Veiled Gospel
Last Sunday after Epiphany
2nd Corinthians 4:3-6
Mom called me Friday morning, just to say hello. She asked what I had on the agenda for Friday, and I said, “I’m writing a sermon today.” She said that she hoped that it would be as good as last week’s, and I told her that I didn’t expect that it would be. I said, “It’s tough to watch a bush burn” – metaphor in my mind for my experience of sermon transmission last week.
I would like to tell you that God drops a sermon in my lap every week. We actually had a man leave our church several years ago because I couldn’t honestly say that God “tells me” what I am to tell you each week. I told him what I have told you – about one out of ten messages feels to me like “a word from God.” Last week’s message was more like 1 out of 400. That had never happened to me before.
Most weeks, I encounter the text early in the week, and then let it simmer a bit before I start to put fingers to keyboard. My sermons end up being something quite personal – a reflection of what I see God saying through the scriptures to me, and what I think God might be saying to us. I don’t always get there. You know that, and I know that.
With the Old Testament and Gospel passages closely situated in the background, the epistle for today makes an interesting point. What we know of the gospel is filtered information – it is most filtered through our own mental abilities, our experiences, our language – we receive the gospel in written form and through the medium of preaching, and then we filter it through our own cognitive capacities. We don’t know everything about the good news – we couldn’t possibly know everything. When we encounter extreme holy experiences such as the transfiguration experiences mentioned in 2nd Kings and the 9th chapter of Mark, we are understandably shaken and awestruck. Burning bushes, transfigurations, miracles – these are things that are out of the ordinary, and are mostly beyond our comprehension and our comfort levels. These kinds of experiences are mysterious – in a way that turns upside down our grasp of the holy. These kinds of experiences scare us even while they attract us.
I’m always a little stumped by Jesus when He tells His disciples to keep quiet about some experience. I never quite know what to do with that command. What is His motivation for saying, “Don’t tell anyone?” Is it because He doesn’t want to “throw pearls before swine,” or is it that He doesn’t think the world is quite ready for this information, or is it because He’s not ready to deal with the world’s reaction to this information? Or could it simply be because He knows that we don’t understand what has happened, and He doesn’t want His disciples “messing things up” in an effort to babble something of the experience they’ve had?
We’ve spent the last eight weeks talking about the light that has come to our world, and I can tell you what I feel – I feel that I’m nearly as much in the dark as I’ve ever been. There’s so very much I don’t know – there’s so very much I can’t explain – I find that I resonate with Paul’s words in v.3 when he says, “even if our gospel is veiled.” I have a sense about me that all that I want to say to others about the good news – the gospel – all that I want to say pales in comparison to what there actually is that should be said, or that could be said. Whatever I have to say doesn’t hold a candle to the majestic truth and reality of the glory of God – displayed now for us in the person of Christ. I am a man of words, but in this situation, my words come up short – definitely a problem for most preachers.
So, what can we say about the gospel? Our epistle gives three or four things that are rather simple.
The gospel is important. Paul says, “And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing.” Dunn translation – “We’re not sure how much we don’t know, nor do we know exactly how we best reveal what we do know – but we do know this – the gospel is important, if for no other reason than that people who do not have the gospel are perishing. The gospel is at least that important.”
When I made my stop at the bookstore a couple of weeks ago, I bought several books. One of the titles is “Universalism: The Current Debate.” You know what universalism espouses, don’t you? It is the theological theory or position that suggests that God will ultimately redeem every person that God has created. It is the position that states that the love of God will ultimately trump the righteousness of God, and that every person - whether they know of the gospel or not – will be saved by the love of God expressed in the redemptive sacrifice of Jesus. I’ll be honest with you – I’d like to believe that theory. It would be so much easier on my mind, and would make my work as a preacher/pastor so very much easier. I’d like to believe that, but I have to take a little more conservative option. I’d like to believe like my friend Robert Capon that God will save every person, except for those who, kicking and screaming, say with their fists in God’s face, “I’ll have nothing to do with the love of God.” I’d like to be able to find myself in that camp. But my examination of the scriptures won’t allow me to embrace that opinion. There are too many scriptures that suggest, insist, require that we hear the gospel, embrace the gospel, and then go ahead to try to live out the gospel, for me to accept that premise. I’d like to – but I can’t. The gospel is important, because there are people who are perishing because they haven’t heard it. The gospel is at least that important.
