Recognizing Christ - A Guest Submission from Andreas Rosenwink

Worship Service at Bammental Mennonite Church

Bammental, Baden-Wurttemberg, Germany

June 16, 2024

Sermon: Andreas Rosenwink

 

Translated from German

 

I have brought us a Bible text, personal words, written in a time of need. From Paul, who is in prison, to a beloved community of brothers and sisters, the church in Philippi. These are people who are for the most part familiar to Paul and close to his heart.

 

Paul is deprived of his freedom. He has been given over into the hands of powerful people who will decide whether he lives or dies. 

 

When we see Paul in front of us like this, we can also think of Dietrich Bonhoeffer in his cell in Berlin. How does someone who is in prison feel…? 

 

How is Paul’s heart? At first glance, he seems very composed and unbroken. He writes encouraging letters, he wants to build up his brothers and sisters and strengthen their faith, correct false teachings. Even in prison, he lives out what he is: an apostle to the fullest…and yet certainly also fully human. 

 

We know from Bonhoeffer how he also encouraged his fellow prisoners. But we also know about his inner struggles (as is so clear in the poem “Who am I,” for example). Emotional roller coaster ride: joy and comfort in God and suffering – very close together. Hope of release and fear of a death sentence – side by side.

 

Paul writes (from Philippians 3:1): Rejoice in the Lord! My brothers and sisters. Become steadfast. It is very important to him that the Philippians find their footing in the true God – and do not become legalistic, as some false teachers preached.

 

Paul lists how he himself was legalistic and grew up impeccably in the law and was trained and educated. You could say he was a straight-A student. And now as an old man? “Whatever used to be so important to me, in Christ it’s all worth nothing. It is to me like dirt that I shake off.” Now Christ is my greatest gain.

 

And Paul writes (our sentence for today) Philippians 3:10: I will know Christ, the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his sufferings…

 

This is the sentence of an experienced old man who knows and experiences joy and suffering side by side. I want to recognize Christ, the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his suffering…This is a sentence that is always very important to me in caring for my own soul and in conversations with people – and it does me good. I would like to take a closer look at it today!

 

I have brought a sheet of paper with me. Two pages side by side. On the left, I have written down the issues, the heavy burdens I am currently carrying around with me. At the moment there are a lot of heavy things inside of me (11 topics). [He goes on to explain the heaviest burden in his life, but this was deleted from the manuscript as being too personal for this blog].

 

The second thing: the wars, especially in the Ukraine and Gaza…I find them very hard to bear…and also very threatening…when I think about them. I find it very difficult…here. Sometimes I could cry.

 

The third concern for the health of a loved one…And then there are other issues… (worries about a health concern, and about sick people in our community…our world, which continues to get warmer, etc.)

 

I think each and every one of us could fill a page like this with topics, burdens of heaviness that we carry with us and that also weigh on our well-being. We are hardly carefree these days, are we?

 

And yet there is also a second side – thank God – happy is he who still has a second side: On the right is lightness or a beam of light. I have written down 10 things that my life brighter and lighter. 

 

The older I get, the clearer it seems to me that my heart has room for suffering and joy side by side. I want to recognize Christ – the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his suffering.

 

Which side predominates in your attitude toward life right now? 

I think that in many people the heaviness prevails. What do you think? 

 

We are designed in such a way that unpleasant feelings – feelings of worry and fear = are much more persistent and last longer than pleasant feelings.

 

The experiences on the left=hand paper usually remain physically tangible for a long time, right-hand experiences only for a short time. 

 

BUT: This is the good news and the invitation. With a little practice, right-hand experiences become more powerful, more significant. 

 

This is a wisdom that has been researched in psychology: by practicing gratitude and attentively enjoying the beautiful and easy things for longer, our mood and attitude to life slowly change. We can practice consciously focusing our attention on the things on the right side. 

 

Sometimes we need a nudge to consciously perceive the beautiful things that God gives us. Paul nudges and writes, “Rejoice! Exclamation marks!” Notice when things get easier, when something brings a smile to your lips and enjoy it (for at least 12 seconds, according to psychology), then it has an effect on how your body feels. 

 

We also know from resilience research that it helps to consciously focus on the resources you have in difficult times. In prison, Paul reflects on Christ in us: I want to recognize Christ and the power of his resurrection. 

 

Let’s do that right now:

Each and every one of us has had experiences in our lives in which we have felt hope. Perhaps hope that suffering will resolve, hope that God will bring everything to an end, hope that violence and death will not have the last word, hope that love will triumph, that true life is just beginning…

 

Now the task: Imagine you have a gallery of hope, a free, blank wall on which you can hang your personal picture of hope – beautifully placed in a frame.

Which image of hope/ or, if there are several, which images of hope do you have within you? Such a picture of hope can be a memory, a moment when you experienced hope, or a symbol that clearly shows hope for you.

 

We will now take three minutes in silence to think about this. Which picture would you hang up in your personal hope gallery? What image comes to mind when you think of your hope?

 

Now we will turn to one another in pairs. Describe your picture, what it looks like. (DK: I don’t remember doing this). And listen to how the other person describes his or her picture. (We just listen to each other – no commenting on what the other person says)

 

I have two images in my mind:

I see fresh, young blades of grass with morning dewdrops in the light of the sun rising on Easter morning (I saw a picture like this here in Bammental)

 

Everything will be fine. There will be a might Easter morning. After the last night comes the new morning. In peace, then all suffering is over…

 

The second is very recent: I am standing with about 50 people at the Bammental town hall square. It is the commemoration of the 2^nd anniversary of the Russian war of aggression against Ukraine. The group is silent, but in the Protestant church diagonally opposite, the funeral bell rings for several minutes, followed by the peace bell. The sound is very loud and echoes even beyond the village.

 

In remembrance and silence, I became very sad…but then the thought came, like a ray of hope…One day the bells of peace, the bells of joy will ring, because the war is over, because all wars are over – and the Prince of Peace is coming…

 

So, now we have spent time on the right side. Perhaps you fell that things have become a little lighter inside you?

 

Finally, we come back to our verse:

I want to recognize Christ…

 

The Hebrew word “recognizing,” which is almost certainly behind the Greek word, is the beautiful word: yada…this is not cognitive recognition, such as: Oh yes, that’s a beech tree, that’s a birch tree. Not a distanced recognition between subject and object, but a deep, tangible recognition – like when you see your good friend at a crowded train station. There is a bond, a connection between me and you – at eye level. 

 

This is how intimately I want to recognize Christ, the Risen One, in the small joys of everyday life, connected in shared suffering – in suffering together. 

 

Christ, you are there. Please open our eyes to your loving presence. Give us the grace to feel again and again how you comfort us and give us hope. You – in our hearts, in my heart, very close in the midst of the heaviness and light.

 

Amen

 

Transcribed from a sermon Sharon and I heard while travelling in Europe. We were guests at the Bammental Mennonite church in Germany and felt a kinship with the people there as we sang familiar songs (albeit in German) and shared Christ. This sermon is shared with permission from Andreas Rosenwink.