Chapel – George Sweetman
[Paul Franks] - Well, good morning, everyone at last week's commencement chapel, we unfortunately neglected to recognize the scholarship recipients for one of our undergraduate awards. While we did recognize the seminary recipients of the award, there are also two undergraduates who are receiving this. We apologize that you weren't included on our list of awards to read out last week. So, I now get to announce the recipients of this year's Paul and Eleanor Henderson Leadership Award, which has gone to both Selwyn Horst and Philip Len so congratulations to each of you!
[George Sweetman] - Aren't we privileged that week by week, we get to spend time here in this magnificent place, brothers and sisters to the left and right back in front of us; listen to Ken and the team lead us into the presence of Christ. But you know what was really fascinating this morning to me, as I often sit right over there – so almost everybody is behind me, and I heard you singing as loudly as I heard them singing, which was something I haven't heard in a long time. So, thank you.
This morning, it's a privilege to be with you to kind of go over what we want to talk about through the theme of this year's chapels, community chapels. But before we do, may I invite you to pray with me.
Oh God, by your son, may you shine, may that light that is always and for all continue to illuminate the world, even in spite of the darkness. And may the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing to You, O Lord, my rock and my Redeemer. Amen.
It was back in the spring, just this past spring, after the 2024/2025 academic term had ended, that a number of us met to think about a chapel theme for this year. It was something that we hadn't really been doing for a while. A Chapel theme Ken always leads us, along with his team, into the presence of God with beautiful words of worship and of song and of a call. But we hadn't really decided on a theme, probably since the pandemic. We thought, you know, maybe this year we'll try that. So we tossed around a few things, took into account the feedback from a number of you, staff, faculty and students all, and then began to pray through some options. As we prayed and we met, we couldn't help but be aware of all that was going on in the world at that point, the war in Ukraine, unrelenting death and destruction in Gaza. Political polarization in North America and Western countries. Mental health challenges and other health crises, even within our own community life, that's what it is, really life. And life is hard, and it was in this swelling tide of chaos that was almost too much, and sometimes feels like it drowns out optimism, optimism and certainty. But what we recognized, and what we sang about so much, even this morning, is hope in Christ rises above the din and the despair. So we wondered, how do we perceive hope in chaotic times? And that was it our theme, and it was quickly answered with the anchor verse that is behind me on screen. It's coming. Well, I'll go on and wait for it. The anchor verse is – there it is – “the light that shines in the darkness”. Along with this theme, we also wanted to be alert to the church year, something that is unfamiliar to many of us, particularly from the Protestant tradition, but it's something that is rich in history and tradition, and it teaches us something too about the cycles of our lives. The Church year is kind of a timing that sets against the push and demands of “Chronos”. Put in another way we wanted to be shaped by a Kairos season that invites us into the rhythms that slows our pace and helps us be attentive to Jesus and His presence in our lives, and knowing that much of the autumn season falls within something called ordinary time, a season that rests somewhere between Easter and Christmas, we wondered about focusing our exploration over the course of this semester by thinking about – how we hope in waiting… This place between Pentecost and Advent, between the already and the not yet, a chance to discover what it means to cultivate patience and resilience and even courage during the chaos that we find ourselves in. So over the next few weeks, we're going to look forward to surveying this concept with a number of different speakers, both internal and external, this – way of being, this possible way of life, hope in waiting, light in darkness in these chaotic times when we thought it would be a good idea to introduce you to this theme, I thought today's reflection would be pretty simple and straightforward. First – talk about the theme. Check one. Then let you all know about our movement forward. Check two. And then finish it off by offering a few nice words about Jesus as the light. That's where the next box didn't get checked.
