To Infinity ... and Beyond!

sermon by Torin Eikler
1st sermon in a seven week "Dwelling in the Word" series focusing on
Ephesians 3:7-21

Series Introduction
We are preparing for something different in worship in the next seven weeks.  Across the Mennonite Church USA, congregations are being invited into a process called “Dwelling in the Word.”  We, in this congregation, have been introduced to this through the process known as Lectio Divina, or divine reading.  But Dwelling in the Word is a bit different—one of the major differences is that the scriptures we are looking at are longer, and we are “dwelling” with them for a longer amount of time ... which I can admit, feels daunting, even perhaps boring. 

But Dwelling in the Word is a spiritual practice of reading and dwelling in the biblical text with an openness to be formed and transformed by the Living Word.  This practice is a unique way of allowing God to speak to us both individually and corporately.  Dwelling in the Word values listening deeply to God and to one another.  We read for spiritual formation by coming to the Word and patiently allowing the text to intrude into our lives—in this case for yes, seven whole weeks!—we open our selves to let the text address us, and to encounter God in new ways.

This is a formational reading and hearing, rather than an informational reading and hearing.  In the next seven Sundays, you will hear seven different perspectives on Pauls’ letter to the Ephesians 3:7-21, a scripture that appropriately calls us to be rooted and grounded in Love. 

By reading this text formationally

·         we dwell in God’s Word to gain new insights and understandings—not seeing only what we heard or read about a particular text, or what we think we know about it.
·         we read and listen to the scripture text aware of God’s presence—not reading through it quickly and unconsciously.
·         we read formationally with a desire to be shaped by God’s Word—not to control God’s Word based on our desires, wants, and needs.
·         and we become humble servants of the text—not masters of it.

We acknowledge that there is risk involved in doing things differently in worship.  This is not a routine we are used to.  We are used to hearing a variety of texts from week to week.   But we trust that God moves in our lives, illuminating to us newness each week—even with the same text.  We trust that the seven speakers have listened to the Spirit themselves and are each different people with different perspectives, and different ways of expressing the Good News.

And we know that we benefit from and need a variety of ways to study and read God’s Word.  The Spirit of God has the power to transform our souls and lives in whatever way we approach the Scripture.  Dwelling in the Word with the community invites the Living Word to penetrate to the innermost being of our lives—individually and together.  It is here that God desires to dwell.

Sermon
“I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”

Some time ago, one of my sons asked me, “God loves me, right?”  (I think it was just after he had gotten into a lot of trouble for doing something very dangerous).  My response was, “Of course God loves you, and I do too.”  His next question was, “How much?” which surprised me because we have never played the kind of games that try to measure the limit of love.  (You know, the ones where a child says, “I love you to the moon,” and the parent responds, “I love you to the moon and back.”)  So, I said, “God loves you to infinity … and beyond!”

Some of you may not be familiar with that phrase.  So, I’ll give you some background.  “To infinity … and beyond!” is the catchy exclamation used by Buzz Lightyear in the “Toy Story” movies that have been popular among children for the last several years.  The movies tell the story of three of the great adventures shared by a group of toys who have come to life when their owner, Andy, is away.  They play games together, take care of each other, and generally do all the things that the rest of us do within the limitations of their own construction.

Buzz is one of the latest additions to Andy’s toy box, and in the first movie, it falls to the rest of the toys to help him understand that he is really just a toy and not an intergalactic space ranger whose mission is to save the universe from the predations of the evil Emperor Zogg.  But until they manage to convince him that he cannot actually shoot laser beams or contact galactic control, he repeatedly tries to use his little plastic wings to fly, shouting “To infinity … and beyond!” with each attempt.

Aside from being fairly high quality, entertaining movies in their own right, the Toy Story series has given birth to many interesting and entertaining conversations with my children….

“Where is infinity?” Sebastian asked me shortly after we watched the first movie for the third time. 

“Infinity isn’t really a place,” I answered after a little chuckle.
"But Buzz Lightyear said, ‘to infinity and beyond,’” he responded with the undeniable logic of a child who understands the word “where.”

Clearly there was more explaining to do.

 

I’ll save you the details of the rest of the conversation.  Suffice it to say that we still have conversations about what infinity means.  It seems that there are no end to Sebastian’s questions about the concept, and now that Alistair is in on the discussions, they promise to continue for a number of years.  I just don’t know how explain it so that a boy of 6 can comprehend let alone a 3-year-old.

