Oh Yes, We Can Laugh! (Personal 1 of 2)

September 18, 2011 --  Bethesda Presbyterian Church

The Three Ps of Our Church's Identity: "Personal, Passionate, Progressive"
"Personal" -- 1 of 2

Scripture     Genesis 18:1-15

Oh Yes, We Can Laugh!

So Sarah laughed to herself, saying, ‘After I have grown old, and my husband is old, shall I have pleasure?’

How many have *not* spent considerable time in recent years on the second floor of our Christian education building? …

Chances are, then, you may not remember – or may not have even seen – a lovely and sizeable plaque located on the outside of the children’s library door.

It reads, “In Memoriam: Bernadette Law … William Kerr Stewart”

How many of us remember Bernadette Law? … William Kerr Stewart?

Ms. Law’s name unfortunately has receded into the mists of our history. A few, I see, recall William Stewart. That’s the name of the child born to an active couple in this congregation well over a decade ago. A couple who long since has moved elsewhere in Maryland

The plaque is In Memoriam – because, William Stewart was stillborn.

A lovely remembrance – this plaque, for a stillborn child. Outside a lovely, well-stewarded children’s library utilized on the upside of one hour a week.

So Sarah laughed to herself, saying, ‘After I have grown old, and my husband is old, shall I have pleasure?’

In my first few months among you, we were graced by the presence of a pulpit supply – that’s guest preacher, for those who don’t speak Presbyterianese. A veteran of this presbytery, she recalled to me a time she visited our congregation several years ago for a presbytery youth event.

Standing on these very chancel stairs, I asked her what her impression was of our congregation at that time. She paused, thought through what she was going to say verrrry carefully, and the responded, “I got the impression this was a congregation who thought their best years were behind them.”

So Sarah laughed to herself, saying, ‘After I have grown old, and my husband is old, shall I have pleasure?’

Last year, the five voting members of our Nominating Committee gathered to nominate three members to serve as elders in the Session Class of 2013. The Session is our church’s board, and “Class of 2013” means the three nominated elders would serve for three years, 2011-2013 – granted the congregation would then elect them, which you did.

But let’s get back to the five voting members of last year’s Nominating Committee. Collectively, the five were quite seasoned in the ways of this church. They averaged over 22 years of membership here – and two of them had been here 40 years each.

I lift up the venerable nature of those faithful five because, before that Nominating Committee knew it or even realized it till much later, they had nominated three to serve as elders of the Class of 2013 … who had become members of this congregation earlier in that same year.

So Sarah laughed to herself, saying, ‘After I have grown old, and my husband is old, shall I have pleasure?’

You may, Sarah. You may!

And yes, oh yes, you may laugh, as well! For the stillborn vision of the second floor behind this chancel and the nostalgia of the past behind us all is now giving way to signs of new life. It is found as well in a Session mixing and mingling the new with the old, the wondrous with the wise.

So laugh, Sarah. Oh yes, you may laugh!

Laugh … at the incredulity of new birth.

Because it’s not new birth in the womb thanks to our own plans. We could not have imagined it. We never thought to ask for it. We may not even have wanted it.


Just as it wasn’t by Abraham’s plans, as well, that new life would pass their way as it did. All stemming from his simple, generous act of welcoming three heat-soaked strangers today by the oaks of Mamre.

This entire engaging narrative occurs in the middle of what’s known as the “Abraham saga." God first speaks to him, and says "Go … I will make you a great nation … you will be a blessing.” Abraham goes and gets a new land. When there is no further indication of God, Abraham moves to Egypt. Disaster results. The moral: When you respond to the Word of God in obedience, you receive the blessing promised – but when you move on your own …

Promises of a son have come to him from God, and Abraham has even tried to force the hand of God through the birth of Ishmael, but God has told Abraham that this isn't the son that God has in mind. Disaster again. So, Abraham lives in the uncertainty of the promise.

Then the third divine appearance: God speaks again to Abraham, promising offspring again – and again, that he would be the ancestor of a multitude of nations. Perhaps, we think, by this time Abraham is so sensitized to the divine voice that he has learned his lesson …

But there is no readily discernible divine voice. There are simply three strangers – angels unawares. To whom Abraham responds in three ways – what I am calling the Three Rs of Hospitality:

• Refreshment. A little water for their feet – meaning, as with the symbol of baptism today, that they belong here.

