August 18, 2024 – Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost
Kahu Gary Percesepe
“Now faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God
A person of faith who was also a shrewd New Yorker once remarked, “At fashionable dinner parties in this town you can talk about anything–politics, sports, sex, money, Wall Street investments, you name it. But if you mention God more than once, you probably won’t be invited back.”
Look at us this morning! We speak, we sing, we pray to God our Maker, Christ our Redeemer, the Holy Spirit, advocate and guide; we offer praise and adoration like it’s the most natural thing on earth. A half hour from now when you walk out those doors, what changes? What earthly power shuts your mouths? Who silences you?
Testimony. How do we put our faith into words when we are outside the walls of this hale pule, at grocery stores, gas stations, concerts, dinner parties, and condo board meetings or at school? Our speech, like our God, is not for Christians only.
Talking about God outside of church is potentially uncomfortable. It puts us in a bind: on the one hand, we know our faith touches every aspect of life, including our relationships, our politics, the way we spend our time and money; on the other hand, everyone knows that God and faith, like sex and money, are touchy subjects. Speaking in public runs the risk of causing offense or social rejection. Few people want to wear their faith on their sleeve for fear of being labeled a Jesus freak.
It’s risky to preach about this. Some will automatically assume the only reason why a Christian would want to speak publicly about faith is to convert other people, to persuade them to become Christian even if they don’t want to. Listen: evangelism in this sense of clobbering people into submission is not the reason why Christians must bring their faith into speech. Christians talk about faith because it is a profoundly human act to want to tell the truth about who we are.
Christians believe that we cannot tell the truth without speaking of God—if we avoid God, it’s not the whole truth. And if we cannot tell the whole truth, we cannot be fully alive.
Imagine a world where music was illegal–where it was against the law to sing or listen to music. It would be a crime against the human spirit. Why? Because humans don’t just enjoy music, we need music to be human; we cannot be fully human if music is prohibited. In the same way, Christians know we cannot be fully human without speaking the whole truth about our lives.
It’s easier to speak of God in the hale pule. The Lord’s Prayer, the gospel, the singing of the Doxology are grooved into memory, and the words bring comfort when we speak or sing them. Worship is where we rehearse speaking about God. We practice our faith here. But are we equipped to speak of God when our words matter most, when our children and grandchildren need guidance, when our friend receives a diagnosis of cancer, when a family member divorces, when tensions rise in a Lahaina Strong meeting, or before an important election?
We fear not having the right words when the time comes, forgetting that Jesus has spoken to our fear already, saying, “do not worry about how you will speak or what you are to say for it will be provided to you at that time, for it is not you speaking, but the spirit of God speaking through you.”
Christian testimony doesn’t always sound like holy talk. In our ‘ohana, it could be as simple as, “Hon, would you like some coffee?” Or, “Hey, is everything OK?” The name of God may not even be used.
“Testimony” means using human speech to name what God is doing in the world. Testimony interrupts the long loneliness of human existence, reaching out to others just as God has reached out to us in Christ. We seek communion with others because we are not meant to be alone. The words we speak can bring life or kill the spirit.
Mary Ann Bird was born with a cleft palate, deaf in one ear, with a disfigured face, crooked nose, and lopsided feet. As a child, she suffered emotional damage inflicted by other children who taunted her because of her appearance. One of her worst experiences in school was the annual hearing test. The teacher would call each child to her desk, and whisper something like, “The sky is blue,” or “You have new shoes.” This was called “the whisper test.” If the teacher’s phrase was heard and repeated, you passed the test. Each year, Mary Ann dreaded it.
One year, Mary Ann was in the class of Miss Leonard, the school’s most beloved teachers. Every student wanted to be noticed by her, wanted to be the teacher’s pet. On the day of the dreaded whisper test, Miss Leonard leaned forward to whisper to Mary Ann. In her memoir, Mary Ann Bird writes that what happened next was what she had waited to hear all her life, seven words that God must have placed in her teacher’s mouth, human speech that changed her life forever. Miss Leonard did not say, “The sky is blue,” or, “You have new shoes.” What she whispered was, “I wish you were my little girl.” (1) That’s testimony. Amene.
1. This sermon series incorporates insights taken from Thomas G. Long’s excellent book, Testimony: Talking Ourselves into Being Christian, San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2004. On pages 85-86, Thomas Long recounts the story of Mary Ann Bird, who went on to write a memoir titled, The Whisper Test.