Text: Romans 8:26-39
Theme: “M6: The Communication” (6th in a Series)
6th Sunday after Pentecost
July 24, 2011
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
26 In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. 27 And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.
28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who[i] have been called according to his purpose. 29 For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. 30 And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified.
31 What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? 32 He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? 33 Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. 34 Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. 35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? 36 As it is written:
“For your sake we face death all day long;
we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”[j]
37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,[k] neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
The selection you just heard is from the eighth chapter of the apostle Paul’s letter to the Roman Christians. A number of those people – disciples and followers of Jesus Christ, all -- were likely in Jerusalem on the occasion of Pentecost, fifty days after our Lord’s resurrection, when the mighty wind blew, the tongues of fire fell, and people were cut to the heart. They heard and they heeded the call to repent and be baptized. They began a new life of attending to the Lord’s teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread (which is a reference to the Lord’s Supper), and the prayers.
At some point shortly thereafter, these folks went back home to Rome, the capital city of the world at the time. They brought this new faith with them to their bustling metropolis which was rife with high drama, with private and public enterprise, politics, education, religion, and daily, intense intrigue. Were they urban city dwellers, or did they live in the suburbs? Did they have homes along or close by the Tiber River, or did they live out in the country? We do not know. For the time being, they lived under the Pax Romana, the peace of Rome. Yet still, the government, headed by Caesar, and its war machine, with its Roman legions, continued to grow in influence and power. Would their fledgling faith continue to hold up? What if, at some point, their beliefs would be challenged or their own lives threatened by what was, for all intents and purposes, a world government?
Questions like these surely crossed their minds with daily, increasing, and chilling regularity as they went about their business, and supported their families, raised their children, and conversed with their friends. Eventually, they would face the prospect of having to confess that their God was not Caesar and their ultimate loyalty was not to the Roman Empire. Their God was the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Their God was the One who, in the fullness of time, sent forth His Son, Jesus Christ, who was born of a woman and born under the law to redeem those under the law.
One of the popular bumper stickers I see around and about Denton simply says “Co-exist”. Upon closer examination, the letters of the word actually pull double-duty as symbols for a number of differing spiritual and religious traditions. I’m persuaded that those Roman Christians would have agreed with the sentiment of these bumper stickers. They sought to proclaim their faith and live their faith and then leave it to the consciences of others whether or not to heed, accept, and embrace as their own this new way of life in Jesus Christ. Their “M.O.”, their modus operandi, their method of operation, and their mission did not have manipulation and control in its arsenal. Their aim was not to provoke but to proclaim.
But what if another group or entity sought to clamp down on them? What if another religion or even the burgeoning government itself made moves to shut them up or even persecute them for their beliefs? What if outside forces sought to manipulate and control them? Would their faith hold up?
The apostle Paul, that great traveling man and missionary to the Gentiles, was only too aware of the situation. He knew the tensions; they were growing. He knew the stakes; they were high. In fact, his ultimate goal was to finally, himself, arrive at Rome to strengthen these new people in the faith and to help them face their future with banners unfurled.
There were no airplanes, but there were boats. There were no emails, but there were letters. There was no Fed-Ex or UPS, but there were couriers who saw to it that letters arrived where they were intended to go.
On one day, to that small band of believers, a letter did arrive. It was long. It was what we now call the book of Romans. And right smack-dab in the middle of it was a communication, inspired by the Spirit of the living God, which was exactly what those people needed to hear.
Even more than crying with Rodney King’s “Why can’t we all just get along?”, even more than pleas for “co-existence”, we, too, need THIS message now – more than ever. Along with our fellow American citizens, we Christians hear talk of debt ceilings and national credit ratings writ large. We see the Dow Jones industrial average zoom up one hundred points in one day and race down two hundred points on the next. We watch the scenes from Norway as, this past week, the world was confronted once more with violent, death-dealing ideology. A singer and song-writer with great talent, Amy Winehouse, succumbs to a drug overdose – as did Curt Cobain, Janis Joplin, and Jim Morrison all in their twenty-seventh year. Last night, at a University of North Texas journalism conference, I learned that former U.S. Defense Secretary Robert Gates would be speaking at the school. A dinner companion reported to me that one of the reasons he stepped down from his position, which he held under both President Bush and President Obama, was because he could no longer bear the sheer magnitude of having to communicate and respond to the spouses, children, and family members of soldiers who lost their lives in Iraq and Afghanistan.
A classic Frank Sinatra song puts it this way: “So I’m down and so I’m out, but so are many others. So I feel like tryin’ to hide my head ‘neath these covers. Life is like the seasons – after winter comes the spring. So I think I’ll stay awhile and see what tomorrow brings.” Listen to me, Old Blue Eyes. Hear what I have to say, you old Chairman of the Board.
