work in our lives, making a way out of no way, bringing new life.

Remember how Jesus prepared for his death? He wrapped a towel around his waist and washed the feet of his disciples while they were eating.

We’re servants all right. But we are servants of the One who came to serve. So right in the middle of our work, arms heavy, spirits sagging, we hear an unexpected voice, a welcome voice. It not the master in the parable saying: “Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink.”

No. We hear words of grace from the living Christ. “Come here at once and take your place at the table.” All is ready and waiting for those who would serve and fail and try again. When we are busy, when we are worn out, here we will find the sustenance to continue.

All is ready.

This morning we are invited to the table. We are invited to remember that we are not isolated members of an isolated congregation but that even with our UCC independence we are part of a community of faith that is world wide.

People of faith in other countries face demands different from our own. Some deal daily with the need for food or medical care. Others face imprisonment simply for singing and praying. They serve God in their own ways in their own countries.

We all seek the same faith that gives us the courage and strength to love our neighbors.

We are servants of God, living in the way of faith and hope.

Come at once—and take your place at the table.