Maturing Faith: In the Flesh

3rd Sunday of Easter

1st John 3:1-7; Luke 24:36b-48

It comes from one of the earliest scenes of one of my favorite movies – Dead Poet’s Society. Robin Williams stars as John Keating, an English teacher returning to his alma mater, Welton Prep School for boys. At the beginning of his first class, Keating takes the boys out into the foyer of the main building, and has them gather in front of the trophy cabinets – filled with memorabilia from decades of Welton history. He is attempting to prod them in a direction they have never traveled, as he says to them:

They're not that different from you, are they? Same haircuts. Full of hormones, just like you. Invincible, just like you feel. The world is their oyster. They believe they're destined for great things, just like many of you, their eyes are full of hope, just like you. Did they wait until it was too late to make from their lives even one iota of what they were capable? Because, you see gentlemen, these boys are now fertilizing daffodils. But if you listen real close, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you. Go on, lean in. Listen, you hear it? - - Carpe - - hear it? - - Carpe, carpe diem, seize the day boys, make your lives extraordinary.

This week I have been thinking a lot about my Dad. Yesterday was the first anniversary of his death, and I can hardly believe it. I didn’t tell anyone when this happened to me last year, but there was a night when I awoke with a start – my mind had drifted to Dad, lying in a coffin in the ground, and that image of his physical body beginning the process of returning to dust startled me awake. Mom visited Dad’s grave yesterday, and she said to me on the phone, “Of course, he’s not there. He’s not there - he’s someplace else.”

The gospel and epistle writers let us in on the details of what happens when we die, only enough to suggest that the remnants of our earthly bodies will be united with our heavenly souls at the return of Christ, and we shall inherit a new, heavenly body. John says it this way – “Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is.” None of us know what that will look like, and none of us, I suspect, can truly imagine what that will really be like. But it is our promise.

In the meantime, we are here, living what the early Greeks identified as the dichotomy of flesh and spirit. Sarx and pneuma, to use the Greek words. As my 49 year old body can testify, and to use Dad’s words, “Aging isn’t for the faint of heart.”

The apostle Paul addressed this dichotomy of flesh and spirit, at least enough to draw some pretty ominous conclusions – spirit is good, flesh is a problem – at least for most of us. From the day we are born until the day we die, we grapple with the flesh. We are caught up in the struggle of giving in to the flesh vs. taming the flesh.

It takes on so many different forms, this struggle. When we are small children, we are learning mastery over our physical bodies. Discovery of our flesh, developing mobility, achieving agility – these are the tasks of our infancy. When we arrive at adolescence, the struggle becomes one of balancing pleasure with wisdom and patience. As we reach adulthood, we begin the long battle with maintenance and health, and if we live long enough, we begin battling deterioration and disease. This is a lifelong battle – this struggle between flesh and spirit.

I was blessed to be reared in a church where we had a Youth Minister. Don Sims was my Youth Minister from the time I reached the seventh grade until I graduated from High School. Don was wonderful for the boys in our youth group. He recognized something very important, and he helped us understand the nature of the struggle. He helped frame the struggle for us – it was best considered to be a struggle “in the flesh,” and not one “from the flesh.” I was reared in south Texas – the Houston area. When I went to children’s camp as a child, I remember being “unimpressed” that we were required to swim in separate facilities – the boys had a pool, and the girls had a pool. I asked the leaders of that camp about this, and they said that we didn’t participate in “mixed bathing.” That part didn’t surprise me, but I thought we were talking about swimming. When Don came along, and we went to our own youth camp, he realized the seeming hypocrisy of the situation, and our youth swam in the same pool. I say hypocrisy, because during the summers, when we weren’t on youth outings, we went to the beach together – boys and girls – and so a decision to ask us to swim in separate facilities just seemed downright hypocritical.

Don helped me with a spiritual principle. We do not strive to serve God “apart from the flesh.” We strive to serve God “in the flesh.”

Jesus Christ lived in the flesh. In fact, we are taught that Christ was fully human, even as He was fully divine. Our gospel passage from this morning reminds us how important the physical was to Christ, and in an effort to help His disciples make the transition from His physical body to His spiritual body – you know, the body that could walk through walls – He asked for and ate a piece of fish. That may tell us something. Then, the first experiences of temptation for him included physical temptations. The scriptures tell us that He was tempted in all ways, as are we. The difference between Christ and us was that He did not succumb to temptation – even physical temptation.

Now, that may be a difficult concept for some. Isn’t physical gratification a sin? Isn’t it a sin to “give into the flesh?” The answer begins to speak to satisfaction, moderation, and exception. When we are hungry, it is not sin to satisfy our hunger. Moderation is key to our physical yearnings. I am often humorously struck by the rotund, gluttonous Baptist preachers of the south who preach against “all manner of sin.” That word “hypocrisy” comes to mind again. But then, I do have my own hypocrisies – so grace is certainly warranted. And then occasionally, exception is called for – we make exception to our moderation for the sake of illness, celebration, or perhaps fasting.

John has a word for us – He says, “All who have this hope in Him purify themselves, just as He is pure.” In that short sentence, we come to realize that God desires faith maturity, not “apart” from our flesh, but “in” our flesh. We are admonished to “purify” ourselves.

