October 6, 2019; Year C, 17 Pentecost, Proper 22;
Stewardship Discernment Season Kick-off; Thankful Memorial Episcopal Church
Lamentations 1:1-6; Lamentations 3:19-26; 2 Timothy 1:1-14; Luke 17:5-10

“The apostles said to the Lord, ‘Increase our faith!’  The Lord replied, ‘If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, “Be uprooted and planted in the sea,” and it would obey you.’”

To understand these words we have to ask one key question: what is faith?  In today’s gospel, Jesus makes it clear that the disciples have mis-understood what faith is.  Their main error is in thinking that faith is something you have, an own-able, quantifiable thing, like money or power or popularity.  “Increase our faith!” they ask Jesus and Jesus’ answer, even though veiled in the mustard-seed parable, is still pretty clear: “No.”  No, Jesus will not increase their faith because faith is not something you can have less or more of.  You either have faith or you don’t. 

Though, that’s not really right either as Jesus’ next parable goes on to show.  There, the issue is, either you do faith or you don’t.  Jesus’ image of slaves working in the fields for no reward rings harsh to our enlightened ears, as well it should, especially here in the American South.  But, Jesus’ words nonetheless force us to think of faith not as something we have but as something we do, a role into which we live, as a duty upon which we must act. 

And that’s a significant shift.  Because if faith is something we do then it becomes less a decision in our mind or a conversion of the soul, and more an ongoing action that takes effort and practice in daily and ordinary ways. 

Perhaps instead of mustard-seed, we’d be better thinking of our faith as a muscle.  Assuming there is no outward disease effecting them, how well our muscles work depends on how well we care for and use them.  If we are lazy and unwilling to activate them, our muscles will weaken and eventually atrophy.  But if we use them and maintain them properly, our muscles serve us and serve our purposes in life: to do our work, to use our senses, to hug our loved ones, and so much more.

We “have” muscles, of course, but not in the same way we “have” money or status.  And like our muscles, faith is something we “have” only inasmuch as it has been given to us by grace for our use.  Even our faith doesn’t originate with us but has been handed to us, first, by God, who is the primary source of all things and second by those who have showed us the way of faith.

Which brings us to our greater theme today at Thankful: stewardship.  Because, ultimately, we are only ever stewards of our faith.  In the second letter to Timothy, the writer reminds his protégé that his faith has been handed down to him, from his grandmother Lois, through his mother Eunice and now to Timothy, too.  And Timothy’s job is “to rekindle the gift of God that is within you.”  In other words, he is to activate his faith, to maintain that faith-muscle through daily use and practice. 

And the same goes for us.  Maybe your faith didn’t come through direct blood-lines, but each of us is here because someone – or someones – handed down our faith to us.  Perhaps it was a friend who invited you to church, or a pastor who guided you, or a beloved godparent who nurtured you.  Whomever we claim as spiritual mothers or fathers, the gift of faith they passed to us is precious and we must be good stewards of that “good treasure entrusted to [us].” 

So how do we act on and activate our faith?  How do we serve as good stewards?  Like our other muscles, our faith must be practiced, must be put to use.  And one of the main ways we are given to do that is through the sacraments.  By coming to church on Sundays to remind each other of our baptisms and to share in the Eucharist together, we present ourselves before God that the gift of faith may be rekindled within us, week by week. 

But that’s only the beginning.  We must also carry that faith with us away from the Eucharistic table and into our daily lived realities.  We practice our faith in ordinary tasks and routine ways, both within and outside of the church.  We are good stewards of our faith when we act as good stewards of the other gifts we have been given: our time and our talents, our energies and yes, our money, too.  We put our faith to use when we set up the parish hall for a fellowship gathering.  We put our faith to use when we collect items for Clifton Hills’ Care Closet.  We put our faith to use when we serve on the altar guild or the choir, when we turn in a financial commitment card – and honor that commitment as best we can, when we help clean up after coffee hour, when we send a card or a casserole to a neighbor who is suffering, when we actively welcome new people into our midst, when we smile at the children making noise at church to reassure them that they are seen and loved, just as they are.  Indeed, we are good stewards of our faith when we make the effort to see all others and love them, just as they are.

These are ordinary actions, the daily routine of the life of faith.  And yet… when you put them all together, when you look at the big picture they make, you may begin to see the great mystery of faith, that all this ordinariness, by the grace of God, is made into something extraordinary, something miraculous.  Just think of Thankful.  In the past decade, this little parish, this ordinary parish with ordinary people has gone from nearly shutting its doors to becoming a vibrant, healthy community.  Together, we have supported each other through births and deaths, joy and suffering.  Together, we have partnered with MetMin to punch above our weight in outreach to prevent homelessness.  Together, we have raised more than $250,000 in a capital campaign so that we can be better stewards of our property.  Together, we have nurtured the growing number of young children in our midst, thereby assuring that this precious faith will continue to be handed down to future generations.  This is astonishing stuff.  This is as extraordinary as a mulberry tree, by one word, being uprooted and planted in the sea.

And yet it all comes from a thing as mundane as a mustard seed.  It all comes from such ordinary faith stewarded well, such ordinary people putting that faith to good use, such that, by the grace of God, through the power of Christ, in the Spirit’s love, we become something extraordinary.  Amen.