Salvation’s Caveat

Fourth Sunday in Lent

John 3:14-21; Numbers 21:4-9; Ephesians 2:1-10


Author Robert Capon suggests that writing a sermon is a lot like making a good soup – you prepare a number of ingredients, mix them together, and then let them simmer for a while. We have wonderful scriptures for today, and even more wonderful images set before us. They all point to a marvelous bit of theological truth.

To begin, I want to bring in a couple of thoughts from the last two sermons you’ve listened to from this pulpit. Two weeks ago, I spent a little time in the Ephesians text you just heard. We camped on vv. 8-9 – “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not of your own doing; it is the gift of God – not the result of works, so that no one may boast.” I love that verse of scripture. It is so full of hope for me. My main point at that place in the sermon was that the faith with which we respond to God is a gift – that we receive from God enough faith to respond with our own measures of faith – but what we initially receive is not of ourselves – it is from God.

I love it when you listen to the sermons, and I love it even more when what you hear stirs thoughts and ideas and questions in your minds. After the sermon, one of our members came to me to say that they were contemplating the ramifications of that idea. In their deliberations, the idea that God gave us the faith with which we accept God borders on Calvinistic theology which suggests that we are saved apart from our own will – that God does the saving for us, that nothing of our own initiative would merit our salvation. I understand what they were saying and suggesting. I want to back up and spell out what I think that verse says to us about our salvation in a little more detail.

In seminary, we were introduced to a wide variety of textbooks. One of my favorite texts was a book by W.T. Conner entitled “Christian Doctrine.” It is a systematic theology text – by that, I mean that the design of the book is to start with nothing and from there, explain God, man, sin, salvation, Christ, the church, obedience – basically all the things that you and I talk about when we’re here at church. Where do you think his text would start? If you were to try to explain God and all things related to faith, where would you begin? I have read a lot of systematic theology textbooks. A good portion of them begin with the idea of revelation – the idea that God would reveal Godself to us. Some of the textbooks morph from that concept to the more literal revelation that we find in the scripture – some of them actually say, “when you want to know something about God, you must first start with the scriptures.” While I don’t discount that we move pretty fast in that direction – you know how I love for us to read scripture around here – I will say in my way of seeing things, to start off with “the scriptures” leaves a pretty big hole before you even get started.

I like the way W.T. Conner starts his systematic theological discussion. His first chapter is entitled, “Man’s capacity for God.” He makes the point that man has a capacity to understand and know God. Simply, he says these things in his text – (1) man is more than a physical organism, and (2) man is a spiritual personality. In that second part of the definition, Conner says we have capacities that are beyond the rest of the animal kingdom, namely that we possess (1) intelligence – i.e., the power to reason, reflect, investigate, arrive at conclusions, and to guide his life by those thoughts and conclusions; (2) the power to will; (3) the power of rational affection; and (4) a moral nature. He concludes that these differences reflect mankind’s capacity for God. In other words, mankind can know God in a way that other parts of the creation cannot know God because God planted within mankind this capacity to know God.

Going back to the Ephesians text – I think this is what Paul is suggesting in v. 8 – that we have the capacity to express faith in God because God made us that way – that God planted this capacity in us – this idea that we can respond to God in ways that other created beings cannot respond to God. We respond to God out of our God given ability to faith (in the Greek, faith is really a verb).

Now, I want to add something to the mix from Dr. Presnall Wood’s sermon from last week. I’m not quoting him verbatim here, but I think I get pretty close to what he was saying. I haven’t gone back to look at the tape from last week. Dr. Wood was speaking about religious freedom, and he said something to the effect that while it is one thing to possess religious freedom, it is another thing to act upon that freedom. I think he said it like this: “You have freedom of religion. Then express that freedom of religion.” Or something like that.

I would take that idea, and translate the concept to our discussion surrounding faith this morning. It is one thing that God has placed within us the capacity to respond to God in faith. It is an entirely different thing when we actually act upon that capacity.