• Rest. He invites them to rest under the tree. This is a safe place – a sanctuary.

• Repast. He gives them bread, curds, and even veal to eat. Symbolized in the church by Holy Communion.

Refreshment. Rest. Repast.

As it with us: The refreshing pool of Bethesda, now greeting all who enter the sanctuary from the narthex. This sanctuary – a place of rest. Our fellowship time afterward – always plenty to eat, especially as this is our Third Sunday Lunch. As it is for the homeless and other needy souls each and every Saturday in our Fellowship Hall for the last 20 years.

A place of hospitality, Abraham prepared. Of deep and profound hospitality.


And so have we.

Hospitality. A book by Diana Butler Bass, Christianity for the Rest of Us, provided the springboard for our Session’s discussions two years ago that led to our “Personal, Passionate, Progressive” identity. In her chapter “Hospitality: Welcoming Strangers” – the inspiration for our first P, the Personal – Bass writes, “True Christian hospitality is not a recruitment strategy designed to manipulate strangers into church membership. Rather, it is a central practice of the Christian faith – something Christians are called to do for the sake of the thing itself.”1

The gift of hospitality. The one great spiritual gift I and so many others who have walked through these doors have consistently experienced among our congregation. The gift … of the Personal.

A gift we will have the golden opportunity to share in a more formidable way after the turn of the year, pending presbytery’s expected go-ahead. For sometime in the late Winter, the empty second floor behind us will be transformed into a place of day-in, day-out hospitality for a stream of Twelve Step spiritual recovery programs – especially for recovering alcoholics. A place where persons are invited by us to clean their souls from the manic world around them … to come stay awhile, an hour or two … to break the bread of the fellowship of recovery … and, to drink deeply from some of the most beneficial spiritual principles known to twentieth century humanity. Principles deriving directly from these scriptures we hear, and this faith we share.


New birth for our church, but not by our plans – not even by your longtime Twelve-Stepper pastor. We could not have imagined it. We never thought to ask for it. We may not even have wanted it.

It came to us. We did not go to it. It – these strangers, looking for shelter – came to us.

And, as we welcome them, perhaps – just perhaps – the voice of the stranger that came to Abraham and Sarah will now come to us, as well: “I will surely return to you in due season, and you will have new life.”

Can we, like Sarah, overhear this promise … and laugh? With incredulity, with amazement … with wonder?

Oh yes, we can laugh! For God’s grace not only summons it. God’s grace demands it!


A lovely and important plaque, in memory of a stillborn child … on a vacated second floor.

“I got the impression this was a congregation who thought their best years were behind them.”

Perhaps – just perhaps – our God has other plans.

Could this threatened transformation be a laughing matter – for us mere mortals, who just cannot comprehend such gall? Dare we say: such grace?

I should think so.

And could this be a sign of new life – in the midst of this church that named this town of Bethesda?

I should hope so.

For, as the stranger-cum-God unmasks himself to Abraham today: “Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?”


1Diana Butler Bass, Christianity for the Rest of Us: How the Neighborhood Church Is Transforming the Faith (HarperOne, 2006), 81.


Prayers of the People …

When have we felt a stranger, O Lord?

When were we a stranger in a new school? … a new town? … a new job? … a new church?

This church? When have we felt a stranger, O Lord? When?

And what was done to make us feel at refreshed … at rest … and with repast?

And what have we – personally – done?

You transform us, O Lord, from givers to receivers of others who receive their lives brought to us, and then give it back to them now.

Refreshed. Rested. With repast.

And for this … we give you our praise. Or at least a more modest Presbyterian form of thanksgiving known as gratitude.

As we give you thanks for hearing these prayers of ours – praying it forward to you that you may give these joys and concerns back to us, anew: refreshed, rested, lighter, cleaner, an easier yoke …


Benediction …

“Is there anything too wonderful for the Lord?”

There are some things that are too wonderful for us.

So yes – oh, yes – you can laugh!