In this sermon series we’ve been talking about darkness and light. But if you’ve been listening closely, it’s been apparent that we’re not focusing on literal darkness and literal light, but the spiritual implications of both.
The “light” has been a metaphor for how Christ enters into the situations and brings His unique contribution, His light, into those areas where His cross intersects our daily lives. The darkness we’ve faced so far has been revealed in places like the brokenness in our relationships and the need of others.
But before we go any further in this sermon series, it would be worth taking the time to ask a few questions about the nature of darkness and light. If you were asked, how would you describe “darkness”? Could you do it? What is “darkness”? _____________________
Let me suggest a definition of darkness. Darkness is the absence of light. That means something. It means that darkness is not a living thing all on it’s own. It is not the opposite of light, exactly, but the absence of it.
Now that’s certainly true physically, right? Way back in the day when I was in high school I was on the yearbook team. And back in those stone-age days in order to take pictures we used a funny little thing in our cameras called film. Because the film was light-sensitive, it had to be developed in a special room called a darkroom. No light was allowed in that room. The doors were sealed off from the outside world. When I entered into that room, there was utter darkness. But even in that pitch-black darkness, the kind of darkness where I literally could not see my hand in front of my face, what happened when I flipped on the lights? The darkness was dispelled.
If darkness were the opposite of light, the darkness would have fought for control of that darkroom. But since darkness is merely the absence of light, there was no way the darkness could defeat the light. The darkness reigned only until the light was turned on, but once that switch was flipped . . . the darkness was no more. The darkness could only exist where the light did not shine.
Darkness is the absence of light. That’s not only true physically, but spiritually, as well!
Spiritual darkness is the darkness of sin. Sometimes that sin is deliberate and willful, as when we reject God’s good and righteous ways and choose to follow our own path. Sometimes that sin is a condition, like the darkness that we are born into and inherit from our parent and can trace all the way back to Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. But no matter if the sin is deliberate or a condition, when Christ shines His light into our hearts and lives, the darkness is dispelled, because spiritual darkness cannot exist where Christ’s light shines.
Is there any place where the light of Christ cannot reach? Is there any life, any person, any place where the light of Christ does not shine?
There is one place. Today we face the darkest place in all of creation. The one place where even Christ’s light cannot touch. That is the darkness of the second death.
“Second” death? What in the world does that mean? How many deaths are there?
Well, I admit that it’s a bit of a mystery. As a matter of fact, in the reading from Revelation today John mentions two such mysteries: in addition to the second death he also mentions something called the first resurrection.
So before we go any further, let’s get a handle on those terms. John mentions both a “second death” and a “first resurrection” but he never once tells us anything about a “first death” or a “second resurrection.” We’re left on our own to decipher what these mean with the help of other Scriptures.
Very briefly, what we see in Scripture is that while the first resurrection and the first death both occur in this life, they have nothing to do with our physical body. They are spiritual in nature. They deal not with an outward physical appearance, but an inward spiritual reality.
The Apostle Paul helps us understand this when he says in Colossians 2:13-14, “13 When you were dead in your sins and in the uncircumcision of your sinful nature, God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, 14 having canceled the written code, with its regulations, that was against us and that stood opposed to us; he took it away, nailing it to the cross.”
Now, Paul isn’t suggesting that there were a group of people in the Colosse church had been physically put to death and then raised to physical life. No. When he says we are dead, he is talking about is our natural spiritual state. We are born spiritually dead. We don’t have the ability to make spiritual choices like a living person would. But when Christ’s light comes into our lives, we are made spiritually alive! It’s that simple: we were spiritually dead, but in Christ we are now spiritually alive! The first death and the first resurrection are both spiritual, and they both occur in this life.
But the “second death” and “second resurrection” . . . what are they? Well, John leads us to believe that they are different from—but related to—the first ones. They are different because they are not primarily hidden, inward, spiritual realities, but rather something that can be viewed with our own eyes. The second death and second resurrection are a physical reality that occurs in the life that is to come.
In the book of Revelation John uses the words “second death” four times. Two are merely references to the faithful escaping the second death, but two are very, very informing. In Revelation 20:14 and Revelation 21:8 John connects the second death with a very specific place: the lake of fire. This lake of fire is a place where the ungodly are condemned for eternity. It is a place of great suffering. There is no one there who is called by the name “Christian” . . . it is reserved only for those who, like Satan, have rebelled against God and rejected Him. Sound familiar? The second death is what we commonly call Hell.
Hell is a real, physical place filled with real, physical torment for all eternity. Now, when I say “eternity”, however, don’t make the assumption that time will have no meaning. No, I believe that people in Hell will be painfully aware of each and every passing second. The seconds will multiply into minutes, the minutes into years, the years into millennia . . . and still there will be no end in sight.
The Old Testament uses a word—sheol—that translates as “The Place of Asking” to describe the second death. I think that’s a particularly poetic description. Imagine the darkness of asking and asking and asking . . . but never, not once, ever getting an enlightening answer
The second death is a place of utter darkness because it is the one place where Christ’s light does not shine. This is maliciousness on His part: His light would indeed shine there if it could. But it cannot, because Hell is a place reserved for those who spent their lives rejecting Christ and His light. In The Great Divorce, a wonderfully illuminating tale about the after life, C.S. Lewis said this: “There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, 'Thy will be done,' and those to whom God says, in the end, 'Thy will be done.' All that are in Hell chose it.”
Christ’s light does not shine in Hell because what people wanted in this life, they received in eternity. It’s not God’s decision that they be in the darkness and apart from Christ’s light, but their own.
But now let’s contrast the second death to the first resurrection. Again, whereas the second death is physical, it occurs in eternity, and is marked by the utter self-chosen absence of the light of Jesus Christ; the first resurrection is spiritual, it occurs in this life, and is marked by the wonderful, grace-filled hand of God the Father as He shines the light of Christ into our lives.
The first resurrection is when the Holy Spirit creates saving faith in our hearts. There is a marvelous illustration of Christ’s light filling the first resurrection in the Scriptures: the account of the conversion of Paul.
Paul—who was then called Saul—was on the road to Damascus to carry on his favorite pastime: persecuting Christians. All the church feared Saul. He was one bad dude.
But when Saul got a certain stretch of road, suddenly he was blinded by a heavenly light that enveloped him. He fell to the ground and tried to shield his eyes from that bright light, but it seemed to fill him up from the inside out, even searing his eyesight beyond repair.
Christ was in that light. Nowhere in Scripture do we see in Saul anything worthy of being approached by Jesus Christ. Nowhere in Scripture do we hear of Saul accepting the light, asking for the light . . . we only see Jesus Christ, in His divine goodness, choosing a wicked sinner like Paul. Christ chose Paul . . . and Christ gave Paul His light.
The first resurrection happens wherever and whenever Christ shines His light into the heart of wicked sinners. The first resurrection happens whenever the Holy Spirit creates saving faith in the heart of someone; the saving faith that makes he who had previously been dead in his sins now alive in Jesus Christ. No, you can’t see it with your eyes, but it is nevertheless absolutely real.
It is real because in that first resurrection—what we often call “conversion”—Christ gives us something priceless beyond compare: the forgiveness of sins. Catch that in your mind for a minute: Holy, righteous, God—so holy that even the minutest infraction of His rules is a monumental offense to Him—this holy, righteous God looks down upon Christ, He looks down upon the cross, and then He looks at you and sees that Christ has put His mark upon you. Christ has called you by His own name . . . and the holy, righteous God reaches up, takes down the register that holds all the accounts of all the people of all time, finds your name . . . and marks “paid in full.” In and through Jesus Christ, you have been given the first resurrection: being brought from spiritual death into spiritual life.
And you want to know the good part? You want to know the really good part? The second death can’t touch the people of the first resurrection. It can’t touch them! Everything that the second death is—the eternal darkness of separation from God—is countered and conquered by the first resurrection! When you believe in Jesus Christ in this life, what happens to you in the next life is absolutely secure. You won’t ever need to fear the second death of Hell if you’ve been given the first resurrection in Christ.
This is what John means by the second death and the first resurrection. The second death is eternal damnation: it is torment; it is asking . . . it is Hell. But the first resurrection is belief, contentment, and answers that all find their fulfillment in eternal life in Jesus Christ. Eternal life that begins right now . . . right now in the moment that Christ shines His light into your life.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Sunday, April 22, 2007
The Darkness and the Dawn, part 3: A Little Light in a Dark World
The apostle Paul once said in Philippians 4:12, “12 I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty.” And oh brother . . . isn’t that true! You and I both know what it’s like to have a wallet full of cash, and then other times we don’t even two nickels to rub together. I know that I’ve talked about it before, but the best example I can think of this in our lives was when we were at seminary.
During our time at seminary I didn’t have anything that could reasonably be called a “job.” Without a job, of course, there’s no such thing as a steady paycheck, right? So the single-most comforting thing that modern man knows—the knowledge that payday was only a few days away—was something that we didn’t know for three years. It was a time that could have been very, very dark indeed.
But strangely enough, those years without any discernible source of income were, in fact, filled with light and hope. And the simple reason is this: God’s people provided for us. Every moment we lived, we lived on the charity of others. And while that was a very humbling thing, it was also something that personally taught me a deep truth: God works through people to provide for people.
But soon we began to look around, and at a place where we were all in the same boat it didn’t take long to find someone who needed a bit of help. And so even as we continued to receive gifts from God’s people, we also began to take a portion of God’s gift to us and use it as His gift to others. And while it was certainly always a joy to give thanks to God when we received a gift from one of His people, it was an even greater joy to realize that we could share those gifts with our fellow seminarians. We had the most fun sneaking around at night, dropping a little envelop or a gift card on someone’s doorstep or their car window . . . and then we’d ring the doorbell and run away! And then sure enough, some time later our friends might relate how they had received an anonymous gift, and we’d rejoice together at how God had brought light and hope into our lives through His people.
Who are the people you know that live in the darkness of need? There’s a place on your interactive sermon sheet for you to make a list; a list of people that you know, that you can think of, that have some need in their lives that they cannot fill on their own. They have a darkness, but no light to dispel it. Think about those people: are they your neighbors? Are they your family? Are they people you hear about on the news? (The people involved with the terrible shooting tragedy at Virginia Tech come to mind.) Think about those people—your neighbors, your family, others you may not know personally but still know of a need—and then write their names down on your interactive sermon sheet.
What can you do about their darkness? They might have some significant—maybe even overwhelming—needs . . . how can you help? For that matter, where in the heck do you even get started?
Luke 10:25-29, “25 On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. "Teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?" 26 "What is written in the Law?" he replied. "How do you read it?" 27 He answered: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'" 28 "You have answered correctly," Jesus replied. "Do this and you will live." 29 But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?"”
Now you all know the story that follows that discussion. The man wants to know who his neighbor is. Just who is the one he’s supposed to love as himself? Into whose life, exactly, is he supposed to bring a little light?
Despite the fact that the expert in the Law doesn’t really care about who his neighbor is—he’s really just trying to see how strong Jesus’ theological muscles are—nevertheless Jesus is going to give him a lesson he won’t soon forget.