Paul offers a second thought about what we might say about the gospel. People aren’t hearing the gospel. Paul actually uses the metaphor of a “veiled gospel” and “blindness.” It is Paul’s contention that, if the gospel is truly veiled to those who are perishing, that it is veiled, at least in part, because the multiplicity of gods in this present world blinds them, preventing them from being able to see “the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ.”
You and I could understand and believe that premise quite easily. There are a lot of gods of this world which vie for our attention. The god of power appeals to our expressions of dominance and supremacy. The god of money appeals to our appetites and our need for possession. The god of relationship appeals to our insecurities and our egos as it espouses our popularities. The god of entertainment appeals to our satisfactions and our leisure. The god of success appeals to our desires and our importance. Those are gods we are all familiar with. There are other gods – more subtle gods. The god of service appeals to our need to help others, even when we enable their helplessness. The god of contribution appeals to our need to assert influence. The god of leadership appeals to our need to dictate and direct. We could go on for quite a while – there are so many gods with whom we are familiar.
Paul calls a spade a spade. The gods of this age have blinded those who are perishing. It is not a new truth. It is not a truth which supposes that we possess a position of pre-eminence over those who cannot see the gospel. It is a truth that is sometimes harsh, and often difficult – but you and I realize that far too much of the time, it is a reality. People are perishing. They are blinded by the gods of this present age, and they are perishing.
I really don’t like a possible implication of the next verse. It would be possible to extend Paul’s thought from the previous verse to this verse – the idea that people are blinded by the gods of this present age, and that, in some cases, those of us who spread the gospel might be responsible for some of the blindness, as well. That idea scares me – partially because there is some merit to the idea.
I won’t dwell on this long, but I commented to the folks at Prayer Meeting this last Wednesday that we are guilty of perverting the gospel – usually by embellishing one particular point from biblical teachings. Have you listened to those who preach a “health and wealth” gospel – the idea that if you just mail God enough money, that God will bless you? Have you listened to those who preach a gospel of “working harder” for the kingdom, as though hard work is even a part of the “gospel” message? Have you heard those who blend so much sociology with their theology that you begin to lose track of which is which? Have you watched the preachers who preach so much about healing that you’d think that’s all there is to the gospel? What about those who gloss over the personal salvation experience and move straight to subsequent signs of the Spirit like speaking in tongues? Haven’t we seen myriads of perversions of the gospel? Don’t our own hypocrisies give rise to our fears that we are helping the gods of this present age when it comes to the task of blinding those who cannot see?
I like the way this lection concludes. Paul says in vv. 5 and 6, “for we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus’ sake. For it is the God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” Thank you, Paul. That puts things clearly. We are not preaching a gospel about our own capabilities, or our own ingenuities, or our own wisdom. We are preaching a gospel that majors on the one truth of the gospel; that Jesus died for our sins, that Jesus redeemed us, and that Jesus restores us by His love and grace. We don’t preach ourselves – we preach Jesus. God has shone in our hearts, and any knowledge we have of Christ is because of the light that God has placed there.
Furthermore, any light that we are able to reveal to others is on account of what God has already done for us. We can show Jesus to others because God has shown Jesus to us. But we are not the light – Jesus is the light. All we know is how to flip the switch.
Our gospel is so very simple. It is not veiled to us. Not any longer. We have seen the light of Christ. As we share our gospel with others, their veil is lifted, and the light of Jesus shines in their hearts, just as it has in ours.
The gospel is important. Paul says, “And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing.” Dunn translation – “We’re not sure how much we don’t know, nor do we know exactly how we best reveal what we do know – but we do know this – the gospel is important, if for no other reason than that people who do not have the gospel are perishing. The gospel is at least that important.”
