2025 LCAQD Synod Sunday Sermon

SYNOD SUNDAY SERVICE, TRINITY LUTHERAN CHURCH, EASTER 7, 1 JUNE 2025

The Epistle text for our Synod Sunday service is from the Book of Revelation, chapter three, verses 7 to 12, from which we get our Synod Theme this year: ‘Open Doors to Many Communities of Grace.’ One Church. One Purpose. Many Ministries.

Sermon text, Revelation 3:7, 8, 11:

(7) ‘To the angel of the church in Philadelphia write: These are the words of him who is holy and true, who holds the key of David. What he opens no one can shut, and what he shuts no one can open. (8) I know your deeds. See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. I know that you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name… (11) I am coming soon. Hold on to what you have, so that no one will take your crown.’

Over the past couple of years, Assistant Bishop David and I have driven across much of Queensland and northern New South Wales on our Listening and Learning tours. Along the way, we’ve been accompanied by our ever-faithful mascot, social media-famous cassowary, Milton.

As we’ve travelled, we’ve noticed them, still standing. Windmills. Drawing water from the Great Artesian Basin. Some a bit rusted, many weathered by the years, but still turning. They’re a kind of Australian icon, aren’t they? As Aussie as lamingtons, or a fresh Vegemite sandwich. Not flashy. But still going. That’s the Church in Philadelphia. Small in number. Not flashy. Not strong by the world’s standards. But still faithful. Still turning. Still drawing deep from the living water of Christ. Jesus says to them: ‘I know you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name.’ He doesn’t scold them for being small. He honours them for being faithful.

This is the sixth of seven letters in the Book of Revelation, and Philadelphia, this little missionary outpost in earthquake-prone territory, gets no rebuke. Just encouragement. Jesus says: ‘See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut.’ Notice what he doesn’t say. He doesn’t say: You must become strong. He says: I know. ‘I know your strength is small. I see you. I honour your faithfulness.’ ‘Hold on to what you have,’ he says.

Now that phrase would have struck home for the Church in Philadelphia. They lived with earthquakes—real ones. When the ground shakes beneath you, what do you do? You grab on to something. Anything solid. Anything that will hold. Jesus says: Hold on to what you have. Hold on to the Word of God. Hold on to your confession of Christ’s name. Hold on to the mission, the open door placed before you.

Because here’s the truth: This isn’t a call to circle the wagons. It’s not a call to hunker down and protect what we’ve got. It’s a call to see what Christ is doing and to walk through the doors he opens. For doors to open, we need keys. And who holds the keys to these doors? Not us. Not our boards, budgets, or bishops. Christ holds the keys. What does our reading say? ‘These are the words of him who is holy and true, who holds the key of David. What he opens no one can shut, and what he shuts no one can open.’

You know, those words, ‘not flashy, but still going,’ could describe our Church too; Lutheran Church of Australia Queensland District. Your Community of Grace. Maybe even you. Not flashy. But still going. And that is not a criticism. It’s a calling. It’s a recognition that in God’s economy, small is not insignificant. Weakness is not failure. In fact, ‘What is weaker, is a fitter object for God’s power to rest on,’ to borrow the words of Thomas Aquinas.

Our calling, and the calling for our Church, is not to micromanage our decline. We don’t need to despair that our future is only about maintenance or closure. We don’t need to agonise over what we aren’t. We can rejoice in what we are. Because Jesus knows our deeds. And he sees faithfulness, not flashiness.

This year’s Synod has focused on our district’s strategic charter, and at its heart are five open doors. Not ones we force open, but doors Christ has already unlocked for us. Let me name them again. The Open Door to Spiritual Renewal: Walking in the grace of our baptism. The Open Door to the World: Being Christ’s presence in our communities. The Open Door to the Church: Welcoming all into communities of grace. The Open Door to Collaboration: Partnering for mission and reconciliation. The Open Door to the Future: Strengthening sustainability for the sake of God’s mission.

And how do we recognise those doors? How do we hear the Spirit’s nudge to walk through them? Well, only because God gives us ears to hear. Luther put it plainly in his explanation of the Third Article of the Creed: ‘I believe that I cannot by my own understanding or effort believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to him.’ God must dig ears for us. And God does. Isaiah chapter 50 gives us an image of God digging ears for us. So let us pray for ears. Dug by God. Opened by the grace of our baptism. And made attentive to the Spirit.

Our ability to hear, is God’s action. It is not natural to us. It is not earned. It is given. And it is given through baptism, where the old, deaf self, dies, and a new person arises to live before God. Dietrich Bonhoeffer reminds us that this new life is not a private possession. Christ puts himself in the middle, between us and our comforts, our assumptions, even our well-worn habits. He becomes the centre of our life together, our church-community, and our engagement with the world. And if we are in Christ, we are in his body, and if we are in his body, then we are invited to listen not only to ourselves, but to one another.

We cannot walk through these doors on our own. But we were never meant to. Like the Church in Philadelphia, we are called to trust, not in our strength, but in his. The message to them, is the message to us: Faithfulness is not flashy. It’s quiet. Resilient. Rooted in grace. It’s turning up. It’s drawing water. It’s confessing Christ. It’s not dramatic, but it’s deeply holy.

Each of the seven letters to the seven Churches ends with the words: ‘Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches.’ That’s what Synod is about. Not just hearing reports. Not just hearing debates. But hearing the voice of the Holy Spirit.

In Acts 15, at what you might call the first Synod—and I’ll finish with this—the church leaders wrote: ‘It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us.’ Can we say that too? Not just: ‘This was the majority vote,’ or ‘this argument won.’ But: ‘It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us.’

So, what happens now? What do these five doors look like in your community? You might be part of a congregation worshipping in a multimillion-dollar complex, at one of our schools. Or you might be worshipping under a tin roof. You might feel tired. Or quietly hopeful. Whatever your setting, hear this: Christ sees you. He knows your deeds. He knows when your strength is little. And he honours your faithfulness. So, when the tectonic plates move and shift under your feet, hold on to what you already have: The Word. Grace. Hope. Community. The risen Christ.

And when the door opens for your Community of Grace, step through it. Not in your strength, but in his. Because maybe, just maybe, our greatest legacy won’t be our buildings, or budgets, or programs. Maybe our legacy is something quieter, deeper: Our unflashy, quiet witness to Jesus, in our Communities of Grace. Like windmills still turning after all these years, faithful places where people come to find life-giving water. Baptismal water. Not flashy. Still turning. Still offering life. Still proclaiming Christ. By God’s grace.

Bishop Mark Vainikka
LCAQD Convention of Synod
29 May – 1 June 2025