Sermon: The Practice of Testimony

Sermon preached by Rev. Emily Tanis-Likkel

Eagle Harbor Congregational Church, United Church of Christ

February 17, 2008

Acts 4:1-22

The Practice of Testimony

            In the United Church of Christ denomination, those seeking ordination need to write a comprehensive paper to demonstrate readiness for ministry.  I asked several people to read my ordination paper before submitting it.  One of them strongly suggested that I re-write the section that made up my Credo, what I believe.  I was too affirming of a historic Christian creed.  The committee isn't going to like this, he told me.  This is not what they are looking for.  I was confused, because the UCC prides itself on its' theological diversity.  The advice didn't sit right with me, but I re-wrote it, focusing on different aspects of my theology than I had in my previous draft.  After meeting with the committee I regretted changing my paper.  They were so warm and welcoming.  They wanted to know me, they wanted to hear me testify, to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I'm convinced that they wouldn't have rejected me after hearing my original testimony, but would have supported me just as much as they had.

            We have a lot of opportunities to give voice to our faith story, to give witness to what we have seen, heard, and experienced of God.  What images are conjured up for you when you think of Testimony?  Do you picture a church revival, with emotions running high?  Evangelical baby boomers passing around the microphone, or African American preachers calling out, Can I get a witness?  Perhaps some of you have been part of church traditions in which it is customary to recite your beliefs in front of the congregation prior to joining.  Testimony is not a new practice.  The entire New Testament is a testimony of faith.  The book of Acts of the Apostles in particular is a witness.  The language is borrowed from the court-room.  If we are the witnesses, who or what is on trial?  In a society where loving Jesus doesn't win us popularity contests, Christians gather to defend God, to bear witness to the grace we've been given.  As witnesses, we are instructed to tell the truth about what we have seen and heard.  Diana Butler-Bass wrote in Christianity for the Rest of Us, “Testimony reminds us of where we have been, helps us see where we are, and directs us toward unanticipated paths.”   She describes how some churches weave mini-testimonies into their services.  I hear these kinds of testimonies at Eagle Harbor Church.  During an announcement, truth-telling, or coffee hour, often what is voiced goes way beyond small-talk or conveying information.  Truth is told.  Experience of the sacred is named.  Our lives are made transparent to one another.  We share the stories of our lives. 

            In the snapshot we heard this morning from the book of Acts, the teachers of the law were amazed by Peter's rhetorical ability.  They didn't understand how an uneducated man could be so eloquent.  Jesus' closest followers were preaching and healing, and the people were getting all excited – it was all too much for those teachers, who thrived on tradition for the sake of tradition, order, and perpetuation of the status quo.  Luke writes: 17But to keep it from spreading further among the people, let us warn them to speak no more to anyone in this name.’ 18So they called them and ordered them not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus. 19But Peter and John answered them, ‘Whether it is right in God’s sight to listen to you rather than to God, you must judge; 20for we cannot keep from speaking about what we have seen and heard.’ We cannot keep from speaking.  Maybe you been so excited about something that you cannot stop talking about it.  Peter and John were excited because they experienced how lives were changed because of Jesus.  Their testimony was made up of both words and action.  Romans 10:15 says, “How are they to proclaim him unless they are sent?  As it is written, “how beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!”  The feet of those who share stories of faith are beautiful, because they have been commissioned, sent out to tell the good news.

            What language do we use to give our testimony?  The vocabulary of faith is learned in community.  Tom Long calls worship a dress rehearsal for how to speak in the world outside of church.   Children bear witness as they sing, Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.  We are witnesses when we share the bread and cup of communion.   We testify to the gifts from God when we return a portion in our offering.  We become Christian by practicing Christianity, and as we tell our stories.  Long writes, “Saying things out loud is a part of how we come to believe . . . we talk our way from tentative belief through doubt to firmer belief, talk our way toward believing more fully, more clearly, and more deeply.” Several years ago I worked as an intern at Plymouth Congregational Church in Seattle.  Each summer, this church has a Faith Journey Series for their adult education hour.  Each Sunday, a member of the congregation tells their story, and how they experience God. I was asked to offer my faith journey story on one of these mornings.  I was honored to tell my story, but also felt much trepidation at bearing my soul to my new community of faith.  My story was warmly received and affirmed.  This kind of invitation to testify is an incredible opportunity for people to search their souls and put words to how God has moved them.  It also blesses those who hear it.  Testimony accentuates a community's unity and diversity at the same time.  When we share our stories, we see how we are both alike and different, and are reminded that we are in this together.

