Many years ago, before I ever thought about becoming a minister, Bob and I were members of a wonderful United Methodist Church in Colorado Springs.  We were lay leaders in the church, chairing the Social Concerns Committee, and active in the Adult Sunday School program, and each year we always had a Saturday retreat where we and the other lay leaders reflected on the mission of our church, and on what we were being called to do in the coming year.

            On one such retreat, our ministers divided us into groups of about half-a-dozen people each, and each group was given a whole batch of art-supplies:  pipe cleaners, tape, glue, construction paper, clay, and more – and told that our assignment was to “make an ideal church.”  Now, I want you to think about that for a minute.  If you were given a batch of construction paper and glue and so forth, and asked to “make an ideal church” what would yours look like?

            Well, some of our groups made wonderful church-buildings … some had fancy sanctuaries, and some had great youth and kids’ Sunday School classrooms, and one of them had walls covered with lists of things like the 10 Commandments..  And other groups made paper-doll chains of little construction-paper people … people of different colors, and sizes, and shapes, some of them holding hands, others busy doing things like worshipping together, or digging a garden or building a house for a mission project.  And as we all shared what we had constructed, we realized that every group had gotten a part of what was right about church. 

            We agreed that, to some degree, churches are buildings.  Hopefully, the building is the least important part of what it means to be church, although it can reflect what is important to the people who make up the church.  For example, the first church I served was Black Forest Community UCC.  It is over 100 years old, and still reflects the members’ proud pioneer history and courage and commitment, and the actual hands-on labor as men worked all day farming or ranching, and then came at night to cut and plane the timbers, and peg them together using the nails and the tools that the women bought by selling chicken suppers, and together, they built the original log-church (which is still standing today).  Or, to get closer to home, here in our church, we love and honor the fact that this building was constructed under the supervision of our member Art Phipps, and that our beautiful stained-glass windows were crafted piece by piece by a group of dedicated men who had never made stained-glass before, but learned to do it because the church needed these windows.

            But, as wonderful or important as the building may be, buildings are not in fact essential to being church.  What we know as the “Christian church” began long before there were any big white buildings with tall steeples and imposing crosses on top – the first Christian “churches” were simply gatherings of people who met in one another’s homes, or in secret places, like caves and sewer-tunnels.  What made their gatherings “church” – what makes any group of people today “church” – is not where they worship, or how fancy or plain their worship-home may be, but what  and who they worship.  It is God … the Christ … the Holy One around whom their identity is formed … the One in which or who they believe – and what it is they believe about that Holy One – that draws them together as church.

            If you were listening to our choir a few minutes ago, you heard them sing a musical version of “The Apostles’ Creed.”  And if you’re reading ahead in your bulletin to see what’s happening after the sermon, you’ll notice that we are going to recite that creed together in a few minutes.  And if you hang in for the next three weeks as well, you’ll notice that each week of April we are going to finish our morning message by reciting other creeds of our faith.

Dan and I are going to be talking a lot more about these creeds in detail in coming weeks, but today, let me simply say that each of these creeds – beginning with the Apostles’ Creed, which is probably the second-oldest formal Christian creed – represents human attempts to concisely say what it is that makes us Christians – what it is that we believe that makes us into what we call “the body of Christ” – what it is that we share in our minds and in our hearts that draws us into the kind of community that we call “church” – what it is that directs the way we live in the world.

            You may have noticed that I said the Apostles’ Creed is probably the second-oldest formal creed because in fact the Bible is full of attempts to say what it is we believe as people of faith, including that passage you heard this morning from Paul’s letter to the Romans.  As he traveled and preached, as he helped bring into being the very first churches, he wanted to convey to those early Christians what ideas and practices were at the center of the Christian story.  And so in this “creed” in Romans, we hear Paul talking about sin, about grace, about God, and about Jesus Christ, and affirming two core Christian beliefs:  that in baptism we’re called to live in a particular way, and that because of Christ’s resurrection, we too are promised eternal life.

            Now, some of you may hear this passage – with its 2,000-year-old language – and squirm a little … you may even be wondering to yourself, “do I really believe that?”  Or, “is that really what being a Christian believer means?”  And I encourage you to pay attention to those squirmings and to those questions – to notice what feels comfortable to you in this passage, and what you struggle with.  And I encourage you today and each of the next three weeks as we recite each of the creeds that will be part of our liturgy to notice, what part of each creed resonates as “true” for you?  and what part or parts raise resistance, or questions, in you?  Because, in part, it is what we believe – what we truly believe – that helps define us as church.

            But “being church” is about more than just agreeing upon or sharing a set of common beliefs.  Lots of groups have sets of common beliefs.  For example, I was a Girl Scout when I was growing up; I became a member of the American Psychological Association when I was a college professor; I joined the Altrusa service organization when I moved here to Grand Junction; and I’ve belonged to lots of other groups beside churches.  And so have most of you … You belong to the Masons … or Eastern Star … or PEO … or the Lions … or the Republicans, or the Democrats, or the NRA.  And every group we belong to shares a common set of beliefs.

            But it’s where our beliefs intersect with the way we live at every level – with the way we engage in community with each other – with how we treat one another not just when we’re at a Lions’ meeting or at a political caucus, and not just the way we treat the people we know, but total strangers as well – it’s those intersections that define us as people who are “church.”  It is not just that we are a group of people who believe in someone or something that is sacred – Holy – mysterious – bigger than we are – that we believe in that unknowable mystery we call “God” – that we believe in Jesus, the Christ – that we believe in the Holy Spirit – that makes us “church” – but how those beliefs direct and guide the way we live.