Two ingredients in the soup so far. Man’s capacity, and our responsibility to act upon that capacity. Let me add a third ingredient. For this one, I open up my Webster’s dictionary, and turn to the word “caveat.” It’s a part of the sermon title, so I better explain what I mean when I use that word. Webster, in his secondary definition, says, “an explanation to prevent misinterpretation.” Well, that’s pretty much the way that I try to use the word. I’ll say something like, “I can do that for you, with this one caveat,” and then I go on to explain the single hesitation or possibility which might prevent me from being able to fulfill my intention.

Let’s start pulling all the texts together, shall we. In Numbers, the people of the exodus are being inundated by venomous serpents. They cry out to Moses to help them, and Moses prays to God. God replies – “Make an image of a poisonous serpent, and set it on a pole; and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live.” Not quite what they asked for – the people wanted God to take away the snakes, and instead, God let the snakes remain, and provided a means of physical salvation anytime a snake bit anyone. All they had to do was look at the “snake-on-a-stick” and they would be healed. I would take it a step further than the writer of Numbers – all they had to do was exercise their God-given capacity to express enough faith that looking at a “snake-on-a-stick” would heal them, and they would be healed. If I had been on the Exodus, I’d probably have had to see a few people die and a few people look at the snake and live before I would have acted one way or the other.

I asked Mary Haney to read both the Old Testament and the Gospel this morning because they are reflective of each other. In John 3, the part she didn’t read was the visit from Nicodemus, one of the good Pharisees, who is confused by the concept of a righteousness apart from our own actions, and asks the rather pointed question, “How can these things be?” To which Jesus gives us this lengthy answer that Mary read for us a while ago. He makes the analogy that Jesus is just like that “snake-on-a-stick” that Moses hoisted up in the air back in Sinai – that we must look to Jesus for our salvation, rather than to our own works. Then He speaks for the first time our world’s best news – “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” I want you to make note that Jesus said this some time before He ever let them nail Him to that cross!!

Well, there you have it. Most of America and a good part of the entire world has heard that verse quoted to them. Believe. That’s what you have to do. But I would add salvation’s caveat – it’s more like Presnall Wood said last week. It’s one thing to have faith – it’s another thing to exercise faith. It’s not a passive kind of thing – faith is considerably more active than that. Did you listen to the rest of what Jesus had to say? Did you hear Him when he said, “Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God.” Condemnation is not a future possibility – it is a present reality. The snakes are already crawling around our feet – we are all snake-bitten – already.

And did you hear Jesus when He said “And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil.” I wouldn’t have to go very long to make this point – just read the newspaper, or listen to the Nightly News. People have a capacity for good, and people have a capacity for faith, but people certainly have a tremendous capacity to do the wrong thing – to themselves as well as to others.

So, here we come to the point of the sermon. In Ephesians, Paul tells the story in future tense. He tells the story of our salvation after it has already occurred. “You were dead,” he says, “through the trespasses and sins in which you once lived.” “All of us once lived among them in the passions of our flesh, following the desires of flesh and senses, and we were by nature children of wrath, like everyone else.” That’s the way it was, before Christ came into our lives. It wasn’t good – things were a mess, and we were a mess.

But then, Paul says, “But God.” “But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loves us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ – by grace you have been saved.” By grace. By God’s good grace, we have been saved!! We look to God. We look to Jesus. We look at our “snake-on-a-stick” and we trust that His sacrifice will be sufficient to accomplish our salvation, now and in the future. We trust Him.

And that’s really the essence of the story. There was a popular game show some years back called “Who Do You Trust?” That’s really the question for all of humanity. Who do you trust? I’ll tell you something – most of the people who are walking around out there practice a selective theology – they trust themselves, and not much beyond that. They even trust themselves when it comes to taking care of their relationship with God. They think that the good things that they do will make them alright with God. They think that trying to live up to the Golden Rule will make them okay. They think that trying to live up to the Ten Commandments will be all they need. They think that living “moral” lives will be their ticket into heaven. Then there’s the crowd that practices an accumulative theology. Way, way too many of them think that if they can just do more good things than bad things, that they’ll be okay. There’s an entirely different crowd that practices a comparative theology – they’re like the two guys who are out in the woods and they come across an angry grizzly bear, and one of the guys drops to his knees and starts tying his shoes. The other guy says, “You can’t outrun that bear,” and the fellow on his knees says, “I know – all I need to do is outrun you.” They think that if they just do better than the guy next door, that God will be more pleased with them. Then there’s a whole lot of folks out there who practice an ignorant theology – they don’t know what they think, but they do think that in the end God will be like a big old Grandfather, and pick them all up and set them on His knee, and say, “Aw, you weren’t really all that bad. It doesn’t matter if you trust Jesus or not!”

