Sin is Sin

These two guys walk in to a church, ok.  And the one guy is dressed in a sharp suit, smells good, looks good.  He’s got a short, neat haircut with a perfectly groomed beard.  On his left wrist, he’s got a Rolex the size of a pocket watch with a wedding band to match.  You can almost smell the money oozing off of him.  The other guy is obviously homeless.  As soon as he walks in you can tell it’s been awhile since he’s used deodorant.  If you were to get close, but you probably wouldn’t, you’d notice the outline of dog tags under his shirt.

Which one do you say hello to first?

Honestly, which one do you smile at?  Which one do you kindly ask how his weekend is going?  Which one do you try to get to know and be extra friendly with?  And then which one do you kindly ignore and hope they go away?    

I’ll tell you which one I choose.  As much as I hate to admit it, especially considering what James just wrote to us this morning, I spend more time with the guy in the suit and tie.  I naturally gravitate to him.  I want him to like me, I want him to like this church, and I want him to continue coming here.  I don’t think I’d make this decision consciously, but if I’m going to be truly and deeply honest with myself, of the two, he’s the one I go to.

And then I need to hear these words from James and I need to ask myself why?  Why am I avoiding the person that looks probably a lot like Jesus did during his ministry?  Why am I avoiding the very person that Jesus would have sought out on his travels?  Why am I gravitating towards the person that would likely have shunned Jesus’ message to “sell all that he has and give it to the poor?”  

And if I’m going to be honest, it’s because going to the richer person is easier.  It’s more comfortable.  It’s not going to result in me getting dirty.  It’s not going to result in me risking my social standing.  It’s what the world expects me to do, and I feel absolutely no qualms about doing it.  It’s more acceptable for me to ignore the homeless person and hope he goes away than it is for me to treat him like a person, welcome him into the building, offer him some money, and sit and talk to him for a while.  It’s more acceptable for me to ignore him than it is for me to love him.

And if I’m not loving him, if I’m not loving my neighbor, then what am I doing calling myself a Christian?  Isn’t that part of the greatest commandment?  That I love God with all my heart, soul, and mind AND love my neighbor as myself?  At best by ignoring him I am apathetic towards him, which feels so much worse than outright hating him.  At worst, by ignoring him, I am causing him harm.

Either way I’m breaking God’s commandments and living in sin.  I’m living into a broken relationship with this person that I’m not particularly interested in mending.  And if I’m doing that, I might as well have killed him - I’ve broken the relationship and refused to repair it or restore it.  That’s why James says, perhaps counterintuitively, that there are no gradients of sin.  Sin doesn’t operate like our legal system.  There are no 1st degree or 2nd degree offenses.  All sin is a break in a relationship.  And all sin that is unrepented of is considered to be murder - because you’ve killed that relationship with that person: their life is cut off from yours.  

Bear with me, I know this sounds counterintuitive.  Trust me, I was a philosophy major who loved his ethics classes.  I really want one evil to be lesser than another because it makes the world a better place.  I want to say well of course lying is better than killing - it just makes sense, according to this world.  But what if we looked at sin in a way that was different from our current legal system?  What if we looked at sin the way we look at cutting string?

Once you make a cut of thread, you can’t undo it.  No cut can be any less thorough than any other cut.  I can’t half-cut a piece of thread, once I start that whole thing is cut into two pieces.  Sin is kind of like that.  Each sin cuts the thread of our relationships.  Now sin can cut the relationship in lots of places.  But certain sins can’t cut more or less than other sins.  

Especially for God.  Because God doesn’t see sins as individual acts that we do, God sees all sin as something that breaks relationships between the Trinity and between humanity.  That’s part of why we word our confession the way that we do.  We’re not confessing to this sin, this sin, and this sin, but for all the complete breaks in relationships that we need God to help us mend.

It’s confusing, I know.  It doesn’t quite make sense, I know.  It’s not how the world views things, I know.  But bear with me.  Because it only gets weirder.  Remember how I said God’s weird?  Well, here’s a piece of that.  