Because just in the last little while, it feels like circumstances have changed, and the world appears a little more off kilter today than even last week. Driving home from work last Wednesday, I was listening to CBC News, and their lead story began like this quote – “we'll take you now to the horrific scene” – and I fully expected the voice to complete the sentence with – ‘at Utah Valley University’, where Charlie Kirk had just been rushed to the hospital suffering from a sniper's wound that would eventually take his life. But the broadcaster said something different. It was really unexpected – I hadn't heard about it. He went on to say this quote – “take you to Richmond Hill and first roots, Early Education Academy” – end quote, where a car had crashed through a window, causing unspeakable trauma. In a mere matter of hours on that Wednesday, an activist who represented something that many Christians believe in, but not only that, not only an activist, a husband, a father, had been cut down by evil while doing what he was unmistakably gifted at doing. And just minutes from here, just up north, a precious toddler, joyfully playing with blocks died due to a horrible miscalculation the accelerator pedal instead of the brake one my mind's been reeling ever since knowing that we'd be here this morning, and as I started prepping this talk, I remembered that we also find ourselves in a moment within this community with dual anniversaries of passings, We remember the creative and dearly missed, Tim Tang, who passed away two years ago when the whimsical and beloved Doc Noel, both lost way too early. And I also think that we have just marked the 24th anniversary of a day that no one will ever forget in New York City, Shanksville, Pennsylvania or the Pentagon. There are several events in our in our lives that mark us, aren't there? We'll never forget where we were when Paul Henderson scored in 1972. Or the space shuttle Challenger evaporated in the sky. Or the World Trade Center fell, or Queen Elizabeth passed, or Charlie Kirk recoiled from a bullet. The day you got married, the day you laid to rest a parent. Since time immemorial, we remember things that shape us in ways that we don't even have words for, and it's hard to come up with words today. I know it's a form of chauvinism of the present and now, to say that there's never been a time like today; but doesn't it feel like our world is spinning out of control right now? On all fronts? Our news cycles seem to agree, – wars and conflict in Eastern Europe, Africa, Middle East, violent political rancor that crosses party lines here and abroad – that is too often, atomized on social media platforms, and even extends into real life. Economic disruptions caused by tariffs, trade wars, interest rate fluctuations, unemployment, housing crises, wildfires, heat domes, melting polar ice caps in the north and south. Views on immigration, refugees, nationalism. How do we treat those who are different than us? – Even think about the pressing matters here within this community even this morning – ‘how am I going to fund my first year at Tyndale?’ And ‘Will I fit in?’ Or ‘what am I going to do with the rest of my life after I graduate in May?’ – So much… too much.
I have to apologize. So far, this hasn't been a very inspirational moment. Perhaps some of you thought coming into this beautiful space this morning would provide respite from the stuff of the world, but lament is important, and it's often a precursor to hope. Recently, a pastor in New York City wrote these words, quote – “lament is not just feeling sad. Lament is not simply grieving. Lament is choosing to bring our pain, our questions, our anger, our sorrow, before God. Lament says, Lord, we can't carry this by ourselves” – end quote. And in these confusing times, there is much to lament, but the pastor concludes with these words, quote, -- “lament isn't the end of the story. Lament opens our hearts to God's perspective. It positions us to receive grace, to live differently, to respond to the world in the way of Jesus” – end quote. I hope, that we'll travel this way of Jesus together this year. Because here is something that is profoundly true – scripture reminds us that chaos is not new, and neither is God's presence in it. John begins his gospel with the reminder that light shines in the darkness, and then darkness cannot overcome it. Here's the full passage. ‘In the beginning, the word already existed. The Word was with God. The Word was God. He existed in the beginning with God. God created everything through him, and nothing was created except through Him. The word gave life to everything that was created, and his life brought light to everyone. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it.’ Now, if there was ever a more hope filled passage, the gospel writer begins by naming reality. There is darkness. Darkness of confusion, a fear of sin, of absence that is unrelenting – and this was written just after the Hebrew Scriptures closed, there's still these questions about ‘when this promise would be fulfilled?’ – and the Gospels begin, [and] centuries have passed… with nothing. Today, darkness still contends, doesn't it? For our souls and our very hearts, for many of us, there is so much uncertainty, dare I say despair – even a sense of truth has lost its meaning. That reality itself is questionable because of technological advances that has resulted in artificial intelligence. What is true anymore? – it's hard to tell. And then there is the darkness of our private fights that we battle daily. What does the darkness look like to you this morning? Is it the unending information, opinion and comparisons of posts on X or Reddit or Instagram that hurts your heart? Or is it the stuff that we carry inside of us – is it loneliness in a chapel space filled with hundreds of people sitting there by yourself, feeling like ‘I'm all alone’? Perhaps it's that addiction that you can't seem to shake because it's become so much a part of who you are. Maybe it's anxiety about your declining bank account, your health or that of someone that you love. Maybe it's thoughts about grades, your academic pursuit. For some of you, it may be about the future, and maybe it's something buried so deeply inside of you— you guard it by never exposing it to the light. Men's darkness is real, but it is not final. Into that darkness, John declares, the light shines. Not shined once, long ago, not will shine someday – maybe. ‘The light shines’ – present tense right now. It's ongoing and continuous. The light shines in the darkness that enveloped a small town in Utah or in Richmond Hill or even in Gaza or Kyiv or Darfur – the light shines because the light is Christ. The Word who was with God in the beginning – The word who was God. The One who created all things – as Peterson puts it in the message – he was there before any of this came into existence, and holds it all together right up to this moment. The one who stepped into our world – not as an idea, not as a proposition – but as a person. The Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood. We know, even at a scientific level, that the smallest fraction of light will transform the dark. If you've ever lit a candle in a dark room, you'll know that it doesn't take away all the shadows, but it pushes them back. Suddenly, what was once Pitch Black is illuminated as another once sang ‘you've got to kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight’. That's what Christ does. He doesn't deny the darkness, but he overcomes it. He kicks at it. He does it for us. His presence brings hope when despair whispers otherwise. Friends, I'm a realist – I know that there are many moments and seasons in our lives when we wonder where the light is, or sometimes we feel that the light is slow in coming a sunrise that is overwhelmed by storm clouds, or even occasionally, like last year's total eclipse, when the day turns the night because it feels darkness has overcome it. We've all gone through those days, perhaps in some of our cases, seasons. We live in those seasons of waiting, don't we? Waiting for answers, waiting for healing, waiting for justice. But there's good news, our waiting is not wasted. Our prayers for wayward children, from release, from addiction, for peace in Palestine, for good to come from evil. Press forward in waiting. Because while we wait, light still shines. God Himself, His word prayer, the stories of faithfulness we share together all the ways we see the light, even when the night feels long. This semester let's pray and then walk together in that hope. As Dr Kerr reminded us last week, ‘speaking Jesus’ as we cultivate resilience and practices of peace, recognizing that darkness exists and then by holding fast to the promise that it never wins. John 1:5 is our anchor. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it, though, through the past week, but really, throughout all of our lives, we know how loud and dense darkness can be. It can drown out the wonders of light and life, and it can feel very heavy, but it will not have the last word, Christ, the light is the word, and he is shining. He never stops. He is our hope, despite all that surrounds us. So here's an invitation for us as we begin this semester. This morning, as I arrived early at Tyndale, I looked out my window to see light dappling the green golds and reds of leaves holding tenuously to their branches. The mist hovered in the backfield that played with the sunrise to form a rainbow spectrum of drops that added to the color of the new day. It was in that stillness I was so deeply aware of hope. For God had and has already acted today. Every day may we see where God's light is breaking into our days, where he is instilling hope, where there is evidence as Justice offered and received. I wonder, in this room, online, within our institution – what gifts can you offer to all of us through your words, your work, your mere presence in this place, where will you decide to practice joy, even in small ways. Things are hard today, they were yesterday, and they promise to be again tomorrow. Shall we root ourselves in Scripture, prayer, in holy conversations, in silence and acts of justice despite the difficulties? – I say yes, that's exactly what we need to do, and we can do it because of community that we're part of. We have been called to offer Jesus' presence to this world that is so deeply in need of it. Be assured friends, no matter what chaos surrounds us, the light of Christ shines, and the darkness it cannot overcome it. Let's pray – God, it is in you and you alone, through your spirit, in the name of Jesus Christ Himself – that we pray these words, that they are true for our community, for this world, that your light, that your beautiful, illuminating, glorious light, will shine in our lives, and our lives in turn, will illuminate your light to the world that is in so need of it. So God as we leave today, may that be true. We pray these things in Jesus' name. Amen, As we leave the chapel this morning, hear these good words from the book of Romans: ‘May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit’. Go in God's hope and in his peace. Amen.
