Colossians 1:11-20 

11 May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may  

you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully 

12  giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in  

the light. 

13 He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his  

beloved Son, 

14 in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. 

15 He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; 

16 for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether  

thrones or dominions or rulers or powers--all things have been created through him and for  

him. 

17 He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 

18 He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that  

he might come to have first place in everything. 

 19 For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, 

 20 and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in  

heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross. 

These words are a part of the opening portion of the letter  

Paul and co-author Timothy wrote to the church in Colossae. 

A church, a congregation, that was meandering, wandering, 

and in need of a course correction. 

In Colossae, as in many other places, 

there were people who were believers in Christ  

but who did not think it was a problem to incorporate Christianity 

 into what they already believed, 

seeing Christianity as one of many components  

rather than a response of singular devotion to God’s act of salvation in Jesus Christ. 

It was not one of the churches founded by Paul,  

so, unlike other letters where Paul is already known and loved and greets the congregation by name, 

  in this letter, Paul has to introduce himself and tell them about Jesus.   

Teach them about God. 

It is an introduction to the faith.1  In basic terms. 

The language Paul uses is unequivocal.  Strong. 

  God was pleased. 

God reconciles. 

God created. 

God forgave. 

God rescued. 

God shared. 

He IS. 

In other words.  God loves. 

What does it mean to you, for you,  

to be known, loved, and forgiven by God? 

How is this true in the air that you breathe?   

The lenses that define everything you see? 

These words from Paul don’t just work.  They sing.   

One of the reasons that these verses are so lyrical and flow so nicely is that many scholars have concluded that Paul didn’t come up with them entirely on his own,  

he relied on the patterns and language of hymns,  

or maybe even one specific hymn is much older than Christianity itself. 

So if they call to mind hymns that reside deep in our hearts, that’s no accident. 

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,  

that saved a wretch like me. 

I once was lost, but now am found.   

Was blind, but now I see.2 

God to enfold you, Christ to uphold you, Spirit to keep you in heaven's sight; 

So may God grace you, Heal and embrace you, and Lead you through darkness into the light. 3  

“On Christ the solid rock we stand. 

All other ground is sinking sand; 

All other ground is sinking sand.”4 

These words from Paul, are all about God’s love.   

Paul is writing about God’s love,  

and the power of God’s love to transform us.   

I wonder how they were received? 

Words, written, spoken faithfully and clearly, have power.   

Power to change.   

Power to welcome.   

Power to transform.   

On this Sunday, the Sunday before Thanksgiving, these words invite us to look around and realize, and remember, just how amazing and powerful the love of God truly is, for all of us.  For you.  For me.  For your neighbor.  And your other neighbor. 

Here’s the other thing to notice about Paul’s words.  They are big words, words without limits.   They don’t put God in a box, they remind us that God’s love is bigger than the box.  Bigger than our hearts.  Bigger than our minds. 

The love of God that isn’t minimal or only-what’s-necessary, but extravagant and glorious.  Persistently.  Consistently. 

So often, we think of stewardship in terms of dividing limited resources.  We struggle to embrace God’s promise of abundance because our minds and hearts are trapped by the lie of scarcity. Worrying if there will be enough. 

As Walter Brueggemann writes: 5  

The conflict between the narratives of abundance and of scarcity is the defining problem confronting us….. The gospel story of abundance asserts that we originated in the magnificent, inexplicable love of a God who loved the world into a generous being. The baptismal service declares that each of us has been miraculously loved into existence by God. And the story of abundance says that our lives will end in God and that this well-being cannot be taken from us. In the words of St. Paul, neither life nor death nor angels nor principalities nor things -- nothing can separate us from God. 

Wouldn't it be wonderful if [we who love to quarrel] came to a common realization that the real issue confronting us is whether the news of God's abundance can be trusted in the face of the story of scarcity?  … the power of the future is not in the hands of those who believe in scarcity and monopolize the world's resources; it is in the hands of those who trust God's abundance.  

Abundance, which applies to stewardship in all shapes and forms, and sizes, begins in God’s love.  All of the rest is possible because there is no limit on love.  It’s not going to run out.  We don’t have to budget God’s love, nor do we have to budget sharing love, either. 

Abundance. 

It’s thinking the only thing we can afford for breakfast is dry toast and hot water to find eggs benedict arrive at the table.  With shaved truffle on top. 

