Are there any boat owners here today? I mean good-sized boats - boats that stay in the water all summer long. When I was a pastor in Detroit, almost everyone I knew had a boat. And the joke among boat owners was this - What is the second best day in a boat owner's life? The day he or she buys their boat. And the best day? The day they sell it! The mixed blessing of boat ownership also holds true for having a place - an actual geographical place - when we are the people of God. The whole notion of place, as both blessing and limitation is a major theme of scripture - a story that often has a destination in mind, but that rarely gets there.

The story of Abraham is largely a story of place - God calls Abram, who already has a place in Ur of the Chaldeans, and promises him a better place - in Genesis chapter 12 that place is called the land that I'm going show you. In chapter 17, Abram is promised the land of Canaan for a perpetual holding. Land - a place that he could call home - looms large in the call of Abram. And Abram, later Abraham, spends the rest of his life moving toward that place.

We at Trinity know a thing or two about having a place. Some of you may know the song "I am the church, you are the church, we are the church together, all who follow Jesus, all around the world, yes, we're the church together. The church is not a building, the church is not a steeple, the church is not a resting place, the church is a people." And while that is true, let's be honest, the church is also this building. And when the steeple of this church building needs repairs as it did some years ago, we sit up and take notice - and fix it. And most of us have a real affection for this place. This is where we were married, this is where our children were baptized, where our parents, our spouses, and at times our children were buried. This is the place of which Bob Young used to say, "God shows up there every Sunday!" Lots of memories, lots of relationships, lots of ministry, lots of encountering God - right here - in this place! Sure, there are things we would change about this place - someday there are LOTS of things I would change about this place, but it is our place - for many of us, it is not just a house of worship, but a home. That's what Abram was promised as he set out from his place to God's place.

But interestingly, Abram never arrived - he saw the place, he passed through the place, he camped in the place, but he never, as they say in the real estate business, took possession of it. The place was the stated promise, but his relationship with God was constantly lived out on the go. And indeed, Abraham and Sarah's descendents don't really take possession of the land until generations later, after their servitude in Egypt and 40 years of wandering in the wilderness. How strange - a people who are primarily promised a place - spend so little time there. In the story of God's people, the place is central, but as it turns out, not essential.

This ambivalence about place is even embedded in the promise to Abraham - you will get a place, you are destined for a place, but your descendents will not necessarily be people of that place - for you will be the ancestor of a multitude of nations. And so already, even at the beginning of the promise, the place is something, but it is not everything. There are many times in the Old Testament story where we find an expression of ambivalence about place - there would have to be when two of the defining stories are the exodus and the exile. One such moment of tension between wandering and being in place occurs in the book of the prophet Hosea. In this story, Israel is in the land - they are in their place - their promised place. And everything has fallen apart. Israel has engaged in infidelity - it has faithlessly broken the covenant with God and has gone off seeking its well-being with other gods. God's heart is broken as God watches Israel shack up with other gods while living in the land it was promised. But this God is not finally moved to wrath, but to compassion and hatches a plan to win God's beloved back: I will now allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her. In the time of Hosea, the place had lost its meaning - in and of itself it did not guarantee an enduring relationship with God - so what did God plan to do? Return to the days of wandering when Israel was in love with God - when place wasn't a barrier - when all they had was God. A funny thing to say about a God who promise involves a place. But then again, even that removal from place is only temporary - for humans have a deep need to belong and belonging is largely associated with place - like this place.

The story of place is picked up in the New Testament. When Jesus is born, God's people are in the right place, but the place isn't right. It is occupied by Rome and governed by cruel despots who have no regard for the promise to Abraham. There are some who hoped that Jesus would be the one to redeem Israel - that is, he would be the one who could get the place back. But throughout his ministry Jesus did not fight for the place; instead he redefined it. Place wasn't finally rooted in geography, but in a relationship with God - thus God's nostalgia in Hosea for the wilderness - that's when they really loved me! Jesus didn't ignore place - he spent time in the Temple - indeed, it was so important to him that he chased out those who were desecrating it with exploitative commerce. But for Jesus, place was where two or three were gathered in his name, not where two or three were gathered in some predetermined location. And then at the end of Matthew's Gospel, Jesus almost undoes the promise to Abram. Whereas God lured Abram to come to a land flowing with milk and honey, Jesus commissioned his followers to go and make disciples of all nations. Or maybe that is fulfilling the promise made to Abram that he and Sarah would be the ancestors of a multitude of nations - yes, place is vital - but not just the place here - but the place everywhere! So, scripture holds that place is absolutely essential - it just can't make up its mind where or how!