Well, just what does that mean? You may have read this last week that William Sloane Coffin died. William Sloane Coffin served as chaplain of Yale University from 1958-1976. Coffin initially became famous at Yale University in the 60's for his opposition to the Vietnam War. He was jailed (the first of many times) as a civil rights Freedom Rider," indicted by the government in the Benjamin Spock conspiracy trial, and was president emeritus of SANE/FREEZE: Campaign for Global Security. He fought in World War II, worked for the CIA for three years, and has been immortalized as Reverend Sloan in the Doonesbury comic strip.[1] He loved to quote one of the early church fathers: “The glory of God is a human being fully alive.”

When we seek to understand what John meant by calling us to “purity,” we do well to measure our calling by the yardstick of Sloane’s statement – “the glory of God is a human being fully alive.” Our call to purity is not a call to avoid the pleasures of the flesh. To the contrary – our call to purity is to embrace the inherent goodness of what God has created – the pinnacle of God’s creation – mankind. God pronounced that part of His creation “good” as well.

I could offer to you a myriad of illustrations today, but as I said earlier, I’ve been thinking a lot about my Dad this week, and I think I’ll let his life be something of an illustration for us. At sister Tracy’s church this morning are blue flowers – in a vase that says “Blue Bell Ice Cream.” I come by my addiction to Blue Bell honestly. From the time I was a small boy, Dad would eat a little ice cream at night – two or three scoops – usually Blue Bell. Dad was a good eater – understanding the value of moderation. He never really struggled with weight, probably because he knew the value of doing “push-aways” right along with his “push-ups.” On the other hand, it took him longer – well into his fifties – to learn that jalapeños at dinner made for a long night.

Dad was something of a health nut before it came into such vogue. He played handball during his college days, and I remember him jogging when we were small children. When the weather was bad, and sometimes when it wasn’t, he would jog in the house. Then he would have one of us hold his legs down for him while he did his sit-ups. That was a sweaty job!! When his back told him to stop jogging, he took up golf and tennis. He introduced his boys and his daughter to those sports. We played tennis with Dad until he was in his late sixties, and golf until he was in his mid seventies.

When we lived on Cardinal Circle in Pasadena, Texas, Dad became the unofficial sports prompter for the entire neighborhood. One day, on a whim, he took a tape measure and measured off 100 yards on the street, and then painted a line for the start and finish. Then he would time us in the 100 yard dash – not just my brothers and sister – no, he would race against us, and he would encourage us to race against our friends in the neighborhood.

One of his most endearing qualities was his penchant for strangeness – well, at least to a son. Dad loved his cars, and he tried to take good care of them. So, when we would go to the store, Dad would park at the far reaches of the parking lot, so that people wouldn’t “ding” his car doors. I suspect, though, that part of his purpose was to teach us that walking was good for us, and you could often see us “race” back to the car when we left the store. Dad eventually became the gracious loser to his “speedier” sons – but he would still race, nonetheless.

The flesh of my father finally succumbed to his disease, and now he is experiencing his “glorified” body. But he taught me some things about faith maturation “in the flesh.” He taught me about moderation. He taught me stewardship of the flesh. He taught me how to stretch toward my potential. And I think the words of William Sloane Coffin are appropriate – for Dad’s life, and as an example to me – and to us.

“The glory of God is a human being fully alive.”

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[1] http://www.pbs.org/now/society/coffin.html

Maturing Faith: Of the Mind”

2nd Sunday of Easter

1st John 1:1 – 2:2

When He was asked which was the greatest commandment, Jesus responded with two scriptures from the Old Testament – “love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.” We don’t know everything that Christ meant by those words, but His words suggest that we love God with all we have to muster, and as we develop more capabilities and resources, we love God with those as well.

For the next four weeks, I am going to share with you something of a series of sermons from the book of 1st John. I am entitling the series “Maturing Faith,” and you might surmise from that title that I believe that as Christian believers, we mature in our faith.

Pastoring you as a congregation has been a learning experience for me. Let me provide one rather specific example. I accepted Christ at the age of nine. Most of my friends at that time accepted Christ at nine – oh, a few made that decision when they were eight, and some held on until they were ten or eleven, but most kids made that decision when they were nine. Usually, it was an emotional decision. It was for me. As your pastor, I have had to grow in my understanding of how our children respond in faith to Christ. We don’t apply a lot of emotional pressure on our kiddos, and subsequently, they have tended to make their decision to trust Christ a little later down the path – some making the decision as late as 14 or 15. That used to worry me, and then I began to see that their decision had more of an intellectual base – in other words, their decision was a decision of the mind, as well as of the heart.

We expect that people grow in their faith. Not just in faith expression, but faith capacity, as well. This first sermon in series suggests that we mature in our faith in mental ways – and the implication is that we offer that mental maturity to God as we seek to serve God.

Our scriptures work in harmony this morning. The story of Thomas and his doubts presents clear indication that when confronted with the mental reality that Jesus was alive, Thomas left his doubts behind, and served Christ. I’ll take you one step further – his statement, “My Lord and my God!” indicates more than intellectual ascent – it indicates something of an increased commitment of heart and will. When he came to know, he became more able to serve.

