All Will Be Thrown Down

Sermon — November 16, 2025
The Rev. Greg Johnston
Lectionary Readings

People come to church for various reasons. But not many people come to church because they want to suffer more. Some appreciate the chance, once a week, to sit in a beautiful place, to listen to music and poetry, and to be at peace. Some want to make the world become a better place, and know that the church is committed to peace and love. Some people who come to church because they want their families to be shaped by service and prayer, or because they want to pass on some of the comfort and joy they’ve found in their faith to their children. And there are many other reasons, as well: from a deep relationship with Jesus or a curiosity about the Bible to the simple need to be with other people. But I’ve never in my life had someone shake my hand at the door and say that they’re here for the first time because they want to be “hated by all.” (Luke 21:17) I don’t know what I would say. “I’m not sure anyone here is going to hate you, this morning, but—do you want to come to Coffee Hour? There might be leftover pie.”

Very few of us come to church because we want to suffer, and yet in the Gospel reading today that’s exactly what Jesus has to offer his disciples. And in a way, Jesus is pressing them to think about a question that still speaks to me today: If all these reasons fell away—if our faith wasn’t guaranteed to come with beautiful buildings or to make the world a better place or to bring our families together—what would remain?

The disciples have finally made it to the end of the journey we’ve been reading about all fall, as they travel from home up in Galilee down to the big city of Jerusalem, the Holy City, where the Temple of God was found. And the Temple was an impressive place. King Herod spent decades building it up from a small shrine into the largest religious complex in the ancient world. It was massive, and it was shiny, and it was new: an architectural testament to the devotion that the people felt for their God.

But Jesus asks the disciples: “Do you see all these beautiful stones, these gifts dedicated to God? The days will come when not one stone will be left on another; all will be thrown down.” (Luke 21:5–6) And we can imagine Jesus saying the same thing to us. The beauty of our buildings and our art may seem eternal, but it’s not; the greatest monuments of every civilization eventually crumble into dust.

And we disciples, ancient and modern, might say that yes, okay, we know that “the church isn’t the building”: the church is the people, and what really matters is the mission of those people in the world. We’re here to help build the kingdom of God. We’re here to make the world in which we live look more like God’s dream of love. The disciples thought that Jesus was the Prince of Peace, who would finally come to set his people free. But Jesus has a more alarming vision of what the aftermath of his ministry will be. “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom,” Jesus says, and many scary things besides. (Luke 21:8–11) Jesus’ teaching and disciples’ ministries will not immediately bring about an era of world peace: wars and insurrections will soon come, and even these are not the end!

And so those disciples may have thought, as some Christians always have, that the answer is to withdraw. The world outside may be chaotic and violent, and I can’t control that—but I can create a little bubble for my family or my church, and I can control things in there—right? But Jesus’ prophecies of doom touch even our closest relationships: it may or may not be the case that “the family that prays together stays together,” as the saying goes; but Jesus wants his followers to know that they “will be betrayed even by parents and siblings, by relatives and friends.” (Luke 21:16)

And it’s worth saying: what Jesus said was true. Within a few decades of his death, war had broken out, a rebellion against Roman rule that ended in civil war and defeat. The Temple they were gazing at would indeed be destroyed, and every stone cast down, so that all that stood of what was once the Temple Mount was the Western Wall. It really was true that Jesus’ followers would be arrested and persecuted, put on trial before governors and kings, betrayed by friends and family and sometimes put to death.

These predictions applied in a very direct way to the first disciples’ lives, and they have continued to be true for every generation since. It is as true for us as it was for them that our beautiful holy places can fade or be destroyed. Despite our best efforts, the world is a violent and a dangerous place. Our own families may be torn apart by strife, over religion or politics or many other things. And so while Jesus was speaking to his disciples two thousand years ago, his words still speak clearly to us.

Today happens to be our stewardship ingathering day, which really just means that in ten minutes or so, during the offertory hymn, we’ll have a chance to formally hand in cards on which we pledge to support the church in the year 2026: by offering our skills, by giving our time to volunteer, and by making a commitment to support the church financially during the year ahead. In large part, this is a planning tool: it allows our Treasurer and Vestry to put together a reasonable budget for 2026 based on expecting giving. So if you’ve never pledged before but you give in the plate or online regularly, you might consider this year making a pledge to commit to continuing that in 2026; every pledge, whether it’s $10 or $10,000, really does help with that planning process.

Now, you might think that this is an inauspicious set of texts with which to conclude the stewardship campaign. “As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.” (At least it’s not a capital campaign.)

But in fact, I think the clarifying effect of Jesus’ words is perfect today. And so, I want to return to that question with which I began: If everything Jesus said were true, what would we be building here?

If this beautiful building collapsed, and our nation was torn apart; if wars covered the face of the earth, and families were divided over questions of religion as often as they were united; what would we be left with?

The answer is the same as it was two thousand years ago, because the situation is more or less the same. In the long history of Christianity, it has always been the case that our beautiful monuments to God are temporary and fragile at best; that our world continually churns with violence and conflict; that we are betrayed, from time to time, by the people we trusted the most.

And yet the same two things remain for us that those ancient disciples had: when everything else falls away, we have each other, and we have God.

Jesus would die, and Jesus would rise, and Jesus would ascend into the heavens, but the community of the disciples would remain. They might be betrayed by family, or scorned by friends, but they would be embraced by a new family of faith. They would become the Body of Christ, and it was in them that the Holy Spirit came to dwell. (1 Cor. 3:16) Not in the physical Temple that was going to be destroyed, and not in the church buildings that the disciples would build, but in the people, the Body of Christ.

They might face wars and insurrections, earthquakes and plagues. They might be brought on trial before governors and kings. But that won’t mean that they’ve been forsaken by God. God will be with them, Jesus says. And in their darkest moments, when they will be completely at a loss, Jesus will be with them, and he will “will give [them] words and a wisdom” that nothing can “withstand.” (Luke 21:15) And it’s by their endurance—not by their success, but by their endurance—that they will gain their souls.

I can’t guarantee you that this building will always be beautiful—although, to be honest, it’s looking pretty good right now. I can’t guarantee that we will make the world a better place. I can’t guarantee that you’ll never be betrayed by family or friends.

But in this place, I’ve seen a community of faith brought together by the love of a God who will never forsake us, a community of people who show up for one another in the hardest moments of life, and in the most beautiful ones. And although for two thousand years we have continually endured dark times, God has not forsaken us, and we continue to walk together in love, knowing that one day, “the sun of righteousness shall rise, with healing in its wings.” (Mal. 4:2)