So where does this healthy ambivalence about place take us as the church of Jesus Christ? How do we think about, work with, embrace, shun this edifice - with all of its beauty, with all of its potential, with all of its limitations, and with all of its headaches? What is the meaning of this place to a people who are coming and going at the same time? I want to lift up four implications that I see for us - two of them are focused on this place, and two away from this place.

First, we need to discover ways that this building is not only a sanctuary from the world, but a vehicle that propels us into the world. How can this building, beyond its geography connect us to the community around us? There are a few neighborhood groups that use this building on a regular basis and most citizens in this area have been in here for voting, but we are not a destination for this neighborhood. I propose that the Session appoint a task force to work closely with the Facilities, Evangelism and Church & Community Commissions to explore the feasibility of using part of this building as an art gallery. There are many artists in this area that, I imagine, would love to have space to share their creations. Think about it: we have space and a core value of hospitality - what a ministry to open our space up to local artists and then invite the public in to be inspired, challenged and moved. That is why we invest in art so heavily in our worship - so that those who come here on Sunday morning might be inspired, challenged and moved - and art gallery could potentially expand that ministry to seven days a week.

The second in-house implication for being people of a place is to work to make the building more inviting to outsiders. Most of us have been in this building so many times, that we rarely notice it any more. We don't see the big imposing staircase in the front, we don't notice the lack of signs that point out where bathrooms are, the five doors that one passes on the way from the Sanctuary to the Dining Room don't beckon us to leave before coffee hour because we were going there any way. As much as many of us like this building, it is not terribly user friendly to visitors - especially those who are not church insiders. So what do we do about the building, especially when we value welcome and hospitality? An effort is already under way. I am so pleased to inform you that the Congregational Community Commission (the new name of the Parish Life Commission) has this at the top of their agenda. They are going to explore how we can redesign the Narthex (and see, even here we can hurt our welcome with words like Narthex - every other building in the world calls it a foyer or entryway) so it is place of welcome, refreshment and hospitality. They will need all of our prayers and support as they move forward with their ministry - remembering that we need their leadership not only to make this place more appealing for us, but more inviting for those who are not yet part of us.

The second two implications center on Jesus' great commission to go and make disciples. One of the reasons that Jesus was always on the go was that his experience and understanding of God's grace grew as he moved from place to place. We come to this place because we experience God's grace here - and because we do, it is imperative that we also venture out of this place to encounter God's grace in surprising and unexpected ways. On the one hand we do that every time we leave this place and return to our homes, our communities and our places of work. I was recently at a church and on the reverse side of the entrance sign - which means that it is the last thing you see as you leave the church parking lot - there is a sign that says, "You are now entering God's mission field." We enter that field every time we leave. But it is easy to forget that - parking lot sign or no. So, I have two proposals. First, at some time throughout this year, with every commission, board or task force I meet with, we are going to spend the bulk of one of our meetings on the street. We will walk around the Loop, meet people, talk with people, observe people to see how God is at work in this community.

The second implication has to do with me. I can't send officers, leaders and members of the church into the world to learn and grow without doing the same myself. This past year the staff here has experimented with office hours - and we will continue to do so. By mid-March, I plan to have found a place (there's that word again!) in an establishment in the Loop to spend some of my "office hours." I imagine that I will spend a couple of hours a week at the Bread Company (or some other place that has wifi and good coffee) with a sign something akin to the one that Lucy has in Peanuts - The Psychiatrist is IN - The Pastor is IN. I would offer my time to anyone who wants to discuss, argue, debate, confess, cry, laugh, or pray. And if no one wants to talk, I can always work on sermons - and I must tell you, sermons come out much differently when you write them in the public square - for as I write them I think to myself, "Would this make any sense to the person sitting over there? Or would they think it is just so much nonsense?"

The place. Our story, a story that stretches back to the beginning of time and a story that propels into the future reminds us that we must always have an ambivalence about the place. The place is part of the promise - and not only to us, but to the nations as well. Our calling to embrace the place tightly enough so we can experience the depth of the promise and to embrace it loosely enough so that we can be sent and share the promise with others. So what is the second best day in a church's life that is rooted thusly in its place? There are no second best days - they are all the best!