Reality is wearying. Existential despair is having a bull run, and sitting around waiting for what tomorrow brings is about as exciting as dryer lint. Tireless efforts of self-promotion only point to denial of the obvious. They only hide the uncertainty. Lets cut to the chase: We’re not sure what we believe in, or, if we were to pray, what to pray for.
But listen to the communication to the Roman Christians and to us: “We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.”
Just as you are, though tossed about with many a conflict, many a doubt, fightings and fears within, without, listen to the communication: “In all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
You are not a work-in-progress subject to random encouragements and supports or shortcomings and setbacks that may or may not come your way. No, you are a new creation! Listen to the communication: “For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified.” The main thing is not what we have done with our lives in this troubled world. The main thing is what God has done with our lives in this troubled world: God knows us, predestined us, conformed us to His Son, justified us, glorified us. There is where we take our stand. The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing!
The ultimate bug-a-boo is separation from the love of God. Think of what it would be like if we were separated from the love of God in the form of creation which includes air and food and water. We would not “be” at all. Think of what it would be like if we were separated from the love of God in redemption. There would be no Jesus Christ, no payment for our sin, no hope of life everlasting. Think of what it would be like to be separated from the Holy Spirit. There would be no love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, gentleness, self-control. There would be no fellowship with people who are with us when we’re down and celebrate with us when we’re up. Separated from the love of God, there is isolation and disintegration.
But “No”, says the communication. “No,” shouts the apostle Paul in his letter: “In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demos, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
That’s the best news you’re ever going to hear, my friends.
Amen.
THE STRAIGHTFORWARD PULPIT
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
The Transparency
Text: Psalm 139:1-12, 23-24
Theme: “M5: The Transparency” (5th in a Series)
5th Sunday after Pentecost
July 17, 2011
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
1 You have searched me, LORD,
and you know me.
2 You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
3 You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
4 Before a word is on my tongue
you, LORD, know it completely.
5 You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
7 Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,”
12 even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
23 Search me, God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
24 See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.
This morning, for your consideration, I offer the fifth in a series of messages on the mission of Jesus Christ which is, of course, the mission of the holy catholic church of which First Presbyterian Church is a part. Guiding our thoughts will be this incredible selection from the hymnal of the Bible, the Old Testament Book of Psalms, that you just heard. As an aside, all of the messages in this series are posted on my blog, The Straightforward Pulpit. The website is prdunklau.blogspot.com. If you’d like a printed copy of one any of these messages, let me know.
Two truths emerge from this beautiful and dearly beloved selection of Scripture – and both of them have massive significance for the mission of the church. First, God knows us better than we know ourselves. We are, in a word, “transparent” to the Almighty. Every thought, word, and deed is known by the Lord even before it is a thought we might think, a word we might say, or deed we might do.
The text, penned by King David, all but suggests that God is into surveillance. It’s as if He has a wiretap on the phone of our life. Everything is monitored. Some might say that this transparency, this omniscience (to use the traditional theological term), this knowing everything about us is a ridiculous lie. There are other points in Scripture that seem to contradict it anyway. “Who is man that You are mindful of Him?” asks another psalmist. Others might allow the possibility that it is true, that God knows everything about us, but it really has no bearing on the life and living of any given day. People will say what they say, do what they do, think what they think, and God, while knowing all, appears to be supremely indifferent. Finally, there are others who would have to concur with King David: “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.” Perhaps that could have been the reaction of the people after they heard what Jesus Christ Himself said one day: “Not a sparrow falls to the ground without Your heavenly Father knowing it.” And “Every hair on your head is numbered.” We are known far better than we can begin to know ourselves. Such an assertion is just too much to sink our teeth into, wrap our arms around, or get our hands on. That’s either going to scare the living daylights out of you, or you’ll learn to accept it as a grand mystery and begin to love it!
While we’re transparent to God, we do – perhaps more than we think – try to be far less transparent in our interactions with others. There is a certain “public personae” that we want others to see, but it doesn’t always match the reality. Say that a friend comes up to you and says: “Hey, how are you doing?” With a smile, you reply: “Pretty good.” It might even be apparent to your friend that you, indeed, are “pretty good.” But, if that friend knows you well enough, he or she might see beyond the apparent and catch a smidge of the transparent truth. The tone of your voice or the look in your eye might make it plain to your friend that you’re not as good as you make yourself out to be.