Salvation’s caveat. You must believe. Salvation comes to those who exercise that God given capacity to believe. It’s one thing to have a capacity to faith. It’s an entirely different thing to act on that faith – to exercise that faith – to trust the only person who can do – no, who has already done - something about your sin.

That’s where I got Friday afternoon. As I read the words to myself later that evening, I thought it sounded too much like an old fashioned “fire and brimstone” sermon to suit my tastes. You may ask, “Preacher, where’s that hope you talked about in the opening paragraph? The whole thing sounds like a bad news scenario to me – there’s nothing we can do to stop sinning, and there’s nothing we ourselves can do to pay for our sin. You actually mean that we have to trust someone else for our salvation?”

Cornerstone, this is where the analogy of church – especially this church – comes into play for me. I would hate to try to work out my salvation on my own. I value your help too much. As I encounter questions about my salvation, you are there to help. Most of us have that testimony. The church helps us do that thing that is impossible for us to do by ourselves. It’s that way with our faith – Jesus does the part we can’t do. Jesus gives us the faith with which to accept His help – His sacrifice. There is something we can do. We can believe.

Do you remember M*A*S*H. I loved Father Mulcahy. He was such a gentle soul – an honest man. There are several scenes during the series where there is some crisis, and Father Mulcahy asks what he can do to help. The answer is always the same – “We need you to pray, Father.” In one of those situations, he replies, “That’s all I ever get to do?”

We may feel a little that way when it comes to our salvation. All we get to do is believe. We can’t save ourselves. We can’t do away with our sin. All we can really do is trust Jesus. All we can really do is believe. You’d think that would be the easy part. I don’t think so. Over the years, I have experienced several seasons in my life where I questioned my faith. Others have the same experience. Faith is not easy. Belief is not easy.

I’ll tell you how difficult it is – “belief” is so different – so unusual – I try to use other words to describe my faith when I refer to other entities – family, country, church, my abilities, principles for which I strive. I try to reserve the word “believe” for the one thing that I truly believe – that Jesus died for me, that Jesus saved me, and that my faith in that truth is the thing that ultimately redeems me.

Exercise your capacity to believe in Jesus this day. It’s one thing to have a capacity for faith – it’s an entirely different thing to exercise that capacity. Trust Jesus today. Believe in Jesus. You must believe in Jesus.

Richard W. Dunn, Ph.D.

Geriatric Humor

Second Sunday in Lent

Romans 4:13-25

It’s been just a little more than a year since our friends and former church members, Greg and Linda Ray, sent us word that two distinctive events were impending on their lives – Greg was about to retire after 20 years in the Air Force, and he and Linda were expecting a baby. They had done a good job already about getting past the initial shock of their “geriatric pregnancy,” and were already referring to themselves as “Abe” and “Sarah.” They sent us a wonderful picture of their three children this Christmas. Things seem to be working out for them just fine.

Since I borrowed Will Willimon’s title for today, I don’t suppose it would be much worse to borrow his opening paragraph – the one that suggests the theme for the week’s lections. He says, “We never get too old, too set in our ways, too fixed in our expectations, that God cannot or will not surprise us, shock us, or cause us to laugh. Laughter is often the natural human response to those moments when we realize that the future is not exclusively in our hands, that God is resourceful, busy, and creative.”[i]

I suppose Willimon is experientially accurate with his assessment. We work toward control in our lives. We expect that normalcy and peace will eventually and ultimately follow us all the days of our lives. Then, life slips up on us – we receive news that shakes the foundations of our lives – we lose a job, or we discover we have disease, or we learn that we are to parent a child – and life changes, sometimes for good, other times for not so good.
I just don’t know too many of us that laugh at those kind of experiences – at least not initially.