The story Jesus tells is about a poor traveler who is ambushed by the side of the road. He is beaten, robbed, and left for dead. Two people pass by the man, they see his obvious need, but for some reason choose to pass by without offering even the slightest bit of help.
But a third man comes by, and he takes action. Watch what he does: Luke 10:33-35, “33 But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. 34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, took him to an inn and took care of him. 35 The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. 'Look after him,' he said, 'and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.'”
There are three things I want you to notice about how the Samaritan brought some light into this poor traveler’s darkness. 1) He got emotionally involved. 2) He got personally involved. 3) He got financially involved.
1) The Samaritan got emotionally involved. Verse thirty-three tells us that when he saw this poor, beaten, and bloody man he took pity on him. This is the first level of involvement. It’s a good first step. It’s necessary. Unless you first get emotionally involved, there is virtually no chance that you are going to get involved any further.
The problem is, of course, that it’s much easier to be desensitized. Sometimes we believe that it hurts too much to care. For instance, this past week, on two of the internet forums I participate in, someone brought up the tragedy at Virginia Tech. Thirty-three people . . . dead. Killed. In cold blood. The worst mass murder in the history of the United States. Thirty-three human beings . . . each life precious to God . . . each a life that Christ shed His blood for . . . each life somebody’s son . . . somebody’s daughter. And on both of these online discussions, do you know in what direction the conversation turned? Gun control. Talking about thirty lost lives was just too painful; it was too raw of an emotion, and so we turned very quickly to something clinical, to something sterile. But when the conversation changed, we lost something precious because we avoided getting emotionally involved.
To bring light into the darkness of need, we must first get emotionally involved . . . but we cannot leave it at that. The Samaritan then got personally involved. With his own hands, he poured soothing oil on the man’s wounds. He disinfected the festering wounds with wine. He bent down, gently lifted the man up, and placed him on his donkey. These are not the marks of a clinical detachment, but a personal involvement. His true emotional involvement led him to personal acts of service. Because he cared, the Samaritan was willing to roll up his own sleeves and get his own hands dirty.
Thirdly, the Samaritan got financially involved. After making sure the traveler was comfortable and well cared for, he pays for the man’s stay in the inn where he would leave him. Two silver coins were certainly enough to pay for several days’ stay. But not only that, he tells the innkeeper to keep a tab for him . . . he’ll pay for whatever needs the man might have as he recovers. In effect, he leaves a blank check, he leaves his credit card and says, “Whatever he needs, it’s on me.” That is some serious financial involvement.
In order to bring some much-needed light into the darkness of the poor traveler’s life, the Samaritan got emotionally involved, he got personally involved, and he got financially involved. And what does Jesus say to me? To you? “Go and do likewise.”
“Go and do likewise!” That means you! Go, get emotionally involved! Risk some heartache! Stay sensitive to the needs of others! Get personally involved! Roll your sleeves up and get into the trenches! That’s where you’re needed! Get financially involved! Open up those wallets and purses and spread some light into the lives of someone who needs it!
Where can you “go and do likewise”? Well, obviously one way is through assisting the ministry of Compassion International. That’s what Everett Swanson did.
Everett Swanson was an evangelist during the Korean War. At one point he was on a preaching tour of Japan and Korea, and he shared the gospel with thousands of our troops.
But one frigid winter as he walked through the city of Seoul, he encountered something that would change his life forever. As Everett walked along one morning, he noticed some garbage collectors on a flatbed truck. Every few blocks the truck would stop and the sanitation workers would climb from the cab and head into the gutters and doorways and alleys, scoop up some piles of rags and trash, and throw it onto the back of the truck.
Strangely enough, however, the workers would kick each pile of rags before they picked it up. Everett thought, “Well, that makes sense . . . there’s a lot of rats in the city. I’d want to make sure I wasn’t picking up a rat, myself.” But as a worker approached a pile near him, Everett noticed a small arm protruding from the bottom of the pile. It was a child’s arm . . . no doubt one of the many children who lived on the streets, huddling together for warmth and begging for coins to stay alive. The child must have slept under the rags to keep warm.
Everett didn’t want the garbage man to kick the child by accident, so he began to run towards the man to stop him . . . and then his eyes were opened. He drew up alongside the “garbage” truck and saw what it was truly filled with. They weren’t bundles of rags . . . they were children dressed in rags. The street children who had frozen to death in the night . . . they were piled on the truck like garbage. The street children who had survived another night of the frigid Korean winter would be woken up by the kicks of the garbage men and rise to face another day of hunger, cold . . . and darkness.
I’m not sure which group of children was luckier.
But I do know this: Everett Swanson got emotionally involved. His heart broke for the poor kids on the streets. Everett Swanson got financially involved, setting aside a portion of his own monthly income to help those children. And Everett Swanson came back home to the United States and got personally involved, slowly building a ministry called Compassion International where more and more people caught the vision to “go and do likewise.”
Compassion International is an excellent way to bring light into the dark lives of others! But you need to realize that there is no limit to the number of places you can bring light. Who is your neighbor? Wherever you see the darkness of need, you see your neighbor. Your neighbor is the one who lives in the darkness of need . . . a darkness that God has given you a light to banish.
But wait . . . wait just a minute. The entire premise of this sermon series is how the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ serves as the model and basis for our daily lives. Where is He in all of this?
I think the answer has been right in front of us all along. I wonder if the story of the Good Samaritan is perhaps . . . just perhaps . . . Jesus telling us something about how He brings light and hope to us.
Getting emotionally involved . . . getting personally involved . . . getting financially involved . . . isn’t this exactly what Christ did for you?
Has there ever been a darkness in your life that Christ did not bring light into? When you’ve preferred to isolate yourself and shield your heart from the pain of getting emotionally involved, Jesus Christ nevertheless loved you with an unbridled love that is cosmic in scale and scope. When you’ve turned away from a need and failed to get personally involved, He’s the one who got down and dirty and became a human being, living among us. God Himself getting His hands dirty . . . for you.
And when we’ve balked at taking that last step, when we decided we’d rather keep our money for ourselves, Jesus Christ is the one who paid the full price for our redemption. He got financially involved by paying for your sins . . . buying you with His own precious blood. One drop of that blood is worth more than a world full of diamonds . . . and yet He used that precious blood to buy you back from the sins that lead to death and bring you into eternal life.
When we’ve lived in darkness, Christ has brought us His light. And in so doing, He has changed our lives forever. That’s the kind of impact His light has.
And that light that Christ has brought us? That’s the same light we give to others. He uses us to bring His light to others. His work for us is accomplished, His work through us carries on as we get emotionally, personally, and financially involved in bringing light and hope into the dark, dark lives of people who desperately need Christ.
That’s where Christ fits in. He’s the one who got involved for us. He’s the one who got involved and brought us poor, desperate people out of the darkness and into the light.
That’s what Christ has done for you. Look at your list from earlier . . . look at those people who live in darkness. Remember what Christ has done for you . . . what He has given you. Now in Him . . . you go and do likewise.
During our time at seminary I didn’t have anything that could reasonably be called a “job.” Without a job, of course, there’s no such thing as a steady paycheck, right? So the single-most comforting thing that modern man knows—the knowledge that payday was only a few days away—was something that we didn’t know for three years. It was a time that could have been very, very dark indeed.
But strangely enough, those years without any discernible source of income were, in fact, filled with light and hope. And the simple reason is this: God’s people provided for us. Every moment we lived, we lived on the charity of others. And while that was a very humbling thing, it was also something that personally taught me a deep truth: God works through people to provide for people.
But soon we began to look around, and at a place where we were all in the same boat it didn’t take long to find someone who needed a bit of help. And so even as we continued to receive gifts from God’s people, we also began to take a portion of God’s gift to us and use it as His gift to others. And while it was certainly always a joy to give thanks to God when we received a gift from one of His people, it was an even greater joy to realize that we could share those gifts with our fellow seminarians. We had the most fun sneaking around at night, dropping a little envelop or a gift card on someone’s doorstep or their car window . . . and then we’d ring the doorbell and run away! And then sure enough, some time later our friends might relate how they had received an anonymous gift, and we’d rejoice together at how God had brought light and hope into our lives through His people.
Who are the people you know that live in the darkness of need? There’s a place on your interactive sermon sheet for you to make a list; a list of people that you know, that you can think of, that have some need in their lives that they cannot fill on their own. They have a darkness, but no light to dispel it. Think about those people: are they your neighbors? Are they your family? Are they people you hear about on the news? (The people involved with the terrible shooting tragedy at Virginia Tech come to mind.) Think about those people—your neighbors, your family, others you may not know personally but still know of a need—and then write their names down on your interactive sermon sheet.
What can you do about their darkness? They might have some significant—maybe even overwhelming—needs . . . how can you help? For that matter, where in the heck do you even get started?
Luke 10:25-29, “25 On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. "Teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?" 26 "What is written in the Law?" he replied. "How do you read it?" 27 He answered: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'" 28 "You have answered correctly," Jesus replied. "Do this and you will live." 29 But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?"”
Now you all know the story that follows that discussion. The man wants to know who his neighbor is. Just who is the one he’s supposed to love as himself? Into whose life, exactly, is he supposed to bring a little light?
Despite the fact that the expert in the Law doesn’t really care about who his neighbor is—he’s really just trying to see how strong Jesus’ theological muscles are—nevertheless Jesus is going to give him a lesson he won’t soon forget.
The story Jesus tells is about a poor traveler who is ambushed by the side of the road. He is beaten, robbed, and left for dead. Two people pass by the man, they see his obvious need, but for some reason choose to pass by without offering even the slightest bit of help.
But a third man comes by, and he takes action. Watch what he does: Luke 10:33-35, “33 But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. 34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, took him to an inn and took care of him. 35 The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. 'Look after him,' he said, 'and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.'”
There are three things I want you to notice about how the Samaritan brought some light into this poor traveler’s darkness. 1) He got emotionally involved. 2) He got personally involved. 3) He got financially involved.
1) The Samaritan got emotionally involved. Verse thirty-three tells us that when he saw this poor, beaten, and bloody man he took pity on him. This is the first level of involvement. It’s a good first step. It’s necessary. Unless you first get emotionally involved, there is virtually no chance that you are going to get involved any further.
The problem is, of course, that it’s much easier to be desensitized. Sometimes we believe that it hurts too much to care. For instance, this past week, on two of the internet forums I participate in, someone brought up the tragedy at Virginia Tech. Thirty-three people . . . dead. Killed. In cold blood. The worst mass murder in the history of the United States. Thirty-three human beings . . . each life precious to God . . . each a life that Christ shed His blood for . . . each life somebody’s son . . . somebody’s daughter. And on both of these online discussions, do you know in what direction the conversation turned? Gun control. Talking about thirty lost lives was just too painful; it was too raw of an emotion, and so we turned very quickly to something clinical, to something sterile. But when the conversation changed, we lost something precious because we avoided getting emotionally involved.
To bring light into the darkness of need, we must first get emotionally involved . . . but we cannot leave it at that. The Samaritan then got personally involved. With his own hands, he poured soothing oil on the man’s wounds. He disinfected the festering wounds with wine. He bent down, gently lifted the man up, and placed him on his donkey. These are not the marks of a clinical detachment, but a personal involvement. His true emotional involvement led him to personal acts of service. Because he cared, the Samaritan was willing to roll up his own sleeves and get his own hands dirty.
