Everyone’s story matters

Passage for reflection: Acts 1: 15 - 26

 

It’s amazing what you find yourselves watching on the telly isn’t it? We use the i player a lot and flick through to see what might be watching. I’ve picked three films recently which seemed to be okay from their description, but were anything but! One about a millionaire going broke and opening a chip shop, one about some Scottish lads nicking sinks and a desperately miserable thing about life in the highlands of Scotland after WW1 which was a two hour thing that felt like six! This week we found Interior Design Masters. I sat there thinking I’m not going to watch this rubbish but then end up watching one after another after another. Why? Because as you invest time in it you end up caring about those taking part. You become an expert in interior design and shout at the rather snooty woman judge who is critical of them and makes them cry. You want to know now who is going to win. Because you’ve invested time to hear their story. My late mother used to drive me mad when I went all the way from Hastings to Harpenden on my day off to visit her. She had little conversation in her but at 4.15 she became animated. That was Deal or no Deal time. She cared about who was opening those boxes and how much they lost or won. I wasn’t allowed to talk through it! 

 

I want us to think about this investment in people as the divine nature. Over and over God reminds us he does not forget us. He holds our story in the palm of his hand. In a world which easily forgets or won’t take time to listen to us or struggle with us, we need to hear this again. I always shudder at one of the phrases in the ordination service. It is this: “let no one suffer at your neglect.” I’m very conscious I haven’t yet met everyone here in my pastoral care, I’ve tried to be there at times of need from my desk but I imagine some people might feel I’m not that bothered really because I haven’t got to them yet. Everyone’s story matters. 

 

The Church of England Lent material had a story the other day about someone who was visiting a central London church for their evening service, which turned out to be a service of adult baptism. 

 

When the time came for the Bible reading, someone stood and read the genealogies from the beginning of Matthew’s Gospel. Not the most lively reading.

 

Abraham was the father of Isaac, and Isaac the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers, and Judah the father of Perez and Zerah by Tamar, and Perez the father of Hezron, and Hezron the father of Aram, and Aram the father of Aminadab, and Aminadab the father of Nahshon, and Nahshon the father of Salmon, and Salmon the father of Boaz by Rahab, and Boaz the father of Obed by Ruth, and Obed the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of King David — and so on. 

 

And it ends: Jacob the father of Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called the Messiah.

So all the generations from Abraham to David are fourteen generations; and from David to the deportation to Babylon, fourteen generations; and from the deportation to Babylon to the Messiah, fourteen generations.

 

At verse 17, the reader stopped and sat down, and the person wondered what on earth the preacher was going to make of this passage. 

The preacher talked us through some of the names in the list, highlighting some of the lesser known characters or those who made terrible mistakes as well as some of the heroes of the faith. After several minutes of this, he turned to those who were to be baptised and said, “Today, your name gets added to this list. Today, your story becomes part of this story of those who have passed through this world in relationship to God. Today, you connect your story with God’s story.”

 

All of us matter. All of our stories matter. Rowan Williams in his book of reflections on the pandemic has an interesting take on this. He writes about Matthias – the replacement in the twelve for Judas Iscariot. We know nothing about him except his name and he was chosen to fill the vacant spot by the equivalent of tossing a coin. And then he disappears! And Rowan Williams says maybe we need to thank God for those who aren’t spectacularly loud or famous but those who quietly are just there.

 

“There is a heroism in the daily rhythm, making the small differences you can make, at home, on line,wherever, in small courtesies and kindnesses, in assuring others they are not alone. Maybe that’s all Matthias did – an undramatic routine of kindness, attentiveness and willingness to put one foot in front of the other. 

You could say the one thing that made him memorable among the apostles was that he was the one who wasn’t Judas. But there are worse epitaphs than being remembered as one who didn’t betray or flee.” 

 

There’s a lovely verse in the book of Ecclesiasticus in the Apocrypha about those whose story has largely been forgotten, but for us being part of us these glory will never be blotted out. Their bodies are buried in peace and their name lives on generation after generation. The assembly declares their wisdom and the congregation proclaims their praise.  

 

So think about people around you at the moment or even on the TV screen. Take time to invest in their story. They matter to you. Celebrate them. 

 

Think about our churches. Does everyone’s story matter even if they seem unremarkable or just a name on a pastoral list?

 

And what of your story? On days when you think you are doing nothing exciting really except basic Christian kindness, never underestimate how what you might be doing today could well be remembered for ever because you were there just at the right time.So I want to know who wins a design competition. It matters! But more than that I want to know my story matters and that joining my story to all of yours we can create something amazing!