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A Puzzle of Crossed Words Sermon by Sandra M. Thomas June 15, 2008, Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill Deuteronomy 11:18-28 Romans 5:1-11
Hot humid days carry me back to a summer at church camp, when at the age of ten we sat cross legged under dense shade trees with Bible, pencil and paper listening to our teacher spell out the mysteries of adult words from Romans. Learning the meaning of these 12-letter words was our task for the week: righteousness, justification, condemnation, sanctification, reconciliation, atonement. Whether we could spell them correctly or not, the goal was certain--that we leave camp with these concepts etched on our hearts and minds forever, as adult words that would carry us through life. The troubling thing about these words is that they are frightening in their complexity and they always lead back to the Cross. It’s not so surprising to learn that it’s all about the Cross; when you’re ten and at Baptist church camp, everything is about the cross. Most good and worthwhile things don’t come easily and that was true of my salvation. One of the cruel realities of our existence is that everything has a price and anything worthwhile is going to cost at lot. The crossed-up thing I learned about that summer at church camp was hidden within these 12 letter-words-- the message that the cost had been high--and someone else had paid it for me. I went home knowing that I didn’t understand. The message of these Crossed-words is difficult to comprehend. It’s hard to allow ourselves to be loved and accepted – just picked up and embraced forever – without any merit of our own to explain such a wonder. Paul has been working hard throughout four chapters in his letter to the Romans demolishing every claim to personal worth as a basis on which such love should flow our way. It’s not our natural beauty which draws God to us, not our race or cultural refinement, not our religious upbringing, not our careful measured niceness, not the extent of service to our neighbor. Nothing we have or are or can do wins us a spot in God’s family. Nothing is required, but acceptance of the love offered – and even that acceptance has little to do with us – for more than being invited we are found and claimed. Tex Evans, founder of the Appalachian Service Project in southwest Kentucky (where our young people are going later this summer to help repair homes) – tells a story of love flowing one way and reaching out to grasp its object. He says, about 70 years ago in an isolated tiny mountain village there was a young “hillbilly” woman expecting a child. She had made it know with great vigor throughout the whole community that she despised this baby’s father and had no intention of raising his child. What exactly that meant, no one was sure. But the days, then weeks, then months went on, with her anger and bitterness undiminished. One of the men in the neighborhood decided that when her time came, he was going to keep on eye on things from a distance. He was a kind-hearted man, worried about such a young angry woman. When the midwife was called he decided not to go to work that day, just in case there was something he needed to do. The midwife came and later left and the neighbor watched. As evening fell the young woman slipped out the back door with a bundle of newspapers under her arm, walked across the yard and dropped the newspapers between a falling-down old shed and a cement-block wall behind a big granite rock. The old neighbor man watched anxiously – and when the back door has closed he rushed over to the shed, reached between the wall and the fence, pulled up the bundle of papers, unwrapped them and found a little baby boy, breathing and seemingly in good shape. He hurried the baby boy to his house, where his good wife bathed the baby, found some milk to feed him and dressed him in suitable clothing. Some time later they got in touch with the mother, who assured them that she did not want the boy and they could have him. Nothing could have pleased the two of them more than this darling baby boy – so they named him Roger Rock. Things happen this way out in the hills of Appalachia. Years later Tex Evans was passing through that part of the world and he met Roger Rock – grown strong and full of energy. His father has died, his mother was gone also. He had his own family now – 8 or 9 children – a clan that would later grow to include 30 grandchildren. And Tex marveled at how our entire existence depends on such a narrow intersection of events. Here was an entire family, whose existence had hung by the slenderest of threads. What is the good neighbor had not paid attention or had not been concerned? What if he had been away that day? What is his wife had been unwilling to accept this boy into her life? What if they had not lived next door? It seems almost unbelievable that the lives of so many people, such splendid and strong people, had been snatched back to life by the slenderest of threads. Paul is saying that we too have been snatched back from the precipice of death by the