Thirdly, the Samaritan got financially involved. After making sure the traveler was comfortable and well cared for, he pays for the man’s stay in the inn where he would leave him. Two silver coins were certainly enough to pay for several days’ stay. But not only that, he tells the innkeeper to keep a tab for him . . . he’ll pay for whatever needs the man might have as he recovers. In effect, he leaves a blank check, he leaves his credit card and says, “Whatever he needs, it’s on me.” That is some serious financial involvement.
In order to bring some much-needed light into the darkness of the poor traveler’s life, the Samaritan got emotionally involved, he got personally involved, and he got financially involved. And what does Jesus say to me? To you? “Go and do likewise.”
“Go and do likewise!” That means you! Go, get emotionally involved! Risk some heartache! Stay sensitive to the needs of others! Get personally involved! Roll your sleeves up and get into the trenches! That’s where you’re needed! Get financially involved! Open up those wallets and purses and spread some light into the lives of someone who needs it!
Where can you “go and do likewise”? Well, obviously one way is through assisting the ministry of Compassion International. That’s what Everett Swanson did.
Everett Swanson was an evangelist during the Korean War. At one point he was on a preaching tour of Japan and Korea, and he shared the gospel with thousands of our troops.
But one frigid winter as he walked through the city of Seoul, he encountered something that would change his life forever. As Everett walked along one morning, he noticed some garbage collectors on a flatbed truck. Every few blocks the truck would stop and the sanitation workers would climb from the cab and head into the gutters and doorways and alleys, scoop up some piles of rags and trash, and throw it onto the back of the truck.
Strangely enough, however, the workers would kick each pile of rags before they picked it up. Everett thought, “Well, that makes sense . . . there’s a lot of rats in the city. I’d want to make sure I wasn’t picking up a rat, myself.” But as a worker approached a pile near him, Everett noticed a small arm protruding from the bottom of the pile. It was a child’s arm . . . no doubt one of the many children who lived on the streets, huddling together for warmth and begging for coins to stay alive. The child must have slept under the rags to keep warm.
Everett didn’t want the garbage man to kick the child by accident, so he began to run towards the man to stop him . . . and then his eyes were opened. He drew up alongside the “garbage” truck and saw what it was truly filled with. They weren’t bundles of rags . . . they were children dressed in rags. The street children who had frozen to death in the night . . . they were piled on the truck like garbage. The street children who had survived another night of the frigid Korean winter would be woken up by the kicks of the garbage men and rise to face another day of hunger, cold . . . and darkness.
I’m not sure which group of children was luckier.
But I do know this: Everett Swanson got emotionally involved. His heart broke for the poor kids on the streets. Everett Swanson got financially involved, setting aside a portion of his own monthly income to help those children. And Everett Swanson came back home to the United States and got personally involved, slowly building a ministry called Compassion International where more and more people caught the vision to “go and do likewise.”
Compassion International is an excellent way to bring light into the dark lives of others! But you need to realize that there is no limit to the number of places you can bring light. Who is your neighbor? Wherever you see the darkness of need, you see your neighbor. Your neighbor is the one who lives in the darkness of need . . . a darkness that God has given you a light to banish.
But wait . . . wait just a minute. The entire premise of this sermon series is how the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ serves as the model and basis for our daily lives. Where is He in all of this?
I think the answer has been right in front of us all along. I wonder if the story of the Good Samaritan is perhaps . . . just perhaps . . . Jesus telling us something about how He brings light and hope to us.
Getting emotionally involved . . . getting personally involved . . . getting financially involved . . . isn’t this exactly what Christ did for you?
Has there ever been a darkness in your life that Christ did not bring light into? When you’ve preferred to isolate yourself and shield your heart from the pain of getting emotionally involved, Jesus Christ nevertheless loved you with an unbridled love that is cosmic in scale and scope. When you’ve turned away from a need and failed to get personally involved, He’s the one who got down and dirty and became a human being, living among us. God Himself getting His hands dirty . . . for you.
And when we’ve balked at taking that last step, when we decided we’d rather keep our money for ourselves, Jesus Christ is the one who paid the full price for our redemption. He got financially involved by paying for your sins . . . buying you with His own precious blood. One drop of that blood is worth more than a world full of diamonds . . . and yet He used that precious blood to buy you back from the sins that lead to death and bring you into eternal life.
When we’ve lived in darkness, Christ has brought us His light. And in so doing, He has changed our lives forever. That’s the kind of impact His light has.
And that light that Christ has brought us? That’s the same light we give to others. He uses us to bring His light to others. His work for us is accomplished, His work through us carries on as we get emotionally, personally, and financially involved in bringing light and hope into the dark, dark lives of people who desperately need Christ.
That’s where Christ fits in. He’s the one who got involved for us. He’s the one who got involved and brought us poor, desperate people out of the darkness and into the light.
That’s what Christ has done for you. Look at your list from earlier . . . look at those people who live in darkness. Remember what Christ has done for you . . . what He has given you. Now in Him . . . you go and do likewise.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
The Darkness and the Dawn, part 2: Life Together
There’s no secret that life together can be difficult at times. As we live out our lives we will encounter difficulties in relationships, whether we like it or not. I mean, the last time I checked there was no “Earth: love it or leave it” clause. If we live on Earth, we will be forced to interact with difficult people, and we will encounter difficult relationships.
Now just a quick word on the word “relationship.” When I say that word, I tend to think of something along the lines of “committed relationship.” And while the word certainly does mean that at times—it certainly can mean a romantic or family relationship”—it frankly has a much broader meaning. Quite honestly, you have some sort of relationship with every single person you meet. Some relationships are by nature very close, very intimate. There’s a high degree of emotional investment. This is your inner circle—your family, your friends. Other relationships are casual, with very little emotions involved. Still others are almost completely business-oriented, with nothing more than a transaction forming the basis for the relationship.
Of the three types, the one that causes the greatest joy is the one where there is the closest bond. But oddly enough, when that relationship is bad—when it is a relationship of “darkness”—then that same relationship has the potential to also give the greatest grief.
The reason for that extreme grief is because it is a relationship that is functioning in direct opposite to God’s ideal for our relationships. God’s ideal for relationships is based upon love. Not just any love . . . but His kind of love. The Apostle John says as much in 1 John 4:7 when he says, “7 Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God.”
God’s kind of love is not just a lovey-dovey feeling . . . but real love. Love that is typified by Paul’s list from our epistle reading for today: Love that is patient. Love that is kind. Love that doesn’t envy or boast. Love that doesn’t get angry easily. Love that is not rude, not self-seeking. Love that rejoices with the truth. This is a love that always has the other’s best in mind. This is the love that God wants to govern our relationships.
But when we get away from that ideal of a self-giving love, we encounter what I’m going to call “darkness” relationships. These are controlled by anything other than true love. They are relationships:
· that hurt.
· Where trust is broken.
· Where confidence is betrayed.
· Where slander is made. Character assassination.
· Where opposition is always felt. Not a healthy check and balance, but opposition for the sake of opposition.
· Where love is conditional.
· Where the desire to dominate and control outweighs the desire to give and build up.
· Where there is abuse—physical, emotional, or spiritual.
· Where there is neglect.
· Where I find myself doing any of these things.
Even if I didn’t know you at all, I could be 100% sure that you have been in darkness relationships from time to time. We’ve all been in these relationships, where we have to deal with very, very difficult people. Is there anything in the Bible that can give us guidance for difficulties in relationships?
Let’s take a look at two Godly men. Paul and Barnabas are real heroes of the book of Acts. They traveled together extensively, preaching the Gospel wherever they went. Together the converted Pharisee and the “Son of Encouragement” were a force to be reckoned with. They were partners in God’s mission: sold out for the Gospel, absolutely committed to spreading the name of Jesus Christ . . . and still at one point their relationship suffered a bitter argument.
Acts 15:36-41 “36 Some time later Paul said to Barnabas, "Let us go back and visit the brothers in all the towns where we preached the word of the Lord and see how they are doing."” Now this is a great thing! Paul wants to go back and encourage the Christians that they had worked among throughout the countryside. It’s a great plan . . . until . . . “37 Barnabas wanted to take John, also called Mark, with them, 38 but Paul did not think it wise to take him, because he had deserted them in Pamphylia and had not continued with them in the work. 39 They had such a sharp disagreement that they parted company. Barnabas took Mark and sailed for Cyprus, 40 but Paul chose Silas and left, commended by the brothers to the grace of the Lord. 41 He went through Syria and Cilicia, strengthening the churches.”
The “Mark” in question is a former companion of Paul and Barnabas. He had traveled with them, served with them, preached with them . . . but at one point he had had enough of the life of a traveling missionary and deserted them, leaving them and leaving unfinished work. What happened when they were making preparations for their next missionary journey? Paul and Barnabas—two heroes of the faith, two Godly men who had the full support and trust of the church—they had such a heated argument that their relationship fractured. They split up and went their separate ways.
What can we learn from that? Let’s take Paul’s side for a minute. The best lesson that we can learn from Paul is the lesson of saying, “No.” He said, “No.” Paul felt that he had learned his lesson with Mark. Fool me once, shame on you . . . fool me twice, shame on me. And so he said, “No.” “No, Mark . . . you betrayed me once, and I won’t let you do it again. No, Mark, you broke trust with me once, and I won’t let you do it again. No, Mark . . . you hurt me once, and I won’t let you do it again.”
This may seem odd. I mean, isn’t a Christian supposed to forgive and forget? Shouldn’t Paul have extended grace to Mark and said, “No matter what you’ve done in the past, I’ll still let you back into my life. C’mon on board!”
Well . . . no. No, he shouldn’t have. Paul understands a profound truth: that sometimes true love says, “No.” Imagine what was at stake when Mark left. The team was down one person, and so they all suffered. They often had to work to support themselves. With Mark gone, Paul and Barnabas would have to work harder to make enough money just to eat, which would leave less time for preaching the Gospel. Not only that, but he put the mission itself in jeopardy by setting a bad example for the new believers. When Mark left he modeled the very opposite of the one thing that they were really trying to instill in the people that they were reaching: a full commitment of following Christ at all times. Mark had abandoned the cause once before, he had put the mission itself in danger, and he had risked the tender, young faith of the new believers. So Paul’s love for Christ, for the believers, and even for Mark demanded that he say, “No.”
This is a hard lesson for some of you! But you’re not alone; my wife tells me that this is my problem, as well! We think that modeling Christian love means that we will say “Yes” at all times! We’ve become Yes-aholics! Always giving, always trusting . . . and yet always having our trust broken time and time again.
Is this the way God loves? Does He always say “Yes”? In the movie Bruce Almighty God gives Jim Carey all of His powers for a week . . . but He also gives Jim His responsibilities, as well. And in one very funny scene, all the prayers that Jim has been ignoring overwhelm him. He can’t stand all the voices in his head, and so he uses his new God powers to create a computer that answers “prayer-mail” and figures that he’ll make everyone perfectly happy by programming the computer to automatically answer “Yes” to every prayer!