Well, that is only natural. We expect Christians to mature in faith. That’s what Sunday school is all about. We place our children in a position and atmosphere where learning is possible and predictable. We don’t think their learning stops when they reach their teen years, and we believe that adults learn and progress in their abilities to know and serve. From the cradle to the grave – the mantra of Christian education.

When we turn to the 1st John text, we could almost write a seminary text for the Psychology of Education classes. John’s first statement is a statement that outlines the progression that is used in taxonomies – that’s a ten dollar word that speaks to the system whereby we instruct students. In Educational Psychology, we learned that while they are learning, students progress through various levels of learning – i.e., they first discover knowledge, then they comprehend, and finally they make application. At a higher level of learning, they analyze information, then they synthesize that which has been analyzed, and finally they evaluate their progress.

John says that we learned something about Jesus. We learned by we have experienced – with our ears, our eyes, and what we have touched. I shared with some people last week that I love to watch you as you watch our children take hold of the faith. I used as an illustration our Good Friday service, and the fact that the children and I go out to the cross, and they help me change the cloth. There is something impressive about handling the cloth as we take it off and put it on the cross. Last week, when we completed that activity, Travis came over to me, and with tears in his voice, said, “Daddy, why?” I wish I knew all that he was asking, don’t you? I think he was asking why Jesus had to die! At the age of 49, I’m still working on my answer to that one!!

We expect that people move beyond a simple emotional response to the gospel message. Around here, that isn’t always easy – we tend to be a pretty emotional group. But our intent to grow cognitively – mentally – as Christians suggests that we will have, year in and year out, greater resources and capacity with which to serve God.

John makes another observation for us regarding growth in our faith. His first words in the epistle – “we declare to you.” His statement, and several other statements in the same passage suggest that we tell what we know. As we know more, we tell more. Not for the purpose of showing off – goodness, there’s enough of that in this world. No, rather we announce – or maybe “pronounce” that which we have come to know. In other words, our knowledge is not just for personal consumption. I served on staff in Dallas 20 years ago with my friend Ron Kendrick. During that time, our church was significantly involved in studying spiritual gifts, and in that process, Ron and I discovered that we shared a common gift – something of a gift for knowledge. In other words, we had something of a temperament or gift for retaining various points of information about the scriptures and other things related to the Christian life. In that testing time, indications were that I also had something of a gift for teaching – the materials we were studying indicated that that combination – knowledge and teaching – was not an unusual combination. What surprised me was that Ron didn’t think that he had the gift of teaching. This difference manifested itself this way - I would discover something in my study, and I would walk across the office to tell Ron what I had just learned. He would look at me and say, “Yeah, I saw that a couple of days ago.” I would say incredulously, “And you didn’t tell me?”, and he would say, “No, I didn’t need to – remember, I don’t have a gift of teaching.” I never understood how he could keep information to himself. It didn’t make any sense to me.

John would agree – we don’t learn more about Christ so that we can simply know more. We learn that we might serve Christ by serving others. He is basically saying, “Friends, we have something to tell you. It’s not just what we think – it’s what we know – because we experienced it, and we are compelled to tell you about it.” That’s a rough Dunn translation. God revealed something of Godself to us, and we are compelled to tell others what we have come to know and believe. Sharing the gospel isn’t just for a few selected preachers and teachers – sharing what you know about the gospel is your calling as a Christian – we all can tell what we know and have believed – and we must tell.

Well, what is it that we tell? What do we have to say?? John says, “This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you . . .” “God is light and in him there is no darkness at all.” You’re kidding, John – you expect me to explain that concept? Light and darkness – truth and righteousness? I don’t vaguely understand God, must less be able to explain Him?” If that were our calling, I’d agree with you. God’s a pretty big subject to try to explain. We stopped too early in our reading. Keep going with me. “If we say that we have fellowship with him while we are walking in darkness, we lie and do not do what is true.”

That’s more like it. This is more of a comparative statement – a “God is God, and we’re not!!” kind of thing. That level of truth I can get a handle on. My sin is ever before me.

I said something during Lent on my blog. Something to the effect that during Lent, we take a good, honest look at our sin. While our examination is rather intentional during those 40 days, we don’t stop there. We maintain an awareness of our sin throughout the year, and throughout our lives. John gets pretty blunt as this passage goes on – “if we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” Ouch!! That’s brutal!! “If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.” Ouch!! That’s way harsh!! Yeah, it is. The truth sometimes hurts.

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a Wednesday night. We were having Prayer Meeting, and we had come to the time in our prayer where we shared our struggles and failings with one another. We had divided into groups of three, and I was in a group with two men. I could tell that they were uncomfortable with the idea of sharing personal sin – so, I thought I would model the role for us. I shared something that I had been struggling with all week, and had not really done all that well. The other guys nodded as though they understood my struggle, and could sympathize. Then I turned to one of the others, and said, “Tell me how you have struggled this week.” He said, “I really don’t have any sin – I don’t struggle with really anything these days.” This verse jumped out at me – “If we say we have no sin . . .”

