Tag Archives: disillusionment

Of Former Times (A Sermon)

This post continues a periodic series of sermons preached during my time as Pastor of the Eldersville United Methodist Church.

Delivered January 17, 2016

Do not say, “Why were the old days better than these?” For it is not wise to ask such questions. Wisdom, like an inheritance, is a good thing and benefits those who see the sun. Wisdom is a shelter as money is a shelter, but the advantage of knowledge is this: Wisdom preserves those who have it. Consider what God has done: Who can straighten what he has made crooked? When times are good, be happy; but when times are bad, consider this: God has made the one as well as the other. Therefore, no one can discover anything about their future.

Ecclesiastes 7:10–14

How many times have you heard someone, perhaps even yourself, look back at some ideal point in history and sigh, saying “Why were the old days better than these? It seems like the world, our country, and our church are only getting worse.” Certainly, no one can blame us for having such thoughts given the state of Christianity in the United States. In the United Methodist Church, our average attendance has decreased at a rate of about 52,383 people per year. Since 1974, our worship attendance has gone down by 18 percent and the number of churches has declined by 16 percent. Surely, we seem a long way away from the thriving Methodist church of early America and the peak of Christian public influence in the 1950s.

Those were the days, we reminisce, when about half of Americans attended church services on Sunday morning, and most of the rest of them were probably on the membership rolls somewhere.

Why were those days so much better than these?

Certainly, with church attendance numbers at their peak, Christianity had more of a central role in our political system. These were the early days of public preachers like Billy Graham, who filled stadiums with people eager to hear the Good News of Jesus Christ. He preached against the evils of disease, snakes, and union dues, denouncing government restrictions as socialism.

In 1952, Rev. Graham visited Washington, DC and brought God to Congress.[1] Soon after, as a result of his influence, he the United States established a National Day of Prayer. In 1954, Congress added the words “under God” to the Pledge of Allegiance and placed “In God We Trust” on postage. The next year, the motto was added to paper money. Just as Rome had once declared Christianity as its state religion, with the election of Eisenhower, the United States had adopted the language of the Church. 

That was the height of Christian influence in the public sphere, an influence that seems to have all but vanished. God is still referenced in our pledge and on our money, but we lament our nation’s apparent decline from Christian morality. We long for the good ol’ days when there was prayer in schools, when our Sunday School was full of young children, and when all the important people in town came to church.

This desire to return to days of old is not new. Even in the Methodist glory days of the late 1700s, John Wesley was surrounded by those who thought Christianity, and civilization in general, had reached its peak long ago. In those days, the rationalism of the enlightenment had given rise to Deism and a drift away from Christianity as a public religion. Many cried out against the apparent declining morals and rise of luxury and profaneness.

Yet, Wesley remarked of the “goodness of God in the present age.”[2] He spoke of the rise of benevolence and compassion, the foundation of more hospitals and places of public charity, and he decried those who believed that the people of former ages were more virtuous. He agreed with the writer of Ecclesiastes, who asks us to “consider what God has done” and is doing in good times and in bad.

Some of Wesley’s day would have looked at the American experiment and lamented the government’s indifference to religion, but Wesley did not. In fact, he considered it pure joy, for the indifference of the American government on the issue of religion left room for the rise of true scriptural faith.[3] It freed Christianity from the whims of the state and allowed for the tremendous growth of Methodist Christianity among small groups of lay people who were devoted to the teachings of scripture.

May it be, as was true in Wesley’s day, that the indifference of our government on the matter of religion may lead to the growth of what he called true scriptural Christianity? May it be, that the Church is on the brink of a new revival?

Perhaps not.

Future days might continue to usher in the decline of Methodism in America and Christianity in the Western world. Our denominational leadership believes the time when such a revival can occur is running out. From a statistical perspective, if our rate of decline doesn’t change by 2030, our connection will have collapsed by 2050.[4]

I don’t say any of this to frighten us, but I think that all of us who love God and were transformed by God’s work through the Church are longing for a scriptural response to the apparent decline of Christianity. We’re longing for hope.