In the spring of 1944, America was at war with Germany and Japan. Back at the White House, Anna Roosevelt, the daughter of President Franklin Roosevelt, looked beyond the usual upbeat and effervescent appearance of her father. The presidential zest was nearly always apparent. But what she saw beneath the president’s bubbly personality alarmed her. She became conscious of the darkening hollows under his eyes, the loss of color in his face, the soft cough that accompanied him day and night. She noticed for the first time that his mouth hung open for long periods. Joining him at his cocktail hour, she saw the convulsive shake of his hand as he tried to light his cigarette. One time, when signing a letter, he blanked out halfway through, leaving a long illegible scrawl. Meanwhile, Grace Tulley, the president’s secretary, began to notice some of the same things. Doris Kearns Goodwin, an FDR biographer, described it as follows:
Though Roosevelt’s good spirits fooled reporters and visitors, Anna, who was with him most of his waking hours, could not ignore the discernible signs of trouble. There were too many times in the course of the day when she could see that “the blood was not pumping the way it should through one hundred percent of the body. (Doris Kearns Goodwin, No Ordinary Time).
Anna went to Dr. Robert McIntire, the president’s personal physician. McIntire thought it was just a bout of bronchitis and influenza. Anna didn’t think so; she knew her father better than McIntire. Eventually, she persuaded her dad to have a full check-up at Bethesda Naval Hospital. There, the president met Dr. Howard Bruenn, a cardiologist. “I suspected something was terribly wrong as soon as I looked at him,” recalled Dr. Bruenn. “His face was pallid and there was a bluish discoloration of his skin, lips and nail beds.” Dr. Bruenn put his hands on the president’s chest and listened to his heart. “It was worse than I feared,” he said. Roosevelt was suffering from congestive heart failure.
As it turns out, Dr. Bruenn never said a word to Roosevelt about the situation. Dr. McIntire had instructed him not to. For that matter, the president himself did not ask a single question about what Bruenn found out. At the end of the exam, Roosevelt smiled his famous smile and extended his hand. “Thanks, Doc,” he said. Then he left.
I share this to illustrate the extent people will at times go to keep up appearances. It may work for a while in human interaction, but, as our text reminds us, it doesn’t fool an all-knowing God.
If you believe that God knows you better than you know yourself, if you’re persuaded that God loves you too – even better than you can love yourself, then you have a liberated soul. You can share your experience, strength, and hope more easily. You can cling to the thought that the worst parts of your life, in God’s hands, can be your greatest assest. All of this, on the individual and congregational level, makes for effective mission.
The second truth is this: God’s Spirit is always with us. In the psalm we discover that wherever Kind David goes, the Spirit of God is there. Wherever he travels spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and even geographically, God’s Spirit is there. Reading between the lines, King David almost seems to say that he tried to flee from God’s presence but, like Adam and Eve before him, found it be an exercise in futility. Wherever he was, wherever he went, God was there. Can you say the same? Do you believe the same?
At the end of the movie Chisum, a classic western where the good guys win, John Wayne’s sidekick, “Mr. Pepper”, rides up to Chisum on horseback and says: “There’s an old Commanche saying that says there’s ‘No law West of Dodge, and no god West of the Pecos,’ right Mr. Chisum?” John Wayne, portraying Chisum, replies: “Wrong, Mr. Pepper – because sooner or later people find that there’s the law, and wherever they go they find that God’s already been there.”
But what if you don’t see it like Chisum? What if you don’t share the same experience of God’s presence as King David? What if God, to you, is a thought, a concept, or a possibility but certainly not an actual presence? Then I invite you to consider the words of Job. These words, for me, were a welcome tonic at a time in life where I thought God was nowhere to be found or had other fish to fry. On a personal note, this is one of my top five favorite selections from the Bible. Job, the afflicted one, says, in Job 23:8-10: “But if I go to the east, he (meaning God), is not there; if I go to the west, I do not find him. When he is at work in the north, I do not see him; when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him. But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold.”
King David sensed God’s presence everywhere. Job sensed it nowhere. But both knew that God knew it all. Both were on the receiving end of God’s magnificent love and mercy. Even better for all of us, in Jesus Christ that transparency, that love, and that mercy is embodied.
King David and Job shared their experiences; they told their stories. Will you share yours as part of this church’s mission?
Amen.
Theme: “M5: The Transparency” (5th in a Series)
5th Sunday after Pentecost
July 17, 2011
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
1 You have searched me, LORD,
and you know me.
2 You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
3 You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
4 Before a word is on my tongue
you, LORD, know it completely.
5 You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
7 Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,”
12 even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
23 Search me, God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
24 See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.
This morning, for your consideration, I offer the fifth in a series of messages on the mission of Jesus Christ which is, of course, the mission of the holy catholic church of which First Presbyterian Church is a part. Guiding our thoughts will be this incredible selection from the hymnal of the Bible, the Old Testament Book of Psalms, that you just heard. As an aside, all of the messages in this series are posted on my blog, The Straightforward Pulpit. The website is prdunklau.blogspot.com. If you’d like a printed copy of one any of these messages, let me know.
