Sermon July 19, 2009

2 Samuel 7:1-14a
Ephesians 2:11-22

“a place in this world. . .”
In the early years of what became known as Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), there was a feeling of ruggedness about the movement—that’s what it was. The early men and women who founded our denomination began talking and moving about in the world, discussing, arguing, making pronouncements, spouting slogans and all kinds of other things. They moved among the people on the edge of the settlement areas of the United States, the frontier or boundaries of the culture.

Some of the notable events in the movement were the participation of leadership in brush arbor revival meetings where, in these particular cases, preachers and teachers from several denominations came together to for a revival meeting. At one of these meetings Alexander Campbell described great teaching and preaching among the Methodist, Presbyterian and Christian leaders and the communion, lifting the bread and cup with simplicity of gesture and word.

The main character of these meetings was their temporal nature—they often roughed logs into seats, built pulpits and the table for sacramental purposes the same way, too. They would erect shelters of brush to shade the preacher and a few of the congregation, too. In this country, people were about movement beyond settled lands and the gospel came with them—sometimes whether they wanted it or not.

In 1811, in Kentucky at what became known as the Brush Run Church, Thomas and Alexander Campbell and many others had a church built—the first permanent structure within this movement that became the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). But for a few more decades, evangelists and preachers continued to follow the settlement of the people of this country through their forays into its frontiers or boundary country. They were, in some ways of thinking, a pretty nomadic people.

One can see this locally if you look into the early history of this congregation. Most pastors came for just a year or two at a time before moving on—though some came back and served again. This trend continued into the late 60’s when there was a longer tenured pastor than ever before. But in the origins of this denomination there is a biblical feeling of itinerancy within the clergy—though we tend to think of this as a Methodist thing, Disciples of Christ ministers, on average, move more often. In the beginnings of our denomination, preachers were often traveling evangelists, sent out from what eventually became the regional churches, founding and preaching at congregations with the local leadership of elders and deacons holding regular weekly services in their absence.

It’s no longer the frontier here in Illinois and boundaries are far beyond us geographically, we still need to be reminded of our itinerancy—that we are citizens, not primarily of this place and time, but members of God’s household deep down within us. What we do, how we live, who we care for, who we love and how we share ourselves reveals our identity as God’s children and citizens of God’s realm or kingdom.

In today’s first testament text, the Israelites have gotten settled into their new existence. It’s taken awhile, but after their 40 year sojourn in the wilderness following a few decades of slavery in Egypt, after several years hiding our from the famine in the Promised Land—they are now a kingdom, a sovereign nation. For awhile after Joshua brought them into the land of Canaan they were ruled as tribes by the judges like Deborah and Samson; they were taught by prophets and the worship of God happened as the tent of the tabernacle traveled around the land and was set up in various places.

There is now a king because the people insisted that’s what they needed despite God’s warning. Now there is a capital because David saw the advantage to bringing the seat of religion and the seat of government together in one place. The tabernacle no longer traveled, but the tent was permanent fixture in Jerusalem. The king has a palace of cedar and the people are getting quite established, no longer primarily a people of nomadic shepherds, but farmers, merchants, traders, etc. They have homes, vineyards and farms. They have houses, shops and walls for their city. David begins to think that God has settled down, too, that God is somehow reflecting the actions of the people—that God has been led into an institutional existence. Now, he think, wouldn’t it be nice gesture to give God a beautiful home to live in—cedar, gold leaf, pretty fixtures, organ pipes and all? So he poses the question to his prophet, Nathan, who says, off hand—without consulting God—go ahead, build God a house.

That night when Nathan dreamed, he was told something very different. God said, “Oh, no, David will not build me a house—I am God, I build David a house; it will be a house without end.” In these words of God—the word given to the prophet—we can hear that God extends God’s hand of care primarily God’s creation, not the other way around.

If you search the scriptures for references to disloyalty to God, the accusation is not that the people aren’t taking care of God, but that they aren’t relying on God for their needs. When the people of Israel wander away from God, long after these events of 2 Samuel, the problem is that they do not trust God to care for them. Sometimes they accused of relying too much on their own cleverness, cutting measurements too close or cheating; sometimes they reach out to a strong military power to ally with them as they did in the events that lead to exile in Babylon.

God promises David that David’s house, David’s lineage will be built by God. God promises that God will discipline when the house of David strays—God will take care of them, will be a parent to these children.

