A  Sermon by Sydney V. (Skip) Jackson — November 8, 2009
Indianola Presbyterian Church, Columbus, Ohio
Text: Psalm 126;  Hebrews 12:1-13

 100th Anniversary Service

…let us run with perseverance the race that

and perfecter of our faith…— Hebrews 12:2b-3a

This is one of the most seductive books I own.  It’s a Rand McNally Road Atlas, and by opening it I can embark on the most marvelous journeys.  Oh, I know all about Google Maps and Google Earth.  But I love books.  And some of what are on the pages of this book are journeys of memory as I recall odysseys from the past—like May of 1982 when I set out solo on a motorcycle from Los Alamos, New Mexico on a trip that took me 9000 miles in 30 days.  Place names and routes in this book take me back— to Carlsbad Caverns… to an empty stretch of highway 54 just south of Guadalupe Mountains National Park in Texas with rattle snakes sunning themselves on the pavement just after dawn, to Big Bend National Park, and the Alamo, to the French Quarter, the Natchez Trace, Treasure Island in Florida, Kitty Hawk, the C & O Canal along the Potomac, Kalamazoo where I grew up, Lake Itasca (the headwaters of the Mississippi River), on to Wind Cave and Mount Rushmore, finally Estes Park at the gates to Rocky Mountain National Park where, turned back by a June blizzard, I decided it was time to head home.

But a Road Atlas is about more than memories.  There be dreams herein.  Someone has explored and mapped these places, thereby luring me to go there too.  In his first book about being On the Road for CBS News, Charles Kuralt listed his ten most beautiful highway trips in America.  I’ve driven five of them and especially love recalling the Going to the Sun Highway in Glacier National Park.  But the other five—like the Hana Highway in Hawaii—spark my imagination and make me want to drive them too.  Odd place names, major and minor “wonders of the world” like the world’s largest hand-dug well in Kansas, ferry boat connections (I love ferry boats)—they’re all in this book.  I can pour over a map of Newfoundland and dream of taking the car ferry from Sydney, Nova Scotia to Channel Port aux Basques, driving around the island, and finally taking a ferry all the way to Goose Bay, Labrador—all the while comfortably ensconced in my living room armchair.  It’s a book of dreams.

 

The world has long been fascinated by maps.  Early European explorers returned with maps of routes to China, to deepest Africa, to America.  The explorers and mapmakers are celebrated in history, almost revered.  America is even named after a mapmaker.  (You never heard of Vespucci Land?)  It’s not unlike the long list of heroes of the faith celebrated in the eleventh chapter of Hebrews—that “great cloud of witnesses” from Abel and Abraham on through Moses and Rahab to David and the prophets.  The author of Hebrews holds these people up as examples for us to follow in our own journeys of faith, but his greatest example is Jesus.  We are to persevere and endure following the example par excellence of Jesus, who is described as the “pioneer” of our faith.

I love that word “pioneer.”  Other translations speak of Jesus as the “author,” the “originator,” or the “founder” of our faith.  But that word “pioneer” captures my imagination.  Pioneers go and do.  I think of how Jesus’ life and teachings offer us a road map for how we are to live and move and have our being.  The Bible is a kind of “Road Atlas” for our lives and for our faith journeys.  And like any pioneer, Jesus says “Come and go where I go.  Come and be with me.”  The first pioneers on the Santa Fe and Oregon Trails sent letters back east encouraging friends and family to come join them in these new lands.  “Follow me,” says Jesus to any and all who would be his disciples. 

Much of the time it can seem that being a Christian is largely a matter of believing all the right things along with accepting Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior.  Yet the gospels speak again and again about doing certain things.  “Go and do likewise,” says Jesus after telling of a Samaritan who clearly loved his neighbor as himself.  In Luke Jesus asks, “Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I tell you?”  In the Sermon on the Mount he declares, “Everyone who hears these words of mine and does not act upon them will be like a foolish man who built his house on sand.”  And the Great Commission at the end of Matthew doesn’t say to teach people what to believe but rather to teach them to obey what Jesus has commanded.

