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“Sacred Demolition”

Luke 21:5-19

November 16, 2025

Rev. Rebecca DePoe

Our Scripture reading for this morning comes from the gospel of Luke, Chapter 21, beginning in verse 5. Hear now the word of God:

Scripture Reading: Luke 21:5–19 (NRSV)

When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, he said,

“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.”

They asked him, “Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?”

And he said, “Beware that you are not led astray; for many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and, ‘The time is near!’ Do not go after them.

When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately.”

Then he said to them, “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and plagues; and there will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven.

But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name.

This will give you an opportunity to testify.

So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict.

You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, by relatives and friends; and they will put some of you to death.

You will be hated by all because of my name.

But not a hair of your head will perish.

By your endurance you will gain your souls.”

This is the word of the Lord.

Thanks be to God.

My senior year of high school, we received word that the district was finally going to renovate Baldwin High. For years, the talk around town was that the building needed serious work- the pipes were aging, the windows leaked, the wiring couldn’t keep up with new technology. And yet, for generations of students, that place was sacred ground. The marching band rehearsed in its parking lot. Generations of choir parents gathered in the auditorium to watch their guys and dolls perform. The purple and white halls held decades of memories.

Then, in the summer of 2006, the bulldozers arrived. Whole sections of the school came down- the classroom where I read Shakespeare for the first time, my 10th grade locker, the library where camped out during study halls.

It was painful to watch something so familiar be undone. But when the work was finally finished- sometime in 2010, Baldwin High stood renewed- safer, brighter, wired for the future. What had looked like destruction was, in fact, transformation.

I think of Baldwin High every time I read today’s passage. The disciples are standing with Jesus, admiring the temple- the pride of their faith, a marvel of architecture and devotion. “Look, Teacher,” they say, “what large stones, what beautiful gifts!” And Jesus replies, “the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another.”

It's a jarring moment- like hearing that your high school will be torn down. But Jesus isn’t talking about senseless renovation; he’s naming a kind of sacred demolition. The old world- the one built on status and spectacle- is coming down, and God is building something new in its place: a kingdom not made of marble and gold, but of faith, generosity, and endurance.

That’s what stewardship is, too- trusting that the Spirit is still at work when the familiar comes apart. Daring to believe that what God builds next will be even more faithful, more just, more beautiful what stood before.

The disciples want a timeline- when will this happen? How will we know? But Jesus doesn’t give them dates or details. Instead, he talks about endurance. About staying faithful when everything familiar starts to shake. About trusting God not just when the temple is standing tall, but when the stones begin to fall.

That’s not the faith most of us signed up for. We prefer a faith that feels stable. One where our foundations are solid, our programs are predictable, and our budgets are balanced. But sometimes faithfulness means holding steady while the scaffolding of what we’ve built comes down around us.

That’s where stewardship comes in.

Stewards is not about preserving a monument to the past; it’s about participating in a future God is creating.

When we give- our time, our gifts, our resources- we’re not patching cracks in the old walls. We’re investing in resurrection. We’re saying, God, I trust you enough to help build what I cannot yet see.

Jesus says, This will give you an opportunity to testify. That’s what faithful endurance looks like- bearing witness, right in the middle of the rubble, to a God who refuses to quit on the world.

Even when the numbers don’t add up.

Even when the pews are thinner and the news is grim.

Even when the work feels like demolition instead of construction.

Because underneath all that dust and debris, the Spirit is still laying a foundation. A kingdom built not of stone, but of generosity.

When I first arrived here, we were still in the long process of sorting through Rev. Tom’s office. The bookshelves were full- commentaries with his notes in the margins, old sermon manuscripts tucked inside bulletins, bits of paper with ideas and prayers written in his handwriting. Every drawer I opened told a story.

Going through Rev. Tom’s things wasn’t easy work. Every object carried the wright of memory, the reminder of someone we loved and the ministry he poured into this place. Packing those things into boxes felt, at moments, like erasing him- like some small part of the church itself was being dismantled.

But something holy happened amid the dust and debris. We told stories. We laughed at the ridiculous things we found. We remembered the goodness of what had been, and we began to imagine what might come next. The shelves we emptied became space for new books, new ideas, new ministry. Clearing that room didn’t erase the past; it made room for the future.

That’s what sacred demolition looks like in real life. It’s not rushed or careless. It’s tender, reverent work- the kind of letting go that makes space for God’s ongoing creation.

And that, too, is stewardship. Because stewardship isn’t just about what we give- it’s about what we release. It’s the courage to unclench our hands and trust that the same God who was faithful in Rev. Tom’s day will be faithful in ours. The God who guided his ministry is still at work here, reshaping rebuilding, renewing.

That’s the invitation before us today- to become stewards of what God is still building. To trust that clearing the old shelves, rewriting the budgets, reimagining what ministry looks like in this moment, are not signs of decline but signs of faithfulness.

We are not the first to do this work. Others have built before us- Rev. Tom, the saints whose names are on plaques and bulletins and the memories we still tell. Their giving, their service, their prayers made this congregation possible. Now it’s our turn.

Our calling is to take the faith they handed us and build something sturdy enough to bless the next generation.

And yes, the work can feel like demolition sometimes. But underneath it all, the foundation is still Christ. The Spirit is still present in the dust, sketching out blueprints of resurrection.

So on this Stewardship Sunday, we give not to preserve what was, but to participate in what will be. We give because we believe that God isn’t done yet. We give because love is still being built here.

And when the stones shift, when the plans change, when we can’t quite see what the finished structure will look like- we hold fast to the promise Jesus gives: By your endurance, you will gain your souls.

Friends, may our giving our serving, and our steadfast hope become the sacred work that builds again.

Not one stone wasted.

Not one gift forgotten.

All of it gathered up into the new creation god is still making- right here, among us.

So take heart, friends.

The Spirit who hovered over the chaos in Genesis still hovers here.

The Christ who rose from a borrowed tomb still walks these hallways.

And the God who makes all things new is already building among us- one act of generosity, one quiet prayer, one open hand at a time.

The dust is holy. The work is sacred.

And the future- our future- is already taking shape in the hands of the Builder who never lets us go.

Thanks be to God,

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.