by Veronica Gould

January 6, 2016

Ephesians 3:1-12, Isaiah 60:1-6

“Understanding the Mystery of Christ”

In the letter to the Ephesians, Paul writes about the mystery of Christ being made known by revelation. In a life-changing moment, Paul encountered Christ on the road. A blinding light. A voice from heaven. A moment so holy it resists translation. Throughout the letter, we read this word “mystery” over and over. Unlike a detective novel, this mystery isn’t meant to be solved. It can only be beheld and enjoyed. Ephesians 3:4 refers to Paul’s writings as “my understanding of the mystery of Christ”. Here, we find a rare moment of humility from the apostle. Paul knows the untranslatability of this mystery. So, he gives his best take.

And if we really think about it, that’s all any of us can do. We can pass along our understanding of the mystery of Christ to our children, or our friends, or anyone who will listen. We can preach hopeful words from pulpits, proclaiming God’s grace. In fact, all of us are called to share our understanding. And I believe this is a holy thing.

But it is also a humble thing. Because sharing our understanding of the mystery of Christ requires that we know two things:

1. Our words and even the words of scripture can never be a replacement for the presence of the living God.

2. We only have our understanding because we were first invited in.

As I was writing my sermon this week, I got a message from my mother. My grandfather, her father, was being put on hospice. Here’s the thing about grief: no matter how long you have been expecting death, there is something that happens to your mind, body, and spirit when you realize that it is really happening. The tears well up. Your walls of peace and security disappear.

“God,” I heard myself saying, “I need your presence”.

Suddenly, the words I was writing felt empty, distant, irrelevant. What did my understanding of the mystery of Christ mean in light of all of this? What word could I say?

I went for a walk around the pond in Southside Park. The ducks, I always say, are signs of life. I watched them preen and waddle. The light shined on the water. I thought of my mother. How strong she always is. The tears welled up again. I stood at a dock, alone.

Here is my understanding of the mystery of Christ: that God loved us enough to come to us and be with us and heal us and free us. That God had a plan to destroy the enemy called death. But also, that God dove headfirst into that plan. In Jesus, God knew pain, sorrow, grief, defeat, and even death so that we might be set free to be people of God. Free from sin and evil, desire and destruction, and yes, even from death.

Standing on the dock, confessing my hope and faith, I stood in the presence of God. There was no light shining other than sunlight, no voice from the heavens. But there was the gift of faith.

Faith is a strange treasure. It is something we carry throughout our lives. Sometimes it carries us. Our faith appears to us as a gift, from outside of us, which becomes ours, sometimes suddenly. Ephesians 2:8 tells us that it is by God’s grace that we have been saved, through this faith. It’s not something that we do, but something we are given, a good gift of God. None of us can boast about it. There are times in our lives when faith is hard. This is when we look to our understanding of the mystery. We will look to the scriptures, or to theology, or to one another, to find a word of hope.

But ultimately, it is God who finds us. And that is what Epiphany is all about. The Epiphany of Christ to the nations means that whoever we are, wherever we are, we may have access to God because of Christ. And we discover the wisdom of God in rich variety. The gift of faith has been poured out on all peoples, to embrace this holy wisdom and accept the mystery. We proclaim that the church of Christ is a multicultural church.

Rev. Dr. Willie James Jennings, associate professor of theology and black church studies, argues that the church today needs to embrace our heritage as Gentile people.

Jennings said this: “We have forgotten the beautiful journey of becoming that is Christianity—the journey of the Gentile. We have forgotten what it means to see life from those on the outside who have been included by grace, and consequently, we have lost the sense of inclusion as a life calling and a way of life. We imagine ourselves at the center and others at the margin.”

Each of us has been called by God from the margins, called out from darkness into light to live as children of light. To share one heavenly parent. As Rola mentioned, exclusivism continues to find its way, but we must challenge it at every step.

What happens when we recognize the gift of God’s invitation to us? When we reject the notion of its exclusivity and embrace the possibility of new life in the church, where all are welcome?

We will then know that truth that God does not belong to any of us, but each of us belongs to God. Amen.