So we’re a part of God’s world, and when we play by God’s rules, our sins aren’t any better or worse than say, Hitler’s sins.  Because, remember, God doesn’t qualify or quantify sin.  For God, it’s all a break.  This sounds bad, I know.  We like to think that we’re at least a little better than Hitler, but remember sin is sin.  It’s all equally bad.  But wait, there’s more.  Because God isn’t content to let us sit here in our sin.  Instead of judging us, God offers another way.  Instead of divinely punishing everybody, God chooses mercy.  To quote James, mercy triumphs over judgement.  And Lutherans say James doesn’t have good news!

God chooses to redeem us in our sin.  God chooses to offer us mercy and grace time and time again even when we make mistakes and love ourselves more than our neighbors.  And because God doesn’t qualify or quantify sin, that offer of love and mercy and grace goes to every single person on earth.  Even Hitler.  To each and every person, which means each and every person is worthy of being welcomed into the kingdom of God.  Every one.  Rich and poor.  Black and white.  Republican and Democrat.  Liberal and conservative.  Male and female.  These binaries aren’t exclusive, instead all are brought into the church.  

Which is to say, James isn’t saying kick the rich person out of the church.  Instead, he’s saying to welcome the poor person in.  The rich person gets treated well 24/7/365, so they can wait a little bit to be welcomed into conversation, instead start with the person who is mistreated and abused.  Let them know that they are welcome and that there is nothing they have done, are doing, or could do that would keep them out of the kingdom of God.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.  

Dear Kim Davis

Dear Kim Davis,

You don't know me.  We will probably never meet.  I won't be applying for a marriage license in your office, but that's only because I'm a resident of Fayette County and not yours.   And you probably won't read this, but I want to say it anyway.

I forgive you.  And I want to apologize to you.

First, I want to forgive you for what you're doing.  I see your protests and your refusal to issue marriage licenses to these LGBTQ couples and they cut to the very core of my being because in judging them, you were judging me.  In doing so, you have caused a break in our relationship - you have sinned against me and you don't even know me.  And if I'm going to take serious my call as a Christian, I'm going to forgive you.  I'm going to pray for you.  Because that's what Jesus teaches me to do.

And I must apologize to you.  I've thought hurtful things about you.  I've said things that make fun of you and your beliefs to my friends.  I wasn't acting like the Christian that I wanted to be.  I've thought that you were ignorant or bigoted.  And even though we haven't met, I've broken our relationship too.  So I must confess this to you and ask your forgiveness as well, knowing it may not ever come.

I pray that we can come to have a restored relationship.  I am going to try to see you as a person - as the Child of God that you are.  I hope that you are able to see me the same way.

In Christ's Love,
Jared

"What's Up?"

This sermon was preached to the people of 

Word of Hope Lutheran Church in Lexington Ky on

Sunday, June 28th, 2015.

The text for the sermon was Lamentations 3:22-33

I have to begin this sermon with a confession.  I unapologetically love 90s pop music and one-hit wonders.  It’s taken me a long time to make peace with this fact, but there it is.  There’s just something about that music that speaks to me.  Often times, these catchy and usually fun songs are able to lift me up when I’m feeling down.  And yet, at other times, I find myself drawn to a song over and over again but it’s trying to tell me something or speaking to my soul.  And over the past four weeks or so, I have found myself humming or singing the 90s one-hit wonder by 4 Non Blondes, “What’s Up?”

Don’t know the song because you don’t share my love of 90s music? Let me help. The chorus goes something like this:

“And so I wake in the morning and I step outside, I take a deep breath and I get real high, and I scream from the top of my lungs, What’s going on?”

I think the reason that I keep humming or singing out loud this chorus is because every time I turn on my computer and scroll through my Facebook news feed, every time I  glance at the headlines in the morning paper, and every time I turn on the news, I find myself asking “What’s going on?”  What is going on in the world today?

And so, perhaps I have another confession.  I am tired.  I am world-weary and perhaps even downright exhausted.  And while I’m tired because of a lot of things, physically, perhaps what I’m most tired, emotionally.  You see, I am tired of turning on the TV, tired of logging in to Facebook, signing on Twitter, of turning on the radio, or glancing at the headlines of the newspaper.  I am tired of these things most of all because they stir up in me more things that I am tired of.

