A dream bigger than ourselves

 

Isaiah 65: 17-25
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
November 16, 2025

Photo of the earth from space, shaped like a heart.

When I was in seminary, because of a small inheritance from my grandfather through my father’s estate, I was able to purchase a reliable used car which I needed for my internship at a local church about 15 miles away. I had given my brother the tape deck out of the unreliable junk station wagon I had traded in, in exchange for him installing a pop-up sunroof in my new car.



It took the better part of a Saturday morning. I was getting impatient and went outside to check on his progress. I was not prepared for what I saw: a gaping hole in the roof of my car, the missing piece laying on the front lawn, and my brother kneeling on the roof holding a reciprocating saw in his hands. I instantly froze on the back steps to the house, my jaw went slack, and then a string of monosyllabic sounds came pouring out of me. “What? I…that’s…how? When? This…what?!” My brother whirled around, pointed to the house, and said, “Get back inside, now, and don’t come back out until I’m finished!”



On our journey with God and our journey together as human beings on this planet, we live in a state of flux and change. Even when something looks like it’s completed or finished, or neverending, it continues to change nonetheless. It’s like mopping a floor or clearing dead leaves or weeds out of a garden and inevitably it all goes wild again. We often tend to think of our planet as revolving around a stationary sun even as it cruises through our galaxy at 514,000 miles per hour. It’s human beings that create the status quo, in an effort to preserve what is always changing. It’s human beings that disrupt the natural order.



So, when God says they’re going to fix things, like create a new heaven and a new earth, it’s usually a pretty good sign that things are not working out like God or God’s people had hoped. As good as these promises sound, they reveal just how broken things are. Through what is called Third Isaiah, third because God’s people were in exile over generations, God is speaking to God’s struggling people, to exiles returning home with little to no resources and delayed reconstruction of the temple. Their exile has ended but the glorious promised future is not even within reach. This hope-filled language is not about the end of days but rather God’s dream for God’s people and the depth of God’s desire that wholeness and holiness flourish.



Then God says through the prophet that “the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind”. After having come through what can only be described as generational trauma, this is good news. In order for God’s people to perceive the new thing that God is doing, they need to let go of the past.



But in our post-modern world, we tend to either forget the past without grieving or learning from it or we worship and lug our pain around with us like so much baggage, oftentimes projecting what has gone wrong onto God or others.

Cartoon by David Hayward at nakedpastor.com.  A person is walking along with God, saying "So God, why do you come with so much baggage?"  Dragging and carrying many suitcases and bags, God replies, "This is your shit, not mine!"

If we’re going to embrace God’s dream for us, we can’t carry our dreams for the good old days and our grief that they’re gone with us. As the saying goes, nostalgia just isn’t what it used to be. We long for what was but if we’re honest, we realize it was pretty bad for a lot of people and still is. That’s the cost of being woke and why some folks would rather we go back to sleep. Would rather we were more vulnerable to corruption and deception than awake to our interdependence. We cannot truly move forward without being honest about the past. We remember, we face the truth, we learn, we grow, we forgive, we repair, we leave the pain behind, and then we move on.



As an adult child of an alcoholic, it took me a long time to admit that my father’s alcoholism shaped me and how I behave, think, and feel. Because I never saw my father drink, I convinced myself that his drinking didn’t have an impact on me. It wasn’t until a romantic relationship ended painfully that I went to therapy and attended Al-Anon meetings. Even then, it still took me a while to see that the past was like night and what God was offering me was like broad daylight. Then one day, one of the women in the group, who had soft facial features and the most genteel southern accent, said to me, “Cynthia, at some point you just have to say, ‘Fuck it, I begin with me’.”



That’s what God and God’s love is constantly trying to get us to do and that’s begin again. And again. And again. And not just us as individuals but we as a community of faith. And not just we as a community of faith but we as a denomination. And not just the United Church of Christ, but every corner of Christianity. And not just Christianity but people of all faiths and no faith. And not just this nation but every nation. And not just begin again but transformation. Not leaving things or ourselves as they were before.



This church is testament to leaving behind the past and beginning again. You began again as disparate groups of folx who wanted to do church differently. You began again when you voted to become Open and Affirming. You began again when you chose to purchase a building. You began again each time you formed a new relationship with a pastor. We begin again when we welcome new members who are beginning again with us. We are choosing once more to begin again with our affordable housing project. Transformation. Not leaving things or ourselves as they were before.



Every year we choose to begin again when we offer our pledges, our time, our presence, and our skills for the coming year. Every year we choose to dream God’s dream, not just for ourselves, but for all the lives we impact by our giving and sharing. It’s a dream that is bigger than ourselves, bigger than our life together. Our church budget and our shared ministry is part of the on-going building of the kindom of God. Transformation. Not leaving things or ourselves as they were before.



It's a dream of a world, an economy that doesn’t exploit differences but celebrates them, that doesn’t destroy the wealth of nature and human beings but cherishes them. It’s a dream of a world where no one labors in vain or bears children for adversity or hardship, where no one hurts or destroys, because everyone and everything is sacred. It’s a dream of a world where there is justice and where everyone is free to build and grow and love and to simply have enough. The world will change when we dream God’s dream. Amen.


Benediction

Beloveds, as we begin anew this day
Transformed by God’s unconditional love
Sustained by community
And dreams of justice and wholeness,
Let us remember what is past
Be honest with ourselves and each other
Let go of what we no longer need
Ready to embrace the new thing God is doing
Within us and amongst us
Amen!