Monday, September 30, 2013

Lord's Day 19



Sermon for Sunday, September 29, 2013
Heidelberg 450 Series:  Lord’s Day 19
First Presbyterian Church Lake Crystal, Minnesota
Rev. Randal K. Lubbers, Pastor & Teacher
“The Comfort in Christ’s Judgment”
Isaiah 40:1-11, 25-31
Titus 2:11-14
Matthew 25:31-46



From the very first Q&A of the Heidelberg, the focus has been not so much on what we believe in our heads but, rather, on the many ways those things we understand and have come to believe about God affect our lives for the better—in other words, how the gospel transforms us.

As we’ve walked week by week through the middle section of the Apostles’ Creed, at each step along the way, the Heidelberg speaks about the benefits of Christ’s work and life beginning even with his conception and birth and finally today the phrase, “he (Christ) is seated at the right hand of the Father, from whence he comes to judge the living and the dead.”

So how does the judgment benefit us? Can we truly speak of the “comforts” of the judgment as the Heidelberg Catechism does?

Our images of judgment are often influenced more by cultural images of heaven and hell than biblical images. Judgment Day is when the big book is opened, that book where everything you’ve ever done is written down, if not in minute detail, then at least (“for sure”) a list of every sin. God is Santa Claus who sees you when you’re sleeping, who knows if you’ve been bad or good, and who’s making a list and checking it twice to see who has been naughty or nice. Or, the judgment will be a big movie screen which shows—for all to see—each and every secret sin of our lives—“O, the embarrassment and shame of it all.” Or, the judgment is a drum roll and the great suspense as St. Peter checks his big book of reservations for heaven, and we find out if we’re on the A-List or not. There was a cartoon about this awhile back, shortly after Steve Jobs died. Steve Jobs, the founder of Apple, sees St. Peter (at the Pearly Gates) scanning the huge book and says, “There’s an app for that.”

These homey images of judgment, as well as images rooted in vengeance or violence, are skewed and misinformed at least in part because our understanding of sin is skewed. First, we think of sin primarily in the plural. Even when the prayer of confession says “Forgive our Sin” we tend to add an ‘S’ to the word because we think of sin as a big number—like a lifetime error statistic in baseball. Yes, this is a partial meaning of sin. We talked about this in confirmation class this last week. To adapt the exercise from class, suppose you were to keep track of each and every sin in your life—every unkind thought; every hurtful action; each desire to own something owned by someone else and every fleeting adoration or worship of something or someone other than God. Suppose you made a mark for every time you rolled your eyes in dismissal of another person’s idea… And a mark each time you spoke judgmentally or rudely about a sister or brother in Christ to others in the church family… Suppose we kept track of every harsh word… And made a notation in a diary anytime you thought, “Oh, if only everyone was just as faithful and kind—or just as creative and wise—as… as I am.”

And even beyond that, an even bigger mark for each good deed performed while thinking, “This is a pretty GREAT thing I’m doing for God. I’m really scoring some points here.”  And at the end of each day you totaled up every mark:  Would there be five or ten or twenty each day? For sake of argument, even if it were only just ten times a day times 365 days in a year times your age… Oh, my!

For me (and I’m younger than many of you) it comes to over 200,000 sins. And double it because we usually underestimate when it comes to this sort of thing.  So if “the Judgment” is a video showing every sin, it’s going to take (pardon the pun)… an eternity! And it doesn’t sound very comforting at all. Not to me, at least. Do those images of judgment sound comforting to you?

Our understanding of sin is goofed up—we don’t understand it to be the life threatening disease that it is, we don’t see it as a great chasm between us and God—who longs more than anything to be in relationship with us. And we don’t grasp that we can’t “make it up” with extra-credit work.  Because our understanding of our “sins and misery” is too small, our understanding of salvation and grace is too small.  If we think we can “make it up” or fix the problem on our own, then the radical words of forgiveness and grace won’t ring true—not in our hearts. Do we really grasp what Jesus was saying, when he assured Nicodemus, “God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to rescue the world through him” (John 3:17). The catechism says the final judgment is a comfort! We might even say there is “joy in the judgment.”
 
The Heidelberg Catechism says, 
“I confidently await the very judge

                                                               who has already offered himself
                                                               to the judgment of God in my place
                                                              and removed the whole curse from me” (HC)

“Comfort, comfort ye my people” is what we read earlier in Isaiah. The “penalty has been paid” and Israel “…has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins!” The judgment is a comfort because our Savior is the judge and the judge is the one who saves.  


I’ve often heard that a good preacher should “comfort the afflicted.” And, at the same time, “afflict the comfortable.” So if the story from Matthew—about feeding the hungry and visiting the sick and the way Jesus relates that to eternal judgment—if that story makes you uncomfortable and even afflicted in your soul, then for you I have words of comfort. Even the smallest, sincere act of kindness in Jesus’ name is celebrated by God. But if that story prompts you to immediately explain how it doesn’t apply to you—because you’ve been saved “by grace alone” (but those are just words) or because you’re not as bad as so-and-so. Then to you—the comfortable and self-confident—I think Jesus told that story to afflict you.