I am tired of living into my privilege.  I’m tired of being guilty as part of  a system that I did not create.  I am tired of watching my black sister and brown brothers persecuted and oppressed.  I’m tired of people explaining away crimes of hate using words like “mental illness.”  I’m tired of the debates about the Confederate flag.  I’m tired of seeing violence against women.  I’m tired of listening to debates regarding marriages.  I’m tired of watching news stories about ISIS.  I’m tired of not knowing what to say, tired of wishing something could be said.  And at the end of the day, I think I’m tired of being tired.  

And in my state of being tired, I have become angry and irritable.  I’ve snapped at my roommate more than I should and I’ve lost patience with my dog when he wants to cuddle and sleep right next to me.  I am filled with anger that started with hurt and heartache and is fueled daily by my exhaustion.  And as I’ve said before, that one-hit wonder has been speaking to my soul, and there are times when I’m not singing and I’m actually screaming “Hey! What’s going on?”  

And in these moments, I think that what I’m really doing is singing, well screaming, to God.  I demand to know from God what’s going on? Where are you, God in all of this?  Why isn’t something being done to prevent the hurt and the pain and the tragedy and the anger?

This song has helped direct my anger and frustration away from the people that I care about and can actually hurt and lets me feel angry at God.  Because a wise friend once told me that God can take it.  However, being angry at God, which I think happens from time to time for many of us, does not lend itself to any of the lessons this morning, unfortunately.  I did not want to preach on God’s faithfulness and mercy and grace.  So that wise friend reminded me gently (or perhaps not so gently) to go back and read the rest of the book of Lamentations.

This book is filled with an author’s anger and grief and frustration that is directed at God for failing to act, for failing to prevent the destruction of Jerusalem. This book is much more in tune with the feelings of many Christians in America today, I think.  This grief and frustration that our world isn’t perfect and the feeling of helplessness to change the system that has caused these imperfections.  

In fact, these few verses are the only ones in the entire book that profess God’s faithfulness and the idea that God will keep God’s promises.  It would feel a little out of place, if we didn’t know that God tends to work in surprising and unsuspecting ways.  And so, because that’s how God works, I think that it’s here we need to spend time this morning.  It is this author’s declaration of God’s enduring steadfastness and faithfulness; the ideas of God’s never ending love and refusal to let suffering go on forever.  There, there is where America meets God in the Bible this morning, and every morning.  We hear, “great is your faithfulness” even though we feel that God has abandoned us.  

Oh what a wonderful message to hear.  Oh what a terribly hard message to take to heart.  It is so easy to say that I will trust in the Lord, but when you’re angry and hurt it’s a very different thing to actually trust in the Lord.  We want to believe that God doesn’t cause pain or suffering and does not enjoy it when we feel hurt or betrayed.  That God suffers when we suffer.  But, there’s a voice inside us in the midst of pain and tragedy that wants to say, “you did this, you made this happen, you brought this upon yourself because you aren’t good enough, now God is punishing you.”  So sometimes we believe that instead because that voice is loud enough and speaks long enough and we’re just tired enough that it makes sense.  It’s easier to believe that God is punishing us than acknowledge that bad things happen because the world is broken and is in the process of being healed.  So we need a reminder now and then, especially when we’re tired that God is faithful and just, God pours out love and mercy now and forever, and that God has not abandoned us.

But not even God expects us to be able to lay out our griefs and sorrows and then “get over it” just like that.  Lamentations goes on for two more chapters where the author continues to lay our grievances before God.  And then it ends.  There’s no resolution.  There’s no divine action.  There’s no immediate healing.  This author just lays out griefs, frustrations, and fears, while acknowledging that God is not going to leave things the way they are, and then it’s over.  Not because the grief and the pain has gone away, but because the words have been carried to God and there is a certain trust that things are in God’s hands now.

This text serves as a reminder that it’s ok to get angry with God, God can take it.   We too, have permission to give voice to our fears, our frustrations, our grief and our pain.  We can tell God that we’re hurting because of systemic racism, we’re hurting because of how men view women, how America views other nations, and how other nations look at America.  We can tell God that we feel angry when our loved ones die too soon.  We are allowed to take all of these things to God.  And we can know that God suffers our pain with us.  God knows our grief.  God feels angry with us in our anger.

