"Seven Habits of Discipleship: Fellowship"
Isa. 43:16-21; Ps. 126; Phil. 3:4b-14; John 12:1-8
Dr. George R. Sinclair, Jr.
Pastor
March 21, 2010
In a recent survey of our officers, we discovered that over half joined Government Street because “it felt like home” or, alternately, because it possessed a “friendly” atmosphere. In a separate question, an overwhelming majority said they felt cared for by GSPC during a personal or family crisis, an illness, or at the death of a family member. People join the church because it feels like home and because it’s a place of friendship. People feel cared for by the church because on their worst days the church stands by them.
Fellowship meets us at the deepest places of human existence: home, friendship, sickness, death. As someone has said, we come to church to experience we. We come to church because we experience communion. Because we are Christians, we have fellowship with one another and with God.
“Pettway,” one of our church sextons, has been busy painting the Fellowship Hall. Pettway painted all of the doors and trim. They get a lot of abuse because our Fellowship Hall gets a lot of use.
The Old Testament named the place where the people of God gathered Beth-el or House of God. Three hundred Government Street is a House of God, a very old house. Among other rooms, God’s House at 300 Government Street has a “parlor.” It doubles as a library, meeting room, Sunday school class. Sometimes the parlor is used for receptions. The parlor has formal furniture. And you’re really not supposed to eat in there. But the other day—and I won’t rat them out because they feed me regularly—a group left some spots on the long table the Session sits around. Some elders noticed the white circles and wondered how they got there.
“Gosh, well, I don’t know.”
God’s House also has a “sanctuary.” This is a beautiful place, isn’t it? How would you describe this space, this place and all that happens here, all that has happened here? I think about the baptismal font and how many generations have been bathed in its waters; the Table and all of the times God’s people have gathered; this pulpit and the thousands of sermons preached.
God’s House has an “office.” Many of our staff have “offices.” I love my office—it has lots of light, a beautiful view of downtown, my books. It’s a great place to work.
There’s an “attic” in God’s House. I’ve only been up there a few times—once when the smoke alarms went off; another when we were looking for some documents. The attic is a very different place. We keep it locked.
God’s House has a “basement.” We worry about it flooding—it holds a lot of expensive electrical-mechanical equipment. We’ve done some things to protect it, but if we ever have that big storm, well, I don’t know.
There are many rooms in God’s House. The Fellowship Hall is beneath our feet. That’s a nice symbol—fellowship is our foundation. We stand on fellowship. The Fellowship Hall is like a big living/dining room. And Shelia’s Kitchen? Sometimes I think Shelia’s the soul of Government Street. And what a beautiful soul.
Parlors are for sitting, talking quietly. Libraries are for study, reflection, deliberation. Fellowship Halls are for play, for eating, for gossip, back-slapping, story swapping, politicking. Kids can run around in a Fellowship Hall and not get yelled out. Stuff gets spilled in the Fellowship Hall and nobody worries—we get a mop and bucket and clean it up.
The Fellowship Hall is the room where brides get ready for their weddings. They chew gum. At least before their weddings, some of them chew gum. They tug at their dresses. They get their hair fixed—again, and their make-up. They cry and collect themselves—“Do I look alright? Will anybody notice?”
Fathers’ of the Brides mostly pace and look at their watches. They check out their bow ties and try to smile. Mothers’ of the Brides fret; after all it is “their” day.
The Fellowship Hall is a place of celebration: birthdays, graduations, retirements, baby showers, anniversaries. Dave and Betty Mechler celebrated their fiftieth anniversary there not that many years ago. The Fellowship Hall is the place where, after funerals, families “receive” friends. I’ve seen it a million times. The graveside is very somber, the memorial service sobering, but when the last mourners leave the air is decidedly lighter.
In God’s House, the Fellowship Hall is the place PYC hosts things like the Fiesta Fundraiser. Fiesta—feast. In God’s House, the people of God feast. They anticipate the Great Heavenly Banquet where people will gather from east and west, north and south and sit at table in God’s Kingdom. We do that in the Fellowship Hall, the place of fiesta, the place of feasting. Here at Government Street we do that every morning. Every morning there’s a little glimpse of the kingdom of God, a feast when coffee and grits are served to the hungry—fiesta, feasting.
“We declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. We are writing these things so that our joy may be complete.”
We are writing these things so that “our joy may be complete.” We are writing these things so that you “may have fellowship with us.”
