Where was your clincher young man?

Passage for reflection: John 3: 16 - 21

This Sunday will be the first Sunday after a new American President has been inaugurated. The rumours are that President Biden will, in his first few days, sign a lot of executive orders, setting out his stall for the way the country, and therefore how its influence on the world will go. It’s time to put the promises and words of a campaign into practice. We pray for Joe Biden and for Kamala Harris. Their task will not be easy. The last four years have been extraordinary whether you supported Donald Trump or not. 

When we were in college, some Sundays our services would be assessed by the college staff. Our beloved principal, Graham Slater, would come to the service to hear us. We would be planned miles away from college in delightful places like Leigh and Bacup and the fabulous Longholme in Rawtenstall. We thought “he will never come all this way.” But as we came out of the vestry, there he sat. He used to sit the whole service with his eyes shut like he was asleep but he wasn’t. A few days after the service he would summon us for his crit on it. He’d remembered every word. He was particularly concerned with how a sermon would end, so he would ask “where was your clincher, young man?”

In other words, what are they going to do about the Gospel you’ve just shared with them? It’s about turning words into actions. 

The third chapter of John’s Gospel has in it the most well known verse of the Bible.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.”

Martin Luther called that verse “the Gospel in miniature.” If the heart of the Gospel is that God loves, God gives, of his best, to us wretched creatures now and also a promise of life to come, can we really just hear that verse and do nothing about it? 

A preacher was appointed to the same church three weeks running. He preached the sermon on week one, then the next week he preached the same one again. Then on the third week as he began to preach the same one yet again, an elderly steward stood up and said “excuse me, we’ve heard this three weeks running. Can’t we have a new sermon?”

To which the preacher replied:

“No, I’m going to keep preaching this one until you live it.”

“Where was your clincher, young man?”

The clincher is challenging each other to live out what we believe again. The clincher is challenging each other to make love and generosity live. The clincher is to be so in action that people see our faith matters to us. 

Joe Biden called people to honour a day of service this week but more than that in the week we remember another Martin Luther, Dr Martin Luther King, in a Facebook post he said this:

“Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s words remind us that darkness cannot drive out darkness and hate cannot drive out hate — only light and love can. As we seek to overcome this season of darkness in America, let us choose love and light and begin to heal — together.”

What difference will what you believe or profess make this week where you are? It isn’t enough to say God so loved, we have to be committed to a radical way where love is shown and wins. The rest of our passage hints we will be judged on whether that happens. So how are we really doing? How about this week we have a commitment to make a difference to somebody’s life, no matter how small. It might be a phone call or writing a card or offering to get some shopping. It might be saying we will help with something in church that nobody else wants to do, it might be to say thank you more and moan less. How do we show people our deeds are done in God? I will leave sorting out the world to President Biden and others. I will be committed to living the Gospel where I am.  

“And this is the judgement, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.”  

"The Hill We Climb" 

When day comes we ask ourselves where can we find light in this never-ending shade,

The loss we carry a sea we must wade. 

We have braved the belly of the beast.

We have learned that quiet isn't always peace,

And the norms and notions of what just is isn't always justice.

And yet, the dawn is hours before we knew it.

Somehow we do it.

Somehow we have weathered and witnessed a nation that isn't broken but simply unfinished.

We, the successors of a country in a time where a skinny black girl descended from slaves

And raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president, 

Only to find herself reciting for one.

And yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine

But that doesn't mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect.

We are striving to forge our union with purpose,

To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and conditions of man.

And so we lift our gazes, not to what stands between us, but what stands before us.

We close the divide because we know to put our future first

We must first put our differences aside.

We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another.

We seek harm to none and harmony for all.

Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true,

That even as we grieved, we grew.

That even as we hurt, we hoped. 

That even as we tired, we tried that we will forever be tied together. 

Victorious! 

Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division. 

Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree,

And no one shall make them afraid. 

If we are to live up to our own time, then victory won't lighten in the blade, 

But in all of the bridges we have made. 

That is the promise to glade, the hill be climbed. 

If only we dare it because being American is more than a pride we inherit. 

It is the past we step into and how we repair it. 

We have seen a force that would shatter our nation rather than share it,

Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy. 

And this effort very nearly succeeded. 

But while democracy can be periodically delayed, 

It can never be permanently defeated. 

In this truth, in this faith we trust. 

For while we had our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us. 

This is the era of just redemption. We feared it at its inception. 

We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour, 

But within it, we found the power to author a new chapter.

To offer hope and laughter to ourselves. 

So, while once we asked how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe, 

Now we assert, how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us? 

We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be. 

A country that is bruised, but whole. 

Benevolent, but bold. Fierce and free.

We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation,

Because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation. 

Our blunders become their burdens. 

But one thing is certain, if we merge mercy with might and might with the right,

Then love becomes our legacy and change our children's birthright. 

So let us leave behind the country better than the one we were left,

With every breath in my bronze-pounded chest, 

We will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.

We will rise from the gold limbed hills of the west. 

We will rise from the windswept northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution. 

We will rise from the lake rimmed cities of midwestern states. 

We will rise from the sunbaked south. 

We will rebuild, reconcile, and recover in every known nook of our nation

And every corner called our country. 

Our people diverse and beautiful will emerge battered and beautiful. 

When day comes, we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid. 

A new dawn looms as we free it,

For there is always light, if only we are brave enough to see it, 

If only we are brave enough to be it.

Amanda Gorman