But, as these few verses from Lamentations say to us today, we cannot stay stuck in our self-pity or anger.  We cannot allow ourselves to continue to vent and complain with no purpose or end.  It is one thing to lift up our weariness and frustrations and griefs to God, but it is another to make that all we say or think about.  Lamentations gives us permission to voice these things, yes, but the author does not give us permission to stay stuck within these feelings of helplessness or despair.  The author takes a break in the middle of his rant to remind himself and us about who we are talking to.  The author does not allow himself to stay in this place of despair, instead, the author reminds himself and us of the hope that we have in God.  That in the midst of all the darkness we feel, God is still present with us.

Yet, in all of these very real griefs and frustrations,  we still believe that God’s faithfulness is great  God continues to love us and forgive us, even as we struggle to forgive ourselves..  God continues to teach us what justice is, even as we look out into our broken world and see injustice upon injustice.  God continues to listen to our pain and suffering; God even sees us in our exhaustion and God promises that one day it will be no more.  God will continue to strengthen us and empower us to make small changes to fight unjust systems.  

Because that list of things that I’m tired about?  There are things that I can do to help God in the process of bringing justice to the world.  There are things that we together as the church can do to take a stand against oppression and evil in this world.  We have been freed through the waters of baptism to stop living into this oppressive system and live into God’s system of justice that is mercy and grace.   God, through us, is there to help us as we try to stop telling and laughing at racist jokes.  God will help us as we try to stop objectifying women and men and start seeing them as sisters and brothers.  God will help us as we struggle to find the words to speak; saying yes to second chances and no to the evil that is very real in this world.  And, I believe that God will give us energy when we are tired.  

For God is faithful.  Even as we struggle to believe it, we gather as one church to remind each other of God’s presence as we see God’s presence all around us here today.  And we will gather at the altar to join in the bread and wine that becomes Christ’s body and blood connecting us not just to one another but to all of those who have come before, are present across the world now, and will come after us.  And for that, even we who are tired, can give thanks to God, even as we lament.  Amen.  

Ain't it a Shame

Sermon from Sunday March 23, 2014.  This sermon was delivered to the people of the Lutheran Church of the Nativity.  The text for the sermon is John 18:12-27.

I think it’s all too easy for us to give Peter a hard time in this text.  We listen to these women and men question his association with Jesus, and hear Peter’s denial of it, and we think…”really, you’re going to just straight up deny that you traveled with him? Really?”  And then it’s easy for us to harshly judge Peter.  To assume that if we were in his position we would stand up for Jesus right there in the courtyard.  That even if we knew that it meant that we too would be arrested and possibly killed, we would stand with Jesus to the end.  

And yet, it’s not that easy after all.  Perhaps there is more going on here in Peter’s relationship with these people that we can’t see on the surface.  Perhaps we need to dig a little deeper this morning.

Perhaps Peter isn’t at fault for his responses to these questions.  Maybe the world has “conspired against him” so to speak, so that Peter is being forced to answer negatively.  It’s not even that peer pressure we are all so familiar with, but it is something close.

If we take a minute and think back to our childhoods for a minute - for some of that won’t take as long as others...and we think about a time one of our parents tries to get us to do something.  I can think of a couple times when I would try and leave the kitchen before I had cleared my place at the table.  Instead of being asked to pick up my plate and silverware, I would sometimes get a question.  A question that goes, and perhaps many of you have heard it asked or asked it yourselves, “You’re not going to leave those there, are you?”  Or maybe with a messy room, “you’re not going to leave those Legos out are you?”

Well..of course I was going to leave my dishes on the table.  And of course I was going to leave the Legos out.  But the question is asked in such a way that I have no other answer than the one I was given in the question.  “No mom, I’ll clear my place.”  “Of course not dad, I’ll pick them up right away.”  Even though in my heart of hearts, I wanted to answer differently, I was trapped by the question and didn’t have a choice.

