Faithfulness REWRITE

***Sermon original preached in June 2016 by Pastor Luke at Sylvania UCC. Rewritten for this occasion of Alive on the Square 2020 as the kick off for our REWRITE sermon series***

Last Sunday in our text, Jesus called a woman a dog. With today’s theme being Faithfulness, it reminded me of one of the most faithful dogs we’ve ever owned.

Kate and I were once the owners of a male, Northwest Ohio brown dog. We didn’t know his full story. Who his parents were, where he came from, what his background was. You know, things you like to know about people before inviting them to live in your house. A friend found this dog off a rural road and on March 11, 2013, she brought this dog for a visit and he never left.

We named him “Bear” because he lived in the woods. We think he was a mix of Golden Retriever and German Shepherd. This mix gave him two conflicting sides of his personality: one of play and one of protection. He was friendly and well-mannered. A model of canine hospitality. That is, when you’re in the house. If you’re ringing the doorbell or pulling up in the driveway, he sounds like he wants to rip your face off. As soon as we’d open the door he’d be all “Hey! I’m so happy you’re here!” and do this welcome dance where it wasn’t just his tail wagging, but his full body.

I wish I had known his full story. There were times when this play and protection thing short-circuited his brain. When Kate and I hugged or tickled each other, he’d growl and get really close as if to say, “Excuse me miss, is this man bothering you?” I used to get really annoyed at this. I used to say, “You dumb dog!”

When I would romp around the house with the kids, Bear would join in and chase us. Yet when I would tackle them or rough house, his brain short-circuited and no one was sure if he was playing or protecting. And I say, “You dumb dog!”

Our dog before Bear was a rescue greyhound. Greyhounds aren’t real dogs, they are like a hybrid of a cat and a dog. They are known as the 65 MPH couch potato. Greyhounds spend about two hours a day awake, seek you out only when they need to be fed, watered, or to go outside. They are really chill. Yet Bear, in contrast, was always underfoot. He was nose-to-hip, following us around every room. Bear was always on patrol, always checking in.

I wish I could say that it was a near-instant bond between Bear and me. He was so unlike our greyhound. He was like an actual dog. One that chases things, kills small mammals, rolls in smelly things, sheds hair everywhere. He was always up in my business. It took me awhile to bond to this dumb dog.

It wasn’t until a good friend came to visit and said, “This dog fits you really well. Reminds me a lot of you, Luke.”

Wait, what?! No. I’m the greyhound. Short hair, big nose, chill attitude, sorta aloof. This dog was sort of annoying.

Then it hit me. I follow Kate around nose-to-hip. I am sexist toward men: I approach all male and female couples thinking, “Is this man bothering you, miss?” I talk a tough game but in the moment I’m often goofy and playful and doing a full-body welcome wag of excitement. This dog was a little mirror of my personality.

Pets often are, aren’t they? And people like my friend can also act as mirrors. They can point out how we are and how we act. Good relationships, founded in trust, help us discover who we really are.

Bear was a faithful dog. His love for my family and his way of living showed me elements of my personality. What I’m faithful to. Where my loyalties lie. The things I got annoyed at in Bear are the very things I often do. I bark before I know who is at my door. I misjudge people a lot and make angry noises when odds are, I’ll welcome them with a full body wag.

That dumb dog tricked me into realizing things about myself and realizing that he’d been the unexpected best thing. A great dog. A smart dog. A faithful dog. A family dog. The universe conspired to get us together, and my family was better for it.

That dumb dog showed me that this is the same with most of my relationships. I got used to seeing you in person, and it’s weird how we often take one another for granted. The pandemic has taught us just how much we need to be together. I like seeing you around! This church has been the unexpected best thing for me and my family. I love it, and all the people here and I love getting to know your story.

Maybe this story has you thinking of your former pets. Maybe it has you yearning for the time before the pandemic and a desire to “get back to normal.” There is no normal. In today’s passage from Ezra, the foundation of the new temple is being laid. Some folks remembered the first temple that Solomon built and they lamented. They lamented while others rejoiced. They all sang about God’s faithfulness.

Are we being faithful back to God? That’s the question. Sometimes our traditions and nostalgia get in the way of that. We lament what was lost.

We’re going to get back into the building soon, but it is not going to be anywhere close to being the same. Some of you are ready to come back. Some aren’t. That’s okay. If you come back, that’s the right decision. If you are going to continue to watch the livestream from home, that’s the right decision. Some will lament, and some will celebrate.