Ironically, it is the often pessimistic book Ecclesiastes that offers us a true, hopeful scriptural perspective. We should not say “Why were the old days better than these?” for it truly is not wise to ask such questions. Rather, we should praise God, for God has been faithful to us.

God has made the good times, as well as the bad. We may not know what the future holds, but we are given the hope that God will continue to be faithful to us. No matter what the future holds, may we likewise be faithful to God, who sent Jesus Christ to live among us, teaching, dying, and conquering death that we may have life. May we be faithful to the One who sent his Holy Spirit to work in us, that we may be enabled to do the work of the God who created us.

Church, do not bemoan the challenges of the current time, but respond to God’s call with joy. Not all are called to be pastors, but all are called to a unique mission of service to God. In my case, I was called to pastoral ministry at a young age. I remember one occasion in particular when God gave me a nudge and asked me to respond. As a youth, I was at a conference where an adult mentor was presenting some research on the future of the church. He told us what we already knew to be true: that our generation was largely disassociated with the Church and religion in general. I felt the call of God to respond, and I am by no means the only one. 

There are amazing people out there of every generation who are doing the work of the kingdom. There are people called to serve oversees, in the inner city, and in rural America as pastors, counselors, teachers, and professionals of every kind. No matter their vocation, they bring the light of Christ to dark places. No matter our age, occupation, or surrounding culture, God can and will use us in whatever way we are equipped.

So, I ask you to respond to God’s call by continuing to pray for our church, our denomination, and our world. Pray with the hopeful knowledge that God will send his Holy Spirit among us to breathe new life into our ministry. Pray with the knowledge that we have a future full of hope. Pray with a willingness to respond to God’s call upon your life to do whatever God may be calling you to do.

In Charles Wesley’s hymn “A Charge to Keep I Have,” we sing that all of us, young and old, have a charge to keep and a calling to fulfill. Bemoaning our current situation will get us nowhere. Instead, may we truly use all of our creative energies and skills to the glory of God, for every day is a day that God has made. 

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, let us pray:

Lord God, sustain in us the flame of your Spirit. Help us to continue to carry the light of your Son to every dark corner of our world. Help us in times of darkness to remember what you have done on our behalf and what you continue to do among us. Help us to not be ashamed of your testimony, and give us the wisdom to present your good news to others with grace. Remind us of the faithfulness of people like Paul, who was willing to die for his faith, and the faithfulness of John Wesley, who rode on horseback to proclaim your message to every corner of society. Help us likewise to deliver your message to the sick, the imprisoned, the poor in spirit, and all who are our neighbor. Inspire us to greater service and faithfulness, as we continue to pray for your kingdom to come, on earth as it is in heaven. Amen

[1] Kruse, Kevin M. “A Christian Nation? Since When?” The New York Times. http://www.nytimes.com/2015/03/15/opinion/sunday/a-christian-nation-since-when.html?_r=1.

[2] Wesley, John. Sermons III. Edited by Albert Cook Outler. Vol. 3. The Works of John Wesley.

[3] Ibid. 452

[4] Hahn, Heather. “Economist: Church in Crisis but Hope Remains.” http://www.umc.org/news-and-media/economist-united-methodist-church-in-crisis.

All that Matters (A Sermon)

While I’m on a leave from pastoral ministry, one of my projects is to edit and compile some of the most meaningful sermons from my time in Eldersville. The sermon below was preached on Thanksgiving Sunday 2018. I hope these words are encouraging to you, especially if you are going through a period of disillusionment and rediscovery, as I am.

Ephesians 5

Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God⁠. Be filled with the Spirit, as you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts, giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.⁠

Ecclesiastes 1

All things are wearisome; more than one can express; the eye is not satisfied with seeing, or the ear filled with hearing. 

What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun. 

Read more from The Teacher.

One of Jesus’s most powerful and memorable teaching moments was at a time when he was surrounded by children. Parents were bringing their young ones to see Jesus from near and far, seeking his blessing. The disciples were trying to keep the children from Jesus—they wanted to reserve the teacher for adults who could understand and wouldn’t cause a fuss. But Jesus was angry. He said, “let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.”