Do you know what happens? Sure, some people are happy for a while, like the lady who lost 40 pounds on the Krispy Kreme diet, but the end effect is utter chaos. Two million people win the lottery . . . but they only get a payout of a dollar each, so in their anger they riot in the streets. The long-shot local hockey team miraculously wins the Stanley Cup . . . and the fans celebrate by rioting in the streets. The city is torn apart . . . all because “God” answered “Yes” to every prayer, granting people what they selfishly wanted instead of what they truly needed.
In our relationships we must love like God does, and that means knowing when to say, “No.” “No . . . I won’t let you hurt me anymore. No . . . I won’t let you hurt them anymore. No . . . I won’t let you hurt yourself anymore.” True love means that we must learn to say, “No” to darkness relationships.
Saying “No” is sometimes an expression of true love. This is what Paul understood. But what about Barnabas? What can we learn from him?
Barnabas is a nickname. It literally means “Son of Encouragement.” This is the life that Barnabas modeled; he was an encourager.
The encourager saw a young man who had made a mistake. But rather than turn his back on Mark for all time, he allowed Mark the chance to prove that he could be trusted again. He offered Mark a second chance, and worked with Mark to help him become the man God knew he could be.
Second chances are also a show of true love, but they cannot be second chances with no limits. I’m quite sure that Mark had complete and free reign to do whatever he wanted to do. Barnabas must have watched over Mark very closely, I’m sure that he was very careful in helping Mark to build up the trust that he had broken.
This is also God’s way of loving us. God gives us each gifts and watches how we use them. To the one who proves faithful, God gives more, because that person has earned more trust. Luke 12:48, “From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.” When we mess up and sin, God forgives us completely . . . but neither will He immediately give us the trust that we had broken with Him. Instead, He watches and waits and helps us to build trust once again before He gives us more.
The key to a second chance in a darkness relationship is learning to say “yes” and “no” at the same time. “Yes, you are allowed back into my life, but no . . . I’m not going to give you the knife to stab me in the back.” Good second chances aren’t blind trust. Instead, they involve deliberate, planned opportunities to build trust, they foster moments to turn a darkness relationship into a good one.
In darkness relationships you need to be able to say both “yes” and “no”. There’s a time and a place for both. Unfortunately, it can be difficult sometimes to understand which one to say. But if you learn to do it properly, you will see your relationships transformed from the darkness of hurt and broken trust into the light of safe relationships with trustworthy people, where love is constant and unconditional . . . where there repentance over wrong and there is genuine care.
But one more thing before we go. No matter what else you’ve learned about yourself and relating to others, you must know this: No matter where your relationships are, you cannot try and find ultimate fulfillment in them. Every relationship you have will always fall short of being perfectly ideal . . . every relationship except one.
The first and primary and the only true “light” relationship is a relationship with Christ. In Him alone do we find true love, find true acceptance, find genuine relationship. Christ’s love for you is unconditional. A relationship with Him is the only relationship where we will never be disappointed, because in Him alone do we find what we truly need: forgiveness for our sins and reconciliation with God. And in Him, the strength of His relationship with us strengthens our other relationships, as well.
Now just a quick word on the word “relationship.” When I say that word, I tend to think of something along the lines of “committed relationship.” And while the word certainly does mean that at times—it certainly can mean a romantic or family relationship”—it frankly has a much broader meaning. Quite honestly, you have some sort of relationship with every single person you meet. Some relationships are by nature very close, very intimate. There’s a high degree of emotional investment. This is your inner circle—your family, your friends. Other relationships are casual, with very little emotions involved. Still others are almost completely business-oriented, with nothing more than a transaction forming the basis for the relationship.
Of the three types, the one that causes the greatest joy is the one where there is the closest bond. But oddly enough, when that relationship is bad—when it is a relationship of “darkness”—then that same relationship has the potential to also give the greatest grief.
The reason for that extreme grief is because it is a relationship that is functioning in direct opposite to God’s ideal for our relationships. God’s ideal for relationships is based upon love. Not just any love . . . but His kind of love. The Apostle John says as much in 1 John 4:7 when he says, “7 Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God.”
God’s kind of love is not just a lovey-dovey feeling . . . but real love. Love that is typified by Paul’s list from our epistle reading for today: Love that is patient. Love that is kind. Love that doesn’t envy or boast. Love that doesn’t get angry easily. Love that is not rude, not self-seeking. Love that rejoices with the truth. This is a love that always has the other’s best in mind. This is the love that God wants to govern our relationships.
But when we get away from that ideal of a self-giving love, we encounter what I’m going to call “darkness” relationships. These are controlled by anything other than true love. They are relationships:
· that hurt.
· Where trust is broken.
· Where confidence is betrayed.
· Where slander is made. Character assassination.
· Where opposition is always felt. Not a healthy check and balance, but opposition for the sake of opposition.
· Where love is conditional.
· Where the desire to dominate and control outweighs the desire to give and build up.
· Where there is abuse—physical, emotional, or spiritual.
· Where there is neglect.
· Where I find myself doing any of these things.
Even if I didn’t know you at all, I could be 100% sure that you have been in darkness relationships from time to time. We’ve all been in these relationships, where we have to deal with very, very difficult people. Is there anything in the Bible that can give us guidance for difficulties in relationships?
Let’s take a look at two Godly men. Paul and Barnabas are real heroes of the book of Acts. They traveled together extensively, preaching the Gospel wherever they went. Together the converted Pharisee and the “Son of Encouragement” were a force to be reckoned with. They were partners in God’s mission: sold out for the Gospel, absolutely committed to spreading the name of Jesus Christ . . . and still at one point their relationship suffered a bitter argument.
Acts 15:36-41 “36 Some time later Paul said to Barnabas, "Let us go back and visit the brothers in all the towns where we preached the word of the Lord and see how they are doing."” Now this is a great thing! Paul wants to go back and encourage the Christians that they had worked among throughout the countryside. It’s a great plan . . . until . . . “37 Barnabas wanted to take John, also called Mark, with them, 38 but Paul did not think it wise to take him, because he had deserted them in Pamphylia and had not continued with them in the work. 39 They had such a sharp disagreement that they parted company. Barnabas took Mark and sailed for Cyprus, 40 but Paul chose Silas and left, commended by the brothers to the grace of the Lord. 41 He went through Syria and Cilicia, strengthening the churches.”
The “Mark” in question is a former companion of Paul and Barnabas. He had traveled with them, served with them, preached with them . . . but at one point he had had enough of the life of a traveling missionary and deserted them, leaving them and leaving unfinished work. What happened when they were making preparations for their next missionary journey? Paul and Barnabas—two heroes of the faith, two Godly men who had the full support and trust of the church—they had such a heated argument that their relationship fractured. They split up and went their separate ways.
What can we learn from that? Let’s take Paul’s side for a minute. The best lesson that we can learn from Paul is the lesson of saying, “No.” He said, “No.” Paul felt that he had learned his lesson with Mark. Fool me once, shame on you . . . fool me twice, shame on me. And so he said, “No.” “No, Mark . . . you betrayed me once, and I won’t let you do it again. No, Mark, you broke trust with me once, and I won’t let you do it again. No, Mark . . . you hurt me once, and I won’t let you do it again.”
This may seem odd. I mean, isn’t a Christian supposed to forgive and forget? Shouldn’t Paul have extended grace to Mark and said, “No matter what you’ve done in the past, I’ll still let you back into my life. C’mon on board!”
Well . . . no. No, he shouldn’t have. Paul understands a profound truth: that sometimes true love says, “No.” Imagine what was at stake when Mark left. The team was down one person, and so they all suffered. They often had to work to support themselves. With Mark gone, Paul and Barnabas would have to work harder to make enough money just to eat, which would leave less time for preaching the Gospel. Not only that, but he put the mission itself in jeopardy by setting a bad example for the new believers. When Mark left he modeled the very opposite of the one thing that they were really trying to instill in the people that they were reaching: a full commitment of following Christ at all times. Mark had abandoned the cause once before, he had put the mission itself in danger, and he had risked the tender, young faith of the new believers. So Paul’s love for Christ, for the believers, and even for Mark demanded that he say, “No.”
This is a hard lesson for some of you! But you’re not alone; my wife tells me that this is my problem, as well! We think that modeling Christian love means that we will say “Yes” at all times! We’ve become Yes-aholics! Always giving, always trusting . . . and yet always having our trust broken time and time again.
Is this the way God loves? Does He always say “Yes”? In the movie Bruce Almighty God gives Jim Carey all of His powers for a week . . . but He also gives Jim His responsibilities, as well. And in one very funny scene, all the prayers that Jim has been ignoring overwhelm him. He can’t stand all the voices in his head, and so he uses his new God powers to create a computer that answers “prayer-mail” and figures that he’ll make everyone perfectly happy by programming the computer to automatically answer “Yes” to every prayer!
Do you know what happens? Sure, some people are happy for a while, like the lady who lost 40 pounds on the Krispy Kreme diet, but the end effect is utter chaos. Two million people win the lottery . . . but they only get a payout of a dollar each, so in their anger they riot in the streets. The long-shot local hockey team miraculously wins the Stanley Cup . . . and the fans celebrate by rioting in the streets. The city is torn apart . . . all because “God” answered “Yes” to every prayer, granting people what they selfishly wanted instead of what they truly needed.
In our relationships we must love like God does, and that means knowing when to say, “No.” “No . . . I won’t let you hurt me anymore. No . . . I won’t let you hurt them anymore. No . . . I won’t let you hurt yourself anymore.” True love means that we must learn to say, “No” to darkness relationships.
Saying “No” is sometimes an expression of true love. This is what Paul understood. But what about Barnabas? What can we learn from him?
Barnabas is a nickname. It literally means “Son of Encouragement.” This is the life that Barnabas modeled; he was an encourager.
The encourager saw a young man who had made a mistake. But rather than turn his back on Mark for all time, he allowed Mark the chance to prove that he could be trusted again. He offered Mark a second chance, and worked with Mark to help him become the man God knew he could be.
Second chances are also a show of true love, but they cannot be second chances with no limits. I’m quite sure that Mark had complete and free reign to do whatever he wanted to do. Barnabas must have watched over Mark very closely, I’m sure that he was very careful in helping Mark to build up the trust that he had broken.
This is also God’s way of loving us. God gives us each gifts and watches how we use them. To the one who proves faithful, God gives more, because that person has earned more trust. Luke 12:48, “From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.” When we mess up and sin, God forgives us completely . . . but neither will He immediately give us the trust that we had broken with Him. Instead, He watches and waits and helps us to build trust once again before He gives us more.
The key to a second chance in a darkness relationship is learning to say “yes” and “no” at the same time. “Yes, you are allowed back into my life, but no . . . I’m not going to give you the knife to stab me in the back.” Good second chances aren’t blind trust. Instead, they involve deliberate, planned opportunities to build trust, they foster moments to turn a darkness relationship into a good one.
In darkness relationships you need to be able to say both “yes” and “no”. There’s a time and a place for both. Unfortunately, it can be difficult sometimes to understand which one to say. But if you learn to do it properly, you will see your relationships transformed from the darkness of hurt and broken trust into the light of safe relationships with trustworthy people, where love is constant and unconditional . . . where there repentance over wrong and there is genuine care.