I know confession is hard. We all struggle, and we struggle with admitting that we struggle. There is value to confession. It is cathartic. It’s cleansing. We get the opportunity to start over – again. Progress in Christian faith doesn’t do away with our sin. To the contrary, I am made more aware of my failings as I grow in Christlikeness. John goes on to say that Christ’s purpose in our lives works to help us to avoid sin. At the same time, Jesus knows that we will continue to fail, and as we do so, He remains faithful to stand in the gap with us.

“Pastor, why would John link this idea of growing in knowledge and maturity with a discussion of our sin?” It’s a good question. I have an answer – I don’t know if it’s a good answer – but I have an answer. It comes from my own experience. I have come to learn things about my sin, and in the process, I’ve learned things about Jesus. I started out thinking that I had no sin – that I didn’t need Jesus. At the age of nine, I came to realize that I was a sinner, and that I desperately needed Jesus. As I have grown, I have gone through more metamorphosis – at times I have tried to ignore my sin, at times I’ve tried to conquer it, and at times I have been overwhelmed by it. There have been times when I thought “What’s the use?” and there have been other times when I have been overwhelmed by the patience and redemptive power of Christ.

Maturity – most of us think of maturity as arriving at a time in our lives when we don’t vacillate so much – we aren’t like the toddler who falls and then stands up again. We are more like the agile teenager who has much greater control over their physical abilities. As a maturing Christian, I struggle less and less with the “struggle of sin” – the reality that I sin, and that Jesus has redeemed me from that sin.

As we grow in breadth and depth of knowledge about our faith, we come to realize all the more our need for Christ. As our knowledge expands, as our faith stretches, somehow things become more and more clear, and for most of us, more and more simple.

While I was still in seminary, the church I served had a choir special at Christmas time. We sang some old gospel hymns, and there was a new song which sounded like it ought to be an old gospel song. We asked an older gentleman in the choir to sing the song. The words rang true for his life, and I think, for ours today.


Since I started for the Savior,
Since my life He controls,
Since I gave my heart to Jesus,
The longer I serve Him, the sweeter He grows.

The longer I serve Him, the sweeter He grows.
The more that I love Him, more love He bestows.
Each day is like heaven, my heart overflows,
The longer I serve Him, the sweeter He grows.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

He Did What ?!?!

Easter

John 20:1-18

I had a conversation with a new friend on Monday or Tuesday. I told him how busy Easter week is for me, and then when you throw in completing the income taxes – well, you know . . . Anyway, he asked a question. “Is Easter still that big of a day for you in terms of how many people show up?” We commented about the growth of Christmas services in popularity, and the seeming decline in Easter worship, and I said to him, “Well, Easter is the hard part of the story to believe!!”

For a lot of people, Easter is the hard part – to believe. The story is a simple story – God creates man, man messes up, God needs to redeem man. So God sends God’s Son. The birth part of the story is easily believable. Jesus walks among us – roughly 33 years – teaching us something of what God is like, and then He dies for our sins. That part we can buy – especially the “our sins” part of it. We can believe Jesus came to earth, We have lots of “Jesus” documentation. Nearly everyone believes he was here.

But then Sunday morning rolls around, the stone has been rolled away, and we say to our collective selves, “He did what?!?!?!”

Resurrection. Brought back to life. We have some stories of the sort – even in contemporary life – near death experiences – people trapped under the ice for 30 minutes, not breathing, and then resuscitated – things like that. But after they’ve been dead for three days? This is the stuff of fairy tales and myths!!

From the very first moments it’s been a hard story to believe. The women checked out the tomb early in the morning, and then ran to report the missing body to the disciples. They didn’t believe them. So the boys went running – had to check this one out for themselves. John got there first, and he says that he believed immediately. I wonder. Peter – always in John’s mind the “dense one” – didn’t put it together until sometime later. And what did they do with this miraculous news. They went home. That’s all – they went home.

The authorities had difficulty with the story as well. They concocted a story that put the responsibility on the disciples. They even anticipated such – posting guards at the tomb. They finally said that someone must have stolen the body – dead folk don’t get up and walk out of tombs.

Thomas didn’t believe it at first. I suspect that if the other disciples hadn’t been in the upper room when Jesus first appeared to them all – except Thomas – I suspect they would have had trouble believing it as well. At least Thomas was honest – “I’ll have to see Him for myself – see the wounds – before I’ll believe.” That happened in a few days.

There were more appearance stories. He met with Simon Peter and the boys for breakfast on the seashore. He appeared to a couple walking on the road to Emmaus – they didn’t recognize Him until He broke the bread in front of their eyes. He appeared to the 40 regular followers, and then there are accounts of Him appearing to several others.

Finally, as if to cap off the appearance stories, He meets with them, gives them a commission, and then ascends into the heavens.

It’s a pretty tall story to believe. It is the hard part to believe.

I was watching a documentary on television just yesterday, and some New Testament scholars were commenting about the difficulty of this part of the story. They spoke of all the theories surrounding His body and His disappearance. One professor reminded us that often people conjure appearance of those they have loved and lost to death. Grieving people come up with stories all the time about seeing their loved one standing at the foot of the bed and calling out to them. Usually we chalk those stories up to the dream world.