No matter your decision, God is always faithful to us. Always with us. In our highs and our lows. If we are walking through the valley of the shadow of death, God is with us. If we’re walking on water and doing the impossible, accomplishing our dreams, laying the foundations of something that will last generations, God is with us.

We are trying to be faithful to our church’s values of welcoming, loving, and serving. Those three values tie us to God.

With our online worship, we are welcoming folks from various places in the state. My mom and in-laws in Dennison and North Canton. Friends from Orrville. From my former church in Sylvania. Folks from all over the state. And we’re national as well! Louisiana. Pennsylvania. Rhode Island?! Rhode Island is 37 miles wide and 48 miles long! I didn’t know anyone from the Ocean State, but now I do. This is the power of being welcoming. You are a welcoming church. Let us continue to welcome as we look for new opportunities to live out this value more fully.

We continue to love. I will do two weddings this year. I have done 5 funerals. The theme of both of these types of ceremonies focuses on love. Love people and give to one another. Love that pours out through a life. We witness to that love when we celebrate and host weddings and funerals and book studies and bible studies. It’s a chance for people to gather and share life together. And each time you show up or send a card, it’s a way of saying “I love you.” We wouldn’t say such a thing out loud, people would look at us funny. But, if I’m honest, it’s what brings me here today with you all. I love this gazebo. I love this square. I love our beautiful church building and all our adventures together. From each of our meetings to being your Reverend in the Rafters. And I love you. Each one of you. And it’s so good to see a quarter of your face today. (And to send this sermon to you in the mail. You are loved!) Let us continue to love as we look for new opportunities to live out this value more fully.

We are faithful to serving. We aren’t able to shop and deliver food like we have been to our Garfield families. We have continued to send them Aldi gift cards. Especially with the pandemic and the economy being what it is, your generosity is still serving our community. The Mission Team has increased our giving to Feeding Medina County and other local charities.

This past week I was on vacation. I received a text from Karen McGinty, principal at Garfield. She had teacher in-service the next two weeks, so they wouldn’t be able to send a team to deliver the Weekender food bags for Feeding Medina County. I put Ryan Collins on the task, and we had 5 families show up and deliver food. We are still serving. We are still living out our faith in tangible ways that help our community, nation, and the world. Let us continue to serve as we look for new opportunities to live out this value more fully.

It’s not like it was. It might never be like it was. And we can lament that. Like in today’s reading. And we can celebrate it as well. For there will be new opportunities to live out our faithfulness to God and neighbor through welcoming, loving, and serving. Many things have changed, but those haven’t.

The question that keeps me up at night is not “Will we survive this?” No doubt we will. We are faithful. You as a church are generous, and I feel that we are stable. The question that keeps me up at night is “Am I being as faithful as I can be to the opportunities God has placed in front of me?”

When Bear, our former dog, got sick in 2016, he walked a little slower. He grew fatigued a little quicker. He was slower to bark at the door. Yet he was faithful until the end. Still followed us around nose-to-hip. His situation changed, but his faithfulness didn’t. He adapted. If Bear could do it at the end of his life, we can do it in the fullness of our lives.

Are we being faithful? The reminders to be faithful are all around us. They are the people sitting beside us now. They are the animals waiting for us at home. God is speaking through all of our relationships! God is speaking through our pets and our family and friends.

Dog is simply God spelled backwards. Bear was, and our current dog Rufus are, both reminders of love and faithfulness for me. Through them, I think God is working on the long process of transforming my heart to a more faithful, more generous one. One that sees and cherishes my relationships. To take nothing for granted for this is all fleeting and can change. Yet even when it changes, there are still opportunities to be faithful to our old values in new ways. Faithful like that dumb dog we once had.

That dumb dog who showed me what faithfulness truly means. Maybe this story inspires you to send love to someone you’ve been meaning to check in with today. To listen to someone a little longer. To give a pet an extra treat or two today. To take a photobook off the shelf and remember a loved pet who is still very much a part of our lives and whose faithfulness is still with us. A reflection of how God’s faithfulness is with us. If that happens… then my story has already started its magic of making your heart a little more faithful. Seeing that the world is a little bit better because of it all, because of one dumb, absolutely awesome dog. Amen.

Bear running at Atwood Lake, 2014

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