And I think that’s what happens to Peter this morning.  The phrasing of these questions is done in such a way that Peter can only answer in the negative.  “You aren’t one of *them* are you?”  Peter has been trapped.  He feels like he doesn’t have a choice.  He has to go along with the crowd’s opinion.  He is trapped by a language that should allow him to freely answer.  Even if he wanted to affirm his status as Jesus’ disciple, and I think he just might have wanted to do that very thing, he was forced into denying something very real about his identity.  

How many times do these similar things happen to us in our own lives?  In my experience, they happen more often than we like to think.  Such as when you’re in a conversation with friends about Clemson’s chances in the upcoming game, and all of a sudden they are looking at you to make sure that you root for Clemson and heaven help you if you say any other ACC team, or worse USC.  So, despite your own loyalty to Duke, you say, “Of course.  Go Tigers!”  

Or perhaps someone is talking about universal healthcare.  And they’ve torn everything about the new policies up one side and down the other.  And all of a sudden you’re being asked if you agree with their arguments and think the whole idea is terrible.  And you’re trapped into agreeing even though you think healthcare is actually a pretty good thing for everyone to have.

And when we feel the need to tell these “little white lies” that deny our identity we see one more glimpse of the brokenness of the world in sin.  We feel deeply that we are disconnected from one another.  We feel that we have to hide bits and pieces of ourselves.  And we feel like we aren’t going to be accepted by the world for being anything but normal - and nevermind that there’s no such thing as normal.

And yet, even the sin that permeates so much of how we talk, act, and live in our relationships with one another, that’s not what makes the problem worse.  Instead it’s the feeling of shame that comes with sin that causes the most damage.  The sense that we now have to hide our sins and brokenness - even if it’s a small one such as lying about cheering for Clemson.  We feel that we now have to be alone in our sins.  We can’t tell anyone that we struggle with sins - and nevermind that everyone struggles with some sins.

We want to sit alone and be left by ourselves - much like those who feel depressed feel.  For one of the major symptoms for many types of depression is feeling isolated and alone.  Feeling disconnected and feeling like you have to hide these feelings in shame.  And for many depressed women and men, it’s only when they realize that they are not alone in their journeys that they can begin to seek healing and therapy.  It’s only by having someone share their own struggles with loneliness and shame that a healing connection can be made.

The same goes with sin.  Unless someone comes to us and shows us that we do not have to be defined by our sin and the accompanying sense of shame we feel like we must struggle alone.  We feel like we have to stay pressured and bullied by a system that forces us to make hard choices.  And that even though we might have been trapped by the system we still made the mistake and we must feel bad about that.  

And because of that very one Peter ends up denying, we do not have to sit alone in our sin and we do have a chance to be healed.  For Peter this healing comes after Easter Sunday when “spoiler alert” Jesus is raised from the dead.  Peter is sitting on a beach having breakfast with Jesus when Jesus asks Peter if he loves him - no tricks, no traps, just a simple question about love.  And Peter replies that of course he does.  And this happens three times.  Just like Peter’s three denials.  Three moments of forgiveness and healing and connection to overcome the guilt and shame Peter probably felt after the night of Jesus’ arrest.  

And then for us, these moments of grace happen at the beginning of our worship services every Sunday.  We stand together and look at our baptismal font and say the same words recognizing that we have sinned and are broken, and need the one who works through the waters of baptism to heal us and make us whole.  

And even though there’s grace in the absolution that is proclaimed after our confession, I think we sometimes overlook the other moment of grace in our confession.  Confession together isn’t this time to feel ashamed because of the brokenness we feel inside, but rather it’s an opportunity to celebrate because we can see that everyone feels broken in some part of their lives too.  That we aren’t alone in this.  We don’t have to live in depression or sadness.  We don’t need to feel ashamed.  We have a whole community that has been joined together through the waters of baptism and we can begin to see each other as brothers and sisters - and see each other as only brothers and sisters can.  That way we look at our siblings, see their flaws and imperfections, and then love them anyways.  

And then we hear together that God comes to us, and forgives the sin, takes away the shame, and helps us the next time we are faced with impossible choices.  And then continues to forgive us when we feel like we need to hide and live in shame.  And God has promised to do this forever and ever.  Amen.  

