How to Explain the Meaning of Christianity

My oldest son, Vincent, has been visiting for the last week now from Naples, Fla. Last night I mentioned to this six-foot-two, 24-year-old (who often looks the same to me as he did when he was five), how nice it would be if he came with me to church and Sunday school. If he wanted to sleep in, no problem, I said.

 

So when this morning came, I couldn’t have been more pleased to hear water running in the bathroom upstairs a little after 7 a.m. When I poked my head in, there was my big child, face covered in shaving cream, telling me that coffee was already brewing in the kitchen. He was getting ready for church.

 

On the way, in the car, we began to discuss Christianity. Vincent asked me, for instance, in this day and age, what the real meaning of Christianity was. What place should it, can it, does it have in your life? Practically speaking, why give up just about each and every Sunday, when you can sleep in, or go to the beach and sail your boat, or work on your old beat-up VW bus from high school?

 

Vincent was baptized by Austin Ford as a baby but he really falls under the category of the not-churched-so-much. Unlike his little brother, Wolfie, who is five years younger, Vincent was already in college when we found our church home at St. Andrews in Columbia, N.C. When Wolfie “religiously” dawned his red and white acolyte robe every Sunday and swung on the rope to ring the bell that hung in the tower of that clapboard country church.

 

So to answer this important question, I started with the least smart line—because you’re a natural Episcopalian, I said. Those values are the values you grew up with, that’s how we think. What I did not say was: We are liberal. We try to be tolerant. We listen to NPR, we are thinkers. We root for the underdog. We question ourselves, we try to evolve . .. I did not say those things but I think that is what I was on the verge of saying after just one cup of coffee.

 

“Denomination shouldn’t really matter, though, right?” Vincent said.

 

So I got into this weak explanation about being part of a community, about Sunday school, about spirituality and learning and studying. It made no particular impression that I could see. When I read what I said and thought as I write this, it makes no particular impression on me. Muddy, unfocused, indirect.

 

Anyway we arrived at St. Dunstan’s just in time to slip in ahead of Patricia, who was already in her robes, about to enter the sanctuary. Quiet, early service. Not much noise, even in the way of rustling bodies, which add up to about eight at that time of day.

 

Then Vincent and I were following the scripture reading “ . . . If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.” Vincent smiled at me and nodded his head, good stuff. It is, and it's my mother’s favorite—she read it at her house blessing.

 

Paul’s letter ended . . “Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

 

Though I could not explain, Why Christianity, I was fortunate in that this morning, that was exactly what Patricia did in her sermon—with Paul’s love letter. The love letter not to a romantic couple, but to a feuding congregation. Not romantic love, but Christian love, she said.

 

Patricia went on in her analysis of Paul:

 

The “more excellent way,” the way of love, acts like this, Paul says. Love refuses to stoop to petty retaliation. It shuns competitiveness and resists keeping a score card of who is right and wrong.

 

Love is kind and patient, even to those – maybe especially to those – who are most aggravating and annoying. Love remains hopeful, even in situations where stress and conflict seems overwhelming.

 

Feelings come and go, but the action of love abides.

 

Because Vincent heard the whole sermon, I will never have need to try again to explain what I think Christianity means. Patricia clarified even further in her sermon, and next time I will remember exactly what I want to say, should have said, knew in my heart but couldn’t pull out when I needed it:

 

And yet Jesus did not say that the ultimate sign of Christianity is the doctrine or creed one espouses, what church one attends, or what political positions one takes.

 

As important as these things might be, the ultimate sign of Christian discipleship and community is the way we treat one another.

 

As Jesus said to his disciples the night before he died, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

 

Paul reminds us today that love is the foundation of all Christian life, and without love no life can be Christian.

 

And since I’ve copied and pasted just about the whole sermon, which is posted on our home page, I’ll go ahead and give you the end:

 

It is a simple message with no high doctrinal content. That is how the world is to know us, how we are to know one another.

Amid all the complexities of our faith and life, love, kindness, and friendship are the first marks of a disciple of Christ.

Amen.