In truth, I’m not sure I could explain infinity to a full-grown adult because … I don’t really comprehend it myself.  I can say that it’s the highest number there is, but it’s not really a number.  I can say that it means something so big that it has no end, but what does that actually mean?  I can say that if you were to start off in one direction and travel forever, you would never reach infinity, but that’s not much better.  What it comes down to is that I do not (maybe cannot) comprehend it.  I can only grasp enough of what it means to stand in awe of the mystery it represents and struggle to move deeper into that mystery as I try to help my sons.

 

“I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”

 

The same thing is true about God.  When we talk about theology we use all sorts of words that defy comprehension.  God is omniscient and knows everything that has happened, is happening, and will happen, even if the future is yet to be determined.  God is omnipresent – in every place and time that exists simultaneously.  God is omnipotent which means that God both can and cannot create a rock that even God cannot move.  All of these words have definitions that we have made to speak of the infinite nature of God, and we can only grasp the smallest part of what they mean.

But love … love is something that we can understand.  In our lives we often feel powerless.  We often wish that we could be in more than one place at a time in order to get everything done.  We sometimes regret that we didn’t know or understand more of what was going on around us … of what our actions would mean.  Yet every day we know the power of love.  We know how it lives deep, deep within us.  We know the empathy and compassion that it inspires in us.  And, we know the lengths we will go to take care of those we hold dear.  We even have a sense of how broad love can be.

 

I remember asking my mother … (once or twice) … who she loved more, me or one of my brothers.  As all wise parents do, she told me told me that she didn’t love any of us more than the others.  She just loved us differently.  “You know,” she went on, “like you love me and your father and your brothers differently.”

That answer shut me up.  It didn’t relieve any of my fears or my desire to be the favorite son.  That wasn’t what ended the conversation.  No, … it was too complex and confusing for me.  Sure I loved my brothers and my parents differently, but at any given time, I could have told you who I loved more.  It was clear from more of that children’s logic that whoever had just given me what I asked for or let me do what I wanted was at the top of the list.

Eventually, I outgrew that limited understanding of love (or I hope I have), and now that I am older – now that I have children of my own, especially – I understand my mother’s answer, and I have used it myself the few times that my boys have posed the same question I did.  It’s not that I want to be confusing or misdirect them (although I do my share of that at other times).  It’s simply the truth, and what they have trouble understanding – what it took me years to learn myself – is that love is not a limited commodity.  We don’t have to share it out in portions that grow smaller with each person that we welcome into our heart because an endless supply of it wells up within us.  In fact, it often seems like the more we open our hearts to others, the more love flows into and through us.  We become fuller and more complete rather than stretched and divided.

That may be the closest any of us get to the infinite ... at least within ourselves, and that is something that we can hold on to as we struggle to comprehend who God is.  Yet even that – even the abundance of our love – is only a reflection of the love that God holds for all of us – the love that God revealed in Christ.  That is a love that is so broad … so deep that we humans rarely (if ever) comprehend.

 

I think that’s why the author of Ephesians phrased this particular part of the letter as a prayer rather than a theological treatise.  There is really no way for us to decipher the infinite nature of God since we are limited creatures.  Our intellect has amazing power to perceive, but there is a fullness in the infinite God that lies beyond mere knowing.

There is a love that reaches out to embrace all things and all people….  A love that knows everything – all the good and the bad together – knows it all and accepts it.  Knows it, accepts it, and lets it be despite the power to change it.  Lets it be … imperfect as it is and remains content with calling us all toward a more complete wholeness. 

That love comes to us borne on the wings of the Spirit from the heart of God into our own hearts.  It takes root there in the rich soil of our own love and sinks roots deep down into our beings, giving rather than taking nourishment.  It spreads its branches out to embrace our souls, rocks us into the infinite space of our dreams … and then beyond into the place of God’s dreams for us.

What a wonderful gift – a fullness and richness beyond anything we could create or even dream of ourselves.  It’s worth a prayer or two.  And so, I add my own voice to the prayer offered for the Ephesians and extend it for you … for all of us, knowing that the faithfulness of our God will make it so.  And so ...

“I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”