Then they posed the question, “What if they came up with evidence of a body? What if they found Jesus – now?” They kicked it around for a while, and about half of them indicated that the presence of a body wouldn’t alter their faith.

I want to remind us of something. These people in the story – they were Jews. I’ve known a few Jewish people in my life. When I was a teenager, we lived across the street from Ed and Ruth Shapiro in Pasadena, Texas. They were wonderful neighbors – exceptionally ecumenical – and that’s before I knew what that word meant. We would take them something symbolizing their roots to the Passover, and they would send us Easter baskets. We would take over a Chanukah fruit basket, and they would send over Christmas presents. In other words, we had a mutual respect for the faith tradition of each other.

I took a course during my doctoral work with Dr. Charles Ashby on Biblical Education practices. As a part of our study outside the classroom, we attended the synagogue in Fort Worth one Friday evening. It was an eye-opening experience. One of the things that our professor told us was that most of the Jewish population doesn’t believe in an afterlife. That this is all there is – and that when you die, that’s all. Your legacy was found in your lineage, and the success of your children and grandchildren.

Well, I hadn’t had any personal experience with afterlife beliefs of the Jewish people, so I wasn’t sure that what Dr. Ashby was telling us was really accurate. Always question authority, especially when you’re a doctoral candidate, right? Well, I was back in Houston for a tour of duty in a church on the west side of town, and Mom called with the news that Ruth Shapiro had died. I was visiting Mom and Dad just the next week, and was out in the yard, and I noticed Dr. Ed out tooling around in his yard, and so I went over to express my condolences. I said something like, “Ed, I’m sure sorry about Ruth. We certainly loved her, and she was always to very good to us.” And he said, “Yes, it’s strange. A person’s here, and then they’re gone, and then that’s it.” Dr. Ashby’s words raced back into my mind – “no afterlife.”

When Jesus appeared to His disciples, things changed exponentially for them. Nothingness turned into eternity – with possibilities!! An afterlife – heaven – eternal life!! What a concept. All that they’d known was erased in a moment’s notice. There was something – an existence – after death!!!

Friends, I’ve asked myself this question all week. Does the resurrection matter? Does it matter for our salvation? It’s an important question. Do we have to believe in the resurrection in order to be saved? We tell people all the time, “All you have to do is trust Christ!” And by that, we mean that we must trust the sacrifice of Jesus, His death which paid the price for our redemption, in order to find salvation. But is belief in His resurrection necessary for salvation?

I looked this question up on the internet yesterday. I ran across a chart that lists the beliefs of various Christian denominations on a wide variety of subjects. Catholic, Orthodox, Lutheran, Presbyterian, Anglican, Methodist and Baptist beliefs were listed. When it got this question, do you know what was there? Every denomination listed their beliefs – except the Baptists. I was shocked. We have beliefs on everything. And Baptists are such a diverse group, sometimes we have multiple beliefs.

That being no help, I turned to the two best Baptist theologians I know – W.T. Connor and E.Y. Mullins. They’re the guys we studied in seminary.

Connor said it this way: “In the first place, one needs a clear understanding and a firm grasp on the elemental things in salvation. This is not to say that he needs to be an expert theologian. He does not. Nor is it to say with the Catholic creeds that, if he does not believe certain dogmas, he shall be anathema. But he does need a firm grasp on the fact that Christ has made full provision for our sins and that we are saved by faith in him. There can be no definite assurance of salvation where one does not definitely grasp this fact. Sometimes one may know that he has been changed without having a clear consciousness of salvation, but this clear consciousness of salvation will come when one firmly grasps the fact that it is faith in the crucified and risen Redeemer that saves.”[1]

That helped a little, but Connor sounded a little shaky to me. So I turned to his teacher, E.Y. Mullins. In speaking first of the resurrection of Christ, and then the general resurrection of all believers, Mullins said, “In other words, the resurrection was a religious necessity. God will not forsake his servant, even in death.”[2] That’s a little more blunt. Here’s his point – God accomplishes our salvation. In fact, God’s good name rests on God’s ability to do what God says God will do. God accomplishes our salvation, and God doesn’t do anything part way. So, when God redeems fallen humanity, God redeems us, not just for this life, but for all of eternity.

I’ll say this one other thing about the resurrection in a theological sense. If it isn’t a necessity that we believe in the resurrection in order to experience salvation, then at least, the resurrection, and our hope of eternal life – is the gravy to our redemption. Not only are we saved from our sins – redeemed – but we are saved into eternity.

I said that I’ve been asking this question this past week, but frankly, I’ve asked myself this question for the past year. Ever since Dad died last April, I’ve pined for contact with him. During May and June of last year, there were agonizing moments when I absolutely craved conversation with him. Those days gave way to an occasional need for contact, and finally to the random moments of panic and sadness. But I know something. I’m going to get to talk with my Dad again. Maybe soon, maybe years from now. But I have full assurance that I will see him again, and together we will worship the risen Lord side by side with all those whom I have loved who have gone ahead of me. Full assurance.

