Today is the last Sunday of the year. That is, if one is counting by the liturgical calendar. That calendar gives us Advent and Christmas and Epiphany and Lent and Palm Sunday and Easter and Pentecost. The year begins anew next Sunday with the First Sunday of Advent. Today is the last Sunday. Not only is it the last Sunday of the year, it is Christ the King Sunday. The content and purpose of the church’s celebration on Christ the King ought to be rather clear by title. A celebration appropriate for the weekend of Thanksgiving. This Lord’s Day of Thanksgiving weekend usually becomes that First Sunday of Advent. But today, with early Thanksgiving, we are at Christ the King. Giving thanks for Christ the King. The Lordship of Christ. The Reign of God made known in Christ Jesus.

            Our theme for this morning comes from one verse in the first chapter of the Book of Revelation. “I am the Alpha and Omega, says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.” Yes, the word choice, the imagery, the “I am” of it all, it ought to take you back to Moses at Mt Sinai with the burning bush. “When the Israelites ask me what is this name, who has sent you to us, what shall I say?” “God said to Moses, ‘I am who I am.’”

“I am the Alpha and Omega, says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.” Yes, the word choice, the imagery, “the Alpha and Omega” ought to kindle in your sacred imagination memories of a service in witness to the resurrection. As the church listens again to the words of the Lamb spoken later in the Book of Revelation. “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last. I was dead and behold I am alive forever and ever, and I hold the keys of hell and death.” “Because I live, you shall live also” is the echo added right there in the liturgy; Jesus words from the Gospel of John. “I am the Alpha and Omega, says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.” I invite you to listen to the Word of God from the Book of Revelation, the first chapter. Afterwards, I invite you to reflect with me upon the “isness of God”.

Revelation 1:4-8

               I’m betting that you can imagine with me a Thanksgiving dinner table somewhere in the kingdom of God a few days ago. It was a small gathering, because not all Thanksgiving meals are overflowing with attendees; multi-generations from the same family, worn-out travelers from out of state, and a kids’ table that’s just this side of being on the back porch. No, the table I’m picturing in my mind was much smaller there in the MacGregor’s home. There were only three MacGregors; George was the Dad. Cindy the Mom. Justin was all of 5 ½ . They were of the generation that usually traveled to see out of state family. But for a variety of reasons that everyone of us could list, they were going to be home for Thanksgiving this year.

            Cindy had thought about inviting another family or two from the neighborhood, but she kind of didn’t want to ask and kind of assumed everybody else would be with family. She and George decided they would invited Mr. Wasley from church. His wife had died a bit more than a year ago after 47 years of marriage. Cindy knew they had no children. She guessed he would have a better offer for Thanksgiving but she found the nerve, the courage, to ask him one Sunday after worship. They shared a pew with him, about a third of the way back on the congregational left side. Week after week after week. He loved to sing the hymns. He had mentioned that he had served as an elder and that he had been on the property committee when they redid the sanctuary. He always had some tidbit of history to share about the church. He was listed when the congregation celebrated 50 year members. Mr. Wasley was always patient with Justin (a bit more patient than Justin’s parents). He usually gave Justin a quarter after church. He never said why. But Justin was saving them now in his treasure box. Justin was probably the most excited when Mr Wasley said yes.

            So just a few days ago, the four of them sat down to Thanksgiving dinner (five if you count the presence of God). The time came for the prayer before the meal.  Justin’s Dad, George had decided that instead of a formal prayer, that he would simply invite each person at the table to share something for which they were thankful. Not wanting to leave God out of it completely, George went first and made sure his word of thanks was appropriately religious. He told his three listeners that he was grateful to God for bountiful blessings in the last year and the privilege of sharing those blessings with family and friends for years to come. Cindy, in an attempt to acknowledge Mr. Wasley’s loss, she said she was thankful for special thanksgiving memories that she was sure they all had of meals and family gatherings past, and especially her memories of Mrs. Wasley when they used to serve coffee hour together at the church. She concluded by telling Mr. Wasley that she hoped this Thanksgiving might be the first a new tradition that would include him at their table and in their family for years to come.

            Now it was time for Justin. His dad had actually given him a heads up earlier in the day so as not spring to this prayer time on him. So he had time to prepare. He let go of his mother’s hand on one side and Mr. Wasley’s on the other just to wipe the sweatiness off on his pants. And then he looked around the table and at all the food, and he said, “I’m thankful for mashed potatoes, aren’t you Mr. Wasley?” Needless to say, Justin’s parents were a bit underwhelmed by his response. His dad suggested maybe it could have a little more to do with God. His mom held his hand tighter and said something about being thankful for Mr. Wasley being here with that tone of voice that ends in a question but was much more of a command.

