Rekindle what’s hidden


I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you. For this reason I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you … (2 Timothy 1:5-6)

In his affectionate and encouraging letter to Timothy, Paul uses language that suggests Timothy’s faith is as yet undisclosed. Or, his faithfulness is in question. Paul uses a rhetorical, emphatic form of speech — “I am sure” — in the middle of his affirmation. In the letter Paul exhorts Timothy “not to be ashamed” of the gospel.

Paul then validates Timothy’s faith by appealing to his elders — his mother and grandmother. Surely theirs was a robust faith! Surely their faith was recognized by the community, evident by some religious standard:

Perhaps Eunice and Lois both worshipped every Sunday, in the community. Perhaps Eunice and Lois both were the generous type with their money, their time, and their treasures. Perhaps both women of the faith served as deacons, helped the poor, taught the young, reached out to the wayward. Surely, these were women of faith!

But, Timothy? He doesn’t seem to be doing the same things or in the same way his parents and grandparents did. What’s wrong? Is Timothy able to take on the mantle of leadership for which Paul is grooming him? Surely the apple couldn’t have fallen too far from the tree! Surely, this faith that so lived vibrantly in his family must also be somewhere in him. Paul even exhorts Timothy to take some responsibility in fanning the flame of faith in his own life — to ‘rekindle’ this gift of God hidden, up to this point in time. Bring it out to the open!

When we meet Timothy here, he has not yet expressed his faith in a way recognized by the community. Or in himself. And obviously he needs encouragement to get going. This first chapter in Paul’s second letter to Timothy is all about encouraging Timothy and building him up by reminding him of the seed hidden deep within his heart.

Retired pastor of our church and former chaplain general of the Canadian Armed Forces, the Rev Stanley Johnstone, wrote recently about something unexpected that was found during a restoration project of a Hawker Hurricane aircraft. A Hawker Hurricane was the main fighter aircraft of the Royal Air Force and other British Empire air forces early in World War Two.

During the restoration process of this aircraft, which had been recovered from the bottom of the English Channel, the workers found something in the engine compartment that was not supposed to be there. It certainly was not in the original technical specifications. On a small chain was a medallion of Saint Joseph — patron saint of travellers, workers and the universal church. This medallion had been very carefully installed such that it was not visible and would not interfere with the aircraft during its service life.

You can only imagine the day this aircraft was first assembled, when it received its engine: The worker had placed this medallion hidden deep in the engine compartment. She (the great majority of factory workers were women) did a very deliberate and purposeful thing. Had this addition been discovered by an inspector, no doubt she would have been seriously reprimanded about putting foreign objects into an airframe. 

She took a risk, and did it anyway. She had obviously thought through it carefully. Cleary, her prime concern was for those who would have to fly this machine under grim and stressful circumstances.

In a sense, this was the worker’s way of expressing her faith. She was offering, in her own way, a prayer for wartime pilots, many of whom were just out of high school. It’s wonderful to contemplate that we, some seventy-five years later, would be able to appreciate her prayer — her expression of faith — that at first did not go recognized. Even the pilots who flew that Hawker Hurricane didn’t know about the prayer being offered for them, but was still hidden close to them, in their most dire circumstances. (1)

In Paul’s letter to Timothy not only do we learn about the nature of faith — as a gift from God — we also are challenged to consider how this faith is demonstrated from generation to generation.


This morning we baptize baby Sebastian. Infant baptism is a practice that first and foremost recognizes faith as a gift from God, supported through the faith of parents, grandparents and the community of faith surrounding him. In time, and with support, we pray the seed of faith planted in Sebastian will grow and flourish. We may not be able to see this faith according to our adult standards as yet. But that doesn’t mean the seed isn’t there, or even that Sebastian isn’t expressing his faith in his own, baby way.

Many of us who have been around the church for decades are concerned that younger generations today aren’t doing their share anymore, or doing faith in a way we have come to recognize it.

Younger generations, we say, aren’t committed to the same projects we have always supported. Younger generations aren’t buying into ‘doing church’ in ways that for many of us have been a source of great comfort and meaning over the years.

But, as Marshall Goldsmith expressed in his book, “What Got You Here Won’t Get You There” (2). Perhaps we should borrow his title as a good mantra for the church today when it comes to the variety of ways we can express, and give form, to our faith, moving into the future.

Making adaptive change in the community of faith doesn’t mean the gift of faith is not present anymore, deep within the hearts of our children and youth. It doesn’t mean there isn’t a deep longing for connection with God among younger generations, to find meaning and making a difference in the world today.