But one more thing before we go. No matter what else you’ve learned about yourself and relating to others, you must know this: No matter where your relationships are, you cannot try and find ultimate fulfillment in them. Every relationship you have will always fall short of being perfectly ideal . . . every relationship except one.
The first and primary and the only true “light” relationship is a relationship with Christ. In Him alone do we find true love, find true acceptance, find genuine relationship. Christ’s love for you is unconditional. A relationship with Him is the only relationship where we will never be disappointed, because in Him alone do we find what we truly need: forgiveness for our sins and reconciliation with God. And in Him, the strength of His relationship with us strengthens our other relationships, as well.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
The Darkness and the Dawn, part 1: Dying and Rising
He is risen! (He is risen indeed, alleluia!)
What time did you get up this morning? Was it still dark? When I got up it was dark, and it made me think. Now, it’s not that I have a problem with darkness, exactly—my problem is more with mornings in general—but I got to thinking about what the darkness symbolized. The last time we were in this church was on Good Friday. As that service came to a close we read Christ’s final words from the cross, and the room got darker and darker, until finally all the lights were out and the absolute darkness became a visible reminder of a spiritual reality: Jesus Christ died for our sins.
But now we’re not sitting in darkness! The place is well lit, the mood is festive. We have light both in the building and in our hearts . . . why? Because while the darkness of Good Friday represents dying, the light of Easter morning reminds us that Christ has risen victorious from the dead! He is Risen!
This theme of darkness and dawn, of dying and rising, is played out in our lives all the time. For instance, just imagine the women going to the tomb on that first Easter morning. It’s been said that it’s always darkest before the dawn, and that is nowhere truer than in the hearts of the women that morning. They thought they had found their answers in Jesus, but now He was laying in a tomb. With His crucifixion they had lost all hope. No Messiah, no teacher . . . no savior. It’s dark outside, sure enough, but it’s darker in their souls.
But then as the sun begins to rise, with its first rays spilling over the hillside, they see a strange sight. The stone in front of the tomb appears to be rolled away! And as they get nearer and nearer, the light from the sun and in their souls increases more and more until it explodes forth with the announcement that the One for whom they are looking is no longer among the dead! The light of the resurrection of Jesus Christ has dispelled all darkness in their souls, and they once again know what it means to hope!
Do you know what I’m talking about? Have you been there, in the darkest part of the night, with no hope left and no options in sight, only to have the light of Jesus Christ break in and give light to your tired soul?
If you’ve been there in the darkness of death before, or even if you’re there right now, then this message is for you. In fact, the next six weeks will be filled with messages just for you. Because beginning today and for almost all of the season of Easter, we’re going to talk about dying and rising. Not just in a literal sense—as in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ—but in a figurative sense, as well.
We’ve all lived through period of darkness, when a dark, death-like shroud threatens to envelop us. We’ve been in relationships where the darkness of bad or hurtful interpersonal conflicts blots out the light. Do you want to know how God’s Word addresses that darkness and gives us real answers, real light? Then this series is for you. We’ve been in tough financial spots where a mountain of debt and poor choices have overshadowed the light of Jesus Christ in our lives. We’ll address those issues, too. Over the next few weeks we’ll look at how God’s Word addresses issues such as the darkness of self-centered living, how to bring light into the dark lives of others through acts of service, and we’ll even tackle the ultimate darkness of death itself.
Throughout the entire sermon series there’s just two things we need to know right now. 1) Darkness happens to all of us. We all go through periods of darkness in our lives. You are not alone in your darkness. And 2) God’s word addresses those periods of darkness. It brings the light of Christ into those dark times, allowing the dawn to break in and raise us up from the dead. God’s Word brings us light . . . and it brings us hope.
God wants to help us through those periods of darkness in our lives. That’s why we’re going to spend the next few weeks of this Easter season getting real practical. We’re going to look at these different areas of difficulty that we face living in the 21st century and watch what happens as God’s light breaks into those situations. During this sermon series you can expect to be challenged, and you can expect to be changed. You can expect the light of Christ and His resurrection to carry you into the light and out of the darkness. But before we get into all those different areas we first need to lay the groundwork. Today’s sermon is a foundational sermon to the whole series, so listen up closely. I’m going to show how Christ and His resurrection lays the groundwork for a fruitful life not only in eternity, but right here and now, as well. “Dying and Rising” becomes a paradigm for living out your life in Christ. It becomes a model for your daily life. Are you ready? Then let’s turn to God’s Word and hear what He has to say to us about the darkness and the dawn, about dying and rising.
Let’s begin with Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 15:19, “19 If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men.” Now that’s an odd thing to say, isn’t it? Can you imagine a street evangelist telling you that if your hope in Christ is only for this life, then you don’t really have any hope at all? I mean, as far as salesmanship goes, Paul doesn’t really have much of a sales pitch, here, does he?
But Paul’s not trying to be a salesman, he’s trying to tell us the truth. And the truth is that if Jesus Christ is only for this life then we must still fear death. If the mission of Jesus Christ was only to give us a triumphant life in the here and now, then our eternity is still in question.
Paul had a great life, one that many people wanted. In his letter to the Philippians he details how he had reached the very pinnacle that an outwardly religious life could obtain. He had power, he had influence. He was more religious than you or I or any of us put together, and in his religiosity he had every confidence that his life in the here and now would earn him solid rewards in eternity.
But religiosity—even one as hardcore as Paul’s—didn’t do anything to dispel the darkness that he lived in, except Paul didn’t know that. But when Christ’s light broke in, he realized the darkness that had surrounded him. His so-called “life”—the life that he thought was so great and wonderful—was a dead end.
Paul’s wonderful, religious life wasn’t getting him anywhere. In retrospect he would later call that life “rubbish.” He realized that all of his religious accomplishments and his wonderful “life” were nothing more than . . . well, in the Greek you get the idea that it was nothing more than the stuff you don’t want to step in out in the cow pasture. Life without Christ was crap . . . and then he realized that that even life with a dead Christ—a life without any hope of a resurrection—that was crap, as well. And he realized that if that was true he was to be pitied more than all men.
It’s not as though Christ’s death didn’t count for something; it did! It counted a lot! But Paul recognizes the fact that the darkness of Good Friday must be complemented by the dawn of Easter morning! Christ’s dying offers us the forgiveness for our sinful ways in this life, but His rising paves the way for our eternity! Without Christ’s resurrection, without both His dying and rising, then we still must fear death! We still must fear what will happen to us in eternity! But because Christ was crucified and is risen, we who trust in Him know that even though we will one day follow Him into death we will also be like Him in His resurrection! The power of Christ’s resurrection gives us hope for eternity because it gives us the certain hope of conquering even death.
In Christ you can have eternal life, a life that lives beyond the grave. But does that mean that His dying and rising has no value for you now? Certainly not! And the reason is this: because your eternity steers how you live currently. Christ’s dying and rising becomes a paradigm, a model for your daily living.
In the situations you face every day, you often need to have a “dying” moment. Christ was put to death for your sins, and so we follow Him by putting our sins to death on a daily basis through repentance and His forgiveness. There is a part of you that needs to die every day; the sinful, selfish part. The part that doesn’t live in the fullness of life that God wants you to live.
These dying moments . . . they occur whenever you feel crushed, unable to continue. When you don’t know where to turn anymore, or when you feel convicted. These are all God’s indicators that it’s time for you to do a little dying.
If you’ve had to live through a death, then you already know that watching another die is a painful experience. And yes . . . it’s the same when we put our sinful nature to death, as well. It’s often difficult . . . often painful to put a portion of ourselves to death. But these “dying moments” are absolutely necessary in order to rise again. And just like Christ, when you understand the new life that God will be able to bring about afterward your “death”, you will gladly endure the pain of these “dying moments” Because when we follow Christ, resurrection always follows a death.
Your “resurrection,” then, comes from God when you leave behind your sinful, broken ways and are raised up to follow Him in healthy, Godly living. Your daily dying means you are still held prisoner to sin, but your daily resurrection means that that you are freed from the bondage of sin and freed to a new life in Christ! You have a resurrection moment every time you realize that there is hope, that God still cares for you, that God still loves you and has a useful purpose for you.
Have you had enough of living a life that is unsatisfying? Have you had enough of living a life that’s stuck in a rut; that just spins its wheels and doesn’t go anywhere? Have you had enough of living a life that, frankly, just needs to die off? Then stick around for the next few weeks. Learn how Christ’s dying and rising can become a model for your life. Learn how to live in the power of His resurrection. Learn how to leave the darkness of sin and rise to new life in the dawn of Christ’s resurrection.
What time did you get up this morning? Was it still dark? When I got up it was dark, and it made me think. Now, it’s not that I have a problem with darkness, exactly—my problem is more with mornings in general—but I got to thinking about what the darkness symbolized. The last time we were in this church was on Good Friday. As that service came to a close we read Christ’s final words from the cross, and the room got darker and darker, until finally all the lights were out and the absolute darkness became a visible reminder of a spiritual reality: Jesus Christ died for our sins.
But now we’re not sitting in darkness! The place is well lit, the mood is festive. We have light both in the building and in our hearts . . . why? Because while the darkness of Good Friday represents dying, the light of Easter morning reminds us that Christ has risen victorious from the dead! He is Risen!
This theme of darkness and dawn, of dying and rising, is played out in our lives all the time. For instance, just imagine the women going to the tomb on that first Easter morning. It’s been said that it’s always darkest before the dawn, and that is nowhere truer than in the hearts of the women that morning. They thought they had found their answers in Jesus, but now He was laying in a tomb. With His crucifixion they had lost all hope. No Messiah, no teacher . . . no savior. It’s dark outside, sure enough, but it’s darker in their souls.
But then as the sun begins to rise, with its first rays spilling over the hillside, they see a strange sight. The stone in front of the tomb appears to be rolled away! And as they get nearer and nearer, the light from the sun and in their souls increases more and more until it explodes forth with the announcement that the One for whom they are looking is no longer among the dead! The light of the resurrection of Jesus Christ has dispelled all darkness in their souls, and they once again know what it means to hope!
Do you know what I’m talking about? Have you been there, in the darkest part of the night, with no hope left and no options in sight, only to have the light of Jesus Christ break in and give light to your tired soul?
If you’ve been there in the darkness of death before, or even if you’re there right now, then this message is for you. In fact, the next six weeks will be filled with messages just for you. Because beginning today and for almost all of the season of Easter, we’re going to talk about dying and rising. Not just in a literal sense—as in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ—but in a figurative sense, as well.
We’ve all lived through period of darkness, when a dark, death-like shroud threatens to envelop us. We’ve been in relationships where the darkness of bad or hurtful interpersonal conflicts blots out the light. Do you want to know how God’s Word addresses that darkness and gives us real answers, real light? Then this series is for you. We’ve been in tough financial spots where a mountain of debt and poor choices have overshadowed the light of Jesus Christ in our lives. We’ll address those issues, too. Over the next few weeks we’ll look at how God’s Word addresses issues such as the darkness of self-centered living, how to bring light into the dark lives of others through acts of service, and we’ll even tackle the ultimate darkness of death itself.
