Remember: Don’t Play with Fire…Yet Do

This blog post was the sermon message at the 190th Anniversary Celebration of the First Presbyterian, Union, on October 27, 2024

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I don’t like ‘remembering’.

Seems only fair that I should say that.  I splashed water on Pacific’s anniversary by saying I didn’t like anniversaries.  Seems only fair that I splash water on Union’s anniversary and remember, by saying I don’t like ‘remembering’.

Yes, I speak of a particular kind of remembering.

‘Remembering’ that is, quite honestly, maudlin.

‘Remembering’ that weeps and wails and acts as if its world and life have come to an end with the loss of someone or something, or some event that marks a change in life, and “Life is not what it used to be!”

Now, before we go any further: please don’t think me insensitive.  That’s not the intent at all.

Grief and sorrow are necessary in our losses.  But also, grief – good grief – leads to adjustments in life, re-orienting ourselves, and moving on.

But the kind of remembering I mention gets lost in a past that is…well, past.  Gets lost in the past, and even stuck there, as if there is no hope for moving on.

The Apostle Paul addresses this situation when he writes to the Christians in Thessalonica,

We want you to be quite certain, brothers [and sisters], about those who have died, to make sure that you do not grieve about them, like the other people who have no hope.  (I Thessalonians 4:13 – Jerusalem Bible)

Like those whose remembering is gripped with fear, thinking that the life of those we remember is snuffed out forever, dead and gone.

And that’s it: dead and gone, lifeless, hopeless.

And I’m not talking about the person who died.  I’m talking about the person who remembers in this way: that they, in their grief and mourning and ‘remembering’ are dead and gone, lifeless and hopeless.

But we are NOT “like those who have no hope.”

We do have hope.  We proclaim that hope every week.  We affirm that hope with every proclamation that “Jesus is Lord!”

And the life of those we remember – our ancestors, those ‘saints’, as we often call them – they may be dead and gone, and so too may a particular way or aspect of life as we know it.

But that spark that sustained their life is not snuffed out.  It still burns…in us.

And one good thing to remember:  “it only takes a spark to get a fire going”  (“Pass It On” by Kurt Kaiser, 1969).

The spark of love, of faith, of hope – of God – that flickered in those we remember – that “cloud of witnesses” – that spark lives in us.

That is why we remember – and try to remember well.

For we are grateful and give thanks for those who have gone before us, who shared that spark with us and nurtured that spark within us.  You and I both know people like that, and we can speak their names and recount their stories, and claim what they have done for us and meant to us.  And we celebrate them; and give thanks to God for them, and for God’s work in and through them: work that has touched us and nurtured us and influenced us.

But we do not stop there.  We do not stop with staring longingly at the life that has gone before, at that spark that went before us.

For we treasure that spark we received, and we vow to pass that spark on to others.

I have to make a confession.

All of this – with both Union’s (today’s) anniversary celebration and Pacific’s a couple of months back – all of this, bottom line, is an attempt to nurture a healthy relationship between the past, the present, and the future.

Healthy, because too often I have seen – and I bet you have too – I have seen, and experienced, an unhealthy relationship.

We cannot live in the past.  Though there are some who try to – we often call them ‘stuck’, clinging to a past that is long gone.  They may deny it; but every word and movement and decision shouts their yearning to go back and reclaim (and relive) some long lost past, whether real or imaginary.

By the same token, we cannot live in the future.  Though there are some who try to: who jump ahead of everyone to live a life that does not exist, with their ‘head in the clouds’.

But we can and we do live in the present, here, now.  In fact, it’s the only place we can live.

And in the present – here and now – we can remember and celebrate and lift up the best of the past: to learn from it, to be inspired by it, even to be guided by it.  We just cannot live there – in the past – we have to live in the present.  And the present is never exactly like the past.  And so the past can never be perfectly re-created in the present, and we should not try to.  But we can live informed by the past.

And in the present – here and now – we can look forward to and plan for the future: envision a better world, work toward a better life.  We just cannot live there – in the future (science-fiction stories notwithstanding) – we have to live in the present. And the future will never be exactly like the present, or like the future we may imagine.  It shouldn’t be, for we’re supposed to grow, even in our vision for the future.  And that necessitates change: change that often is never what we anticipate.  And that growing needs to happen and be nurtured now.

Last year, we had a chance to visit Montreat, North Carolina.  Yes, the same area of North Carolina devastated by recent rains from Hurricane Helene.  In front of Anderson Auditorium, there’s a plaque on the back of a bench “In Memory Of Fanny B Jones 2004.”  And the plaque reads:

“For yesterday is but a memory and tomorrow a vision.  But today well lived makes every yesterday a memory of happiness and every tomorrow a vision of hope.”

You know, that’s a spark for living.

And that’s the spark we fan.

Not like we’re playing with fire irresponsibly.

But having the torch passed on to us.  And our passing the torch to others.

We have been touched by, we have received this precious spark of faith and love and hope: a flame that nurtures and sustains us, the fire that gives us life and meaning and purpose.  And we celebrate having received this from others: others having shared this spark and passed this fire on to us.

What can we do to continue to nurture this spark, this fire, this life within us?

-as we join in worship today;

-as we lift up our prayers to God and wait expectantly for God to respond;

-as we delve into the biblical story and listen for God’s voice;

-as we live and work together in community, loving one another, forgiving one another, learning and growing together;

-as we reach out to serve, offering ourselves – our time and energy, our resources and our lives – to do justice and love kindness and share our humble walk with God.

And so pass on this spark to others

-in the words of kindness we speak,

-and the loving deeds we undertake;

-in the faithful choices we make,

-and the very example that we are.

In that light, and with that spark, the question for us, How will I let my light shine?

How will I let Christ’s light in me shine through me for others?

For, yes, I can affirm and celebrate my debt to those who have gone before me.  I affirm how Christ’s fire burned in them.  I celebrate how their spark fueled my spark.

But at the end of the day, the question is not about the fire and spark of our ancestors.  The question is, How will Christ’s fire burn in me?  How will his spark fuel my passion and my ministry, my service and my life?  How will his light in me touch others? …both as an individual and as a community.

May our answer to that question be the torch we bear…and share.

Rev. Bill Vincent
Pastor of First Presbyterian Church – Union and
Pacific Presbyterian Church