The Church Matters
Colossians 1:15-20
Central Park Chapel, Holland, MI - August 24, 2025
Sermon by Rev. Dr. Trygve Johnson
I. A Love for the Sea
There’s a quote I love—one that helps orient my life: “If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up people to gather wood, divide the work, and give orders. Instead, teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea.”
It’s attributed to Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, and I love it because it captures something essential: the difference between mere technique and true desire. Too often, when we try to solve problems, we default to the technical—gather information, organize the people, deploy the skills, execute the plan. It assumes that efficiency and strategy are what’s most needed.
But this quote reminds us: the great work of life always begins deeper. To build something that will carry us to far shores, we must first be moved to long for it. Great boats are not built by blueprints alone, but by hearts that ache for the horizon.
I think of this when I think of us—a people of faith. If we want to build a life with God—or help others find one—it would be a mistake to simply form committees, draft mission statements, and hand out spiritual to-do lists. Those things have their place, but they are not the beginning. What is most needed—what is most valuable—is to awaken in ourselves and others a yearning for our deepest and best desire—to long for the transcendent—for the far shores of the eternal—to share source of all things—for God. A God whose grace is as vast, as deep, as inexhaustible as the sea.
Jesus says it this way: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume. Store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not consume. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:21).
The real challenges we face—in our lives, in our culture, in our country—begin here: in the heart. And so I want to ask a personal question: Where is your heart? What do you long for? What is your honest ambition?
This question reminds me of a story Eugene Peterson shared with me once. He was a young pastor in Bellair, Maryland, and he went to a lecture at Johns Hopkins University to hear the acclaimed writer—Chaim Potok.
According to Peterson, Potok told the audience—that becoming a writer was not easy for him—as he had to overcome family pressures. He confessed his desire of wanting to be a writer from an early age, but when the time came for him to go college, his mother took him aside and said, “Chaim, I know you want to be a writer, but I have a better idea. Why don’t you be a brain surgeon. You’ll keep a lot of people from dying; you’ll make a lot of money.” Chaim replied, “No Mama. I want to be a writer.”
He returned home for vacation, and his mother got him off alone. “Chaim, I know you want to be a writer, but listen to your mama. Be a brain surgeon. You’ll keep a lot of people from dying; you’ll make a lot of money.” Each time Chaim replied, “No, mama, I want to be a writer.”
This conversation was repeated every vacation break, every summer, every meeting: “Chaim, I know you want to be a writer, but listen to your mama. Be a brain surgeon. You’ll keep a lot of people from dying; you’ll make a lot of money.” Chaim, replied, “No Mama, I want to be a writer.”
Over time the exchanges accumulated. The pressure intensified. Finally, there was an explosion. “Chaim, you’re wasting your time—your talent—your life! Be a brain surgeon. You’ll keep a lot of people from dying; you’ll make a lot of money.”
But her explosion detonated a counter explosion in him: “Mama, I don’t want to keep people from dying; I want to show them how to live!!!”.
Ahh, “I want to show them how to live.” In other words, I want to give them a love for the sea!
I’ll admit, I need help with this. Each day I feel the tug to misdirect my heart’s desire, to pursue that with what doesn’t last. Which is why I return, again and again, to Scripture. There are some scriptures that focus my attention and reorient my heart. Consider these words in Colossians.
Colossians 1:15-20
The Supremacy of the Son of God
15 The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. 16 For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. 17 He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 18 And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. 19 For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, 20 and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.
II. Cosmic
I love this scripture. These words from Paul stretch my imagination and bend my reason into shape. Every time I read them, they awaken in me a longing for Christ. I also love this scripture because originally it was a hymn—words meant to be sung. I love singing, because when you sing, you pray twice. What I love most about this text is that it reminds me that reality—the really real world—is not defined by the headlines of the day and distractions of desire, but the real world, is here—right now—where Christ reigns supreme and sovereign over all things. This is immense!
Lately, I’ve been captivated by the images coming from the James Webb Space Telescope. It’s the most powerful space telescope humanity has ever launched, peering through cosmic dust and gazing back toward the first light of the universe. The pictures are breathtaking—swirls of galaxies, ancient starlight, colors and forms that words can hardly hold.
As a person of faith, these images do more than stir curiosity. They evoke awe. They remind me that creation itself is an act of love, that behind this vast, expanding cosmos is a God whose imagination cannot be contained. And when I look at those images, I feel it—how immense God’s grace must be. How wide and long, how high and deep, how unsearchable his creativity. These images stretch my faith, pulling me out of the cul-de-sac of my own small life into the wide-open country of salvation. It evokes in me wonder—and wonder is the prelude to worship.