   
In “The Green Mile,” Paul, the chief guard on death row, shares his affliction of heart, confiding in his wife just days before the execution of John Coffey for a crime Paul and the other guards know he did not commit.  Yet there’s nothing he can do. He tells his wife, “I’ve done some horrible things in my life, but never before have I actually feared for my very soul….” She says, go talk to him. Ask John Coffey what he wants you to do.
And so Paul talks to John Coffey, who is not only “not guilty” but innocent—and a man who heals people. “Should I set you free, let you see how far you can get?” asks Paul. “Why would you do something like that?” says John Coffey. “Well, when I stand before God, what am I to say to him when he asks why I killed one of his great miracles? What will I say?”
And John Coffey reassures him, “You tell God it was a kindness you done.”
And even later as the guards prepare to take him to the electric chair, John Coffey is the one reassuring them, “It’ll be alright boys. This here’s the hard part. But it’ll be alright.”

In the same way, about the final judgment, there’s one simple word I have for you, too.

“It’s gonna be alright.”

It’s gonna be alright because “on that day we will see our Savior face to face, sacrificed Lamb and triumphant King, just and gracious” (OWBG, 57). And he’s promised to set all things right, to “gather the lambs in his arms and carry them in his bosom” (Isaiah 40:11). So “we face that day without fear, for the Judge is our Savior.”  And living in joy, living confidently, anticipating his coming, we offer him our daily lives—not as ways to make things OK between us and God (Jesus has done that!) and not to earn anything—but we offer our lives as a response of deep, deep gratitude. In joy and thanksgiving we can offer “our acts of kindness, our loyalty, and our love—knowing that (Jesus) will weave even our sins and sorrows into his sovereign purpose” (OWBG, 57)—all things must work together for our salvation

And so we pray, “Come, Lord Jesus, come.” 

Knowing, deep inside, yes, yes, yes…. It’s gonna be alright.


Amen.



Affirmation of Faith:  The Apostles’ Creed (with excerpt from Lord’s Day 19 of the Heidelberg Catechism)

            I believe in God, the Father almighty,
                          creator of heaven and earth.
                I believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only Son, our Lord,
                          who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,          
                          born of the Virgin Mary,
                          suffered under Pontius Pilate,
                          was crucified, died, and was buried;
                          he descended to the dead.    
                          On the third day he rose again;
                          he ascended into heaven,
                          he is seated at the right hand of the Father,
                          and he will come to judge the living and the dead.
                I believe in the Holy Spirit,
                          the holy catholic church,
                          the communion of saints,
                          the forgiveness of sins,
                          the resurrection of the body,
                          and the life everlasting. 

Leader:   How does Christ’s return
                “to judge the living and the dead”
                comfort you?  
All:         In all distress and persecution, with uplifted head,
                          I confidently await the very judge
                                   who has already offered himself
                                   to the judgment of God in my place
                                   and removed the whole curse from me. 
                          Christ will cast all his enemies and mine
                                    into everlasting condemnation,
                          but will take me and all his chosen ones
                                   to himself into the joy and glory of heaven.
                Alleluia! Amen.


Sunday, August 11, 2013

Adopted by God (Lord's Day 13)



Sermon for Sunday, August 11, 2013
Heidelberg 450 Series:  Lord’s Day 13
First Presbyterian Church Lake Crystal, Minnesota
Rev. Randal K. Lubbers, Pastor & Teacher
 “Adopted by God”

Mary Jo was too young to remember this… but she told the story to my friend Jeanne… and Jeanne retold the story some years later... and, today, I tell it to you...

Mary Jo was just a baby when her parents saw her for the first time. Her mom and dad chose her—yes, CHOSE her!—out of several infants at a home for unwed mothers. They picked her because she was the one child actively looking around the room—not just lying passively. Two years later they adopted a son. And when Mary Jo was around 11, her mother, at 38, became pregnant quite unexpectedly and gave birth to Hope, a daughter.

All along, Mary Jo’s Dad and Mom made her feel just as loved as Hope, affirming her, saying, “We didn’t wait for you for nine months, Mary Jo, we waited for you for three years!” and “Remember, Mary Jo, we actually went out and sought you.” Even before Hope’s birth, Mary Jo had latched onto the Bible verses about adoption.

We heard one of those passages earlier this morning…
Before the foundation of the world [God] chose us to become, in Christ, his holy and blameless children living within his constant care. He planned, in his purpose of love, that we should be adopted as his own children through Jesus Christ… (Ephesians 1:4-5).

Yes, Jesus is the only natural Son of God, but we are his brothers and sisters. We are adopted children of God; adopted by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ.

“Good news!” Right?

Yes, good news. And yet...