New Years and New Lives

I'm not a huge fan of New Year's resolutions.

Never have been.  Probably never will be.

I can't stand the mentality that comes from "failing" to meet your resolutions, which inevitably happens.  There's about two months where we're all really good.  We eat better, we laugh more, we go to the gym, we save well, we cook more, we spend more time with family, we volunteer, we stick to our resolution.

Then something happens.

There's a crisis.  Or not.  For whatever reason, we decide that it's ok to go out to dinner, just this once.  Or maybe, I don't have to go to the gym today cause I'm not feeling well.  Or whatever.  Our "just this once" or "not today" soon becomes the new habit.  One day turns into two, turns into months.  Then we wake up one morning and realize it's Christmas and we haven't made progress on our resolution since April.

And so, after "failing" for another year, we decide we're just going to put it off, because New Year's is just around the corner.  We can take care of it then.

Instead, we just create this cycle where we improve ourselves for a few months, and then backslide into our old habits.  Instead of actually growing and changing, we create a self-perpetuating and self-affirming cycle that helps us stay the same.

The New Year's resolution problem, for me, is that once we slip up, that's it for the whole year.  I think, "Man, I didn't go to the gym yesterday, so I don't have to go today, maybe I'll go tomorrow."  Or "Well, I already ruined the not eating out thing, so why not grab dinner with some friends tonight too?"  There's no grace.  There's no second chance for keeping the resolution.  When you fail, you fail.  So you better just start again next year.

Yet, the good news that is proclaimed time and time again in churches (and probably synagogues and mosques and temples, etc) is a message of grace upon grace.  That we believe in and are transformed by a living God of second chances and redemption.  That, no matter how badly we mess up, God is still there reaching out to us, pulling us up, and setting us on the road again, telling us, "Ok, you can be better this time."  And then we might make another step forward, and we fall again.

And because it's easier, we take our New Year's resolution mentality.  "Well, I sinned again.  Guess I'll just wait til God shows up at the end to fix me and make me perfect.  Which means I can do what I want til then."  We ignore the fact that every single time we fall, God is there to pick us back up.

Every single time.

Martin Luther wrote in the Small Catechism that "every day we die to sin and are raised to new life in Christ through our baptisms."

Every day we die to sin.
Every day we are raised to new life.
Every day, God reaches to pick us up, set us back on the road, and encourages us to be better.

Perhaps, it's not just every day, but every minute, every second, every time we mess up, or make a mistake or sin.  Every time we fall, God is right there to reach down to us and pick us up.  Always providing a second chance.  Always providing grace upon grace.

However, it's not cheap grace.  Nor is it easy to receive.  For us to fully appreciate and understand just how frequently God reaches down to us, we must be honest with ourselves.  And that's hard.

We have to be honest with the fact that we made a mistake.  We have to confess the fact we fell short.  We have to be able to look around us, and see that we have, in fact, fallen.  We have to be able to admit that we need help picking ourselves back up.

That's a mentality that's pretty foreign to the Western culture we live in.  We are proud.  We want to do for ourselves.

Do we need help?  Absolutely.
Will we admit it?  Never.

Despite our stubbornness and pride, God still reaches down to us.  God still offers to pick us up and help us.  We just have to be willing to swallow that pride and let God help us.  We have to be willing to die to the sin that keeps us down, so that God can raise us up.

We have to die to sin, not every lifetime.
Not every year.
Not every day.
But every moment.
And every moment we can be raised to a newness of life.   We can be raised to restored relationships with God and with one another.  We can experience second chances.  We can know grace.  We can know peace and wholeness.

So, if I had to have a New Year's resolution, and I might, it would be to allow myself to experience grace.  To be honest with my own shortcomings and allow God to raise me up through them.  To admit that I need help and let God help me, especially through those around me.  To allow myself to die to sin and be raised to new life. To let each setback be another opportunity to be a leap forward instead of an opportunity to continue to go backwards.

So maybe it's not really a New Year's resolution, but a New Life resolution.  Or maybe, a New Day resolution or New Moment resolution.  It's not a measurable goal; it's a journey.

And it's a journey that I'm not walking on alone.