That is also what differentiates “faith” or “religion” from “spirituality.”  You probably know that it’s very popular today for people to say “I’m spiritual, but I’m not religious.”  (In fact, they may even say it in a slightly superior way, as if only benighted, ignorant people could possibly still be “religious” in today’s world.)

            And you can be spiritual without being religious.  Many people go sit on top of a mountain, or take a lovely walk next to a lake, or go camping out in the desert under the stars, and they look around, and find themselves awestruck by the beauty that surrounds them, and by the pulsing power of the universe they experience in that place.  And they may be deeply moved, as they feel their spirit lifted up and expanded.

            (And let me be clear here – I am not criticizing being spiritual.  In fact, some of you will remember many things I’ve written or preached about the importance of engaging in spiritual practice.)  But my point is, being “spiritual” is a very different thing from being “religious” or being “faithful.”

            Because you can be spiritual all by yourself.  In fact, lots of people find it helpful to be all by themselves when they are trying to have spiritual experiences.  But being faithful involves, of necessity, someone – or many someone(s) – else.  Being faithful means that you have faith in someone (or in something) – and that because you have that faith in, you are also faithful to someone (or something).  As Christian people of faith, we have faith in God – in Christ – in the Holy Spirit – and therefore, we try to be faithful to God – to the Holy One – and that means being faithful to one another as well.

Being “spiritual” is fairly easy, and it’s increasingly popular in a culture that is growing more and more individualistic, more and more self-centered rather than other-centered.  I’ve preached about this before, too, but we live in a nation where we’re continually encouraged to “look out for number one” (that’s ourself) rather than focusing on the common good, or on the well-being of others.  Being spiritual is about me, and my personal relationship with the Holy.  And while it’s good to have a deep relationship with the Holy, it is not the same thing as being faithful.  Because being faithful is about us, and how we live in our relationships with one another.

            Being “spiritual” is much less demanding than being “faithful.”  You only have to take yourself into account, and your own connection with the universe, and other folks can go hang.  On the other hand, when you’re “faithful” – especially to the teachings of our faith – it means you can’t just think about yourself, but that you are absolutely required to take others into consideration.

            It’s the very challenge that we heard lifted up in Peter’s sermon in the reading from the book of Acts this morning:  He starts his sermon by reminding the people gathered there about some of their new beliefs; most especially, that Jesus is Messiah – the one who comes to save – and that Jesus is to be the Ruler of our lives.  And the text says “when the others heard this, they were stricken to their hearts, and said to Peter, and to each other, ‘Brothers (and sisters), what should we do?”  In other words, if we do believe those things about Jesus – what does that mean for the way we should live?

And the answer to their question – and I hope to ours as well – is found over and over and over, in both the New Testament and in the Old:  It means you concern yourselves just as much with the welfare of other people as you do with your own welfare.

            Right here, right now, it means that on Sunday mornings, you get up and go to church, even if you’re not all that excited about it, because you know it’s important for you to be here – and not just for your own sake, but for the sake of the other people who come, because, as we worship together, our worship touches and inspires the worship of the person next to us.  (Just think about how especially wonderful our “big services” like Easter and Christmas are because the church is so full – and it feels so powerful to worship surrounded by so many sisters and brothers in Christ!)  Right here, right now, living that way means that we cut down on eating out with our families so that we can give the money we save to the Community Food Bank, and ensure that truly hungry people get fed.  Right here, right now, it means that we give up our chance to be fed personally by the Sunday service so that we can instead volunteer to help with a children’s Sunday School class.  Right here, right now, it means we give up our free Saturday off to visit a shut-in, or to bake cookies for the Homeless Shelter or for a Bereavement Coffee, or come here and help spruce up and fix our facilities so we – and our kids – and people in our community – can use them.  Right here, right now, it means that instead of being faintly embarrassed because we are religious, because we are faithful, we intentionally share the story of the great Good News with someone else!

            Henri Nouwen was one of my favorite theologians, and in his book The Road to Daybreak, he offers this brief reflection on faithfulness:  “I now know … that there is a long, hard journey ahead of me.  It is the way of living, praying, being with people, caring, eating, drinking, sleeping, reading, and writing in which Jesus is truly the center.  I know … that this way exists and that I have not fully found it.

            How do I find it?  (A friend) gave me the answer:  ‘Be faithful in your adoration.’  He did not say, ‘prayer’ or ‘meditation’ or ‘contemplation.’  He kept using the word ‘adoration.’  This word makes it clear that all the attention must be on Jesus and not on me.  To adore is to be drawn away from my own preoccupations into the presence of (Christ).”  It means letting go of what I want, desire, and have planned and fully trusting in Jesus and his love[1].”

            The question, and the challenge, for each of us then, is this:  If we believe what we say we believe … if we do trust in God … in Christ … and in the love of the Holy One, how will we answer the question, “Brothers and sisters, what then should we do?”  What shall we do – how shall we live – how shall we treat, and care for, one another – in a way that is truly faithful, in a way that makes us truly church?  I keep working on my answers to these questions all the time.  I hope you will too.  Amen.