Spiritual depth fuels courageous faith. Genuine

prayer compels just action.

When I was an undergraduate student considering

a call to ministry, I heard Peter Storey preach

the baccalaureate sermon for the graduating

class of Duke Divinity School. Dr. Storey, former

United Methodist Bishop in South Africa, was a

consequential leader in the faith-based opposition

to the apartheid system, first as pastor in Cape Town

and then as chaplain to Nelson Mandela and other

prisoners on Robben Island. Storey risked his life

to defend and preach the Gospel’s message of a

God who shows no partiality. As long as I live, I will

never forget the piercing call that closed the sermon

to these soon-to-be pastors. Bishop Storey said

this: “Until you lead your congregation to engage

with the real world, your pastoring will be mere

pampering—your proclamation a religious version

of talking to yourself. You must resist with all your

might the temptation to play ‘church’ while the world

bleeds.”

The last two Sundays, we’ve heard how the Letter

of James directly confronts this lifeless approach

to Christian living, self-righteously satisfied with

spiritual ceremony. We’ve heard how James shouts

across the centuries. It is not enough! Like Amos,

his prophetic muse, Brother James will not let us

get away with pretending, pampering, posturing,

playing “church.” So, for four and a half chapters, he

condemns worship without work, belief that fails to

change behaviors.

And then, at the close of the letter, James turns

to the topic of prayer. It might seem like an

incongruous interruption to end on a spiritual

subject after concentrating the majority of his

content on the concrete. Indeed, some scholars

have suggested that the fifth chapter of James is a

later addition to the letter, added by editors. Others

simply suppose that James was trying for a soft

landing after such a hard-hitting letter. A gentle,

pastoral closing. I disagree. I’ve known preachers

like James. They always save some thunder for the

final flurry. And I am convinced that is precisely

what James does here. His message has not

changed. Genuine faith compels just action. Spiritual

depth fuels courageous faith. We cannot divide our

devotion from our discipleship.

Dr. Kenda Creasy Dean, professor of youth, church,

and culture at Princeton Seminary, has done

remarkable in-depth research on the kind of faith

that many congregations are teaching their youth.

She has not been impressed. Dean labels the

message moralistic therapeutic deism. Some key

features: The highest objective is to feel good about

ourselves. God’s chief role is to resolve all of our

problems on our terms and our schedule. Prayer

is conceived as a credit card swipe on the divine

vending machine. Prayers go up; answers come

down. It is a theology that asks or demands almost

nothing of us. An invitation to play “church.” And we

see it across the landscape of American Christianity,

from the sanctimonious hypocrisy to narcissistic

spirituality to the alarming rise of Christian

nationalism. And we should call them what they

are—these are idolatries parading as piety. They lack

any trace of transcendent truth.

And so, it should not be surprising that these

messages are closely correlated with a precipitous

decrease in faith commitment among emerging

generations. And we, driven by fear, have responded

to this deafening cacophony with timid whispers,

with subtle self-restraint.

It is time to shift course. In the context of divisive

diatribes that only aim to feed our egos, the

message of the Church must be this: Following

Jesus Christ will change your life. Being a disciple

will push you beyond your comfort zone. Belonging

to a church will transform you. Yes, I think church

membership should come with a word of caution, a

warning sign. If you choose to pray, prepare yourself

to be confronted with the call to act. Warning! If

you commit your life to Jesus, you will be changed.

Spiritual depth fuels courageous faith.

Which brings me to our confirmands. It would be

easy, I think, to mistake this morning’s service for

something like a commencement ceremony or

an honor society induction. The liturgy and the

choreography will seem safe, formal, ancient. But

please do not be fooled. What is happening here

today is the most important work in the world

because the words we speak, the promises you

make, matter. When God’s people pray, things

happen. We put ourselves before God in all of our

vulnerability, with a mix of faith and doubt, and

we say, “Here I am.” And we pray, “God, use me.”

Warning! When you speak those words, brace

yourself for what is to come.

