Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

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For all the saints who from their labors rest,
Who thee by faith before the world confessed….
Alleluia!

Thou wast their rock, their fortress, and their might,
Thou, Lord, their captain in the well-fought fight;
Thou in the darkness their one true light.
Alleluia!

O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
Yet all are one in thee, for all are thine.
Alleluia!

A magnificent old Anglican hymn often chosen for All Saints Day. It's a hymn to courage born of faith. When I hear it, I picture the English, in their stone cold churches, standing straight and singing it defiantly, as Nazi bombs crashed over their heads. The hymn evokes present courage, by recalling past heroism.

And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,
Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
And hearts are brave again, and arms are strong.
Alleluia!

In the Apostles' Creed we affirm something called, "the communion of the saints" -- but seldom think much about it. The words should be understood with those just before it: "the holy catholic church, the communion of the saints," for that is what the church is: a communion, a fellowship of all the saints, of all believers, (and this is what's neat) living and dead. That's an eye-opener! The doctrine of "the communion of the saints" says that when we share in the Christian life (which is so contrary to the life of the world), and especially when we worship, we do so not alone, not only in present company, but in fellowship and communion with all the Christians who have ever lived. "We feebly struggle; they in glory shine. Yet all are one in thee, for all are thine." Charles Wesley pictured the church as a great army crossing a river:

One army of the living God,
To his command we bow:
Part of his host have crossed the flood,
And part are crossing now.

From the earliest days, Christians buried their dead under the floors of their churches so that when they worshipped, their fathers and mothers in the faith were with them. Those who died as martyrs. Those who carried the gospel to far and dangerous places. Those who reformed and purified the Church. Those who were saintly in their love and devotion to God. All were there. They were singing God's praise along with us, albeit on different sides of the river.

There is an old church a few miles from Prague, in Czechoslovakia, decorated, on the inside, entirely with human bones. It certainly is grizzly from our perspective (a chandelier made of thousands of human bones, a cross of bones, bone lamp stands and candlesticks) but the effect is powerful. It says, "Death is real and must be considered." It says, "The dead are with us." But it also says, "Death is an illusion, and through the church we transcend time and space and embrace all believers in fellowship."

Christians are set apart from this unhallowed world. We are people of the end times. We have an argument with the world. We don't fit in. Or we shouldn't. "Be not conformed to the world, but transform the world…." If you don't believe it's that way, just listen to Jesus' beatitudes. They're nutso! Who is blessed, according to Jesus? The poor, the mournful, the persecuted. Why, that's not what our parents said! That's not what the world believes! We've read the beatitudes too often. We no longer see how radical they are, how they set Christians apart as a different breed.

Let me talk for a moment about this side of the river. The communion of the saints, the fellowship with other Christian believers who are still alive, has been wonderful for me my whole life long. Last Saturday night Mary and I attended another of those every-five-or-ten-year MYF reunions. I still think it's amazing. Thirty or forty old coots, some coming from considerable distances, meeting at Chevy Chase Church, to greet each other and to remember the wonderful times we all experienced there as teenagers. Can you believe it? All of us have gray hair and most of us grandchildren! Two now walk with canes. One, who was very active, has died of cancer, but her brother was there, and he was part of the group. And we made a video to send to their parents, who were counselors, and who are still alive (still on this side of the river) down in Florida. We called them "Pops" and "Aunt Dottie." As kids we were far from perfect. We had a lot of fun, some of which (looking back on it) was ill-advised. But any teenager who didn't have a group of Christian friends like that, as he or she was going through adolescence, missed an priceless blessing. All teens struggle with who they are in their new adulthood. We struggled with who we were in relation to God. And we loved each other.

And, for Mary and me, it has gone that way our whole lives. We've known a lot of wonderful people, but our closest friends have always been fellow Christians. Faith is a tie that binds as none other. And our friends have stood beside us and supported us in trials, and in times of faltering faith, and I hope we have done the same for them. And we have had good times. "If we walk in the light as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another; and truly that fellowship is with God and with his Son, Jesus Christ." Gradually our tiny part of that great army is arriving at the river and beginning to cross. And I am absolutely certain that the communion and fellowship we have enjoyed on this side will continue on the other: that I will once again see and laugh with Carol, and Brian, and Tillie, and Evelyn, and Marsha, and all those old MYFers - and we will all be nothing but better. And we will rejoice together in God's love, as we did (somewhat imperfectly) here on earth.

John Wesley went to see an old man who claimed to be a believer but didn't attend church. As they sat before a blazing fire, the man explained why he thought church-going wasn't necessary. They sat a long time in silence. The fire burned down to bed of red hot coals. Wesley took a pair of fire-place tongs and separated one coal from the others, laying it on the stone hearth by itself. Immediately its glow disappeared, it turned gray and was soon cold. The man said, "I see," and, from that moment on, attended services regularly. We are different from the rest of the world. We are pressured all day long to surrender our differences and blend in, to become like the Canaanites, our neighbors, who worship many gods and are shameless in it. Our communion with other Christian saints, the wonderful fellowship which we enjoy, strengthens our resolve. We need each other to keep our faith hot.