We will sometimes confuse the form of faith with the function of faith. And, the church today may very well be challenged to consider a more public, outward/external expression of faith. Thinking, for example, of our programs as how they meet a public or specific community need rather than an internal need.

What our younger generations need is to be encouraged, like Timothy was by Paul, to appreciate the gift of faith within them. And to find ways of expressing that faith that are meaningful to them. And to support them in their initiatives. That’s a worthwhile cause! It starts by asking them: What would you like to do? And then supporting them in doing that.


I pray Sebastian will grow in a community of faith that will honour his gifts, his unique passions. I pray Sebastian will grow in a community of faith that will encourage the expression of his faith, even though it might look differently than what we are used to. I pray Sebastian will grow in a community of faith that he is not afraid of, because “God did not give us a spirit of cowardice”; rather, that each of us can be emboldened to express our faith in “a spirit of power, love and self-discipline” (v.7)

Because each of us has the gift of faith buried deep within our hearts. Yes. And this gift is just waiting to emerge and flower into a beautiful reflection of God’s love, power and truth in the world. The gift of faith is already given you. The gift of faith has already been offered. We have it. Each of us has it. It’s time we give each other permission to exercise that gift of faith.

(1) Stanley Johnstone, “Johanniter Herald” (Vol. XXXIII, No.3, 2016), p.3-4

(2) Marshall Goldsmith, “What Got You Here Won’t Get You There” (Hyperion, 2007)

Bread for all

After the old doctor died, his sons emptied the house in order to sell it. In the living room on the shelf above the fireplace they found a box with a slice of bread in it.

It was dried up hard and obviously had sat in the box a long time.

“He really kept every thing!” said one of the sons amazed. The doctor’s assistant who worked for the doctor for many years stood beside the sons silently. And then said: “Let me tell you the story of the slice of bread:

“You know that after the war your dad became very ill. He was weak, and near death. A friend, who had visited him told him, ‘If you don’t eat enough to regain your strength, it looks very bad for you.’ But where was one to get enough to eat? Everyone was starving. Many simply cooked potato peels and considered it a rich soup.

“The friend returned after some hours and brought some bread. Where he found it, he didn’t say. Surely he must have paid a fortune for it.

“But your dad did not eat it,” continued the assistant. “Your dad told me to take it to the neighbour; their daughter had been ill for a long time too. ‘I am an old man already who does not need the bread as much!’ your Dad said. ‘Take it to the neighbours!’

“As it later turned out, the neighbours did not eat it either, but passed it on to a family of refugees with three little children that lived in a small shack in the backyard of the neighbours’ house. They were overjoyed for they had not seen bread for more than three months. 

“But as they were about to eat, they remembered that the doctor, who had helped their children at no charge when they had been struck by a dangerous fever, was ill and weak and really needed something that would make him stronger.

“So when the bread came back after a day,” said the assistant, “we recognized it at once. Your dad was in tears, as they found out about the wandering piece of bread and where it had been.

Your Dad had said, “as long as there is love between us – I am not afraid about anything, not even dying”. So he divided it evenly and sent me out again. His share he kept; he put it in this box to always remember what had happened.”

The three children took the old bread, broke in in three pieces and decided to keep it in order to remember the story, to tell it to the next generation, and to teach them about the power of love and the wonder of sharing.

Something like this can only happen when there is a communal consciousness — more than one person that participates in a community of love and trust. That all will have enough. That all will benefit. That the needs of the whole outweigh the needs of the one.

This is the Gospel call. The kingdom call. Not for individual enlightenment or edification. Not for our sake alone. Dear Confirmands, your baptism as a baby was not valid on account of your own individual strength or decision. It was the community — your parents, sponsors and everyone in the church long ago — whose faith surrounded you at your baptism. Even your confirmation is not done for your own sake — but for the sake of others around you.

And that’s why you participate in leading and assisting in your own confirmation service: To practice this truth, that affirming your baptism is a call to deeper commitment in the life of the church. You may doubt the strength of your faith. That’s ok. In fact, I would be worried if you didn’t. God can work with just a tiny bit.

I must admit when we planted that tiny four-inch tall spruce on church grounds last Fall, I didn’t have a lot of hope that it would survive the winter. This was our first tree planted in response to the Reformation challenge for our national church to plant 500,000 trees by the end of 2017 — the 500th anniversary of the Reformation. It was a small tree. A humble start. Could it live, and even bear fruit? I had my doubts.