It’s a feeling, really. Friday night, when we left this place, we had been reminded of the price paid for our salvation. It was a good feeling, in a strange sort of way, to be reminded that our salvation was purchased – paid for – done and finished. But it was also something of an empty feeling. Then Sunday rolls around, and the stone is rolled away, and the risen Lord stands before us. Now it is finished. Now there’s something to look forward to. Now we have a hope of eternity. In His resurrection, we find the promise of our resurrection.

And that’s the gospel. That’s the good news.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[1] W.T.Connor, Christian Doctrine, 1937, p.221.
[2] E.Y.Mullins, The Christian Religion in its Doctrinal Expression, 1917, p.447

Just Like He Said It Would Be . . .

Palm Sunday

Mark 11:1-11

(this sermon was drastically altered in presentation to Cornerstone on 9 April. It was presented as a first person monologue from one of the disciples. You should have been here to see it - there are some perks to actually attending church . . .)

Holy Week and Easter have arrived much sooner than I expected. It seems that just yesterday we were having our Christmas Eve service.

I suspect the same feeling came over Jesus when it came time for the Passover again – the one in which He knew He would give up His life for our redemption. It must have seemed like just yesterday when He was calling out to Simon Peter and Andrew and James and John to follow Him. Now, it was here.

It was time to make preparation. Jesus didn’t have to do this little parade – but His methodology was so descriptive of what He was about. A King, riding into town on the back of a young colt – crowds cheering Him – palm branches and Hosannas all around. It was a victory parade. He rode into town just like a conquering King would do. Only, what was His victory? Where were His armies? What had He conquered?

Mark goes out of his way to tell us this story. It’s unusually verbose – for Mark. Usually he’s the “cut to the chase” gospel writer. He’s the one that can tell an entire story in just a couple of verses. But he tells us the whole story.

Jesus arrives on the outskirts of town. He sends two disciples into town – only two – to check in at the Hertz counter and pick up the transportation. A colt – the foal of a donkey. He even told them that they might encounter a little opposition – “folks might stop you and wonder what you’re up to. And if they do, just tell them that ‘the Lord needs it, and He’ll get it back to you just as soon as He can.’” So, off they go, into town to find this colt. They find it. They get asked the questions. The questioners respond just the way they’re supposed to, and they return with the donkey. Just like Jesus said it would be . . .

This wasn’t an unusual thing for them – the Master saying something would be so, and then it was. It had happened dozens of times – maybe hundreds. And then there were the countless times when Jesus didn’t say anything ahead of time, but as the event would unfold, He acted as though it had been in His plan all along. Nothing ever seemed to surprise Him – nothing ever snuck up on Him.

This week would unfold much the same. There would be the run-in with the money changers in the temple. According to the gospel writers, if you add up their stories and put them in context, this wasn’t the only time Jesus would clean house in the temple.

Predictably, there would be another run-in with the Pharisees – they were always trying to trap Him, and they had quite a scheme cooked up for this week – joined forces with the Sadducees. They intended to trap Him – and so they did – or so they thought . . .

And predictably, Jesus did a little teaching. That really was His forte – the teaching. Only now, things had a more ominous tone – lots of talk about the harvest and heaven and end times. Jesus even throws in an observation about the widow and her two mites – just a couple of pennies.

There would be the Passover celebration in the upper room. Jesus was good about living out Jewish traditions. This wasn’t the first time they had done this together – but it would be their last. And this time He changed it – the boys in the band weren’t expecting that . . .

The rest of it was just the way He said it would be – again.

At some rather rudimentary level, I stand before you to offer testimony. That’s pretty much what Presnall Wood did for us a couple of weeks ago – he told us his story and told us what he thought about things – Baptists mostly. Well, I’m just another Christian telling my story – and my story is just like your story. Jesus hasn’t ever let me down. Even when I’m a little miffed at God, in my heart I don’t blame Jesus. He’s the one who died for me.

I watch way too much TV. Lately I’ve been seeing some comedians talk a lot about God and Jesus and religion. I’ve listened to their words, but I always try to listen beyond their words – to get a glimpse of their heart. Do you know what I’ve seen? They might pick on God, but when it comes to Jesus, they don’t have much to say that you and I would describe as “negative.” How could they – what has Jesus ever done to them, except give them some pretty good advice and then die for them? How can you fault someone like that?

When people talk about Jesus, I generally sit up and listen – just a little closer – to what they have to say. When Paul writes to the Philippians and describes the “Jesus story” in chapter 2, I sit up and take notice. I’ve heard a lot of sermons about this passage. Good sermons – some of them from seminary professors – and those guys can preach. I love this passage – “Let this mind be in you . . .”

“. . . which was also in Christ Jesus.” The first four verses tell the sacrifice part of the story – what Jesus gave up to purchase our redemption. The motion is downward – doesn’t sound anything like a victorious conqueror. He actually sounds more like a loser and a failure. Gave up everything to come here to live among us, and then He dies. Not much of a “success” story. Where’s the glory?

It’s in the next three verses. “Therefore God . . .” I always sit up and listen a little more closely when someone says, “Therefore, God . . .”

This part of the passage tells the “God exalted Him” part of the story. God is still exalting Jesus. So do we. Every time we gather in this place to tell the story of Jesus, we exalt Him. We should – He’s done so much for us, the least we can do is return our heartfelt offerings of praise as often as possible. The psalmist said, “This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” He speaks of every day. We ought to return praise to God every day. We ought to thank Jesus every day.