            “No, no, no” said Mr. Wasley, interrupting both parents who were trying to perfect the prayer by some form of Roberts Rules. In just those few seconds, as time stood still, Mr. Wasley thought about what his afternoon could have looked like all by himself, and how much he missed eating any meal with someone other than the television news person, and how the food where he lived was just fine but it never would taste as good as food used to-- for a whole variety of  reasons that every one of us could list, and how thankful he was for this sabbath day friendship that had come from the pew, and how he wished this moment with the Justin and Cindy and George, this moment with he and them and God would last for hours. With the wisdom of age, he understood Justin’s word of thanks better than the parents, and perhaps exactly how Justin intended it. Being thankful to God for the very moment, yes for the past and yes for the future, but for the very moment, for the very moment the way a child understands the moment, something that is, something right now, like hot mashed potatoes with melting butter just waiting to be served. And right then and there in the timelessness of it all, Mr. Wasley silently admitted to God that it had been a while since he offered such a prayer of thanks for what is.

            “No, no, no...it’s my turn.” was how Mr. Wasley started when he spoke. And he looked around the table, took Justin’s hand and with a grin and a sparkle and a squeeze he said, “Yes, Justin I am very thankful for mashed potatoes and actually, I’m quite thankful for hot, fresh biscuits as well, with just a touch of gravy.” And together, Justin and Mr. Wasley said “amen” and picked up their forks while Justin’s parents just looked on with more than a bit of confusion.

                “I am the Alpha and Omega, says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.” It is the “isness” of God that comes first there in the Apocalypse to John. The chronological method would simply affirm the God who was, who is, who is to come. But this theological affirmation begins with the Lord God who is. The God of the present. The God of the moment. The God of the here and now. Before the church affirms the God of the past, we ought to sing praise to the God who is. Before we stand and proclaim the God of the future, we ought to be standing and pointing to the God who is. Before we find ourselves drawn to the stories of Jesus as recorded in scripture and before we fall on our knees before Jesus who sits upon the throne of God, the One who shall reign forever and ever, the One who is surely coming again, you and I, we ought to give witness to Jesus the Christ, the Son of God, the Savior of the world, who is. On this Christ the King Thanksgiving Sunday. Giving thanks to God and to Jesus and to the Holy Spirit, God the Three in One, giving thanks for the here and now, not unlike the way a child lives and celebrates the moment. Giving thanks for Christ the King and his place at our table. Yes the Lord’s Table, but beyond that, the table of our lives.

            Last week we gave bibles to the second graders and I told them the book was important because it was there that we learn about the love of God. We learn the stories of Jesus there. I didn’t tell them this, but that’s where we learn about the “wasness” of God. If I had to try to tell those second graders about the “isness” of God, I wouldn’t point to a feeling or a particular spiritual high upon a mountaintop, or even a faith hero of today. I would start by having them stand and look at you, right now. In all of the glory that God gave you. The Body of Christ here and now, in the moment. A community that with the passion of its worship believes that Christ is present, that in this weekly gathering Christ is at the center. A community that with all of its brokenness believes that Christ’s love binds us together, that His love is our only comfort in life and in death. A community that knows itself to be sent out in service, not to fill out our resumes, not to facilitate team building at the office, not to achieve honorable mention in faith based initiatives, but because we know ourselves to be the hands and feet of Christ in the moment, in the world, in the here and now.

            Theologian Karl Barth argues that the message of Jesus’ past is proclaimed, heard, and believed in order that it should no longer be past, but present. For him, a community interested only in the historical Jesus would be a community without a guiding spirit. Likewise, a community that endures a certain emptiness now, a passive, futile waiting, a kind of church-based gestation period that only counts the days waiting for Christ to come again, well, according to Barth, it’s just unspiritual. Meaning it is a community lacking in the evidence of the work and the presence of God, the gifts of the Spirit, a spirit of thankfulness for the moment. In Barth’s own language, “It must never be forgotten that He who comes again in glory, this future Jesus, is identical with the One proclaimed by the history of yesterday and the One really present to His own to-day.” (Church Dogmatics III.2. p.468). That presence, that “isness” of Christ  is made known as the community gathers around Jesus himself in worship, a community that lives by and with Christ the King, through faith. “I am the Alpha and Omega, says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.”

            Ted Gill was a part of this congregation for a long time. His distinguished career as a theologian and church leader is beyond description here this morning. Many of you know that in his later years Ted’s wonderful voice was taken from him by illness. A voice known for both beauty and content. Mark Orten, who was the presbyterian campus chaplain to the University tells the story of sharing a table with Ted and some friends one Easter Sunday after worship. It was after Ted’s wife had died and he was continuing to have his own struggles for health. Those who loved Ted and spent time with him knew of the frustrations in trying to communicate with him, both his and theirs. At this Easter Day meal, Mark tells of Ted working hard to communicate a message to those at the table. With a glass in hand, not lifted very high, and with no words that would come, Mark said it didn’t take long for others to realize, that Ted was wanting to raise a glass in celebration of the resurrection. He was wanting to offer a toast to resurrection life. A wordless prayer in celebration of Christ, the King, the Risen One. It was so much more than a toast to that first resurrection day. It was, there amid the harsh realities of life and death, it was an act of thanksgiving. A daring word of thanks for the moment, for bread broken, for love shared, for Christ’s presence, for resurrection life in all of its abundance. A glass lifted in celebration of the resurrection.

            In celebration of the “isness” of God.

 

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