For one thing it was exposed, and not easily visible, to the many pedestrians that use this property to cross through and the many children who play in this space. For another thing, since receiving the sapling, I had not seen signs of new life on it. So I wasn’t sure it there was anything new to come out of it.

I was in for a pleasant surprise. Throughout the coming months, our neighbours put a tall chicken-wire type fence around it and staked it. We watered it. People walked around it. God took care of it over the cold winter. And voila, look at the new shoots of life sprouting now! There is hope.


It does take a community committed to sharing, committed to kingdom values, and the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Today is just as much about celebrating the church of all times and places as it is about our part in the kingdom of God on earth. We are not loners on this path. We don’t walk by ourselves. It’s not all up to us, individually. 

It’s amazing to see the fans of “We the North” cheer on the Toronto Raptors as they advance through the NBA playoffs this post-season. They are true fans who gather in “Jurassic Park” outside the ACC in downtown Toronto, even during away-games in the pouring rain. You might say, they are ‘fan-atics’ of their team. 

Yes, fans can be fanatics — exuberant, dedicated, passionate, sometimes even over-the-top. Imagine the fans in heaven — the faithful gathered as the grand host of heaven, cheering you on this day. These may be your loved ones, long gone now, or recently died. These may be the saints throughout the ages. These may be other Christians not here today yet praying for you nonetheless. These are your fans of faith. Fans. Fanatics. Fantastic!

You are not alone, making this decision today. Pentecost, and Confirmation Sunday, is also about trusting in God’s initiative, God’s work, God’s love and mercy. Through the Holy Spirit God comes to us in so many ways we sometimes don’t even recognize. 

In a few minutes, God comes to us in bread. This bread, the body of Jesus, is broken bread. It is broken from the One, so that all may eat. There is always enough for all, for the sake of our broken lives in this broken world that God so loves.

The gift of the Beatitudes

There is the story about a little girl who was one day drawing a picture. She was so engrossed in her work that her mother asked, “What are you drawing?” “Oh, it’s a picture of God,” said the youngster. “A picture of God?” “Darling, no one knows what God looks like!” “No,” said the little girl, “but they will when I get through.”

Even though we know, deep down, that God cannot be put in a box of our own devising – our own imagination – we will still try. However imperfect our efforts may be at explaining God — and imperfect they often are! — we live, like the little girl, with the confidence and sometimes arrogance that says: We know it all! I am in control! And that’s good, to a point.

But then we grow up and life happens — we suffer, we mourn, things don’t go according to our plan — and we question God’s very own existence. Usually, our response is very individualistic. When we struggle with end-of-life realities, for example, I often hear questions about whether or not “I” am worthy for heaven. And people struggle, sometimes on their death beds, with their own, individual, deserving, as if their salvation hangs on their own merit and achievements, or lack thereof.

First, let me say that challenging events in our life need not be signs of God’s displeasure –presuming God is out to get us for our misdeeds. Rather, challenging events are invitations to go deeper into the truth of life and death. And therein we discover the wonder of God and God’s loving stance towards us.

The church has always understood our rising and dying in Christ as a collective experience, not an individualistic enterprise. All Saints Sunday which we acknowledge today emphasizes ALL the SaintS (plural) — not just one or two. Moreover, every Sunday when we celebrate the sacrament of the table, we connect with the “communion of saints in heaven and on earth”. We are part of the Body of Christ, members of something larger than us, individually.

In the reading from Revelation (7:9-17) we hear about “a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages” (v.9). As members of the body of Christ we are primarily a people, not individuals that can be counted or measured. This truth is not meant to diminish our individuality but to encourage us in faith.

I pondered a photo recently taken of my godparents standing with my twin brother around the very font I was baptized in with him on November 30, 1969, about a month after my birth. Looking at the faces of my 5 sponsors now in their senior years, I was struck by how at my baptism — even though I couldn’t make those promises by myself at that time — the communion of saints held me in my faith and belief. Even though there are times in my life when my faith is weak, by myself, I can rest in the faith expressed by the larger faith community which holds me in prayer and membership. And this, to me, is of great comfort and encouragement.

Admittedly, it’s difficult for us to understand such a mystical and communal truth, in a highly individualistic culture bent on individual achievement and autonomy. But a life of faith in Christ Jesus invites us to consider reality and truth in a paradoxical way: That the poor are blessed, and so are the peacemakers, and those who mourn. In a world that lifts up those who achieve individual success and power by their own merit, the Beatitudes introduce a way of life that sees God in precisely the kinds of circumstances and communal expressions we would rather avoid, deny or at best tolerate.