I am awed—filled with wonder—by the how Paul’s hymn in Colossians proclaims a Christ who is total. “All things,” he writes, “are through him and for him. In him all things hold together.” Do you know what the Greek word for all means? It means all! Everything—seen and unseen, galaxies and quarks, mountains and molecules, the stuff of our ordinary lives—all of it is from Christ, through Christ, and for Christ. The world is his. He made it. We don’t simply try to carve out a little corner for Jesus in our world. No—this is his world, and we are invited to participate in it.
And practically, what does that mean? It means there is no neat divide between sacred and secular, no private versus public faith. All of life belongs to him. Every conversation, every meal, every chore, every beam of starlight, every scientific discovery—all of it has a correspondence back to Christ. Which is why Christians should never fear science. We should champion it! For if Christ is the creator of all things, then science is simply the tracing of his fingerprints, the following of his breadcrumbs across the mystery of creation.
I honestly don’t think there is such a thing as a “spiritual life.” There is just life. And all of it—every inch of it—is spiritual, because all of it is held together in Christ. Too often we try to separate our faith from our everyday, as though God lived in only one room of the house. But Paul’s hymn won’t allow that. “All things,” he says. “All things hold together in him.”
This scripture reminds me that the scope of God’s activity is cosmic. His grace reaches beyond the edges of what we can see, beyond the edges of what we can know. And yet, in Christ, that same grace holds together even the smallest details of our daily lives.
III. Local
In the midst of this sweeping, cosmic hymn—where galaxies whirl and stars are sung into being—there’s a line that stops me. It narrows my gaze from the vast to the particular, from the cosmos to my own little geography. Tucked right into this hymn of swirling wonder is a declaration, a more like a promise:
“He is the head of the body, the Church.”
Pause with me there. Let it sit.
The Christ who is before all things, who holds all things together, is the head of the Church. This Christ—this cosmic Christ—is made manifest in the life and witness of the Church. Which means the Church is not an afterthought. Not a side hustle. Not an optional club for the religiously inclined. No, this hymn is telling us something astonishing: the Church is a really big deal.
The same Christ who made the galaxies, the air you breathe, and the ground beneath your feet—this Christ – this God/Man is the head of the Church. The little country church on the corner and the grand cathedral downtown. The church in Tokyo and the church in Mexico City. Catholic and Orthodox, Protestant and Pentecostal. Methodist and Baptist and Presbyterian.
Right here, in the center of this hymn, we are named. You and I. The Church. We are the body. And Christ is our head.
What if our primary identity, our deepest citizenship, was defined not by the name of our country on a passport, but by our baptism into the body of Christ? What if the Church mattered for all of our life – not just a part of it?
Now, I know—we don’t have time to untangle all the differences and disagreements within the Church. I know—I know—the Church has problems—and issues—and failures. Yes. I’m not trying to ignore those. Nor should we. We can’t today solve the divisions around the table. But I am trying to say something critical—something that Paul is telling us! Something we can agree on: Paul’s hymn is saying is saying the Church matters!
Why? Because Christ is the head!
And when Christ—the head holds the body, life flows, for he is the source of life. The Church matters for the you—as an individual. The Church matters for our families. The Church matters for neighborhoods and towns. The Church matters for our institutions like education, law, medicine, politics. The Church matters for nations, for cultures, for the world. Why? Because God so loves the world, and the Church is the body sent into the world.
I would go so far as to say: the Church is the most influential institution in the history of the world.
If you want to test that claim, read Tom Holland’s remarkable book Dominion. Holland is a British historian—not a Christian—who argues that whether you like it or not, whether you believe or don’t believe, Christianity has been the hidden revolution that has shaped the very assumptions of modern life. He writes:
So profound has been the impact of Christianity on the development of Western Civilization that it has come to be hidden from view. It is the incomplete revolutions which are remembered; the fate of those which triumph is to be taken for granted.” (p.17)
Think about that: the quiet revolution that triumphed over culture and countries is the Church. The body of Christ. And its Head is no one less than Jesus Christ, the Lord of all.
IV. For Granted
Yet, it’s easy to take the Church for granted—like a tree whose roots are deep and its canopy is so large and immense—but you pass by it every day and never notice its power and majesty—fail to notice how its taking in the poison gasses of carbon dioxide and recycling it with fresh air to breathe. Maybe that is why the Prayer book of the Bible—the Psalms—opens up with an image encouraging us to be like trees!
It’s easy not to notice how the church’s steady presence shapes our lives—our loves, our longings, our desires.
I grew up in the Pacific Northwest. On an Island called Whidbey—floating on the currents of the Puget Sound. I think back to sitting in the pews of First Reformed Church in Oak Harbor. Truth be told, I don’t remember a single sermon. Not one. Most Sundays I probably spent more time daydreaming or doodling in the bulletin than listening. But here’s the miracle: even when I wasn’t paying attention, the Church was still shaping me. Those sermons, those prayers, the cadences of Scripture—they seeped into my bones. The story of God was quietly shaping my story.