slenderest of threads. Imagine what would have happened to Roger Rock if (as some church altar calls imply) all had depended on that baby crawling to the door and asking to come in? What if our belonging, our peace depended on our own ability to ask in the correct way, to behave perfectly in every situation? What if our place at the table depended on our race, our religion, our good manners or our ability to be winsome? What if our status as God’s own child had been cut off or cut short by God’s unwillingness to have us? What if the words written over our heads had been – rejected, condemned, refused – rather than justified, reconciled, and adopted forever? Those 12 letter words – which point toward the Cross – say that we are no longer full of shame, no longer cast away, no longer made to crawl toward God in abject humility for we are justification – we are fully pardoned offenders. God, commended his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. As we are lifted up by adoption – we lay hold of God’s arm and of his strength and so are at peace. There is friendship and loving kindness bestowed so richly that our lives are turned in the crossroad. Imagine Roger Rock – never having to ask “Can I live with you?” never having to ask “Am I good enough to be part of your family?” never having to negotiate terms of residence, never having to wonder if this would last. Roger Rock expected the exact situation that Paul claims brings peace. A relationship between us and God that requires no anxiety, no worry, no renegotiation, no re-evaluation….it’s an adoption that takes place once and forever. Paul practically shouts with joy – we are justified in the eyes of a righteous God! We have been made right in God’s eyes – pure, accepted, embraced, loved by God who is faithful to every promise, who never fails us. We are not condemned by the Law or by our own foolish actions – we are not condemned by God. We are free to live in God’s grace and enjoy God. We are invited to participate in God’s work in this world – sharing God’s love with others, building reconciliation among people. But even this good news leads back to the Cross. For those who live in this peace, also live in this world. As cherished as Roger Rock was – he had to live with a tired mother and stern father – a mess of sisters and brothers – in a neighborhood with playmates and bullies – in a community with those who were “in” and those who were “out” – in a nation divided by race and economics – in a world torn by hated and war. The peace that comes from adoption, changes us – but it does not change the world around us. So in the midst of 12 letter words about the cross there are more 12 letter words about life. For those who live in Christ, also experience life as Christ did. Paul writes, “Affliction produces endurance, and endurance, produces proven character, and proven character, brings hope.” Adversity – far from being a sign of God’s judgment, is exactly what one should expect when following Jesus, whose life led to the cross. Barack Obama talks about working class people clinging to religion out of economic frustration. As though those without economic need were also with spiritual need. Leon Wiseltier, writing in the New Republic, commented that “It would be wonderful one day to meet an American whose God has made his life harder, not easier.” Paul has it right – Obama has this one wrong – being in good relationship with God makes our lives harder – brings more demands – makes us more sensitive to pain and hurt – we experience a more Christ-like need to sacrifice self – Christians soon learn that clinging to the true God does not bring ease and comfort – clinging to God makes life harder. Being adopted by God, through Christ changes our lives and our outlook – creates a peace beyond measure – provides assurance of our eternal security – wraps us in the warm and protective embrace of a loving God – and throws us out into a world full of rough places. We will face affliction, we will be persecuted, we will be knocked down, roughed up, bruised and broken – but we will never be alone. Richard Foster, commenting on Romans 5 writes: Affliction can produce endurance. And it often does. Most of the good and important things in my life, I've had to work hard for. And I do think that character is shaped by endurance and by withstanding trial with dignity and with grace. After all, the civil rights movement in this country is built on the shoulders of people who have modeled such endurance. But I also know that there's something called fortuitous grace that is like being unexpectedly kissed. And it, too, is real. The capacity to be surprised by a God who loves lavishly even though we've done nothing to warrant it. Our study of Romans will bring us to an old religious language formed of 12 letter words – words large enough to open our eyes to the arms that have reached out to save us – words large enough to express the grace that carries us home – words large enough to describe the trials and uncertainties in life – words just puzzling and crossed enough to ever remind us of our Lord Jesus. |