Sarah laughed. Not in this chapter of the story – you have to get over into chapter 18 to hear her chortle. I think it was a chortle – it might have been a guffaw. Anyway, she laughed. She had good reason to laugh. Abraham was older than dirt, and she wasn’t a spring chicken. She was barren, and in her mind, she would always be barren. A child – wasn’t going to happen, no matter what the Lord had to say about it.

So, here we are, still in the early throws of Lent, and you and I have run up against a common truth. We have come to expect that things stay pretty much the same. We are moving – each of us in our lives – toward greater and greater stability and assurance – and we expect that things begin to stay more and more the same as time goes by. Even when it comes to our sin. We stated last week that we seem to deal with the same old sins, year after year. Psychologists tell us that we lapse into this need for normalcy, and sometimes we protect our “normalcy” by continuing to make the same mistakes – our norm becomes comfortable, no matter how much it hurts. You and I know people like that – they’d like to change their lives, but the newness of the change is too different for them – they feel uncomfortable, abnormal – and so they lapse back into old habits and patterns for the sake of feeling “normal” again.

This week, I read a great paragraph, written by my friend Steve Samples, who is the new rector at the Episcopal church. In their monthly newsletter, he wrote, “Lent – it’s such a serious and ponderous time, one that so often catches us out-of-mood. Of course, that’s the point. When we become comfortable with our routine, comfortable whether it’s healthy or unhealthy, Lent comes along and asks us to look at life in a different way. Lent is a matter of balance. We are drawn to that which affirms us, and we avoid that which convicts us. Lent convicts.”

Let me ask us a question. What is that new thing that God wants to do in your life? You know - the thing that would cause you to laugh?

This week I received word that Larry Frey has been asked by colleagues to consider taking on a new responsibility at DHS. There is an opening for a volunteer chaplain, and no fewer than 5 people came to him and suggested that he ought to apply for the job. He won’t get paid for it – it will be the kind of work that will often be hard, and may present something of a conflict of interests from time to time. But Larry has taken this opportunity as guidance from God, and he is moving ahead with excitement and his usual passion. At the conclusion of our service this morning, we are going to offer our congregational statement of endorsement to his ministry, as we give him our encouragement.

So I ask us again. What is that new thing that God wants to do in your life? What is that thing that will stretch you in your faith journey beyond the point of comfort? What is that thing that will challenge that set of beliefs you have built up around you and your understanding of God and God’s purposes in your life?

Or could it be that this new thing is something more ominous sounding? Does it sound more like the words of Jesus when He says, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow Me. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life?” Does it sound more like that? Is God calling you to a greater commitment of your life – a new found devotion to God – one that makes your present relationship with God look like a grade school romance? Does it sound more like Jesus saying, “If any want to become my followers, take up your cross, and follow me?"

I was most profoundly struck by an idea that impressed me out of Paul’s phrase in the Romans passage for today. Right there in verse 17 – “as it is written, ‘I have made you the father of many nations’ – in the presence of the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.”

Calls into existence the things that do not exist. I like that phrase. You and I serve a God who calls things into existence which do not formerly exist. We call it creation. Mankind attempts to create, but we do what we do with materials and ideas that have already been created. So, while we think we may create, all we really do is rearrange. About the closest we come is when we re-create – or in the case of all parents, including Abe and Sarah, we sometimes pro-create – “create on behalf of.” Most of the time we’re just rearranging stuff that has already been spoken into existence – out of nothing.

Back when I finished my first seminary degree, I went to a church in Houston, and for the first time in my life, stepped away from music as the primary avenue of my ministry. I missed something about the music ministry, and so, really as a hobby, I started writing some music. Mostly hymn arrangements – but every once in a while, I would come up with something original. But even then, I knew that I wasn’t creating something. I was taking words and concepts and musical notes and rhythms, and rearranging them to fit my particular tastes and notions.