When I made my stop at the bookstore a couple of weeks ago, I bought several books. One of the titles is “Universalism: The Current Debate.” You know what universalism espouses, don’t you? It is the theological theory or position that suggests that God will ultimately redeem every person that God has created. It is the position that states that the love of God will ultimately trump the righteousness of God, and that every person - whether they know of the gospel or not – will be saved by the love of God expressed in the redemptive sacrifice of Jesus. I’ll be honest with you – I’d like to believe that theory. It would be so much easier on my mind, and would make my work as a preacher/pastor so very much easier. I’d like to believe that, but I have to take a little more conservative option. I’d like to believe like my friend Robert Capon that God will save every person, except for those who, kicking and screaming, say with their fists in God’s face, “I’ll have nothing to do with the love of God.” I’d like to be able to find myself in that camp. But my examination of the scriptures won’t allow me to embrace that opinion. There are too many scriptures that suggest, insist, require that we hear the gospel, embrace the gospel, and then go ahead to try to live out the gospel, for me to accept that premise. I’d like to – but I can’t. The gospel is important, because there are people who are perishing because they haven’t heard it. The gospel is at least that important.
Paul offers a second thought about what we might say about the gospel. People aren’t hearing the gospel. Paul actually uses the metaphor of a “veiled gospel” and “blindness.” It is Paul’s contention that, if the gospel is truly veiled to those who are perishing, that it is veiled, at least in part, because the multiplicity of gods in this present world blinds them, preventing them from being able to see “the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ.”
You and I could understand and believe that premise quite easily. There are a lot of gods of this world which vie for our attention. The god of power appeals to our expressions of dominance and supremacy. The god of money appeals to our appetites and our need for possession. The god of relationship appeals to our insecurities and our egos as it espouses our popularities. The god of entertainment appeals to our satisfactions and our leisure. The god of success appeals to our desires and our importance. Those are gods we are all familiar with. There are other gods – more subtle gods. The god of service appeals to our need to help others, even when we enable their helplessness. The god of contribution appeals to our need to assert influence. The god of leadership appeals to our need to dictate and direct. We could go on for quite a while – there are so many gods with whom we are familiar.
Paul calls a spade a spade. The gods of this age have blinded those who are perishing. It is not a new truth. It is not a truth which supposes that we possess a position of pre-eminence over those who cannot see the gospel. It is a truth that is sometimes harsh, and often difficult – but you and I realize that far too much of the time, it is a reality. People are perishing. They are blinded by the gods of this present age, and they are perishing.
I really don’t like a possible implication of the next verse. It would be possible to extend Paul’s thought from the previous verse to this verse – the idea that people are blinded by the gods of this present age, and that, in some cases, those of us who spread the gospel might be responsible for some of the blindness, as well. That idea scares me – partially because there is some merit to the idea.
I won’t dwell on this long, but I commented to the folks at Prayer Meeting this last Wednesday that we are guilty of perverting the gospel – usually by embellishing one particular point from biblical teachings. Have you listened to those who preach a “health and wealth” gospel – the idea that if you just mail God enough money, that God will bless you? Have you listened to those who preach a gospel of “working harder” for the kingdom, as though hard work is even a part of the “gospel” message? Have you heard those who blend so much sociology with their theology that you begin to lose track of which is which? Have you watched the preachers who preach so much about healing that you’d think that’s all there is to the gospel? What about those who gloss over the personal salvation experience and move straight to subsequent signs of the Spirit like speaking in tongues? Haven’t we seen myriads of perversions of the gospel? Don’t our own hypocrisies give rise to our fears that we are helping the gods of this present age when it comes to the task of blinding those who cannot see?
I like the way this lection concludes. Paul says in vv. 5 and 6, “for we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus’ sake. For it is the God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” Thank you, Paul. That puts things clearly. We are not preaching a gospel about our own capabilities, or our own ingenuities, or our own wisdom. We are preaching a gospel that majors on the one truth of the gospel; that Jesus died for our sins, that Jesus redeemed us, and that Jesus restores us by His love and grace. We don’t preach ourselves – we preach Jesus. God has shone in our hearts, and any knowledge we have of Christ is because of the light that God has placed there.
Furthermore, any light that we are able to reveal to others is on account of what God has already done for us. We can show Jesus to others because God has shown Jesus to us. But we are not the light – Jesus is the light. All we know is how to flip the switch.
Our gospel is so very simple. It is not veiled to us. Not any longer. We have seen the light of Christ. As we share our gospel with others, their veil is lifted, and the light of Jesus shines in their hearts, just as it has in ours.
Richard W. Dunn, PhD.
posted by the sojourning pilgrim | 3:37 PM
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