The Bible is a “Road Atlas” for us to “go and do likewise,” to be fellow pioneers—a community of pioneers—with Jesus.  Yet all too often we’re tempted to treat it as a guide for armchair adventuring.  We might well love the Bible and pour over it, studying and learning about what it says, how it’s structured, what life in Bible times was like.  But we remain comfortably ensconced in our armchair world, coming up with excuses to avoid doing what the Bible says.  Common excuses tend to go something like, “Oh, Jesus is speaking here about spiritual matters, not the practical things of this world.  After all, we can’t go tearing down prisons and forgiving murderers, can we?  And loving our enemies must certainly leave out terrorists.  Give all you have to the poor?  Jesus clearly was speaking just to that rich, young ruler, not to us.”  The result is that, while we might well live pretty good lives, our “going and doing” can end up limited to “going and doing church,” provided we don’t have something better to do on a Sunday morning.

I look at my own life as a Christian and think of how I love to pour over maps of Newfoundland and New Zealand and other places I’d like to travel to but never do.  There’s a story in Anthony de Mello’s wonderful, little book, The Song of the Bird, about a mapmaking explorer.  As de Mello tells it:

The explorer returned to his people, who were eager to know about the Amazon River.  But how could he ever put into words the feelings that flooded his heart when he saw exotic flowers and heard the night-sounds of the forest; when he sensed the danger of wild beasts or paddled his canoe over treacherous rapids?  He said, “Go and find out for yourselves.”  To guide them he drew a map of the river.

They pounced upon the map.  They framed it in their town hall.  They made copies of it for themselves.  And all who had a copy considered themselves experts on the river, for did they not know its every turn and bend, how broad it was and how deep, where the rapids were and where the falls?

We are called to “go and find out for ourselves,” but we’re not asked to go alone.  Jesus promises his pioneering presence, and we go as a community of pioneers.

By way of encouragement, the author of Hebrews celebrates the “great cloud of witnesses” who were known especially for their going and doing.  And what he most wants to encourage are perseverance and endurance.  This weekend we are celebrating 100 years of ministry in this place, ministry growing out of the perseverance and endurance of those who have gone before us as well as the present membership.  One hundred years is a long time, but I’m not talking just about longevity.  Longevity is largely a matter of simply showing up.  But perseverance and endurance are more.  They are intimately connected with and grow out of commitment—showing up and doing and doing and keeping on doing.  Running the race—to use the metaphor of Hebrews—is not a one-time thing.  It’s race after race after race.  And one century, while a notable milepost, is not a finish, but a new starting line for a second century of service.

These days, the virtues of perseverance and endurance, and for that matter commitment, seem somewhat out of style.  A “what’s in it for me” kind of individualism is more the rule.  Pollsters report that even when people are willing to “go and do” they dislike volunteering for jobs that are long-term—“long-term” being defined as more than three to six months.  “Been there, done that” has become a common refrain as people either seek after novelty or declare that they “have already put in their time.”  But I’ve seen how different it is here at Indianola Presbyterian Church as far as perseverance and endurance are concerned.  One hundred years ago, 118 “pioneers” signed the original charter of the church, and most of them lived within walking distance.  It’s a very different neighborhood and city now.  But people remain committed to engaging in ministry in this place.  One of the first things I learned when I came here was that most members drive by at least one other Presbyterian Church to get here.  And in the nine years since, I’ve watched so many of you commit to both long- and short-term responsibilities again and again, offering a living witness to the priority you give to doing ministry here.