I noticed something this week that the commentators I usually read failed to comment on. When Paul said, “calls into existence the things that do not exist,” I think he was speaking about many things – but mostly one thing. I think he was speaking about our faith. You and I realize that the faith we express toward God really wasn’t something that we innately possessed of our own. The faith we express toward God was originally given to us by God. Ephesians 2:8-9 – “For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, that no one should boast.” The prepositional phrase “and that not of yourselves” refers to the word faith. Obviously the grace that God extends to each of us is not of ourselves. “Xariti” is the Greek word that is translated “grace,” and it always means “a gift given from a greater to a lesser that can not be returned.” Obviously the grace we receive is not of ourselves. But the “grace” – the “Xariti” – is the faith that God plants within each of us. So we might better translate that phrase, “by grace you have been saved by faith that is not even yours to begin with.”

I’ve been listening to us. Not to a person, but a number in our congregation are experiencing a kind of spiritual depression –I heard someone call it a “malaise.” I know what you mean – I’ve felt some of it, too. It’s not that we’ve lost our faith. We haven’t lost it, but it sure feels like work. It feels like our faith has taken leave of us, and what we do for God and Christ, or for the church, feels like work. In our hearts, we know that we don’t work for our salvation – that our salvation is a gift of God. But right now, we feel like all that we do for God is purely work.

At the same time, we don’t see a lot of results in the work we are doing. I actually had several dreams last month, that when I sat down and analyzed them, spoke to my deep-seated fear that all that I do is proving at the moment to be significantly unproductive, and that my efforts fail to produce results that seem worthy of my efforts, let alone worthy of presenting to God.

You know, I was tremendously disappointed with my garden last year. I don’t think I’ve ever had a garden that produced so little. It wasn’t that I didn’t work at it. But the weeds took hold during those months when Dad was ill, and I never got a handle on them after that. It’s time to start getting ready to plant again this year – well, really, it’s well past time to start getting ready. But the weeds and stubble from last year still litter my garden plot. It has no moisture, and the entire garden seems like a huge undertaking – one that I’m not sure I’m ready to start. Part of me wants to just sit back and leave the whole mess alone this year, but I know that eventually, I’m going to have to get back out there and start pulling out those weeds. I may not plant this year – I may spend the entire growing season just killing off the weeds that cause such a lack of productivity in my garden.

This Lent, I’ve realized that my spiritual life is much the same. I have realized that over the years, consistently I’ve let too many sins take hold in my life. Consistently I’ve left my spiritual faith garden unattended for too long, and the weeds of sin have taken over. I hear those who are tired. There have been times in my life when I wanted to say, “I have half a mind to just walk away from the whole life of faith.” I feel that way, too, from time to time. But I know that I can’t. Somehow I always know that eventually I will want to get back out into my spiritual faith garden, and plant something, and see something bloom and flower and produce fruit. If that’s going to happen in my future, I’ve got to get back in there and do what I can do to get rid of the weeds of sin in my life.

It is in those times of spiritual depression that I realize the problem is I’m pooped, and I don’t have the faith to get started. In those times of spiritual malaise, about all I can do – about all we can do – is cling to that promise that was first given to Abraham – “In the presence of the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.”

Will you pray with me? Lord, I believe. Help Thou my unbelief. Lord, I have about enough faith to know that you are the source of faith. Give me more. Please, give me more faith. Amen.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[i] Will Willimon, “Geriatric Humor,” Pulpit Resource, Vol. 34, No. 1, p.45.

Enough Suffering, Already

First Sunday in Lent

1st Peter 3:18-22

It is perhaps one of the oldest jokes in the world – you’ve certainly heard a variation on this one. The man goes into his doctor. The doctor asks, “What seems to be the problem?” The man says, “My elbow hurts when I do this!” To which the physician replies, “Then my strongest medical advice to you is to stop doing that!!!”

We read the epistle for today, and the words jump off the page at us, as though we’ve been waiting all our lives to hear news this good. “For Christ also suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God.” “Once for all” – now that’s some good news.