Throughout the entire sermon series there’s just two things we need to know right now. 1) Darkness happens to all of us. We all go through periods of darkness in our lives. You are not alone in your darkness. And 2) God’s word addresses those periods of darkness. It brings the light of Christ into those dark times, allowing the dawn to break in and raise us up from the dead. God’s Word brings us light . . . and it brings us hope.
God wants to help us through those periods of darkness in our lives. That’s why we’re going to spend the next few weeks of this Easter season getting real practical. We’re going to look at these different areas of difficulty that we face living in the 21st century and watch what happens as God’s light breaks into those situations. During this sermon series you can expect to be challenged, and you can expect to be changed. You can expect the light of Christ and His resurrection to carry you into the light and out of the darkness. But before we get into all those different areas we first need to lay the groundwork. Today’s sermon is a foundational sermon to the whole series, so listen up closely. I’m going to show how Christ and His resurrection lays the groundwork for a fruitful life not only in eternity, but right here and now, as well. “Dying and Rising” becomes a paradigm for living out your life in Christ. It becomes a model for your daily life. Are you ready? Then let’s turn to God’s Word and hear what He has to say to us about the darkness and the dawn, about dying and rising.
Let’s begin with Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 15:19, “19 If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men.” Now that’s an odd thing to say, isn’t it? Can you imagine a street evangelist telling you that if your hope in Christ is only for this life, then you don’t really have any hope at all? I mean, as far as salesmanship goes, Paul doesn’t really have much of a sales pitch, here, does he?
But Paul’s not trying to be a salesman, he’s trying to tell us the truth. And the truth is that if Jesus Christ is only for this life then we must still fear death. If the mission of Jesus Christ was only to give us a triumphant life in the here and now, then our eternity is still in question.
Paul had a great life, one that many people wanted. In his letter to the Philippians he details how he had reached the very pinnacle that an outwardly religious life could obtain. He had power, he had influence. He was more religious than you or I or any of us put together, and in his religiosity he had every confidence that his life in the here and now would earn him solid rewards in eternity.
But religiosity—even one as hardcore as Paul’s—didn’t do anything to dispel the darkness that he lived in, except Paul didn’t know that. But when Christ’s light broke in, he realized the darkness that had surrounded him. His so-called “life”—the life that he thought was so great and wonderful—was a dead end.
Paul’s wonderful, religious life wasn’t getting him anywhere. In retrospect he would later call that life “rubbish.” He realized that all of his religious accomplishments and his wonderful “life” were nothing more than . . . well, in the Greek you get the idea that it was nothing more than the stuff you don’t want to step in out in the cow pasture. Life without Christ was crap . . . and then he realized that that even life with a dead Christ—a life without any hope of a resurrection—that was crap, as well. And he realized that if that was true he was to be pitied more than all men.
It’s not as though Christ’s death didn’t count for something; it did! It counted a lot! But Paul recognizes the fact that the darkness of Good Friday must be complemented by the dawn of Easter morning! Christ’s dying offers us the forgiveness for our sinful ways in this life, but His rising paves the way for our eternity! Without Christ’s resurrection, without both His dying and rising, then we still must fear death! We still must fear what will happen to us in eternity! But because Christ was crucified and is risen, we who trust in Him know that even though we will one day follow Him into death we will also be like Him in His resurrection! The power of Christ’s resurrection gives us hope for eternity because it gives us the certain hope of conquering even death.
In Christ you can have eternal life, a life that lives beyond the grave. But does that mean that His dying and rising has no value for you now? Certainly not! And the reason is this: because your eternity steers how you live currently. Christ’s dying and rising becomes a paradigm, a model for your daily living.
In the situations you face every day, you often need to have a “dying” moment. Christ was put to death for your sins, and so we follow Him by putting our sins to death on a daily basis through repentance and His forgiveness. There is a part of you that needs to die every day; the sinful, selfish part. The part that doesn’t live in the fullness of life that God wants you to live.
These dying moments . . . they occur whenever you feel crushed, unable to continue. When you don’t know where to turn anymore, or when you feel convicted. These are all God’s indicators that it’s time for you to do a little dying.
If you’ve had to live through a death, then you already know that watching another die is a painful experience. And yes . . . it’s the same when we put our sinful nature to death, as well. It’s often difficult . . . often painful to put a portion of ourselves to death. But these “dying moments” are absolutely necessary in order to rise again. And just like Christ, when you understand the new life that God will be able to bring about afterward your “death”, you will gladly endure the pain of these “dying moments” Because when we follow Christ, resurrection always follows a death.
Your “resurrection,” then, comes from God when you leave behind your sinful, broken ways and are raised up to follow Him in healthy, Godly living. Your daily dying means you are still held prisoner to sin, but your daily resurrection means that that you are freed from the bondage of sin and freed to a new life in Christ! You have a resurrection moment every time you realize that there is hope, that God still cares for you, that God still loves you and has a useful purpose for you.
Have you had enough of living a life that is unsatisfying? Have you had enough of living a life that’s stuck in a rut; that just spins its wheels and doesn’t go anywhere? Have you had enough of living a life that, frankly, just needs to die off? Then stick around for the next few weeks. Learn how Christ’s dying and rising can become a model for your life. Learn how to live in the power of His resurrection. Learn how to leave the darkness of sin and rise to new life in the dawn of Christ’s resurrection.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake
“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
At first glance, I want to say that this passage applies more perfectly to Jesus Christ than to any other. Was our Lord not perfect? Was He not truly righteous? Is it not true that Jesus Christ was crucified, died, and was buried on account of His righteousness? Was He not alone truly persecuted for the sake of righteousness?
No . . . no He was not. Jesus Christ was persecuted, was put to death, for sin. And yet it was not His sin that caused Him to suffer, but mine.
On any other day in the church year I can hold up the cross as a sign of God’s power. Look at the cross where Christ triumphed! Look at the cross where He laid His life down! See how much Christ loved me! Mighty is the power of the cross!
But today, on Good Friday, I am confronted with the awful reality that it was my shortcomings, my failures, my sin that killed the truest friend I will ever have. On any other day I can rail against the corrupt system of the Pharisees and the political machine of the Jewish ruling council that condemned an innocent man to die. But today . . . today I am reminded that my King, my Lord, my friend was crucified because I could not make the cut.
Surely he took up my infirmities and carried my sorrows, yet I considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for my transgressions, he was crushed for my iniquities. The Lord of Heaven and Earth hangs, broken and bleeding, from a cross that should have been mine . . . and I am ashamed to see what my sin has wrought.
It wasn’t Adam and Eve who rebelled against God’s command and ate the fruit . . . but me. It wasn’t the Israelites who bowed the knee to Baal and served false gods . . . but me. It was me who denied Him three times in the courtyard, and it was me who mocked and laughed as I drove the nails into His hands. It was not Christ who was guilty . . . but me.
Why then, did He have to suffer? Why? It should have been me hanging from that cross! It should have been me dying that shameful death! It should have been me!
But it wasn’t.
Christ suffered the wrath of God, He took my place on the cross. He who was holy and righteous became sin . . . for me. Why? Because He loved me. “How much do you love me?”, I asked. “This much”, He said . . . and He stretched out His arms and died.
This is the way of Christ. This is the way of the cross . . . to suffer when no wrong had been committed. To suffer for the sake of another. This is the way of Christ . . . and so it is the way of all who would follow Him. “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
Our Lord says in Matthew 16:24, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” We are Christ-followers. We are called to go where He goes. When Christ calls you to follow Him, He bids you come and die.
This is the meaning of this Beatitude! Where Christ first goes, so go His disciples. Where Christ leads, so go His followers. As He was persecuted for our sake, so we must also be persecuted for His. The way of Christ is the way of the cross, and so it is our way, as well.
Wouldn’t it be so much nicer if we could just believe what some of the TV preachers tell us? If we could believe the lie that if we are in Christ we will all be healthy and wealthy? Wouldn’t life be so much nicer if we could simply turn from the cross, turn from suffering and live what some call the “triumphant Christian life”, where we have all we want, where riches are our guarantee of God’s blessings, and where a life free from hardship is a guarantee of God’s presence among us?
But that is not the way of the cross. Scholar Jeff Gibbs points out this truth: that the final two Beatitudes prevent Jesus’ disciples—both then and now—from adopting any such triumphalistic nonsense. Where Christ reigns, we reign with Him . . . but Christ reigns not from a golden throne, but from a cross.
And so we suffer. Certainly we suffer in this world for our own wickedness and sinful actions, but that’s not what Jesus is talking about. There is no blessedness in being persecuted for our own evil, to be jailed for our own actions. But when we suffer the sake and name of Jesus Christ, we . . . are . . . blessed.
You are blessed when you are persecuted because of righteousness. You are blessed when people insult you because you hold the name of Jesus dear. You are blessed when people lie about you because they can find no fault with you otherwise. You are blessed when they create all sorts of evil and slander your name because they are offended by your humble and authentic walk with your Savior.
You are blessed because they are treating you the same way they treated Jesus Christ. 1 Peter 4:16, “However, if you suffer as a Christian, do not be ashamed, but praise God that you bear that name.” You bear the name of Christ, and you walk in the way of the cross.
This cross is the way of Christ. On this cross He was put to death. He was persecuted and suffered for the sake of another . . . you. This is His way. It is the way He has chosen. Because He loves you. Because there was no other way that He could redeem you from the judgment that your sins demanded. Because He would rather go through Hell than to go to Heaven without you. This cross . . . all for you.
This cross is His way. I won’t kid you: it is no small thing to follow Him in His way. The cross cost our Lord everything . . . so too it may cost us everything. It is no small thing to follow Him, to deny yourself, take up your cross, and be persecuted for the sake of His righteousness. It is no small thing to do that . . . but you are blessed when you do, for in so doing you are called a child of God.
This cross is the way of Christ. It is His way . . . it is our way.
At first glance, I want to say that this passage applies more perfectly to Jesus Christ than to any other. Was our Lord not perfect? Was He not truly righteous? Is it not true that Jesus Christ was crucified, died, and was buried on account of His righteousness? Was He not alone truly persecuted for the sake of righteousness?
No . . . no He was not. Jesus Christ was persecuted, was put to death, for sin. And yet it was not His sin that caused Him to suffer, but mine.
On any other day in the church year I can hold up the cross as a sign of God’s power. Look at the cross where Christ triumphed! Look at the cross where He laid His life down! See how much Christ loved me! Mighty is the power of the cross!
But today, on Good Friday, I am confronted with the awful reality that it was my shortcomings, my failures, my sin that killed the truest friend I will ever have. On any other day I can rail against the corrupt system of the Pharisees and the political machine of the Jewish ruling council that condemned an innocent man to die. But today . . . today I am reminded that my King, my Lord, my friend was crucified because I could not make the cut.
Surely he took up my infirmities and carried my sorrows, yet I considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for my transgressions, he was crushed for my iniquities. The Lord of Heaven and Earth hangs, broken and bleeding, from a cross that should have been mine . . . and I am ashamed to see what my sin has wrought.
It wasn’t Adam and Eve who rebelled against God’s command and ate the fruit . . . but me. It wasn’t the Israelites who bowed the knee to Baal and served false gods . . . but me. It was me who denied Him three times in the courtyard, and it was me who mocked and laughed as I drove the nails into His hands. It was not Christ who was guilty . . . but me.