That Church became my family. And that family gave me a grip on life—roots deep enough to hold, strength steady enough to carry me.
Isn’t it true? The most important things are often the easiest to take for granted. Faith—Friendships—Family—the essential things!
Which makes me wonder: is it time for us to love the Church again? To really love it. To love it with the same passion we give to our sports teams. To love it with the same loyalty we give to our jobs, our schools, our politics. What if we loved the Church like that?
Paul’s hymn says, “Christ is the head of the body, the Church.” That’s us. Right here. Right now. This gathering, this body, this community—it’s not just another Sunday appointment. It’s a witness to the glory of God. A witness to live a different script. A new way of life—a way that leads to life, and peace, and justice.
Given this – I want to say this as clearly as I can: your presence here matters. You being here matters for more than yourself.
I am coming out of a difficult season of my life. During this season one of the hardest things to do each week was going to Church. It was just hard. I was working through a traumatic moment, and I didn’t want to see anyone and I didn’t want anyone to see me. But that is not what was hard. What was hard is that when I would go to Church I was invited to sing. But I couldn’t. You see, I love to sing. I am not good—in fact I’m really bad. But I loved to sing. Yet, I couldn’t. I could not get the words out. I couldn’t get my mouth to join along. Yet, what I discovered is that what was important is not that I sang, but that the Church sings. In a moment of life when I could not lift up my voice, and I stood there barely able to stand, the Church was singing on my behalf—the church was singing over me. The collective voices of the Church became my individual voice. It reminded me that in this moment, I was not alone! Each person’s presence mattered for me to experience that truth!
You are part of something global. Something eternal. Something revolutionary. Something that has echoed down the canyons of time: that in Jesus Christ, the fullness of God was pleased to dwell. And through him, God was pleased to reconcile all things—making peace through the blood of the cross.
And here’s the thing: I didn’t learn that truth first from a book. I didn’t discover it through study alone. I learned it by sitting in those pews in Oak Harbor. Week after week. Song after song. Sermon after sermon. Even when I wasn’t listening, the Church was telling me a story. A story that seeped into me until it became my own.
That’s what the Church does. It holds us. It shapes us. It tells us again and again the one story that matters: that in and through the cross of Christ, God has reconciled all things.
And that story—it’s still shaping us today.
V. The Church Needs Us
The Church is our response to embody God’s heart for the world.
Yes, the Church in America is struggling. The statistics are sobering.
In 2022, the share of mainline protestants between the ages 18 to 35 was just 1.6%. –Ryan Burge, The American Religious Landscape, 256
The percentage of non-religious Americans ages 18 to 29 rose from 7.9% in 1991 to 43.4% in 2021. –Christian Smith, Why Religion Went Obsolete, 31
"Over the last fifty years, American religion has been shaped by two significant trends: the dramatic increase in the nonreligious population and the notable decline of mainline Protestant Christianity." –Ryan Burge, The American Religious Landscape, 70
True—attendance is shrinking. Leaders are weary. Young people are drifting. But this is not inevitable. It does not have to be this way. Sociology is not our destiny. Numbers are not the final word. God is still doing something new—in and for his Church.
So what can we do?
Love your local church.
Encourage your pastors and leaders.
If you’re frustrated, don’t just complain—get involved.
And remember: you have a gift. Use it for the body of Christ.
Here is another thing – encourage and prepare your youth to love the Church and to serve the Church as future leaders. If you are a young adult—you are the future of the Church! We need you! God has given you leadership gifts to use for the Church!
Because here’s the truth: flourishing churches are led by God-shaped leaders. And that means you. You are the body of Christ. Your leadership matters.
This is why PreachFor America Fellowships exists—to name, form, and empower a new generation of leaders. We want to find the best talent and give them internships—in flourishing churches—like this one! If Christ – is the image of the invisible God is the head of the Church, then the Church deserves our best—not our leftovers. PreachFor is created to call, form, and empower a new generation of faithful leadership for the Church.
Why? Because the church matters! We need our best and brightest to serve it!
But maybe the call to use our gifts for the Church starts even deeper. Maybe it starts not with a fellowship, or calling, or programs or strategies, but with love. Remember that quote: “If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up people to gather wood. Instead, teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea.”
So let me say it this way:
If we want to build a better Church, let’s not just form committees or pass plates or even craft better sermons. First—let us fall in love again. Fall in love with Christ—the image of the invisible God. Fall in love with the one who made all things. The one who holds all things. The one who is the head of the Church.
Fall in love with Jesus again.
And when we do—
the Church will flourish.
The world will see.
And God will be glorified.
Amen.