Some have compared the 8 Beatitudes with which, in Matthew’s gospel (5:1-12) Jesus begins his teaching — what is called the Sermon on the Mount — with the 10 Commandments in the Old Testament.

This is an interesting comparison, on many levels. Someone mentioned in the lectionary study this past Monday how little airtime the Beatitudes get in our churches of late; much more emphasis is on the 10 Commandments. They remembered a time decades ago when the Beatitudes where enshrined on church bookmarks, wall-hangings, posters, cards in the narthex. They were all over the place. But no longer.

I wonder, is it because in recent times, especially, we have downplayed the subtle, albeit unpopular, aspects of the faithful life. Is it because we are uncomfortable with the humble truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ — who gave up his whole life on the cross for the sake of all people? This is the essence of the Gospel which is captured in the Beatitudes, a way of life that faces the challenges of life head on and embraces those struggles as integral to, as the fodder of, the faithful life.

Conversely, the 10 Commandments are easier to comprehend, rationalistically, aren’t they? After all, here a bunch of rules to follow. And rules are easier to grasp than paradoxical sayings. Rules have cut and dry consequences. Rules are wrapped up in rewards and punishment. And we get that. We live in a culture that is driven by meritocracy.

Maybe it’s time we take another look at the Beatitudes. Because life happens. And when it does, we have some choice and a responsibility in the matter of how we will respond. We don’t have to search out suffering for suffering’s sake. The tough times come. And when they do, what will we do? How will we respond?

By saying, “We don’t deserve this? It shouldn’t happen to us?”

We can only go so far with the 10 Commandments — and the ‘Law” for that matter. Because while the Law provides a good order for living, no one individual can fulfill the demands of the law perfectly. The function of the law is to drive us to the throne of grace — to lead us, in the words of Martin Luther — “as beggars”, to God who is the starting and ending point of our lives.

One of Martin Luther’s greatest contributions to theological thinking is a paradox: he said that we are simultaneously saint AND sinner. Now, you can’t rationalistically explain that ‘both/and’ formulation — just like you cannot easily explain other sayings of Jesus; like, in order to find your life you need to lose it; or, just like you cannot explain that Jesus is both fully human and fully divine; or, just like you cannot easily explain the mystery of the real presence of Jesus we may experience with God in the Holy Communion. That is why the prayer of the day for All Saints Sunday emphasizes ‘the mystical union’ we share with the whole body of Christ on earth and in heaven. These are all precious paradoxes that describe — like the Beatitudes do — the fundamentals of our faith.

The gift of the Beatitudes — these fundamental teachings of Jesus — lies in their promise to us. What are the promises to those who courageously follow in the often messy, inexplicable, uncertainty of Jesus’ way of the Cross?

Ours is the kingdom of God, we will inherit the earth, we will be filled, we will receive mercy, we will see God, we will be called children of God, and our reward will be great in heaven.

Here is a wonderful, true description of faith that is full of promise, not condemnation; that is about hope in the midst of despair, not a fearful avoidance of reality; that is about affirmation and encouragement, not judgement and punishment; that is about blessing with an eye to new life.

Dedication of new church doors

New front doors were installed over the main threshold of the building at Faith Lutheran Church in Ottawa on August 29, 2014. Here follows the brief dedication service offered in worship on site, on Sunday, August 31, 2014:

Let the door(s) be opened!

Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep … Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture.” (John 10:7-9)

The door(s) is opened. Pastor Martin marks the threshold of the doors with the sign of the cross, and says:

Our help is in the Name of the Lord;
The maker of heaven and earth.
Let us pray.
Everliving God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit, watchful and caring, our source and our end: All that we are and all that we have is yours. Accept us now, as we dedicate these doors through which we enter to praise your Name, to ask your forgiveness, to know your healing power, to hear your Word, and to be nourished by the Body and Blood of your Son. Be present always to guide, to illuminate and to bless your people as we gather in this place.
Help us also as we exit over this threshold — once nourished and strengthened by your Word and your Presence — to go out, confident in the work of your Mission in the world which you love.
We confess our fear associated with this threshold:
For those who come fearful for the first time through these doors into an unknown place, help them cross this threshold trusting that they will be met by the gracious and unconditional welcome of your people; and,
Whether we go out into the world fearful for the work set before us, help us trust always in the forgiveness and courage you give us through the power of your Holy Spirit in our hearts. Amen.

Peace be to this house, and to all who enter and exit here: † In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
Amen.