            What if we feel called to share our testimony, and we don't know what to say?  Those of you who are reserved like me know what it is like to grasp for words. You know what it is like to want someone else to do the talking.  You've probably prayed for God to give you boldness.  But no matter what our personality, we can all pray for boldness and appropriateness in speech. 1 Peter 3:15-16 reads, “Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an accounting for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and reverence.”  Trust that the Spirit will help you speak with gentleness, with a humble heart.  Our witness is to be reverent, with words of grace and truth.  This kind of testimony probably will not include the words “It depends on what the meaning of is is,” or, “Oh Adam, we can eat a little bit of that fruit.”  No, testimony tells the truth.  Our witness is not an end in itself, it is not so that people will like us or remark at how wise and articulate we are.  We tell the truth in order to carry out God's greatest commandment: to love God and each other.  We tell the truth to honor God, and remind one another of God's grace.  We can begin every day by asking God to help us in our witness, such as with the words of Psalm 19, “May the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.”

            It may seem natural to share an insight or prayer request in this room.  But what about outside of these walls?  Is it okay to tell a co-worker that you will be praying for her when she goes in for surgery?  Can you share with a friend how important your faith is in your life, or how Christianity affects the choices you make every day?  I think we can pray for the grace to discern the appropriate ways to weave God-talk into our every day lives, to discern when talking about faith will bring light and when it will not.

            Many Christian practices like contemplation or discernment can be done either in solitude or in community.  Testimony is a deeply communal practice.  A witness needs a hearer.  It is a blessing to be heard, to have our story received and affirmed.  People and places are written into these stories.  My faith was nurtured for many years at Ferrysburg Christian Reformed Church in West Michigan, where my Dad was a pastor.  It was here that I sensed my own calling to ministry.  I sang solos, attended Sunday school (my mom was the best teacher), and daydreamed during the sermons.  When I was eleven I met with the governing body of the church and testified to them, describing how I sensed God moving in my life.  The next week, I stood in front of the congregation to give my testimony, as was the custom.  At Ferrysburg Church, I knew that I was loved.  It was a safe place to wrestle with theological questions.  This church community testified to the reality of God's love, and the need for our relationship with Christ to be the center of our lives. The lessons and stories of the Bible were woven into the fabric of our lives.

            This communal testimony and many more have been added to my spiritual backpack. The language and content of my witness-bearing is malleable.  Some of the theology I inherited from Ferrysburg Church is still with me.  Much of the details have changed, after years of reading, theological  discussions, and seminary classes, but my basic testimony remains the same.  It goes like this: Jesus loves me, yes I know, for the Bible tells me so. 

            Our testimonies often include many names.  Our journeys are shaped by places and people.  Anne Lamott opens Traveling Mercies, “My coming to faith did not start with a leap but rather a series of staggers from what seemed like one safe place to another.  Like lily pads, round and green, these places summoned and then held me up while I grew.  Each prepared me for the next leaf on which I would land, and in this way I moved across the swamp of doubt and fear.”

            Where were the places that summoned you?  Where has you faith been nurtured? Who were the people who held you up while you grew?  They become part of our testimony of faith.

            Sharing our testimony can be a blessing, but can also cause us to worry.  Did that come across okay?  Was I too open, too personal?  Did I understand the assignment?  Testifying to the truth means not speaking what we think someone wants to hear, and so we are vulnerable.  Elouise Renich Fraser, in her book, Confessions of a Beginning Theologian, writes, “I know I'm speaking truly when I'm willing to be caught in the act.  Caught in the act of being human instead of appearing omni-competent and all-knowing.  Caught with my limited experience of life showing. . . Caught not knowing what to say next or how to respond to every question.  Caught with my feelings showing up in my voice or spilling all over my face.  Caught in assumptions I thought I had left behind.  Caught saying things that betray the secrets of my heart.”  But being caught, she explains, is okay.  Truthfully articulating our story of faith can lighten our load, because “it takes inhuman energy to script, choreograph, carry out and defend perfection.”  It isn't about saying the right thing, but about “taking risks with each other that move us closer to the truth about how God is with us.”   The teachers of the law in the book of Acts tried squelching the words of Peter and John, because they didn't want the people to get all stirred up.  We may have to be willing to stir people up, if that is what our truth-telling requires.   

            Tom Long was asked to lead an intergenerational worship service after an article he had written on the subject was read by a Christian ed director of a church.  He was nervous.  He had written about intergenerational worship in theory, but hadn't exactly practiced it.  He planned an elaborate service Families would make bread dough together, then listen to his sermon, then have communion with the freshly baked bread.  It was a disaster.  The service was much too long, and everyone became stressed.  Children and church ovens were uncooperative, flour flew everywhere, and chaos ensued.  Finally, he made it to the benediction, and over the roar of children flinging bread dough, babies crying, and parents yelling, he tried to think of something more appropriate to the setting than the traditional blessing of peace, which seemed a mockery at that point.  But instead he just went with it, raising his voice over the noise, “May the peace of Christ be with you all.”  Out of the uproar, a child's voice rang out, “It already is.” May our testimony be as sincere, honest and truthful as that of a child.  May the words of our mouths and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.

      Christianity for the Rest of Us, 139.

      Thomas G. Long.  Testimony: Talking Ourselves into Being Christian, 54.

      p. 82-85

      Testimony, p. 154.