John’s worldview was black and white, all or nothing. John does not think in shades of gray. Nuance is not his style. He doesn’t think “both/and” but “either/or.” For John, we are either in God or in the world. We walk either in darkness or in light. We are of the truth or we’re liars. We either love brothers and sisters or hate them. John doesn’t split hairs, mince words or otherwise beat around the bush, which perhaps is necessary when confronting a formidable foe. And John faced a formidable foe—some think an early form of Gnosticism, Gnosticism itself or a variation of it.
Gnostics, from the Greek word gnosis or knowledge, championed mind over body, spirit over matter. Gnostics refused to believe Jesus came in the flesh—that Jesus was a real human being. Gnostics preferred a divine messenger, one who revealed the secrets of heaven. And Jesus was their man only they didn’t think Jesus a “real” man. He only appeared to be human. He was not fully human, not real flesh and blood. Jesus gave the appearance of being human. Underneath he was a divine man.
If what really matters is soul, then body is not all that important. Gnostics, consequently, were of two types—those who disparaged the body and those who celebrated it. Some Gnostics were extreme liberals, others extreme conservatives. If what really matters is soul, then it doesn’t matter what I do in or with my body. My body is just flesh, so I can treat it any way I want. Alternately, Gnostics denied their bodies, exercising extremes of fasting and sexual abstinence. If what is true and real is soul or spirit, then I better work hard to get over or around my body. And how do I do that—by denying body. What matters is knowledge. What matters is spirit, the immaterial.
In view of his opponents, John begins with this claim: “We declare to you what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life.” John insists that Jesus was a real flesh and blood human being—someone who could be touched, someone who was heard and seen. Jesus didn’t appear to be flesh and blood, he was flesh and blood.
John’s opponents not only denied the incarnation, they also claimed to be without sin, which is a handy thing to be without if Jesus doesn’t actually die for sin. If sin is not real, if sin is not an actual condition of human existence, we hardly need a flesh and blood Savior who dies for sin. If sin is not our problem, we need something other than a Savior. If we don’t sin, we don’t need a wooden cross; we need a teacher who imparts the secret to happiness. And for that we don’t need other bodies weighing us down. In fact, we’re better off without other bodies, the encumbrances of “family” and “friendship” because when it comes right down to it I don’t need fellow-ship. “My journey to God is about me and it is quiet private, very personal. I would explain it to you, but, well, you wouldn’t understand. It’s, well, very deep, very personal, very spiritual, like me—spirit person I am.”
I’m going out on a limb here: Gnosticism has made a comeback. Fact is, Gnosticism never really fully left the church, but the times are perfect for its re-emergence. Modern Gnostics described themselves this way: “I am spiritual but not religious.” Modern Gnostics like Jesus but they’ve got problems with “organized religion.” The church is, well, beneath them. Just too common.
I’m going out on a second limb. I think John would say to modern gnostics: “Phooey. You want your cake and eat it too. Jesus is not an idea. He is a Savior. And he saves real people with real problems, with real quirks, with real sins. If you want Jesus, you must have the fellowship with his people. Just as there is no disembodied Jesus, so there is no salvation apart from his people. If you want Jesus, you must have his people. Jesus and his people are a package deal. There is no salvation outside the church.”
Don’t misunderstand—I’m not talking church membership. God could care less about membership rolls. I’m talking fellowship. And by fellowship I mean communion. Koinonia was John’s word. It shares a root from which we get our word coin as in “common coin.” Common pretty much sums up what John means by “fellowship.” Communion is what we get at church. It’s free. You can’t buy communion. We can’t earn communion or deserve it. Communion is given. It’s a gift.
The church is not a society of perfect people. The church is a society of forgiven sinners saved by a flesh and blood redeemer who dies for real sins. We are called not to mystical union with God but to reconciliation with neighbors, which means we live with, not apart from, real, live, people; people with real, live, sins. Yes, the church is full of hypocrites. So what? There’s no surprise there. We’re all hypocrites. Belonging to the church doesn’t make us morally superior. Belonging, participating, fellowshipping, if you will, makes us more deeply aware of our sin and God’s power to forgive. Coming here week after week helps us realize we’re not perfect. We’re not righteous. We don’t have it together. We’re not a society of perfect people but forgiven sinners who practice forgiveness toward each other.
The basis of fellowship is not moral perfection, political persuasion or voluntary association. We are united by Jesus Christ who forgives sin and makes us children of God. The foundation of fellowship is Jesus Christ who lives in, with, and for our communion. Christ is our communion, our fellowship, with each other and with the Father.
“We declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ.” We practice fellowship because we follow Christ. And following Christ brings us together. If we have fellowship with Christ, we have fellowship with each other. When we have fellowship with each other, we have fellowship with Christ. Amen.