As human cultures develop, God knows that they move through a succession of need—we first need the basics to survive, just like individuals: food, water, shelter and companionship; as cultures or societies next there is a need for common belief and practice and then there is a time where those belief and practice become solidified into institution—temple worship, church establishment, government centralization, common laws and properties, etc.

Once the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) became a more established movement, they moved toward denominational establishment, though it took more than a century for that to become true in name, when in 1968, the Christian Churches (Disciples of Christ) through a “restructure” became the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). It’s normal and natural to move toward stable institution—there is a clear biblical realization in this process as the worship of Yahweh God went from a traveling, opportunistic worship. There are numerous stories where people built altars wherever they were; remember Noah’s altar after the flood, Abraham’s altars at various moment, including the one where God had told him to sacrifice his son and Jacob’s altar where he had a dream of angels descending and ascending a ladder or stairway into heaven.

Once the Hebrew people were established in Canaan, there were certain places around the land where the tabernacle was set up within the tribal lands—sometimes believed to be where the ancestors like Noah, Abraham and Jacob worshiped. The next step of religious establishment and centralization was the movement of the tabernacle to Jerusalem permanently, though it was still a tent-like structure. God seems resigned to the idea that someone will permanently house God’s throne in a building, but not yet. Now, it’s important that God make a statement. God’s statement, “I will house you; I will care for you; I am God, you are not.”

Making the house of God the focus—imagining that God can be housed—is not an idea that God likes very much. But God knows, very well, that we need a house; God knows, very well, that we need roots; God know, very well, that we need a place in this world to be established. God also know, very well, that we need to remember that the place is not the important thing. What is important is that God dwells within us whatever the place or the state of the place.

We can hear this clearly in the description of a people who do not stay in one place—who never stay in one location very long.
The Maasai people are nomadic – that is, they travel from place to place, settling in one location temporarily before it is time to move on. When they move, they take with them only one thing: their cows, which are considered sacred.
One day, some Christian missionaries from Europe decided that the Maasai people needed to hear the gospel. And so, the missionaries came to the land of the Maasai and did what they traditionally did: they built a church. They told the Maasai that the church building was an important place to come and worship God.
The Maasai people were excited, and they came to church. They worshipped and celebrated and knew God. But, when it was time for the nomadic Maasai to leave this location, they left this place of worship behind and wandered into the desert to find a new place to call home. The Christian missionaries were confused, and wondered what had happened. Didn’t the Maasai people like this church? How could they leave it behind so easily?
The missionaries searched until they found the same group of Maasai people again, living in a new place. The relieved missionaries build a new church there and invited the Maasai to come. For a time, the Maasai people came and worshipped and celebrated and knew God.
But, one day, the Maasai left their new place of worship and wandered into the desert again to find a new home. This time the missionaries were upset. They had now built two churches that the Maasai had walked away from. The Maasai seemed happy to be in church; why would they leave it for the desert?
The missionaries looked around again until they found the new location where the Maasai were not living. And, for the first time, they asked the Maasai why they kept leaving the church house. Wasn’t God’s house important to them? Didn’t they respect the church?
And, for the first time, the Maasai responded. They said they loved God and they were excited about God’s promises. But, they said, they didn’t need a structure in order to worship God. They would always move from place to place. Buildings have never been important to them.
What is important, the Maasai explained, is that they carry God with them in their hearts. And so God’s place is always with them. As they move from place to place, they worship God and celebrate when they come together – with great joy in the open land – without a building. They carry symbols in their minds, God in their hearts, and celebrate their place in God’s household.
Then, the Maasai asked the missionaries, “If God is always with you, why is a church building so important?” [1]

I don’t say this to promote the idea that we don’t need a place of worship—but to put our places of worship, places of living, boundaries of nations, and God’s presence in this world and beyond into a kind of perspective. What is of first importance to God? How do we decide how we use our resources for living, for worship, for caring for creation and one another? What is our place in this world? Where do we rest, settled and where do we move, drawn from place to place?

God walks with us; God is carried within. Let us seek God’s way of life, putting God’s priorities first—wherever we are.
To the glory of God: Creator, Redeemer and Friend. Amen.


[1]Adele Halliday, a member of The Presbyterian Church in Canada, is an African-Canadian educator and has served as writer of youth resources for Seasons of the Spirit. She currently works in the area of racial, ethnic, and intercultural ministries with The United Church of Canada.