Yet the theology of adoption can be problematic for adopted children, as a colleague of mine, Rev. Paul Janssen, reminded me recently. The idea of adoption is very comforting “…for those of us who are in our blood families… [But] for many who are adopted (literally), the voice they hear, deep down, before the good news of ‘adoption’ is the bad news of ‘rejection.’”  Some adoptees struggle all their lives with depression, suicide, anxiety… 

In the book The Spirit of Adoption, Jeanne Stevenson-Moessner says that for many of the adult adoptees she’s talked with, “…Adoption was like an amputation. The wound of relinquishment left them with a sense of emptiness, abandonment, and alienation. Knowing that they’d been chosen by adopting parents revived the knowledge of being ‘unchosen’ by birth parents.”
There is real grief here, and there are no easy answers for the feeling of loss, the sense of being abandoned—even in the midst of loving adoptive parents. It isn’t enough to know God as an adoptive parent; and not enough to know God as birthing parent—a metaphor flowing out of the root word for compassion (that is, the womb-love of God) and flowing out of the many OT references to God as conceiving, suffering labor pains, giving birth, nursing… and protecting like a mother eagle or even like a mother bear. And yet, for many adoptees, acknowledging and entering into their own pain of relinquishment allowed them to break new theological ground.

Jeanne Stevenson Moessner describes it this way:
They entered into God’s woundedness and brought Christ into the adoption circle of faith. Their point of entry, I believe, was the aloneness of God… [the aloneness of Christ] in Gethsemane, the cry of abandonment on the cross… 

Think of it this way:  God so loved the world that he gave—that is, he “let go of”—his natural son Jesus who gave up his own life to make us his sisters and brothers. On the cross, Jesus cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.” Those words became redemptive for many adoptees dealing with feelings of being “unchosen.”

The apostle Paul wrote,  
…When the set time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those under the law, that we might receive adoption to sonship.  Because you are his sons [and daughters], God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, “Abba, Father.”
In Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. You belong to Christ! You are heirs according to the promise.  (See Galatians 3:26—4:6).

When Mary Jo was very young she had a dream about Jesus.
I was very small, and I saw Jesus in my dream and yet somehow my mother—my adoptive mother—was at the edge of the dream. And a voice said, “We wanted you and love you more and not less… We picked you out… You are our special child.”
Yes, I knew what it meant (to be an adopted child of God), I knew it meant two things:  It meant that I was not exactly the same as God because an adopted child knows by instinct that they are not exactly the same as their parents. By the same token, all of those stories about my parents waiting for me and choosing me got absorbed into my understanding of the fact that God wanted me. It really did form my soul.  

Do you remember the story of the prodigal son? Remember how the father rushes to meet his returning son even before he can drop to his knees in humility and repentance? Even before he can mutter his apologies…?

To paraphrase Craig Barnes who relates how Irenaeus, an early church theologian, explained our adoption:  The Spirit and the Son are the two arms of the Father who runs like a crazy man down the road to embrace his returning child. In those arms we find ourselves restored.  We aren’t a part of this new Triune Family because we finally figured out it was time to return to God. No, we’re safely in the arms of the Father because he reached out to us with the Spirit and the Son. We belong because God so loved… 
 
And perhaps, even now, like Mary Jo, you can hear the Voice:
Remember, my child, I didn’t wait for you for nine months, 
I chose you before the foundation of the world. 
Remember, I actually went out and sought you.
I picked you out.
I wanted you.
You are my special child.
You belong. 

Amen.




Postscript (Charge and Benediction) (After singing "Jesus Loves Me"):




Go in peace;
Live as adopted children of God.

But what does this mean—really? 
To be an adopted child of God, what’s it all about? 
To what can we compare it?

Well, it's like The Princess Diaries. Yes, it’s like being a young girl named Mia and “living your whole life thinking you're one person only to discover” that your grandmother is Julie Andrews--er, I mean, Queen Clarisse Rinaldi, and then, as Mia says, "...And then in five minutes, you find out you're a princess. Just in case I wasn't enough of a freak already, let's add a tiara."

You see, to be an adopted child of God is not MERELY about becoming a "joint heir" with Jesus. It means discovering that you are living in a new family, "called" to CHANGE, called to live out who you are. 

Kicking and screaming at first, Mia finally discovers this, telling her grandmother--basically--"Gosh, I guess it's NOT all about me!" Actually, Mia says it this way: "And then I realized how many stupid times a day I used the word 'I'. In fact, probably all I ever do is think about myself. And how lame is that when there's, like, 7 billion other people out there on the planet...."

Adoption means that we are called to LIVE like royalty, called to value the values of the kingdom, called to embrace a new way of living because we’re in a new family...

But more about all this next week...

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit, be with you today, tomorrow, and all your days. Alleluia! Amen.



References:

Barnes, M. Craig. Body & Soul: Reclaiming the Heidelberg Catechism. Faith Alive Christian Resources, 2012.

Stevenson-Moessner, Jeanne. The Spirit of Adoption: At Home in God's Family. Westminster John Knox Press, 2003.

"The Princess Diaries"  http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0247638/quotes