Sermons from the Pulpit

Preached to the Congregational Church in Exeter, U. C. C., on Stewardship Sunday, November 11, 2001, by Michael L. C. Henderson, pastor.

Haggai 2:1-9, II Thessalonians 2:15-3:5

Who is left among you that saw this house in its former glory? How does it look to you now?
    -Haggai 2:3

     The times are bad. That's the new wisdom. All the oracular talking heads on the cable channels are chanting it nonstop, so it must be true. There's a recession on, consumer confidence is way down, unemployment is going up, the boom is over, Wall Street is overrun by bears, and we're in trouble - "we" being everyone and every group and every institution that relies on the generosity of the American people, except of course for those that are involved in some clear way in the nightmare in lower Manhattan.

     What are we in this church going to do with that wisdom on Stewardship Sunday or any other day? We're going to do what we have always done: We're going to read our Bible. Actually we already did that, from the Book of the Prophet Haggai, who is one of the so-called Minor Prophets, which sounds insulting, like they belong to some bush league, but all it means is that these prophets wrote shorter books than the Major Prophets. Haggai is so short that if you're going to read it to the whole church you'd better find it and mark it beforehand, unless you've memorized the names of all the books in the Old Testament in order and you can reel them off on the spot. Is there anybody here who can do that? It's safe to raise your hand, I won't make you do it now.

     Time was when any self-respecting Sunday Schooler could do that, or so I'm told - I never spent a day in Sunday School, myself. But that achievement is part of the former glory of this house, and long gone. Who is left among you that saw this house in its former glory? How does it look to you now? Does it look like a pale shadow of what it once was, when as we have all heard, every pew was full every Sunday and meeting the budget was never a problem and everyone's whole life revolved around the church and all the kids knew their Bible and faith was not yet passé?

     These Israelites lamented the latter state of the house they built for God. Well, in the Congregational way of thinking, God's house isn't the building, it's the people, the congregation, the spiritual house not built with hands. So the question is: What do we make of the present state of ourselves in the light of our former glories or those of our predecessors here? The condition of this old ark of a meetinghouse we have dealt and are dealing with very nicely through the Third Century Building Fund and its nearly half a million dollars' worth of renovations and restorations, and now we are even getting serious about doing likewise for that chronic stepchild but indispensable instrument we know as Bixler House. Praise God! But what about the heart of the matter? What about the church that meets in this house?

     I tell you, I'm tired of lamentations over the passing of the good old days, those bygone glory days when supposedly the church was really the church; I'm tired of faulting our present by comparison to the past. And being tired of that, I was wonderfully braced this week when I came across a revival sermon preached one hundred and fifteen years ago at the Metropolitan Temple in London by the Rev. C. H. Spurgeon, preached on this very text from Haggai. It was about discouragement. He was against it. And this is what he said:

     When in Haggai's days the people thought of Jehovah, and of the temple for Him, and then looked upon the narrow space which had been enclosed, and the common stones which had been laid, they were ashamed. Where were those hewn stones and costly stones which, of old, Solomon brought from far? They said within themselves, "This house is unworthy of Jehovah; what do we by labouring thus?" We are doing so little as compared with other people, therefore let us give up. We cannot build like Solomon, therefore let us not build at all. Yet, brethren, there is a great falsehood in all this, for, in truth, nothing is worthy of God. The great works of others, and even the amazing productions of Solomon, all fell short of God's glory. What of all human work can be worthy of God? But, brethren, we must not allow this sense of littleness to hamper us, for God can bless our littleness, and use it for glory. Certainly the great ones of the past were not more self-confident than we are. I find in the brave days of old the same confessions and the same lamentations which we utter now. Our fathers had faults and follies to mourn over, and they did mourn over them most sincerely. Faint-heartedness has been the plague of Israel from her first day until now. They were discouraged at the Red Sea, at the mere rattling of Pharaoh's chariots; they were discouraged when they found no water; they were discouraged when they had eaten up the bread which they brought out of Egypt; I need not lengthen the wretched catalogue. Discouragement is the national epidemic of our Israel. It is as common among Christians as consumption among the inhabitants of this foggy island. But everyone in Christ, man or woman, hath some testimony to bear, some deed to do in the name of the holy child Jesus; and if the Spirit of God be poured out upon our young men and our maidens, each one will be aroused to energetic service, and the result upon the slumbering masses will surprise us all. There is an old proverb which says that So-and-so was "as sound asleep as a church." I suppose there is nothing that can sleep so soundly as a church. But yet the Spirit of God still remaineth, and a church may be quickened. The dullest professor, the most slovenly believer, the most captious and useless member of a church, may yet be turned to good account. I see them like a pile of twigs, dead and dry. Oh for the fire! We will have a blaze out of them yet.

     I don't know if you recognized yourself in the dullest professor, the slovenly believer, or the captious and useless member, but the reverend gentleman knows us well, doesn't he? And he is no rosy optimist about us. But there are no limits to what he thinks God can do with people like us, with a church like us. So if we're not serving God as well as we know we ought and (at least sometimes) we wish we would, don't let's browbeat ourselves or one another with a guilty conscience. Let's pray rather for faith to do its work in us and change the way we live.

     Over three hundred years ago this congregation, in its youth, fell into such doldrums that its first meeting house was taken over as a shelter by loose cows, yet God had a use for it. Two hundred and fifty years ago this congregation was split in two in a squabble about religion and remained divided from itself for 180 years, yet God had a use for it. If those were glory days, then so are these. And by the grace of God our church will yet have the best of us, and we will still have the best of our church, and the latter splendor of this house shall be greater than the former, says the Lord of hosts.

     Amen