A magnificent pipe organ dominated centre stage, flanked by large overhead screens and surrounded by the murmur of voices. As worship began, the voices gave way to the organ’s music, only to rise again—together—with unexpected power in the words of the opening hymn.
O breath of life, come sweeping through us;
Revive your church with life and power.
O breath of life, come cleanse, renew us,
And fit your church to meet this hour.
That was the start of the 135th General Assembly, opening with worship at Redeemer College in Hamiton, Ont.
Rev. Cheol Soon Park, ever eloquent and dignified in his role as moderator of the 134th assembly, admitted he had struggled with his sermon for the occasion.
“I knew I would be speaking to many ruling elders and many teaching elders,” he told the crowd. “I wondered, how can I move their hearts?” He chose one of the best-known stories in Luke’s gospel—the tale of Zacchaeus.
As a tax collector—and a good one at that—Zacchaeus grew rich by gauging people. He collected more tax than necessary, gave the requisite amount to the Roman authorities and pocketed the difference alongside his salary. He was despised by the local population—an unwelcome and uninvited guest the day Christ came to town.
But as he thought about his sermon, Park found himself reflecting on our Presbyterian identity.
“We’re prudent people,” he told the assembly. “We don’t make decisions easily, carelessly. We delay the process, postpone the sederunt. We’re practical. We don’t want to waste money. We’re trying to be honest, frank, diligent. I’m impressed and blessed by the structure, system and protection we have. We’re not used to making mistakes, especially from unpreparedness. We don’t like the unexpected—something surprising.”
He paused.
“Zacchaeus,” he said,” was not a Presbyterian.”
Like a good, diligent Presbyterian himself, Park said he did his math. Zacchaeus, a man who grew rich by cheating others, promised Christ he would give one half of his wealth to the poor and would pay back each person he had wronged four times the amount he had taken dishonestly.
“How much of his wealth did he acquire dishonestly? Ten per cent? If it was only ten percent he would have been the kindest tax collector around. Twenty per cent? Thirty? Forty?
“If Zacchaeus did what he said he would do, he would be left with nothing.
“I think he made a conscious decision. He knew he’d be left with nothing. He knew he’d be left in red ink. But he did it with joy and happiness. Why? Because he had experienced life in abundance. He had seen the marvelous love and grace of God.
“Maybe we’re being caught up by our almost perfect system. Our own tradition. Our norms and standards and ways of doing things.
“We’re highly trained polity people. We try to be practical, and most of all biblical. But Zacchaeus tells us one thing as a Christian who experienced vast love and acceptance—we should be willing to try something unthinkable. Something impractical, unacceptable. Something past where we drew the limit of where we were willing to go. Something we’ve delayed many times.”
Park then told the story of a young Korean man with a newly printed theology doctorate from a New York University and bright prospects ahead of him, who boarded a plane to Seoul. He sat beside an older gentleman—in his 60s, perhaps—who turned out to have a doctorate in business. As they chatted, the older man finally said something unexpected that shook the younger man’s world.
He was a committed Christian, and had struggled to open a university in China. Because of his perseverance, the Chinese government eventually gave him a square kilometer of land for the purpose. It was the site of a public cemetery—land that no one else wanted. He built two stone buildings for his university, but he still had no faculty and no funding. He offered the young graduate a job. “I think you can do great things there,” he said. “But you should know—the job will be volunteer. You must bring your own money.”
Twelve years later, that young man is still a member of a 150-member faculty.
“Tonight, as we gather once again to prepare ourselves once again for the future, I’d like to challenge you with one thing—let us do as Zacchaeus did. Something we didn’t think about—didn’t want to. Something we’re too prudent and careful to do. Something unthinkable. Something we’ve never done before.
“When we’re willing to lose something in God’s name, a miracle occurs. Even in our age. Even in the Presbyterian church.
“Start something unthinkable in God’s name.”
