Being present in the present: The real challenge of "Always being made new"

Scripture: Revelation 21:1-7

           This year the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America celebrates 25 years of ministry, and as part of this year-long celebration the church has picked the theme of “Always being made new” with the theme verse which we just happened to read today from Revelation 21:5, “See, I am making all things new.” I’m not going to pretend like this isn’t an intentional message for a church that has sometimes struggled to be proactive in anticipating the future. We are being made new every day, but as a church both nationally and locally some of that newness has been challenging. Locally, our churches have had our share of new and difficult challenges in the last twenty-five years. In fact, the one thing I have heard perhaps more than anything else since taking over this call a year and a half ago is that we have been in need of a new start. A year and a half later, some of my newness has worn off, which means with every passing day it’s a little harder to focus on always being made new, to be the church which Martin Luther called “semper reformanda”—always reforming.

            Of course, there is an underbelly to this idea of always being made new; I know some people have a bone to pick with this theme. Always being made new does not mean we do not honor the past; it does not mean newness for newness’ sake; and it does not mean that new is equated with “better” and old with “useless.” We are made new not because new things are inherently better but because, left to our own devices, we make poor choices and are in need of a word of forgiveness every single day—newness every day.

I understand the concern about all things “new.” Christians are rightfully skeptical of the advertising culture that screams, “New this!” and “New that!” You get the newest smart phone and it’s practically obsolete by the time you bring it home. You get on Facebook and suddenly Facebook is so 2010. You get on Twitter and then Twitter isn’t cool. And guess what? Snap Chat and Vine and Instagram are going to be so last year by, well, next year. We worship the “new” because the newest thing is the thing we haven’t gotten bored with yet. Everything else is so old.

            This is absolutely not what new creation is about. We use the term, “new creation,” a lot in church—or at least I do, because I find it to be a useful way to talk about the ultimate purpose for the universe. Cultural expressions of the Christian faith have given us this vague idea of heaven as the ultimate purpose for creation, which is fine except that our visions of heaven have a lot of preconceived notions that may be unhelpful. New creation is far earthier than our traditional visions of heaven. New creation is not angels strumming up in the clouds but the presence of God making everything new on this earth, creating a new earth and new celestial bodies in a physical place that looks like this except without sin and sadness and death. New creation is here and not yet; this world but changed. Most importantly, new creation is not new for newness’ sake. The newest iPhone off the assembly line is doing absolutely nothing to bring about new creation. Our world cannot develop new creation on its own; it is completely reliant on God to bring it about.

            Our challenge with new creation is simply to keep our hands off and leave it to God... but we are absolutely terrible at keeping our hands off these things. Each of us has things in our lives that we consider “new” and “old;” heck, we even have people we consider “new” and “old." New things are exciting and invigorating; old things ground us to a tradition and offer us wisdom that has passed the test of time. New things are also sometimes shallow and self-serving, while old things can hinder our ability to live into a better future. We are a people who are always being made new, even as we are a people grounded in Jesus Christ who is the same yesterday, today and forever. Nothing changes—everything changes.

            OK, this sermon is in the danger zone of doing what far too many preachers and thinkers do, which is to lift up a contradiction and then go home to watch football. So here’s my point: God is making all things new, so that you and I do not need to worry about the ends of our little schemes and plans. God is making all things new, so that you and I do not need to worry about constantly filling our lives with other new things. God is making all things new to remind us who is God and who is not. And finally, God is making all things new so that our ideas of what is old and what is new are all put to shame.

            The thing to notice about Revelation’s account of new creation is that the actor in every instance is God. God is the Alpha and the Omega; God is the one wiping every tear from our eyes. Not us. Most of you are nice people. Many of you do very good things for others, giving your time and money and resources to those who are in need. Some of you sacrifice more than any of us know for the sake of others. That’s great. To you is given the kingdom of God, but it is not by your own doing. The yardstick of salvation is far too high for any of us, no matter how generous we are, to reach. When the rich man in Luke’s Gospel is told to give away everything that he has and he goes away sad because he has many possessions, that is the difference between our idea of newness and God’s new creation. The man is held captive by things that can buy him newness, but that newness is not real. The man—like all of us—can never give enough away to get there. Whether it’s money or our history or our immediate pleasures, all of us have a stilted idea of the ultimate purpose for our lives.

            So, here we stand, fighting the same old battle between what is new and what is old, between the past and the future. The ELCA selected this theme of “Always being made new” in part because, like all institutions of this world, the ELCA is concerned with what is to come. So are we all. So are those who are bent on gazing into the past to make sure we will be remembered, so are those that want to blow up our history to create an unencumbered future, so are those who are so turned in on themselves that they don’t actually care about the church but only their own immediate gratification or legacies. But new creation, in spite of our insistence on talking about it in future terms, is fundamentally about the here and now; always being made new starts with God’s presence in this moment. This moment—right now. This moment is the product of many moments before it that are now the past; and this moment will birth a future that is built upon our experiences today. But all we ever really have is now. We have a God who promises to be here, now. If you aren’t trying to meet God in here and now, how can you possibly expect to see God in some uncertain future? Here is where new creation starts.

            So, I don’t care if you are the type who thinks that the past is what makes us who we are, or the type who is overly concerned about where we are going; God promises to be present in this moment. As a church, one of our most significant troubles is that we spend so little time being present right here and so much concerned with what has been and what will be. I’m willing to bet most of you--if you are ever present in worship--come with things in your head that are to come: grocery lists, television shows, dates, appointments, medical concerns, sports, relationships; and most of you also call to mind things that have been: past mistakes, grudges, people who you have upset and people who have upset you. These are the things we bring to worship every week, things that linger with us. It’s why we confess and forgive at the beginning of this service—so you can let go of all those silly things you brought with you—all the history and baggage you brought with you and all the worries about the future.

            None of that matters here and now. Instead, I invite you to be present in this place and time. If we can meet each other here and spend this time together, then we can begin to hear the common concerns we all have about both the past and future. If we can do that then we can begin to experience new creation, to always be made new, and to be a church not obsessed by a need to save itself but by a desperate need to be the body of Christ as Jesus would have us be. Then, we can remember that we are not the ones who save ourselves; new creation is not our job. Instead, we are to lay aside our Protestant work ethic, forgetting our schemes and devices, and trusting in the God who is the only hope not only for the church but for all of our lives, Jesus Christ, come to dwell among us, wiping every tear from our eyes—the purpose for all of creation.