The Unlighted Candle

On All Saints Sunday, we remember the saints who have gone ahead of us into glory. But do we really remember ALL of them? After nearly 2,000 years of Christian witness, many of their names are now forgotten. This sermon reminds us of the saints who were influential in the congregation that I now serve. Maybe it will remind you of saints in your own faith tradition.

All Saints Sunday is one of my favorite days of the year. On that day, we remember beloved friends and family members who have been gathered into glory. The sad truth is that, as the years go by, the list of people that I remember gets longer and longer; and I know that it’s the same for all of you. Before our worship is over, you will have an opportunity to light a candle in memory of those folks. In just a few minutes, the remembrance table will be full of flickering candles, each one testimony to loved ones and to memories that we hold dear. Something struck me last year as I surveyed the sea of lighted candles that stood on that table. Some of the candles weren’t lighted. Now, on a practical level, it’s impossible to know how many of you will want to light a candle; and since I want to be sure that there are enough candles available, some of them will be unused. But it got me to thinking. How many candles are not lighted because we have forgotten people who influenced this congregation? How many candles would be lighted if we remembered all the saints of this church who have gone before us? There wouldn’t be any candles left unlighted! Why, we would have lighted candles filling the sanctuary, spilling out into the parking lot, and extending down the road in both directions!

Let’s take a short trip through time and see if we can get a look at some of those saints. Our first stop is a brief one, and we can’t get a very clear look at much of anything. After all, we’re two hundred years in the past, in the year 1815. Through the mists of time, we can see a weathered-looking man walking along the bank of the Stillwater River. It must be Abraham Snethens, better known as “the Barefoot Preacher.” He founded Christian churches in this area after a great revival took place in Kentucky. But we only get a brief glimpse of him, and then we continue our journey.

We settle down in the year 1837, the year that our congregation was founded. We’re in an old brick building that looks like a schoolhouse. Many years later, this will be the southeast corner of Iddings Road and State Route 571; but right now, we’re in the middle of a field. Elder John Williams is preaching to a small congregation of worshippers. We know his name because he was the first preacher of this church. But we don’t know the names of the people who are listening to him: all the people who are thirsty to hear God’s word, and who will later help to organize their group into a congregation.

Our next stop lands us in the middle of a real ruckus! It’s 1879, and a new church building is under construction, taking shape around us. Mary Wheelock’s family donated the land that we’re standing on, and a Mr. Flack is directing the construction. Workers are digging clay from the field right across the road, while a kiln next to it is baking that clay into bricks that will be used to construct the building. We don’t know the names of all the men who are working so hard. We don’t know the names of their wives who keep them well fed, or their children who probably come to worship here. But we can certainly see their legacy. We’re sitting in it!

We move on, and we’re suddenly sitting in a very cold church sanctuary! We’re surrounded by members of the congregation – all men – who are voting on whether to dig a basement under this church building in order to provide a kitchen and a dining room, and so that a coal furnace can be installed. Until now, lanterns placed under the pews have provided heat for the worshippers. It’s a difficult decision! But in the end, the vote is to dig the basement. And we don’t remember the names of any of the people who made that decision.

As we continue to move ahead through time, we catch glimpses of many different scenes. We see wedding dinners and funeral luncheons, potluck meals and potpie suppers, days of work and evenings of fellowship. We see many more decisions made. Do we build a new addition on to the existing building? Do we purchase the Van Riper Farm? Do we remodel the sanctuary? Do we sell the parsonage? At every step, men and women work together, share fellowship together, and make difficult decisions.

Who were the people who did all these things? We know some of their names; but most of them are lost in the mist of the past. Who were the women who raised families, cooked food for dinners, and made new worshippers feel welcome? Who were the children who first heard about the love of Jesus within these walls? Who served on boards and committees, gave of their time and finances to help this congregation grow, and worshipped faithfully in this sanctuary? We may not know their names, but we know who they were. They were the saints of this congregation; and today is the day that we remember them.

So this morning, after we have all lighted votive candles in memory of our loved ones, I will light one final candle – the tall, white taper right in the center of the table. It is in memory of all those whose names we have forgotten, but whose legacy is all around us. Today their candle will burn brightly!