We have entered the season of Lent. This congregation has come a long way in 8 years. The first year we were in existence, we didn’t observe Lent – rather, I slipped it into our mental possibilities by saying, “We don’t observe Lent, but if we did . . .” Wasn’t that smooth?? The next year we talked about taking on an attribute of Christ rather than trying to give up something. Gradually, over the years, you have related to me that Lent is an experience that you appreciate, maybe more than any of the other seasons of the Christian year. For me, the discipline of Lent – the process of self-introspection – all of that makes my Holy Week and Easter experience fuller and more meaningful.

My personal discipline for this Lent is to write something spiritual in my blog every day, save Sunday’s. A discipline of devotion, so to speak.

Many who observe Lent practice self-denial. Self-denial is sometimes a noble practice. But those who know the truth about self-denial know that denial of self works best when we substitute something in place of self – when we get up off the throne of our own lives, and then insist that Jesus take His seat there. So we are jostled awake when we realize what Peter says. There that verse is – jumping off the page at us. “Christ suffered for sins once for all.” “Enough suffering, already!!”

There is much suffering. The psalmist reminds us that our enemies are many, and they watch like so many yapping dogs for opportunity to take advantage of our circumstances, our weakness, our carelessness. David doesn’t place the blame for his vulnerability just on his enemies. Did you notice vv. 6 and 7 – “Be mindful of your mercy, O Lord, and of your steadfast love, for they have been from of old. Do not remember the sins of my youth or my transgressions; according to your steadfast love remember me, for your goodness’ sake, O Lord!” Dunn translation – “Continue to show me your mercy, God, by continuing to overlook the sins of my youth, which linger still today.” To be sure, there is much suffering. Much of it is a result of life circumstances, but much more of it is self-inflicted, a result of our continuing insistence that we know better than God how we might best live.

The lections for today present a different picture of suffering. They present a picture of suffering which comes as a result of our baptism. When we enter into baptism, we enter into a baptism which links us to Christ and His suffering. Gracia Grindal says, “Peter . . . is describing a baptism that actually separated one from the crowd, rather than inducted one into it. It is Christ we receive in baptism, not a safe-conduct through life without the church.” She goes on to say, “Here is where I need to be vivid in my description of what happened and happens when we have gone under, or passed through these waters; it will bring us to suffering, not shield us from it, for we are now, on the one hand, safe in Jesus, but on the other, because of Jesus, one with his suffering and death. We bear the cross, now.”[1]

The Old Testament lesson and Peter’s illustration is the obedience of Noah. Noah experienced suffering during the time he was building the ark. The scriptures remind us that Noah was the recipient of constant ridicule – people would actually make a picnic lunch of it and go down to the site where Noah and his sons were building the ark. They made sport of him – for what they thought was folly. Noah aligned himself with God, and it cost him in terms of popularity and respect.

His story is unique, but it is not unusual. Believers undergo suffering on account of their faithfulness much of the time. Many of us in this room this morning would admit that our faith gives rise to suffering, as those who would deny our God and our obedience to our God question our integrity, our consistency, and our appropriateness as we practice our faith.

Just yesterday, I received undue criticism as a result of an act of devotion. I have been writing everyday since Wednesday in my personal blog something of a spiritual nature. It is, for me, an act of devotion. Yesterday an anonymous writer responded to my writings with vehemence and insult. While I was not physically harmed by his words, my spirit was dampened and discouraged by the discourteous way this person maligned my personal act of devotion to God. This kind of thing happens to a lot of Christians, on account of our devotion to God. Enough suffering, already!!

“For Christ also suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous . . .” Jesus suffered on our behalf. In seminary, our professors spoke of “substitutionary atonement.” That’s a big three dollar word that simply means that Jesus took our place when it came to paying for our sins. Atonement was needed, and Jesus substituted His life for ours. That’s always the good news of the gospel. Jesus died so that we didn’t have to. We may suffer on account of our faith, and we may suffer as a result of our sins, but we do not suffer for our sins. That job has been finished by the work of Jesus on the cross. No more suffering required. Enough suffering, already!!

