Acts 20:17-38

“Bigger Than Ourselves”

June 11, 2006

This scripture is, as you can tell, a farewell speech. Paul has prayerfully decided it’s time for him to go to Rome, and before that to travel through Greece and sail to Jerusalem. Along the way he passes Ephesus, on the coast of modern-day Turkey. Ephesus was the place Paul had spent the most time in his ministry, three years, and it was a church he loved very deeply. This is his farewell speech to them before he goes on to Jerusalem and Rome, never to return. And a mighty good farewell speech it is, wouldn’t you say? But it is Paul’s third try at farewell, and the first two hadn’t gone so well.

It had been Paul’s intention to sail right by Ephesus without so much as waving goodbye. He’d convinced himself that he was in a hurry and didn’t have time for a farewell fuss. I can sympathize with that. How much easier it would be just to pack your bags and fold your sails and slip off under cover of darkness. Easier, yes. More cowardly, yes. But better, no. And Paul changed his mind later on.

Paul’s next try at goodbye was in Troas, up the coast. There Paul had so much to say by way of farewell that he talked on and on. He talked so long that a young man sitting in the window went to sleep, fell out the window and died. Paul raised him from the dead and kept on talking! Surely one part of a good goodbye is knowing when to stop talking and turn and walk away.

So this time in Ephesus, this third time, Paul gets his farewell right. In case you were wondering, I’ve got three more chances to preach at Maynard, this one and two more. That might just be enough for me to get it right!

This sermon may be my “opening farewell,” but it’s also the conclusion of our series from Acts called “Getting the Word Out.” Powered by the Holy Spirit and driven by the boldness of the apostles, the gospel spread like wildfire. There was opposition, even persecution, but that only made the apostles bolder. And Paul’s farewell speech has helped me realize why they were so effective in getting the Word out: those early Christians knew they were part of something bigger than themselves. Their own ego and status didn’t really matter—they were part of something bigger than themselves. Their own comfort and security didn’t really matter—they were part of something bigger than themselves. And they didn’t have to try to create their own sense of meaning and purpose—they were part of something bigger than themselves.

It’s what we all want, deep down inside—to be part of something bigger than ourselves. Oh, I know, sometimes we just want to be able to cover the rent and make the car payment. I know, sometimes we just want to make it through the day without crying, or screaming, or drinking. I know, I know. But deeper than any of those things, we ache to belong, to be part of something bigger than ourselves—to get caught up in it, swept along by it, given boldness and direction by it. And for those early Christians, they knew the good news of Jesus Christ was that thing. And never doubt that the good news of Jesus Christ is that thing for us as well.

The church’s message, the gospel, is bigger than ourselves in several ways:

Ø For one thing, the gospel is, after all, about God. It’s about eternity, the salvation of our souls. Some people find support in their book club or card club or coffee klatch. Some people are passionate about their sports team or TV show. There’s nothing wrong with any of that. But they don’t matter ultimately (no, not even Kansas basketball). To be grasped by the Holy Spirit of God, to be entrusted with sharing Christ’s love and acceptance of all, to have the opportunity to come alongside someone searching for faith—this is what we are made for, it’s what our hearts beat for. It’s what it means to be part of something bigger than ourselves.

Ø The church’s message, the gospel, is bigger than ourselves because it is multi-generational. It was here before us and will keep on going when we’re gone. One of Paul’s concerns in this farewell speech is for clear and consistent leadership at Ephesus after his departure.

The gospel is bigger than ourselves. What we do here at church is not just for ourselves, but for future generations. We want our children and grandchildren yet unborn to have a church that welcomes and affirms all God’s children. We want people 100 years from now to be able to celebrate and share Christ’s love and acceptance of all people. Which is why there is an urgency to reach children and youth—they will not be able to pass on to their own children and grandchildren what we have not passed on to them.