Okay, pastor. Where are you headed with this? You’ve said quite a bit, but what’s your point?

It seems like such a small thing – retrieving a small colt for transportation into the city. Jesus certainly could have walked in – He’d done it before. He walked pretty much everywhere He went. But this entrance was different, and Jesus was going to make a point. He made a lot of points.

He made the point that He was worth paying attention to. This entrance was special because what He was getting ready to do was special. His sacrifice would change everything, and He wanted us to know it.

He made the point that praise is a worthy thing to offer to Jesus. They didn’t throw money or good deeds. They offered actions of praise and voices full of hope and promise and thanksgiving to God. It was a beautiful thing, what the people did that day.

But maybe more than anything else, He made the point that He knew what He was doing, and what He was doing was the thing that needed to be done. He knew what was going on, and He knew what He was doing. Jesus still knows what He’s doing.

It was just like He said it would be . . .

It still is . . .

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

Intra-cardia Faith

Fifth Sunday in Lent

Jeremiah 31:31-34; Psalm 51:1-12

At the beginning of Lent, I put a part of Psalm 51 out on the north side of the marquee. It reads, “Our Lenten Prayer – Create in me a clean heart, O God.”

We finally arrive at that Psalm, and an associated passage from Jeremiah. Three phrases jumped out at me when I was studying this past week for the sermon – the first coming from that phrase from Jeremiah in the 33rd verse, when the prophet quotes God. “But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the Lord; I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.” The second and third phrases come from David in the 51st Psalm, verse 6 – “You desire truth in the inward being; therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart.” And then the third phrase, verse 10 – “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me.”

God desires something different for us as we move deeper into relationship with God. The word that jumped out at me from each of these verses was the word “heart.” God intended that something change within us – that the basis for our relationship changes – from something external, to something quite internal in nature. When God broke the news to Jeremiah of God’s desire for a different kind of relationship with mankind, God referred to a “new covenant.”

Covenants are not something that we are familiar with, in the mainstream. People in our part of the world think about contracts. While they both seek to limit the actions of the other party in the relationship, as well as call upon both parties to agree to certain conditions, contracts are formed out of respect for individual rights – a person enters into a contract to protect his individual rights and properties, while in a covenant, persons enter into contractual agreements with one another out of respect for the other party, as well as for themselves. It is a subtle but important difference. We enter into contracts because we do not necessarily trust the other party, but we enter into covenants, at least in part, out of deep respect for the other person or persons.

When God determined to interact with human beings on a personal level, God chose to introduce us to the idea of covenants. There is still the give and take arrangement between God and man, but God initiated the covenants God made with mankind out of God’s deep, abiding respect for us as a part of God’s creation.

We are not used to this kind of thinking. We are a nation of laws, and therefore, a people of laws. Law makes covenant a difficult concept to understand. We still think about external obedience to laws. External law always invites internal resistance. That is true in our relationship with God – where God’s will was once experienced as an external force to be resisted or obeyed, now God speaks of a different kind of experience. God speaks of planting the desires of God in our hearts. God speaks of transforming the relationship from one of law into one of desire.

Right here in this message, I’ll ask you the tough questions I’ve been asking myself all week. Do you desire God? Is that the best descriptor of your relationship to God – that you desire God? Or is your relationship to God characterized more by obedience to a set of external laws and expectations? Here’s another way to ask this question – Do you avoid doing the things that you know displease God simply because they displease God, or do you avoid doing those things because you love God and you desire God? Do you do the right thing because it’s the right thing, or because you desire God?

Pastor Edward Bowen from Pennsylvania, began his sermon from 6 years ago with these words:
“Sometimes we make the mistake and think that since God is a forgiving God that God really doesn’t care what we do with our lives. After all, here in this passage that we listened to in Jeremiah, we are reminded that God wants to forgive us. So many people use as their theme song, the song that Frank Sinatra sang, ‘I Did It My Way.’ We figure, why bother doing things God’s way? Let’s just live our lives our way, the way we want to. Since God’s going to forgive us anyway, why not?

But even though a lot of people think that way, that’s not what God’s forgiveness is all about. You see, this passage in Jeremiah says that yes, God does want to forgive us for the sins that we’ve committed in the past. But this passage reminds us that God doesn’t just want us to go right on sinning. Instead, God wants to forgive our old sins, so that we can start a new life, and live the way that God wants us to.”[1]

Zeke Sarver made a decision last week to trust Jesus. He had been thinking about it – they had talked about it some in his Sunday School classes, and he’d spoken with his parents from time to time about the matter – not much, but a little. Last week during our invitation time, Zeke decided to enter into covenant with God. Those weren’t his words, but that’s what happened. It is the beginning of a relationship, molded out of deep respect on the part of both parties. God respects Zeke, and Zeke respects God. God loves Zeke, and Zeke loves God. At some rudimentary level, it is just that simple.

I told Zeke that this won’t be an easy thing to do – to live the Christian life. He’ll run up against his sin time and again. It will be ever before him. But I promised him that if he wants to, he will grow in this relationship – as he learns more about Jesus, and especially as he learns more and more every day that he can trust Jesus.