Why then, did He have to suffer? Why? It should have been me hanging from that cross! It should have been me dying that shameful death! It should have been me!
But it wasn’t.
Christ suffered the wrath of God, He took my place on the cross. He who was holy and righteous became sin . . . for me. Why? Because He loved me. “How much do you love me?”, I asked. “This much”, He said . . . and He stretched out His arms and died.
This is the way of Christ. This is the way of the cross . . . to suffer when no wrong had been committed. To suffer for the sake of another. This is the way of Christ . . . and so it is the way of all who would follow Him. “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
Our Lord says in Matthew 16:24, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” We are Christ-followers. We are called to go where He goes. When Christ calls you to follow Him, He bids you come and die.
This is the meaning of this Beatitude! Where Christ first goes, so go His disciples. Where Christ leads, so go His followers. As He was persecuted for our sake, so we must also be persecuted for His. The way of Christ is the way of the cross, and so it is our way, as well.
Wouldn’t it be so much nicer if we could just believe what some of the TV preachers tell us? If we could believe the lie that if we are in Christ we will all be healthy and wealthy? Wouldn’t life be so much nicer if we could simply turn from the cross, turn from suffering and live what some call the “triumphant Christian life”, where we have all we want, where riches are our guarantee of God’s blessings, and where a life free from hardship is a guarantee of God’s presence among us?
But that is not the way of the cross. Scholar Jeff Gibbs points out this truth: that the final two Beatitudes prevent Jesus’ disciples—both then and now—from adopting any such triumphalistic nonsense. Where Christ reigns, we reign with Him . . . but Christ reigns not from a golden throne, but from a cross.
And so we suffer. Certainly we suffer in this world for our own wickedness and sinful actions, but that’s not what Jesus is talking about. There is no blessedness in being persecuted for our own evil, to be jailed for our own actions. But when we suffer the sake and name of Jesus Christ, we . . . are . . . blessed.
You are blessed when you are persecuted because of righteousness. You are blessed when people insult you because you hold the name of Jesus dear. You are blessed when people lie about you because they can find no fault with you otherwise. You are blessed when they create all sorts of evil and slander your name because they are offended by your humble and authentic walk with your Savior.
You are blessed because they are treating you the same way they treated Jesus Christ. 1 Peter 4:16, “However, if you suffer as a Christian, do not be ashamed, but praise God that you bear that name.” You bear the name of Christ, and you walk in the way of the cross.
This cross is the way of Christ. On this cross He was put to death. He was persecuted and suffered for the sake of another . . . you. This is His way. It is the way He has chosen. Because He loves you. Because there was no other way that He could redeem you from the judgment that your sins demanded. Because He would rather go through Hell than to go to Heaven without you. This cross . . . all for you.
This cross is His way. I won’t kid you: it is no small thing to follow Him in His way. The cross cost our Lord everything . . . so too it may cost us everything. It is no small thing to follow Him, to deny yourself, take up your cross, and be persecuted for the sake of His righteousness. It is no small thing to do that . . . but you are blessed when you do, for in so doing you are called a child of God.
This cross is the way of Christ. It is His way . . . it is our way.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Blessed are the Peacemakers
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.”
I’ve often had to be a peacemaker in my life. There are times when I’ve had to step in between two people who were shouting at each other and say, “Now that’s enough!” Two people that were toe to toe, faces red, veins sticking out, tempers running hot . . . and I had to step in and guide them into a peaceful resolution. It’s not always easy being a peacemaker, but sometimes it’s necessary.
But what is a peacemaker, according to Jesus? Do Jesus mean to tell us that someone who “keeps the peace” in a family by smoothing over those little differences is a blessed thing to be? Or does He have in mind our troops in Iraq who are striving to create and keep a delicate balance of peace in a war-torn region?
In order to understand what Jesus means by being “peacemakers” we can turn to Matthew chapter ten. There Jesus is sending out his twelve disciples on a journey, and He tells them in Matthew 10:11-13, “11 "Whatever town or village you enter, search for some worthy person there and stay at his house until you leave. 12 As you enter the home, give it your greeting. 13 If the home is deserving, let your peace rest on it; if it is not, let your peace return to you.”
“Let your peace rest upon that house” . . . that says something about what Jesus considers to be in the task of peacemaking. For the disciples were not just on any journey, but specifically a missionary journey. According to Matthew 10:7, they were to preach this message: “The kingdom of heaven is near.”
Jesus equates bringing peace to a household with proclaiming the message of the Gospel’s nearness. For Jesus, peace—true peace—is first and foremost a matter of having peace with God through Him. “Peacemakers” bring people peace with God through Jesus Christ.
Do you believe that? Better yet . . . does Jesus Christ bring real peace? You’ve probably seen the bumper sticker “Know (k-n-o-w) Jesus, know peace. No (n-o) Jesus, no peace.” And if you’ve seen one of those bumper stickers, odds are you’ve also seen someone driving that car who was screaming their head off trying to get the best parking spot at the mall. “Know Jesus, know peace”? You who know Jesus . . . are you always models of perfect peace? Or do you feel like you lack peace—that sort of tranquil feeling of inner serenity?
Does Jesus bring real peace?
Peace can be like reading a book. Life without Christ would be like me handing you a book and ripping out the final chapter . . . you’d read the whole thing KNOWING that you wouldn’t have all the answers when you were done . . . that would be very frustrating! But life with Christ is like handing you the final chapter, having you read it, and then giving you the rest of the book. No matter what happens in the middle of the book—bad, good, tragedy, beauty—you know how the story ends up. You can relax, you can have peace, because you know the end of the story. The peace of Christ is in knowing that no matter what happens in this life, your eternal destiny is secure in Him. That’s peace.
Peace can be like a map. Who can be peaceful when they are lost? It’s frightening, tense. But when you have a map, you can readily discern where you are, where you are going, and how to get there. Just having that map brings you peace, because you can find the way if you happen to get lost. And when you are lost, pulling out that map brings a lot of peace. Christ is like that, as well, because He shows us the way to the Father. When we get lost, He is there to steer us back on to the correct course. The peace of Christ is in knowing that we can never be lost with Him at our side, even if we do wander off the path for a while.
But more than that, Jesus Christ brings us peace not just by knowing the end, not just by knowing the way, but by reminding us that He knows the end and is carrying us toward it. Jesus Christ brings us peace, He gives us peace. In this Sacrament of bread and wine we have peace because we are reminded that God, in Christ, is favorably disposed towards us. We’re not His enemies, but His beloved children. The knowledge of who we ARE, right now, also brings us peace. That’s not like reading a book, it’s not like having a map . . . but it’s peace from knowing our identity in Jesus Christ.
The peace of Jesus Christ is a real peace, because it is a peace with God. It’s not something we always feel, but it’s something that we always have in Christ.
Peace-makers, then, are blessed because they bring the real, genuine peace of Jesus Christ to people wracked by the terrors of their conscience. Peacemakers are blessed because they bring the peace of Jesus Christ to people afflicted with guilt.
When your friends and family are poor in spirit, when they mourn, when they hunger and thirst for righteousness and they feel the impurities in their hearts, you have not only the duty, but the blessed privilege of being a peacemaker for them. You become God’s chosen instrument to bring the peace they long for into their lives.
Isaiah 52:7, “7 How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, "Your God reigns!"” How wonderful is the news that Jesus Christ can be Savior to those you know and love! How great . . . how good . . . is the peace that God brings when you say to a struggling sinner, “Jesus Christ forgives you all your sins.” Peacemaking is something you do when you offer Jesus Christ to someone who needs Him.
Tonight you will come and receive God’s peace through the wonder of the very body and blood of Jesus Christ being present in, with, and under the bread and the wine. You will receive God’s peace through this Sacrament and receive the forgiveness of your sins. Isaiah 53:5, “5 But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.”
And after you receive God’s peace in this Sacrament, Jesus Christ asks that you remember what it was once like to live as an enemy of God. Remember what it was like to have no peace because you did not know Jesus. See yourself in the lives of the people you know . . . the people you meet. And then become God’s blessed peacemaker for them.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God.”
I’ve often had to be a peacemaker in my life. There are times when I’ve had to step in between two people who were shouting at each other and say, “Now that’s enough!” Two people that were toe to toe, faces red, veins sticking out, tempers running hot . . . and I had to step in and guide them into a peaceful resolution. It’s not always easy being a peacemaker, but sometimes it’s necessary.
But what is a peacemaker, according to Jesus? Do Jesus mean to tell us that someone who “keeps the peace” in a family by smoothing over those little differences is a blessed thing to be? Or does He have in mind our troops in Iraq who are striving to create and keep a delicate balance of peace in a war-torn region?
In order to understand what Jesus means by being “peacemakers” we can turn to Matthew chapter ten. There Jesus is sending out his twelve disciples on a journey, and He tells them in Matthew 10:11-13, “11 "Whatever town or village you enter, search for some worthy person there and stay at his house until you leave. 12 As you enter the home, give it your greeting. 13 If the home is deserving, let your peace rest on it; if it is not, let your peace return to you.”
“Let your peace rest upon that house” . . . that says something about what Jesus considers to be in the task of peacemaking. For the disciples were not just on any journey, but specifically a missionary journey. According to Matthew 10:7, they were to preach this message: “The kingdom of heaven is near.”
Jesus equates bringing peace to a household with proclaiming the message of the Gospel’s nearness. For Jesus, peace—true peace—is first and foremost a matter of having peace with God through Him. “Peacemakers” bring people peace with God through Jesus Christ.
Do you believe that? Better yet . . . does Jesus Christ bring real peace? You’ve probably seen the bumper sticker “Know (k-n-o-w) Jesus, know peace. No (n-o) Jesus, no peace.” And if you’ve seen one of those bumper stickers, odds are you’ve also seen someone driving that car who was screaming their head off trying to get the best parking spot at the mall. “Know Jesus, know peace”? You who know Jesus . . . are you always models of perfect peace? Or do you feel like you lack peace—that sort of tranquil feeling of inner serenity?
Does Jesus bring real peace?
Peace can be like reading a book. Life without Christ would be like me handing you a book and ripping out the final chapter . . . you’d read the whole thing KNOWING that you wouldn’t have all the answers when you were done . . . that would be very frustrating! But life with Christ is like handing you the final chapter, having you read it, and then giving you the rest of the book. No matter what happens in the middle of the book—bad, good, tragedy, beauty—you know how the story ends up. You can relax, you can have peace, because you know the end of the story. The peace of Christ is in knowing that no matter what happens in this life, your eternal destiny is secure in Him. That’s peace.
Peace can be like a map. Who can be peaceful when they are lost? It’s frightening, tense. But when you have a map, you can readily discern where you are, where you are going, and how to get there. Just having that map brings you peace, because you can find the way if you happen to get lost. And when you are lost, pulling out that map brings a lot of peace. Christ is like that, as well, because He shows us the way to the Father. When we get lost, He is there to steer us back on to the correct course. The peace of Christ is in knowing that we can never be lost with Him at our side, even if we do wander off the path for a while.