In my experience, the prayer of the righteous is

powerful and effective because those prayers

compel the kind of action that is a living response to

the words spoken. The African proverb puts it this

way: “When you pray, move your feet.” When we

really pray, we will not be content to play “church” in

a bleeding world because our prayers will push us

into those places where our words meet action. And

this kind of faithful living will provide a compelling

witness to a watching world. A witness that begins

right here.

One of the most extraordinary gifts that we unwrap

every single time we gather at Second Presbyterian

Church is the presence of every generation currently

alive under the same roof. Right now, in this space,

we have infants in their parents’ arms alongside

nearly empty nesters. We have high school seniors

and more seasoned seniors well into their tenth

decade. This morning, Gen Z shares the pew with

the greatest generation. It is truly remarkable if you

consider for a moment: Where else in your life does

this take place? I’m willing to wager it’s rare in this

culture so carved up by age and stage of life.

The question is how we make faithful use of a

community where all generations gather to pray.

I think we listen. I think we build relationships

across divides. And so, over the last few weeks, I’ve

listened to our confirmands and our high school

seniors preparing for their Footsteps of Faith

journey. I’ve read their faith statements, and as I

listen to their stories and read their statements of

faith, one thing stands out. They desire a faith, and

a church, that walks the talk, that practices what it

preaches. They have no interest in playing “church”

or becoming moralistic therapeutic deists. They

have no interest in cowering in sectarian silos that

reflect the polarization of the culture. They want to

be challenged by you. They want to follow Jesus.

I have heard their voices. And, as I have, I have also

reflected on the generations that speak to precisely

that longing. The witness of those who have prayed

and then put their lives into God’s hands, who have

moved their feet into places of danger. And we need

to remember that kind of courage that is a gift of

the Spirit given to all those who pray for it. We need

to tell the stories of that courageous faith to our

children and our youth whose convictions are being

shaped here. We need to tell those stories, and the

good news is we don’t have to go far to find them.

Two years ago, Rev. Dr. Ray Bowden died at the

age of ninety-five years and six months. Ray joined

the staff of Second Church in 1985 for what he

described as a brief, final chapter in ordained

ministry. That brief, final chapter lasted thirty-five

years here. Anyone who encountered Ray Bowden

knew him to be deeply spiritual. He was even pious.

Ray was also a pastor who refused to play “church”

while God’s people were suffering. In April of 1968,

after the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., Ray

organized a memorial service and then a communal

meal in the basement of his Kansas City church.

He did something he should not have done—no

white Presbyterian clergyman should have done—in

April of 1968. He invited the grieving, reeling Black

teenagers who lived in the neighborhood and

offered them, in that church basement, a safe space

to process the mix of anger and sadness that they

were feeling.

In 1968 this was an act of courageous faith, and it

came with significant risk. Word got out. For several

weeks Ray received threatening phone calls at

home and in his office. One evening, after large

rocks were thrown through the windows of his home

while his children were there, he decided to take

the rest of the family out of town to keep them safe.

When he returned, he found a cross that had been

burned on his front lawn. It was Good Friday. So, Ray

went to church. He heard the words of scripture, the

cries of the crowd. Crucify him. The judgment of selfrighteous religious leaders, and the words of Jesus

from the cross. Forgive them. Ray prayed all the

way home, and reflecting later on the experience,

he wrote, “I felt as never before the assurance that

Christ alone can give when one is receiving threats

and hearing angry, unjust, undeserved words.”

His courage renewed, Ray continued the work of

prophetic preaching and action for decades to

come.

Now, it is tempting to think of this story as

extraordinary. And, in a way, it is. But at a deeper

level, Ray’s witness illustrates what can be true for

you and for all of us. It’s the kind of message that

has the power to renew the Church. Stop playing.

The world is broken. People are hurting. Spiritual

depth compels courageous faith. Right now, in your

life, there are opportunities to embrace the work

our worship demands. It must begin in prayer, and it

must not end there.

Because when we pray, we will not be afraid to put

our faith in action.

When we pray, God will change us.

When we pray, God will give us courage.

When we pray, God will guide our steps.

Second Church, it’s time to move our feet.

We are a people formed by the story of a

transcendent God who chose proximity over power.

And we can do the same.

Actually, that’s not quite right. We must do the same,

for so much depends on this. Amen.