I suspect that to a person, that would be the testimony of every person in this room. Living the Christian life isn’t easy. Sometimes, it’s just plain tough. But it’s worth it.

Fred Craddock was once asked “whether Jesus had a governing view of life shaping his preaching. Craddock answered, ‘I think it may very well be that when Jesus came to preach, He preached that the very presence of God could live within you.’”[2]

We understand that the biblical testimony is that this presence of God within us is known as the Spirit of God – we sometimes call it the Holy Spirit. This is not merely conceptual – the biblical testimony suggests that the actual presence of God moves into our lives – takes up residence within our very lives. When we sing gospel songs and choruses, like “Come into my heart, Lord Jesus,” we are not just speaking metaphorically. And we aren’t speaking physiologically – the sermon title may have got you to thinking that I think this happens in a physical sense – this intra-cardia faith. No, this miraculous transformation happens in a spiritual sense, most of which defies our attempts at explanation.

But happen, it does. This presence of God changes things – and it changes us. Zeke’s life has been and will be changed – all as a result of this internalization of the Spirit of God. The presence of God changes us in so many different ways.

David Bartlett inspired me with of a couple of ways that the presence of God changes things.[3] He says this new covenant is marked by an internal assurance. God’s words – “I will forgive their iniquity and remember their sin no more.” When I sat down with Zeke the other night, I told him that even though he is going to run up against his sin time and again, and that in all probability he will actually question his faith from time to time, he can be sure that he is still saved and secure in the arms of God. That reality I base on the ability of God to do what God promises God will do. The empty tomb that we will celebrate in a couple of weeks is our strongest proof. We see that empty tomb, and we know that if Jesus can overcome death, Jesus can do anything we need. We have an internal assurance that we are in covenant with God, and that our salvation is assured. That’s a promise we can bank on.

Then this new covenant is also marked by a new directive. “No longer shall they teach one another . . . for they shall all know me.” We start to move in a different direction with our actions. We no longer resist God and these external laws of God. Rather, we move toward God with new purpose and greater opportunity than ever before. We begin to allow our thinking, our hearts, and our purposes to meld with the heart of God. We stop trying to resist God, and we start trying to emulate God – in our actions, certainly – but in our thinking, as well.

What can we do to help the process? What can we do to help the Spirit of God take up residence in our lives? In the Greek language, the word “hypocrite” was first used to describe actors. They were actually called hypocrites. This was because actors in Greek dramas wore masks, and one actor would actually wear several different masks during their performances. One preacher I read this week said, “The masks were hot and uncomfortable. Hypocrites had difficulty breathing and sometimes even fainted from the burden of the masks. God sets us free from the need to wear masks. God wants to be our God, to take away our sin, and to make us into God’s own people.”[4] That’s a pretty good illustration. David asked God to plant wisdom in his “secret heart.” We all have those secret places that we don’t expose to anyone else. But that kind of behavior is foolishness when it comes to our relationship to God – both of us already know about our sin and our hypocrisy – we know, and God knows.

Sister Tracy wrote a pretty powerful sermon this week, and she reminded me of something I have shared with you in the past. Our sin – this beast we struggle with every day of our lives – our sin finds roots in pure ideas. Friday morning, I made my maiden voyage to the south office – Starbucks opened – and while I was there, I observed some people who came in. They didn’t like the coffee – not because they are connoisseurs of coffee, but because they are like most of us – we’ve drank so much watered down coffee during our lifetimes, we wouldn’t know really good coffee no matter what the circumstances. Anyway, one of the ladies said to her friends, “I won’t be coming back here – they don’t now how to make coffee the way I like it.” I suspect she is wrong – they could probably help her find a brew she would enjoy, but her attitude will prevent that from ever happening.

Her particular attitude was stubbornness. Now, where does that come from? We are taught that consistency and stalwartness are virtues – we pride ourselves on being able to hold individual ideas and remain somewhat constant. But that virtue becomes sin when we let it go to extremes. All sin is that way. Sister Tracy says, “Name your sin: chances are, in its purest form, it is a characteristic worth having . . . Jealousy, covetousness, selfishness, and greed are, at their root, a desire to be our best; but we’ve allowed that desire to overwhelm and overtake the needs and desires of others. In many ways, lying is nothing more than wanting to believe and wanting others to believe the best about us – just, wanting it too much.”[5]

God has entered into covenant with us – and it involves our heart. God has placed the law of God within our hearts. God has provided wisdom, even to the secret places of our heart. And God has actually come into our hearts – in the person of the Spirit of God.

As a result of this intra-cardia faith, we become changed people. Our thoughts change, our attitudes change, and our actions change. We can respond to God this day by returning our respect for God with lives that live up to our end of this holy covenant.

Richard W. Dunn, Ph.D.

[1] C. Edward Bowen, “A Heart Transplant,” Lectionary Homiletics, April 2000, p.17.
[2] Lectionary Homiletics, April 2000, p.15.
[3] Ibid, p. 16.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Tracy Dunn-Noland, “Create in Me”, preached 2 April 2006 at Fellowship of Believers Church in Hereford, Tx.