If we take a moment to reflect on this teaching, the meaning becomes apparent. Children are not only dependent on their parents, just as we are to dependent on God. The lives of children are also filled with wonder, curiosity, and a perpetual sense of newness. Everything in the life of a child is fascinating to them. They learn seemingly by osmosis, picking up on their surroundings. To a child, everything is new under the sun. Once they learn about something, they’re eager to share their new knowledge with someone else.

If only we could retain such youthful exuberance in our spiritual life!

To children such as these, the Teacher of Ecclesiastes says, “rejoice, young ones, while you are young, and let your heart cheer you in the days of your youth.”

Taken out of its context, that sounds well and good. Those with the wisdom that comes with age often say such things to children and youth. We tell them to enjoy their time of youth because we fondly recall some of the same experiences.

The dark side of that, though, is what the Teacher says about such youthful joy: eventually, it fades. The things that once brought us joy become old hat. The causes we were once passionate about begin to look more helpless. We hear someone say, “look, something new,” and we quickly see through the illusion. It’s just the same thing in new packaging.

Like the Teacher, who identifies himself as David’s son Solomon, we seek out earthly pleasures: retail therapy, a good book, or our favorite TV show. We labor to improve our lives and work on projects around the house. We pour ourselves into anything that can give us a momentary sense of meaning. We work long hours, hoping that they will pay off with some reward.

Yet, the Teacher says, even those things are trivial and ultimately meaningless. They’re no more permanent than dust in the wind.

It’s no wonder that many adults either want to return to the days of their youth or are disparaging toward those who are young. They either want to regain their youthful exuberance or hasten the disillusionment of those who see the world with new eyes.

“Vanity, meaningless, absurd is the world,” we say. “Best you learn it willingly instead of being wiped out on your butt by the harsh reality of life.”

Is there anything that isn’t a vain illusion? Is there anything in this world that will last?

I’m not sure I was ever a youth, as Jesus and the wisdom Teacher describe it. Sure, I was a youth in the sense of making bad decisions and generally being an idiot, but I don’t know if I ever had that spark of youthful joy in my eyes. 

This may be news to you all, but I’ve never been a sunshine and rainbows optimist. I thrive indoors on a rainy day drinking tea and contemplating the wisdom that leads to vexation and increases sorrow, as Ecclesiastes says.

I may have deceived you all with the occasional unequivocally positive message that restores your hope and joy. We do have to remember Easter every once in a while.

You don’t often hear out of my mouth the sickly sweet words that “everything is going to be okay” and “God has a plan” without some qualification and presentation of the facts. I’m the first to admit that sometimes life goes wrong, bad things happen, the world loses its luster before our eyes. Meaning is elusive.

But I bet I say something from the pulpit every once in a while that seems to drip with youthful idealism. I see you out there shaking your heads every once in a while. “Oh, that’s Joel. He says stuff like that. One day he’ll learn.”

One way or another, we both wrestle with the same predicament at times: our talk about God does not always describe the world as we see it. Revelation speaks of God making “all things new” and wiping tears from our eyes—but those days are far off. Jesus speaks of having the hopeful joy of little children—but we’ve all grown up. We have our degrees from the “school of hard knocks.”

Let’s admit it—Sometimes the words we share in church are like the sound of a tree falling in the forest. It’s far off from where we are. They pass through our ears, never to be heard again.

Church can feel like a show in which we act as if we have all the answers. We sing the hymns that uplift our spirits, if for a moment. We whisper the amen at the end of the sermon and our prayers, sure that it’s what we’re supposed to do.

And then a question pops up in our minds that we’re too afraid to ask. An experience launches us into a dark night of the soul. A friend or coworker asks us about our faith, but we’re not sure how to answer it. 

Still, we pop into church on Sunday morning and pop out an hour later like a breakfast pastry in the toaster. Maybe it helps, maybe it doesn’t—but, it feels right to us.

The Teacher gives us permission to close the curtain on the illusion, on the show.

Ecclesiastes allows us to skip the confident “Amen” once and awhile to sub in the cry, “vanity, vanity,” “meaningless, meaningless,” “these words are absurd!”

We have permission to peel back the illusions of our lives.

