In the Center

Colossians 1:11-20
Christ the King
November 20, 2022

Willia, G. Carter

 

May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light. 

 

He has rescued us from the power of darkness

and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, 

in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. 

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; 

for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created,

things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—

all things have been created through him and for him. 

He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 

He is the head of the body, the church;

he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. 

For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, 

and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things,

whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.

Today, at long last, is the day of confirmation. Six young adults will stand soon and profess their Christian faith, confirming the promises that their parents made at their baptism. I was trying to remember my confirmation class. That was a long time ago, shortly after the Ice Age thawed and the last pterodactyl took its final breath. Can anybody older than me remember what you had to learn?

My father grew up as a Methodist. I don’t know if his church ever required him to learn anything. He merely had to endure the minister. When there was a pause in the action, Dad said, “I believe,” and that was sufficient. They let him in the church, and that’s when the true learning began.

My mother was a different story. She was nurtured as a Presbyterian. Mom recalls having to memorize the Westminster Shorter Catechism, a document from 1647. The catechism is shaped by 107 questions and 107 answers. The questions are tough, and the answers are not “yes” or “no.” It was a lot to learn, and she had a tough instructor. He wouldn’t let the class fudge a single word in each prescribed answer. And when she could recite the whole thing, they let her in. 

What do I remember about my confirmation class? Not much. I remember an endless series of Saturday morning classes, perhaps two hours long. We met in a large room because there were a lot of us there. The teachers handed out textbooks to a room full of seventh graders. Then they proceeded to read the textbook to us.

Not the most engaging way to teach. Occasionally, the teachers asked us to find a Bible verse and read it. But I can’t recall if the verse was ever explained.

After long series of Saturdays, they told us we were ready. The boys were instructed to wear neckties (clip-on ties were acceptable). The girls were told to wear dresses. At the appropriate moment, we were paraded in front of the congregation. Maybe the pastor asked us some questions, just like I will ask our class in a little bit; I don’t remember. Maybe there was a prayer; I can’t recall.

What I do remember is something Gordy Christiansen said to me while we stood in line to get a piece of cake. He was an old dude, probably in his late forties. Had a twinkle in his eye, always quick with something to say. He asked me about the classes, and I don’t know what I said. He put his hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eye, and said, “Billy, if you forget everything else, don’t forget Jesus. Jesus is in the center of it all.”

All these years later, that’s the one thing I remember from my confirmation class. And it was good advice.

The apostle Paul and his young friend Timothy wrote the text for today. They sent it in a letter to a small, struggling church in a land we now call Turkey. The city of Colossae was once bright and opulent, but the years had not been kind. The economy was shaky, the smart kids had left town, and the best years of that city were behind them.

But none of that matters to Paul. He wants to confer a holy blessing. “May you be made strong,” he says. “May you be prepared to endure everything with patience,” he says. “Keep thanking God for all things,” he adds, “for God has made it possible for you to share what all the saints have shared.”

These are gracious words, words of encouragement, the kind of general words that you offer to people that you haven’t yet met. As far as we know, Paul had never been to that town, much yet to that church. So he says, “Be strong, keep enduring, be thankful,” when suddenly he starts talking about Jesus. And he says a mouthful. He doesn’t know these people – but they have Jesus in common. With this, he’s off and running.

He is the image of the invisible God.

The One through whom all things were created, the Beloved Son, the Savior who rescued us.

All of God fills all of him.

He has reconciled us to the Father, making peace through the blood of his Cross.

He is firstborn from the dead. He comes first in everything.

Now, we don’t know if he has said all these things before. There’s a good chance he is quoting an ancient hymn to Christ, something the church members would have known. Or perhaps, as somebody said in a Bible study this week, this might have been an early statement of what the Christians preached and what they believed. Like an early Apostles’ Creed. Might be, but we don’t know.

But here’s what we do know: Paul and Timothy have an enormous view of Jesus. They don’t mention that he was an itinerant teacher. They don’t allude any of the parables he taught that we’ve been studying this fall. They don’t refer to his miracles or his healings or humble birth or his mother. All they can see is his size!

The Jesus that they perceive is more than the Galilean Carpenter who cracked a few jokes and collected some fishermen who never understood what he was talking about. Oh no - they see a Lord who is working in “all things.” They may have seen him as a first-century peasant, but his resurrection has revealed how big he is. This comes up six times:  

• “all things” are created in Christ
• “all things” are created for Christ
• “all things” are created through Christ
• “all things” are created after Christ
• “all things” hold together in Christ
• “all things” are reconciled to God through Christ

To quote Gordy Christiansen, “If you forget everything else, don’t forget Jesus. Jesus is in the center of it all.” He is at the heart of everything we trust and do, the center of all that we teach and sing.

When we work for justice, it’s because it is his justice. When we feed the hungry, it’s because the hungry are his people. When we call out public lies, it’s because he is the standard of all Truth. When we confront personal grievances, it’s because his forgiveness cancels everything that would separate us from God and one another.

Jesus is not that personal good luck charm to make you happy, or that free get-out-of-jail-or-hell card that you have but others do not. He is so much greater than that. He is Lord and Savior of the totality of existence, what many have called the Cosmic Christ. He is the One “through whom all things hold together,” which means his grace is the glue of the universe. He’s that big. He stands in the center.

Now, I wonder what they thought in Colossae, that small, rusty city that received this letter. Probably the same thing they think in Clarks Summit in 2022. We think about a lot of things – the Penn State game, the oak leaves in our rain gutters, whether to put snow tires on the car, and how glad we are not to live in Buffalo.

One mother is worrying that her kid might get the answers wrong in the confirmation ceremony (the Catholics call this a sacrament, you know!). Somebody else just realized he didn’t blow out a candle before he came to church. Another person must reschedule a flight through Charlotte to visit to Dad for Thanksgiving.

Meanwhile, somebody around here may have covid and doesn’t know it yet. A Volvo has been parked in, so the owner must stick around for the confirmation reception. There’s not enough dip for the crudité tray downstairs. The Finance Committee wonders if next year’s pledges will keep us afloat. These are the things we think about.

To which Paul and Timothy declare, “Take a breath. Chill out. Hush your heart. Jesus is Lord, the Lord of all.” We are here because he has created us for himself. Everything we fuss about is held only by his grace. We are forgiven because all things are forgiven; I checked the text, and it does say, “all things.” And it’s pretty sweet to breathe and realize that we loved, and rescued, and saved, and commissioned to do good things, all because Jesus gave his life for us, and now gives his life to us. Pretty sweet, indeed.

This is what salvation feels like - and reconciliation, and redemption, and all the rest of those ten cent words. It is the deep assurance that all is well with God, so all things will be well with us. All things. All of them.

Christ Jesus stands in the center, right where he has always stood. He turns to you with shining eyes, and once again he says, “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” (Luke 12:32)

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.