But more than that, Jesus Christ brings us peace not just by knowing the end, not just by knowing the way, but by reminding us that He knows the end and is carrying us toward it. Jesus Christ brings us peace, He gives us peace. In this Sacrament of bread and wine we have peace because we are reminded that God, in Christ, is favorably disposed towards us. We’re not His enemies, but His beloved children. The knowledge of who we ARE, right now, also brings us peace. That’s not like reading a book, it’s not like having a map . . . but it’s peace from knowing our identity in Jesus Christ.
The peace of Jesus Christ is a real peace, because it is a peace with God. It’s not something we always feel, but it’s something that we always have in Christ.
Peace-makers, then, are blessed because they bring the real, genuine peace of Jesus Christ to people wracked by the terrors of their conscience. Peacemakers are blessed because they bring the peace of Jesus Christ to people afflicted with guilt.
When your friends and family are poor in spirit, when they mourn, when they hunger and thirst for righteousness and they feel the impurities in their hearts, you have not only the duty, but the blessed privilege of being a peacemaker for them. You become God’s chosen instrument to bring the peace they long for into their lives.
Isaiah 52:7, “7 How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, "Your God reigns!"” How wonderful is the news that Jesus Christ can be Savior to those you know and love! How great . . . how good . . . is the peace that God brings when you say to a struggling sinner, “Jesus Christ forgives you all your sins.” Peacemaking is something you do when you offer Jesus Christ to someone who needs Him.
Tonight you will come and receive God’s peace through the wonder of the very body and blood of Jesus Christ being present in, with, and under the bread and the wine. You will receive God’s peace through this Sacrament and receive the forgiveness of your sins. Isaiah 53:5, “5 But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.”
And after you receive God’s peace in this Sacrament, Jesus Christ asks that you remember what it was once like to live as an enemy of God. Remember what it was like to have no peace because you did not know Jesus. See yourself in the lives of the people you know . . . the people you meet. And then become God’s blessed peacemaker for them.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God.”
Sunday, April 01, 2007
The Sunday of the Passion
(The sermon for this Sunday was a reading of the full Passion narrative, as recorded in the Gospel of Luke. What follows below is the text from the New International Version.)
Luke 22:1 - 23:56
Luke 22:1 Now the Feast of Unleavened Bread, called the Passover, was approaching, 2 and the chief priests and the teachers of the law were looking for some way to get rid of Jesus, for they were afraid of the people. 3 Then Satan entered Judas, called Iscariot, one of the Twelve. 4 And Judas went to the chief priests and the officers of the temple guard and discussed with them how he might betray Jesus. 5 They were delighted and agreed to give him money. 6 He consented, and watched for an opportunity to hand Jesus over to them when no crowd was present. 7 Then came the day of Unleavened Bread on which the Passover lamb had to be sacrificed. 8 Jesus sent Peter and John, saying, "Go and make preparations for us to eat the Passover." 9 "Where do you want us to prepare for it?" they asked. 10 He replied, "As you enter the city, a man carrying a jar of water will meet you. Follow him to the house that he enters, 11 and say to the owner of the house, 'The Teacher asks: Where is the guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?' 12 He will show you a large upper room, all furnished. Make preparations there." 13 They left and found things just as Jesus had told them. So they prepared the Passover. 14 When the hour came, Jesus and his apostles reclined at the table. 15 And he said to them, "I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. 16 For I tell you, I will not eat it again until it finds fulfillment in the kingdom of God." 17 After taking the cup, he gave thanks and said, "Take this and divide it among you. 18 For I tell you I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes." 19 And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, "This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me." 20 In the same way, after the supper he took the cup, saying, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you. 21 But the hand of him who is going to betray me is with mine on the table. 22 The Son of Man will go as it has been decreed, but woe to that man who betrays him." 23 They began to question among themselves which of them it might be who would do this. 24 Also a dispute arose among them as to which of them was considered to be greatest. 25 Jesus said to them, "The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them; and those who exercise authority over them call themselves Benefactors. 26 But you are not to be like that. Instead, the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves. 27 For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one who is at the table? But I am among you as one who serves. 28 You are those who have stood by me in my trials. 29 And I confer on you a kingdom, just as my Father conferred one on me, 30 so that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom and sit on thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel. 31 "Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift you as wheat. 32 But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers." 33 But he replied, "Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death." 34 Jesus answered, "I tell you, Peter, before the rooster crows today, you will deny three times that you know me." 35 Then Jesus asked them, "When I sent you without purse, bag or sandals, did you lack anything?" "Nothing," they answered. 36 He said to them, "But now if you have a purse, take it, and also a bag; and if you don't have a sword, sell your cloak and buy one. 37 It is written: 'And he was numbered with the transgressors'; and I tell you that this must be fulfilled in me. Yes, what is written about me is reaching its fulfillment." 38 The disciples said, "See, Lord, here are two swords." "That is enough," he replied. 39 Jesus went out as usual to the Mount of Olives, and his disciples followed him. 40 On reaching the place, he said to them, "Pray that you will not fall into temptation." 41 He withdrew about a stone's throw beyond them, knelt down and prayed, 42 "Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done." 43 An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. 44 And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground. 45 When he rose from prayer and went back to the disciples, he found them asleep, exhausted from sorrow. 46 "Why are you sleeping?" he asked them. "Get up and pray so that you will not fall into temptation." 47 While he was still speaking a crowd came up, and the man who was called Judas, one of the Twelve, was leading them. He approached Jesus to kiss him, 48 but Jesus asked him, "Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?" 49 When Jesus' followers saw what was going to happen, they said, "Lord, should we strike with our swords?" 50 And one of them struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his right ear. 51 But Jesus answered, "No more of this!" And he touched the man's ear and healed him. 52 Then Jesus said to the chief priests, the officers of the temple guard, and the elders, who had come for him, "Am I leading a rebellion, that you have come with swords and clubs? 53 Every day I was with you in the temple courts, and you did not lay a hand on me. But this is your hour-- when darkness reigns." 54 Then seizing him, they led him away and took him into the house of the high priest. Peter followed at a distance. 55 But when they had kindled a fire in the middle of the courtyard and had sat down together, Peter sat down with them. 56 A servant girl saw him seated there in the firelight. She looked closely at him and said, "This man was with him." 57 But he denied it. "Woman, I don't know him," he said. 58 A little later someone else saw him and said, "You also are one of them." "Man, I am not!" Peter replied. 59 About an hour later another asserted, "Certainly this fellow was with him, for he is a Galilean." 60 Peter replied, "Man, I don't know what you're talking about!" Just as he was speaking, the rooster crowed. 61 The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: "Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times." 62 And he went outside and wept bitterly. 63 The men who were guarding Jesus began mocking and beating him. 64 They blindfolded him and demanded, "Prophesy! Who hit you?" 65 And they said many other insulting things to him. 66 At daybreak the council of the elders of the people, both the chief priests and teachers of the law, met together, and Jesus was led before them. 67 "If you are the Christ," they said, "tell us." Jesus answered, "If I tell you, you will not believe me, 68 and if I asked you, you would not answer. 69 But from now on, the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of the mighty God." 70 They all asked, "Are you then the Son of God?" He replied, "You are right in saying I am." 71 Then they said, "Why do we need any more testimony? We have heard it from his own lips." NIV Luke 23:1 Then the whole assembly rose and led him off to Pilate. 2 And they began to accuse him, saying, "We have found this man subverting our nation. He opposes payment of taxes to Caesar and claims to be Christ, a king." 3 So Pilate asked Jesus, "Are you the king of the Jews?" "Yes, it is as you say," Jesus replied. 4 Then Pilate announced to the chief priests and the crowd, "I find no basis for a charge against this man." 5 But they insisted, "He stirs up the people all over Judea by his teaching. He started in Galilee and has come all the way here." 6 On hearing this, Pilate asked if the man was a Galilean. 7 When he learned that Jesus was under Herod's jurisdiction, he sent him to Herod, who was also in Jerusalem at that time. 8 When Herod saw Jesus, he was greatly pleased, because for a long time he had been wanting to see him. From what he had heard about him, he hoped to see him perform some miracle. 9 He plied him with many questions, but Jesus gave him no answer. 10 The chief priests and the teachers of the law were standing there, vehemently accusing him. 11 Then Herod and his soldiers ridiculed and mocked him. Dressing him in an elegant robe, they sent him back to Pilate. 12 That day Herod and Pilate became friends-- before this they had been enemies. 13 Pilate called together the chief priests, the rulers and the people, 14 and said to them, "You brought me this man as one who was inciting the people to rebellion. I have examined him in your presence and have found no basis for your charges against him. 15 Neither has Herod, for he sent him back to us; as you can see, he has done nothing to deserve death. 16 Therefore, I will punish him and then release him." 17 18 With one voice they cried out, "Away with this man! Release Barabbas to us!" 19 (Barabbas had been thrown into prison for an insurrection in the city, and for murder.) 20 Wanting to release Jesus, Pilate appealed to them again. 21 But they kept shouting, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" 22 For the third time he spoke to them: "Why? What crime has this man committed? I have found in him no grounds for the death penalty. Therefore I will have him punished and then release him." 23 But with loud shouts they insistently demanded that he be crucified, and their shouts prevailed. 24 So Pilate decided to grant their demand. 25 He released the man who had been thrown into prison for insurrection and murder, the one they asked for, and surrendered Jesus to their will. 26 As they led him away, they seized Simon from Cyrene, who was on his way in from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus. 27 A large number of people followed him, including women who mourned and wailed for him. 28 Jesus turned and said to them, "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep for yourselves and for your children. 29 For the time will come when you will say, 'Blessed are the barren women, the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!' 30 Then "'they will say to the mountains, "Fall on us!" and to the hills, "Cover us!"' 31 For if men do these things when the tree is green, what will happen when it is dry?" 32 Two other men, both criminals, were also led out with him to be executed. 33 When they came to the place called the Skull, there they crucified him, along with the criminals-- one on his right, the other on his left. 34 Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." And they divided up his clothes by casting lots. 35 The people stood watching, and the rulers even sneered at him. They said, "He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Christ of God, the Chosen One." 36 The soldiers also came up and mocked him. They offered him wine vinegar 37 and said, "If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself." 38 There was a written notice above him, which read: THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS. 39 One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: "Aren't you the Christ? Save yourself and us!" 40 But the other criminal rebuked him. "Don't you fear God," he said, "since you are under the same sentence? 41 We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong." 42 Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." 43 Jesus answered him, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise." 44 It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, 45 for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. 46 Jesus called out with a loud voice, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." When he had said this, he breathed his last. 47 The centurion, seeing what had happened, praised God and said, "Surely this was a righteous man." 48 When all the people who had gathered to witness this sight saw what took place, they beat their breasts and went away. 49 But all those who knew him, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things. 50 Now there was a man named Joseph, a member of the Council, a good and upright man, 51 who had not consented to their decision and action. He came from the Judean town of Arimathea and he was waiting for the kingdom of God. 52 Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus' body. 53 Then he took it down, wrapped it in linen cloth and placed it in a tomb cut in the rock, one in which no one had yet been laid. 54 It was Preparation Day, and the Sabbath was about to begin. 55 The women who had come with Jesus from Galilee followed Joseph and saw the tomb and how his body was laid in it. 56 Then they went home and prepared spices and perfumes. But they rested on the Sabbath in obedience to the commandment.
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