Like the author of Hebrews, we have our own “great cloud of witnesses” as examples of perseverance and endurance here in this community of pioneers.  Many of you are more acquainted with IPC history than I am, have lived through more of it, and so are more aware of the vital witness of all those who have gone before us—saints who, in the words of the familiar hymn now “from their labors rest.”  I can’t begin to know all those who have contributed in vital ways to the ministry of IPC.  I recall being impressed when I came here that Indianola had had only had nine senior pastors in 91 years.  The Reverend Doctor Robert Reed served 21 years here and then continued teaching a Bible class for many years after his retirement.  The Rev. Marideen Vischer faced many barriers in becoming the first woman ordained as a Presbyterian minister in the state of Ohio, and here at IPC she was the first woman to serve as a pastor in this presbytery.  The Rev. John Wilcox played a major role in founding Huckleberry House to serve troubled teens.

I’ll note just one of the early pioneers—Lorenzo Bulkley, who wrote the word to the Dedication Hymn for this building in 1916 (which we will be singing following this sermon).  While not a charter member, Mr. Bulkley was involved in the life of the church early on.  Something of an amateur poet, h wrote the Dedication Hymn for the sanctuary in 1916, and in 1919 he read one of his poems at the 10th anniversary celebration.  But the perseverance and endurance come through when you see the picture of him that hangs in the church conference room—presented in 1941 when he was named “Teacher Emeritus” by the Life and Light Class of IPC.  And I just learned last night at the 100th Anniversary dinner that he is the reason Gini Mereness King is a Presbyterian.

Among our present “great cloud of witnesses” are more people than I can possibly name, but I want to highlight a few specific examples of perseverance and endurance in our midst.  For more than a decade now, Ed Kinschner has volunteered 30 or more hours per week, filling in and helping out in countless ways while also serving as an elder or deacon and singing in the choir.  I don’t know how long Peter Maurath has volunteered as church treasurer, but he’s here at least two or three evenings a week on top of weekly choir rehearsals.  Speaking of choirs, there are decades upon decades of commitment to musical celebration and creativity.  Doug Slusher has directed (and I guess one might say now “re-directed”) the chancel choir for more than 35 years.  Jerry Lowder has served as organist more than 30 years.  And while Carol Winans retired after 20 years directing several different choirs, she continues singing in the chancel choir and playing flute at Taizé services.  Mary-Rebekah Nutt now leads the bell choir and also volunteers as director of the children’s Christmas choir and also (praise God) as youth group leader.  (When I got sober and then got involved in a church, my first volunteer position was as a Junior High Youth Leader, so I really appreciate what Mary-Rebekah does.)  And on Sunday mornings there’s Jerry Ehman always up there in the balcony running the sound system, and back in the narthex in his favorite chair is Bob Stickney who has organized the ushers for more than 50 years.  (I’m told he’ll be 90 early next year.)

In the nine years I have been here, more than a few of you have served multiple three-year terms on session and/or deacons, while also doing things like singing in the choir, playing hand-bells, and/or teaching Sunday school.  But commitments go way beyond just keeping the church operating.  The very same people serving within the church you will also find at B.R.E.A.D. Assemblies, or writing letters on behalf of Bread for the World, or serving midnight breakfast to OSU students (three times a year for the past eight years now).  There are people like Jack Kyle who has organized IPC’s participation in CropWalk for each of the past 12 years and regularly takes our food and clothing donations to Neighborhood Services.  Or Lance and Marilyn Shreffler, who are constantly on the move, involved in peace, justice, and charity activities all around the city—doing everything with so much energy I sometimes wonder if they haven’t found the fountain of youth.  Or Judy Lee who serves with the national Presbyterian Peace Fellowship as well as a couple of mission networks.

As we this day set out as “charter members” in this second century of service as the Indianola Presbyterian Church, we all have before us the example of Jesus, “the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.”  And we have the enduring witness of friends and fellow church members who for 100 years have put their faith into action in the world.  Their examples of perseverance, endurance, and commitment are of such magnitude that surely God has been and is with them in their service.  May we all seek to be more than armchair Christians.  May we be followers of Christ’s way and doers of his word—a community of pioneers.  Alleluia and amen.