ENERGIZER!

Keynoter Demands Faith of Action

The preacher said: "God is good!"

And the people said: "All the time!"

That’s the way Lottie Jones Hood starts her sermons at First Congregational Church, Detroit, and that’s the way she prompted her audience to respond as she keynoted the 48th Annual NACCC Meeting. She energized the group with examples of "faith working itself through love." She offered a different perception of the Congregational Way as a "living museum—a historical force that has molded the life of a nation, a great nation."

"I believe," she said, "no matter what kind of thunderclouds are hovering over our heads—overcast and ominous, dark and dreary, forbidding and foreboding, we know that they are only temporarily preventing us from seeing God. We know that God is still there, and that God loves us, because God is good."

And the people responded: "All the time!"

She speaks on the meaning of "faith working itself through love."

"Faith working itself through love," what does that mean? We know that in our Conference theme, Galatians 5:6b, it was about circumcision, specifically whether to be a Christian in first century Palestine one had to first become a Jew, i.e., be circumcised. Paul’s answer was: none of that mattered, because "in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision is of any avail; the only thing that really counts is faith working itself through love."

"Faith working itself through love." Okay, now we’ve looked at what that was about in first century Palestine, what does it mean now? What does it mean when we take the hermeneutical leap—when we leap from the exegesis of then to the hermeneutics of now? What does that mean today, to us sitting here June 29, 2002, in Spokane, Washington?

She recalls her first contact with the Congregational Way and the First Congregational Church of Detroi

I was mesmerized—you know, like in the movies, when the sky opens up and the sun rays beam down and you hear the heavenly host singing "hallelujah"—well it was sort of like that. I looked at the Church; the church looked at me, then the Church just called my name: "Hello, Lottie!"

Like I said, I was mesmerized. I pulled up in front of it, by the bus stop, and just sat there. Finally, after a bus came and honked its horn, I went home. Then I did a little research on Congregationalism—and when I did I knew I had died and gone to Heaven: a church with only one head: Christ; a church that not only did not mind you thinking, but expected you to; a church without doctrines, that encouraged you to seek God for yourself; a Church where you did not have to believe something just because the minister said it; a church with a history and roots; and of no small import, a church where the "unwritten" motto was "nobody tells us what to do." I fell in love. I proclaimed, "Here I am Lord, send me!" And in April on Easter Sunday of 1994, I—the one who had sworn she did not want to be doing a whole lot of preaching, and certainly did not want to be the pastor of a church, became the Pastor of the First Congregational Church of Detroit.

She comments on the evolution of ministry in her church:

So, we began encouraging our members to take our message out into the rest of the building, not by what we said, but how we behaved—to enable people to "see" a sermon, rather than "hear" a sermon—to show the face of God’s love in all that they heard and saw. It worked; the numbers continued to grow. The people loved it. They loved the face of God as it was expressed in the beauty of the building and in the behavior of the people. And everybody who came gave an "offering." Our income from the Hospitality Ministry grew from $400 a month in September of 1999 to $19,000 for this past month in May. As the result of this ministry, we were able to contribute to outreach ministries, even the NACCC Missions.

A transformation occurs during a visit to a Connecticut church in 1999 during the 45th NACCC Annual Meeting:

There was a spiritually-transformative quality about being in that little church for me. It changed my life and the life of First Church Detroit. The experience came together after the service. I had eaten my refreshments and decided to go back into the sanctuary. As I walked around experiencing the age of the building—the sounds and smells—my eye was caught by something at the back of the church—a dress, vintage, probably 1800’s, late Victorian; it was long—a gown for a ball. Now, I love museums—and I thought, "Why, this church is a museum." But when I started back down the center aisle and saw the "Children’s box" the minister used for the Children’s Message and heard the sounds of the congregation drifting in from the Fellowship Hall, I added a word: "This church is not just a museum; this church is a ‘living’ museum." It is historical, but it is still a functioning, living organism, interacting with and changing to meet the needs of the community.

"A gown for a ball, and a fellowship hall," that’s all it took. Then something else struck like a thunderbolt. The Congregational Church as a religious tradition is also a "living museum." It is a historical entity still functioning as a living organism. As a historical force, it has shaped and molded the life of a nation, a great nation. The DNA of Congregationalism permeates our entire culture. The threads of the systems which hold this nation together are woven into the warp and the woof of the fabric of who we are: our systems of education, government, social welfare, and religious freedom, to name just a few.

And in conclusion:

As this address draws to a close, my wish is that during this message I have been able to act as God’s Trombone, and play for you a song of divine encounter in which you have come face-to-face with the Living God, and hear the clear and unmistakable notes of a song filled with lyrics that communicate the life-saving love of a living God—that you will go forth this week with renewed faith, reinforced hope, and recommitted energy to mission, trusting that when you are receptive, the answer to every challenge is available to you and through you.

National Association of Congregational Christian Churches, we stand poised on the threshold of a brave new world, in many ways not unlike the one met by our forefathers in 1620. There is, however, a difference: we stand on the shoulders of experience. We carry within us the DNA of Congregationalism, and we know that through it all "everything is going to be all right" when we are willing to consider doing things "another way," because all that counts is "Faith working itself through Love." And "God is good . . . all the time." AND THE PEOPLE SAID, "AMEN!"