A few days ago I listened to the tape of the celebration for my tenth anniversary here at Maynard. It wasn’t a smart thing to listen to while driving because the tears made it hard to see the road! Doug sang a Streisand song called “Circle:” “And this circle / just goes on and on / it began before us / it will be here when we’ve gone/ and this circle/ just goes on and on and on / connecting our humanity / joining me to you and you to me.” It’s multi-generational; it’s bigger than ourselves.

Ø The church’s message, the gospel, is bigger than ourselves because it’s not just a message, not just a set of things we’re supposed to believe. The gospel is a movement. And there is power in a movement. Each of us by ourself is small and scared and overwhelmed. But when the Holy Spirit has formed us into a movement, then get out of the way! The Civil Rights Movement was armed only with speeches and songs and marching, yet together they overcame the guns and lynchings and fire hoses marshaled against them. Movements have power to change the world.

I believe deep in my heart that we have become a great church at Maynard Avenue. But we are just shy of being a movement. A movement has tremendous focus, it has clear but ever-expanding goals, but most of all a movement has momentum. Once we become a movement, we won’t have to encourage you to invite others; we wouldn’t be able to stop you from telling everyone about it. Maybe we ought to stop calling it the Maynard mission statement and start calling it the Maynard Movement Statement: to celebrate and share Christ’s love and acceptance of all. Roll on! It’s bigger than ourselves.

Ø Finally, the church’s message, the gospel, is bigger than ourselves because it’s bigger than any one of us. We learn this truth only when we absolutely have to, and always painfully. But it is true nevertheless. Paul had brought the gospel to the Ephesians, had taught them the faith. He had loved them and prayed for them and worried about them. But here he is, about to leave, knowing there would be troubles ahead, but trusting that God would raise up leaders to carry on. The church and its gospel is bigger than any one of us—bigger even than the apostle Paul.

Frankly, I hate that truth. I would like the movement to just keep going, with all the same people and never lose one of them. But that hasn’t been my experience. Back in 1999 Maynard lost three or four key families to other churches almost all at once. And though I understood why they needed to move on, I didn’t think we could survive without them. I was mistaken. The church and its gospel is bigger than any one of us—bigger than any three or four of us.

Jim Hering received a call to ministry, for which I rejoiced. Then that call took him and his family away from us—first to Marion and then to Albuquerque. I was so sad and so scared we couldn’t make it without them. Now I still miss them terribly after all these years, but the gospel didn’t come apart. It’s bigger than any one of us.

Then Vel got sick and went to heaven. How do you go on without Vel Pierce? Well, it’s not the same. But on we go. It’s bigger than any one of us.

There is a passing of the mantle when leadership changes, as Paul recognized in this speech. Cean Wilson tells of being the first woman pastor in one of her appointments. There was an older lady in that congregation who was not so much opposed to having a woman pastor, as she was unable to conceive of the idea. She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that this woman was her pastor. So when Cean was introduced as the new pastor, the woman asked, “But who will do our funerals?” And Cean replied, “Well, I will.” “Oh,” the woman sighed, “maybe that will be all right.” Several wonderful years later, it was time for Cean to move to another appointment, and in her grief and loss over Cean leaving, the woman asked her, “But who will do our funerals?” And Cean replied, “Well, your new pastor will.” “Oh,” the woman sighed, “maybe that will be all right.”

Yeah, maybe it will be all right. Because the church and its message, the gospel of Jesus Christ, is bigger than ourselves.

--It is godly and eternal

--it was here before us, and if we reach children and youth, it will be here when we’re gone

--it’s not just a message or set of things to believe; it’s a movement that sweeps us along

--and it’s bigger than any one of us—bigger than the apostle Paul, bigger than Herings, bigger than me.

Deep inside, what our hearts long for is to be part of something bigger than ourselves. For those early Christians, they knew the good news of Jesus Christ was that thing. Never doubt, my friends, that the good news of Jesus Christ is that thing for us as well.