I love a favorite illustration of Christ’s substitution for us. It is the story of the man who stood convicted before the judge. The judge recounted his crime, proven by witnesses and evidence, and finally by the man’s own personal confession. Then the judge pronounced the sentence – much more than the man could ever hope to pay. As the sentence was being recorded by the court, the judge stepped down from behind the bench, went over to the bailiff, and said, “Now, I’ll pay the penalty for this man.” That’s what Jesus did.

Lent is a season of self-introspection. I like what we do with our sanctuary during this season – especially this antique mirror on the communion table. It reminds us that we are taking a good look at our lives during these days – as we make preparation for the celebration of Easter.

You know, when I bought that mirror seven years ago, I liked what it symbolized in terms of us taking a look at ourselves. I realized this year that there is something about it’s symbolism that I don’t like. The fact that this is an antique mirror could symbolize that we take a look at the same old sins, year after year. I don’t know about you, but that seems to be the case in my life. I seem to struggle with the same sins, year after year. I seem to give in to the same temptations time after time. And I seem to repent of the same sins over and over.

We might wonder about God’s patience when it comes to our sin – to our tendency to yield to the same temptations repeatedly. There is more good news in the scriptures for today – God is a patient God. We chime in with David – “do not remember the sins of my youth or my transgressions; according to your steadfast love remember me, for your goodness’ sake, O Lord!” We might chime in with Peter when he reminds us that “God waited patiently in the days of Noah.” Our God is a patient God – slow to anger, the scriptures confirm. We do not intentionally test God – but as we strive to live lives pleasing to God, we realize that God is indeed patient. Enough suffering, already!!

I ran across a poem this week in my study. Allow me to share it with you. I’ve also posted it on the back window. The title is “To Keep A True Lent.”

Is this a fast, to keep

The larder lean?

And clean

From fat of veals and sheep?

Is it to quit the dish

Of flesh, yet still

To fill

The platter high with fish?

Is it to fast an hour,

Or ragg’d to go,

Or show

A downcast look and sour?

No; ‘tis a fast to dole

Thy sheaf of wheat,

And meat,

Unto the hungry soul.

It is to fast from strife,

From old debate

And hate;

To circumcise thy life.

To show a heart grief-rent;

To starve thy sin,

Not bin;

And that’s to keep thy Lent.[2]

The poem asks an important question. What is the purpose of our Lenten discipline? Is the idea of giving up something and fasting the more obvious point of Lent, and we simply take things to an extreme? Perhaps not. Those last two stanzas of the poem give greater focus to our discipline. “It is to fast from strife, from old debate and hate. To circumcise thy life.To show a heart grief-rent; to starve thy sin.”

I struggle with the same old sins, year in and year out. In the coming week, I intend to write about devotion. We don’t talk much about devotion around here – at least not as much as maybe we should. The discipline of Lent surrounds devotion – or at least a display of devotion toward God. We know what the word “devote” means – to center our attention and activities toward God. We devote our lives to so very much. We devote our lives to family. We devote ourselves to our children and our grandchildren. We devote ourselves to our occupation and recreation. We devote ourselves to interests and possessions. Lent reminds us to devote ourselves to God – how did Peter say it – “not as a removal of dirt from the body, but as an appeal to God for a good conscience?” Enough suffering, already!!

This sermon is something of a call. It is a call to all of us to return to our devotion to God. Not just an occasional devotion. Not merely a weekly devotion. We return something of our lives to God daily – hour by hour – minute by minute. We set aside – not grudgingly, but gladly – some time each day, in some private place, in order to devote ourselves to God again.

During these days, we move from our lives of suffering to lives of devotion, as we pray:

Oh, God – you have called us into being, you have placed us in our Eden, and then you have watched as we deny your pre-eminence over our lives, and exalt our own. In your grace you sent your Son, our brother Christ Jesus, who died in our place. We commit our lives in devotion to You, this day – with renewed fervor and sincerity of heart. Walk beside us during these days of preparation, we pray. Amen.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[1] Gracia Grendal, Preaching the Lesson, Lectionary Homiletics, vol. 17, no. 2, (Feb-March, 2006), p.42
[2] Robert Herrick, 17th Century - http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/herrick/truelent.htm