What do we have to gain from the daily toil of our lives? Nothing.

Will we be remembered in a hundred years? Probably not.

Will your congregation be remembered after all that time? In the history books that no one reads.

Look! The sun rises and sets day after day, again and again. Streams flow into the sea but they never complete their work, filling the ocean. Last week I wrote a sermon, in two weeks I’ll have to write another one. But the words are just dust in the wind. You won’t remember them on Monday (be honest!). Just like in the summer months—we mow the grass one day only to have to do it again the next week. It’s never ending! Soon that’ll be the case with the snow…

If you think that all this talk of vanity is Old Testament nonsense incongruent with the ministry of Jesus—I hate to disappoint you.

Sure, Jesus doesn’t go around spreading doom and gloom all the time, but he doesn’t pull any punches either.

To the rich young ruler who says, “I’ve followed all the commandments…” Jesus says: meaningless! Give up your idolatry and vanity. Sell what you have and give it to the poor. It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God!

Upon entering the temple, Jesus goes up to the salespeople at their tables and flips them over. “All the stuff going on in your church? Meaningless! My house shall be a house of prayer, but you have made it a den of robbers.”

As he left the temple, one of the disciples looked admiringly at the grand structure, but Jesus said, “See this? None of these stones will be left. All will be thrown down.” Stop admiring what will not last.

There are so many things of true importance in the world. Why would we focus on what is meaningless, vain, and idolatrous?

The disillusionment of Ecclesiastes and the ministry of Jesus aren’t any fun. 

We much prefer singing amens than we do unmasking the vanity of things we hold dear. But within the word disillusionment is the key to the good news. Disillusionment is, for sure, a disappointing feeling. But dis-illusionment is also the undoing of our illusions!

None of us, when probed, would consciously say, “yes, I would like to see things incorrectly. I would like to spend my days chasing after things that don’t last.” It would be ludicrous to do so.

Sometimes the exact thing we need is for Jesus, the Teacher, to come in and turn our tables over, wipe the slate clean, start from scratch and build things up from the foundation.

This discontentment and disillusionment with how things are might just be exactly what we need to regain the youthful exuberance of discipleship as children of God.

To be clear, we cannot give into the forms of disillusionment that lead us into the depths of cynicism. We might end up there every once in a while, but we can’t stay there. 

But the disillusionment with the status quo that leads us to self-emptying is exactly the kind we need this Thanksgiving.

Yeah, I said it. We need to be disillusioned with some things to truly give thanks to God.

Too often, we give thanks like the rich young ruler might: “Lord, thank you for not making me like those other people who don’t know you, who don’t have what I have.” Maybe we give thanks like Joel Osteen, “thank you God for helping me live my best life now, thank you for showing me with blessings.”

Such thanksgivings are vanity. They are like a house build on sand, like the bricks of a great temple.

But the promise of God is that not all is vanity. The Teacher of Ecclesiastes couldn’t see it, but he was looking in the wrong places. He’s right—we’ll never find meaning in routine work, in toil and trouble, in pleasures of food or drink. These are vanity.

But what is there that isn’t a vain illusion?

What in this world truly abides?

Paul gives us the answer in 1 Corinthians 13—

“And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. And the greatest of these is love.”

When we’re busy clinging onto the dust, we can’t grasp any of those things. We can’t have faith in God’s provision for an uncertain future if our future is sure. We can’t have hope if we’re clinging to the status quo of how things are. We can’t have true love when we’re only interested in our own self-importance and self-preservation.

But when everything else is stripped away from our minds, all of those so-called material and comfortable blessings of life, when we become disillusioned like the Teacher—only then can we become filled with the faith, hope, and love of Christ.

To paraphrase the words of St. Paul, “If I speak in the tongues of mortals and angels but do not have love, I am but dust in the wind—vanity! Even if I give away all my possessions and do not have love, I gain nothing.

“Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

“Most of all, though everything else is an illusion that will come to an end, Love will never end. Faith, hope, and love will abide. And the greatest of these is love.”

Love is not an illusion. Love endures even the powers of sim and death. Love abides forever and ever. 

For that we can give thanks to God today and every day. Amen.