It’s the grandmother who accidentally texts the wrong number to invite her grandson to Thanksgiving dinner, and upon discovering her mistake invites the person she texted to come anyway.  Seven years later, they are still gathering to feast together.6 

It’s a teddy bear, left behind in the Toronto airport,7 and when found by the airport staff after a call from the parents of a very distressed child, the staff doesn’t just find the bear.  They don’t just send back the bear.  They take the bear on some extraordinary adventures and when he is returned to his little girl he arrives with the photo evidence of his trip.  A ride on the baggage carousel.  A trip through security.  trying on clothes in the shops, and photos with lots of new friends. 

Siblings in Christ, such is the love of God for you.  The love of God that isn’t minimal or only-what’s-absolutely necessary, but extravagant and glorious.  Persistently.  Consistently.  Overflowing.  Sustaining.  And such is the love we are able to share.  We don’t have to budget it or conserve it.  Abundant love is what we are called to share, abundant love that shapes us. 

Lutheran pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber8 grew up in a conservative household, religiously.  After the age of 12, Sunday School classes with boys could no longer be taught by women.  Women were not “elders, preachers, or ushers.”  “For some reason,” she writes, “we didn’t have the authority to pass a man the collection plate, but we did have the authority to pass the same man a plate of fried chicken and potato salad an hour later at the church potluck.” 

Nadia Bolz-Weber was baptized at age 12, grew up with no female role models as clergy, and yet was called to ministry.  The call surprised her, she was, after all, in her own words, “heavily tattooed and loud-mouthed.” But, over time, she became comfortable with it.  Embraced it.  And then the time came for Nadia to tell her parents, parents who were earnestly faithful disciples, that he own path of discipleship was taking her to a place their Biblical understanding did not allow. 

These are her words in her recently published memoir, “Pastrix” 

My calling to be a pastor, while still shocking, had become less and less ambiguous and even started to feel precious to me.  That’s why I didn’t want to tell my parents. 

I was experiencing a feeling of purpose, perhaps for the first time in my life, and the last thing I wanted was for them to squash it.  And yet, they had to know at some point, so on a Saturday in November of 2005, I sat in my parent's living room on their brocade overstuffed sofa, and while they stared at the brand-new tattoo of Mary Magdalene that now covered my forearm, I confessed, and not very elegantly. 

“I… um… am really enjoying seminary, and I need to tell you that I’ve changed my degree track from an academic degree to a pastoral degree.  Umm…see…I feel like maybe God is calling me to start a church, and I guess I think maybe I’m supposed to be a pastor to my people, but I’m scared, and well… I…. am….but…” I had no idea if any of it made any sense, but it was being spoken.  I was terrified that they would reject the idea and shame me for my disregard for the scriptures, which forbid a woman to teach.  And I wasn’t sure what felt worse: the possibility of them shaming me or the fact that they still could. 

At that moment, my father silently stood up, walked to the bookshelf, and took down his worn, leather-bound Bible.  Here we go, I thought, he’s going to beat me with the scripture stick.   

He opened it up and read.  I could tell from where he was turning that it wasn’t one of Paul’s letters at the end of the book, but something closer to the middle.  My father did not read the 1st Timothy passage about women being silent in church.  He read from Esther. 

From my father, I heard only these words: “But you were born for such a day as this.”  He closed the book and my mother joined him in embracing me.  They prayed over me and they gave me a blessing.  And some blessings, like the one my conservative Christian parents gave to their soon-to-be-Lutheran pastor daughter who had put them through hell, are the kind of blessings that stay with you for the rest of your life.  The kind that you can’t speak of without crying all over again. 

For Nadia’s parents, loving their daughter included words, and it included actions. 

It included being open to a new thing, a thing they didn’t think was possible, 

but with God, was possible.  With the extravagant, transformative love of God, possible. 

It’s what Paul wanted that church in Colossae to know. 

And what we are still learning. 

Learning to live into and embrace.  Know and share.  Abundance from God.  Abundance to steward.  Abundance to share. 

And that changes everything.   

In this week of thanksgiving let us remember the love of God from whom all blessings flow.  The love that can shape us, shape our words, shape our deeds.    A love that, as the words of Desmond Tutu proclaim:9 

Goodness is stronger than evil; 

Love is stronger than hate; 

Light is stronger than darkness; 

Life is stronger than death; 

Victory is ours through Him who loves us. 

This is the message of the gospel.  The message of abundant love.   Love to know.  Love to lean on.  Love to share.   

Thanks be to God. 

Amen.