A Sacred Charge

“I am not throwing away my shot

I am not throwing away my shot

I'm just like my country I'm young, scrappy and hungry

And I'm not throwing away my shot”

Those lines come from the blockbuster hit musical Hamilton. It tells the story of founding father, Alexander Hamilton, and, through the lens of his life, the founding of the country from about 1755 to 1804. It fills in the blanks in Hamilton’s life and the story of the nation—the people, the risk and sacrifice, the creativity, the challenges, their belief and hopes. It captures who we were, who we are, and who we hope to be.

It is amazing to think that our church was founded in that same period, in 1753, more than 260 years ago, before there was a country. To put that in some perspective, it has been about nine generations between our founding and today. And so, if you had a family member there at the creation of this church, they would be your great, great, great, great, great, great, great, grandparent. (Your 7th great grandparent.) The first church building was a log cabin on the other corner of Butler and Susquehanna, in which they worshipped, even before there was a roof on top.

Henry Muhlenberg, the great patriarch of American Lutheranism, recorded his visit here in July 1754, writing, “Many German Lutherans reside in this neighborhood, and though new beginners and poor, they have erected a roomy school and meeting house, and have sought aid from us. I visited them at their request and preached on a week-day, baptized several children in the presence of a large assemblage of German and English people. As there was, as yet, no roof on the building, and it was difficult to preach in it, I urged the poor people to follow my example and add their contributions to mine, so that at least one-half of the building might be roofed in, which was done.”

That log cabin is said to have housed a camp hospital while troops from Virginia and Massachusetts were stationed nearby during the Revolutionary War. Around 10 revolutionary soldiers are buried in the old church yard across the street.

However, following the Revolution, between 1810-1852 ministry here ceased. The building decayed and disappeared. Then, after more than four decades of fallow time, a new church (the old stone church that some of you remember) was built in 1858 (just a few years prior to the outbreak of the Civil War) at the cost of $4,000. They worshipped there until this building was built in 1973. The first pastor dedicated solely to the ministry of Upper Dublin (not shared with another church) started in 1898 at an annual salary of $600. They added electricity in 1918. During World War I, the congregation purchased Liberty Bonds to support the war effort and sent contributions for relief to Europe and China. During World War II, windows were blacked out for air raid drills, and a gasoline shortage meant that choir could only practice every two weeks.

It is really incredible to think about everything this church has seen, experienced, and endured over all these years.

But why this history lesson and walk down memory lane? Well, you cannot know who you are, or where you are going, unless you know where (and who) you come from.

And that is precisely Paul’s point in the letter to the Ephesians, as he talks about the inheritance we have received from God and all the saints who have gone before us. He says that as followers of Jesus,

“we have obtained an inheritance…[and that we are] destined according to a purpose.”  We have a “pledge of inheritance toward redemption as God’s own people.” Paul calls us to remember and live out “the hope to which [God] has called you, [through the] riches of [God’s] glorious inheritance, [and] the immeasurable greatness of [God’s] power….”

In faith, and in church, we pass on what we ourselves have first received from the saints we remember with such affection today: the first members of this church, who were immigrants from the Palatine and Rhine provinces of Germany. The saints who have been the giants of their generations here at Upper Dublin. Those who lived long lives among us, and those whose time was cut too short—and, especially today, the many saints we have lost in the last year. They shaped us, they blessed us, they led us, they loved us, and they gave us the inheritance of their faith and their example that we have and hold today. 

They have passed on to us a sacred charge to share the love of God and to serve our neighbors in our time, as they did in theirs. And this, in the end, is what makes a saint. Saints are not superheroes. Saints are those who embody the love and grace of God for others, those who seek to be faithful in their time, amidst their limitations, flaws, and challenges, to bear witness and hand down the faith—to pass on our goodly and godly inheritance from one generation to the next.

Scions of Noble Sires

As I was reading through the history of our congregation, I found a wonderful reflection about our Upper Dublin saints written on the occasion of our 175th anniversary in 1928. It says:

“Who can realize on this felicitous anniversary occasion what it cost of toil, self sacrifice, prayer, and faith when, in the long ago, these sturdy God-fearing men and women, pioneers in the spiritual realm as well as in the material, built their house of worship for their own spiritual profit and for the welfare of their posterity!

“We delight to honor them. We sacredly cherish their blessed memory. And this is well. But our contemplation of their pious lives and rugged faith, should move us to emulate their virtues and to determine that they shall not have toiled and sacrificed in vain.  Such reflection should move us so to dedicate our lives and so devote our energies and so consecrate all our God-given powers that this grand heritage of ours may be bequeathed to our posterity, not only unimpaired, but greatly augmented and beautifully enhanced. Anything less than this would be unworthy of us as the scions of noble sires.”

These people, our ancestors, our saints—those we remember today, those we hold in our hearts, and those from ancient of days—did not throw away their shot. They stepped up. They sacrificed. They strove to be faithful to the Gospel in their generation. They knew that history had its eyes on them. They knew that, in the words from Hamilton, “If we lay a strong enough foundation, We’ll pass it on to you, We’ll give the world to you, and you’ll blow us all away.”

I am inspired by those saints who have gone before us, who started a primitive church to worship God, who, poor though they were, raised the funds to finally put a roof on that log cabin, who rebooted a dormant congregation after nearly fifty years, who sacrificed and risked so that their descendants (you and I) might worship God and serve this community and the world. 

I am inspired because I see all their qualities in our church today. In our involvement, our leadership, our giving, and our prayers…in the stories we tell about defining moments in the life our church, in what you share with us about the things that you love, value, and are inspired by in this place. In the tears and the laughter that ring through these halls, and in every act of service and compassion, every time we sing Jesus Loves me with our preschool children at chapel time, in every teenager that finds a safe and supportive community and their voice, in the way we care for one another in times of need, for the way that we honor our departed saints and their families. 

You know and I know that this is a special place. And I believe that this time will be a defining moment. And that it is going to take all of us to step up, to give of ourselves more—in our time, attention, prayers, involvement, leadership and, yes, our giving—to meet the moment and pass on our inheritance to future generations of this church, the wider Church, to our children, and to our descendants. Since way back in 1754, when Henry Muhlenberg made his appeal to the congregation, we have been and continue to a place that steps up when the need arises.

History makes no promises for the future…but it shows us what and who we are made of. It reminds us that ordinary people, who follow the call of Jesus to share God’s love and serve our neighbors, can do extraordinary things. And we do. And we will. 

We give thanks for all our Upper Dublin saints who have made it possible to worship here together this morning. We honor their legacy and mourn their passing. And we recognize that we are the saints of God in this time and it is our sacred charge to pass on what was first handed to us.

And we will not throw away our shot. 

- Rev. Keith Anderson, All Saints Sunday