Two truths emerge from this beautiful and dearly beloved selection of Scripture – and both of them have massive significance for the mission of the church. First, God knows us better than we know ourselves. We are, in a word, “transparent” to the Almighty. Every thought, word, and deed is known by the Lord even before it is a thought we might think, a word we might say, or deed we might do.
The text, penned by King David, all but suggests that God is into surveillance. It’s as if He has a wiretap on the phone of our life. Everything is monitored. Some might say that this transparency, this omniscience (to use the traditional theological term), this knowing everything about us is a ridiculous lie. There are other points in Scripture that seem to contradict it anyway. “Who is man that You are mindful of Him?” asks another psalmist. Others might allow the possibility that it is true, that God knows everything about us, but it really has no bearing on the life and living of any given day. People will say what they say, do what they do, think what they think, and God, while knowing all, appears to be supremely indifferent. Finally, there are others who would have to concur with King David: “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.” Perhaps that could have been the reaction of the people after they heard what Jesus Christ Himself said one day: “Not a sparrow falls to the ground without Your heavenly Father knowing it.” And “Every hair on your head is numbered.” We are known far better than we can begin to know ourselves. Such an assertion is just too much to sink our teeth into, wrap our arms around, or get our hands on. That’s either going to scare the living daylights out of you, or you’ll learn to accept it as a grand mystery and begin to love it!
While we’re transparent to God, we do – perhaps more than we think – try to be far less transparent in our interactions with others. There is a certain “public personae” that we want others to see, but it doesn’t always match the reality. Say that a friend comes up to you and says: “Hey, how are you doing?” With a smile, you reply: “Pretty good.” It might even be apparent to your friend that you, indeed, are “pretty good.” But, if that friend knows you well enough, he or she might see beyond the apparent and catch a smidge of the transparent truth. The tone of your voice or the look in your eye might make it plain to your friend that you’re not as good as you make yourself out to be.
In the spring of 1944, America was at war with Germany and Japan. Back at the White House, Anna Roosevelt, the daughter of President Franklin Roosevelt, looked beyond the usual upbeat and effervescent appearance of her father. The presidential zest was nearly always apparent. But what she saw beneath the president’s bubbly personality alarmed her. She became conscious of the darkening hollows under his eyes, the loss of color in his face, the soft cough that accompanied him day and night. She noticed for the first time that his mouth hung open for long periods. Joining him at his cocktail hour, she saw the convulsive shake of his hand as he tried to light his cigarette. One time, when signing a letter, he blanked out halfway through, leaving a long illegible scrawl. Meanwhile, Grace Tulley, the president’s secretary, began to notice some of the same things. Doris Kearns Goodwin, an FDR biographer, described it as follows:
Though Roosevelt’s good spirits fooled reporters and visitors, Anna, who was with him most of his waking hours, could not ignore the discernible signs of trouble. There were too many times in the course of the day when she could see that “the blood was not pumping the way it should through one hundred percent of the body. (Doris Kearns Goodwin, No Ordinary Time).
Anna went to Dr. Robert McIntire, the president’s personal physician. McIntire thought it was just a bout of bronchitis and influenza. Anna didn’t think so; she knew her father better than McIntire. Eventually, she persuaded her dad to have a full check-up at Bethesda Naval Hospital. There, the president met Dr. Howard Bruenn, a cardiologist. “I suspected something was terribly wrong as soon as I looked at him,” recalled Dr. Bruenn. “His face was pallid and there was a bluish discoloration of his skin, lips and nail beds.” Dr. Bruenn put his hands on the president’s chest and listened to his heart. “It was worse than I feared,” he said. Roosevelt was suffering from congestive heart failure.
As it turns out, Dr. Bruenn never said a word to Roosevelt about the situation. Dr. McIntire had instructed him not to. For that matter, the president himself did not ask a single question about what Bruenn found out. At the end of the exam, Roosevelt smiled his famous smile and extended his hand. “Thanks, Doc,” he said. Then he left.
I share this to illustrate the extent people will at times go to keep up appearances. It may work for a while in human interaction, but, as our text reminds us, it doesn’t fool an all-knowing God.
If you believe that God knows you better than you know yourself, if you’re persuaded that God loves you too – even better than you can love yourself, then you have a liberated soul. You can share your experience, strength, and hope more easily. You can cling to the thought that the worst parts of your life, in God’s hands, can be your greatest assest. All of this, on the individual and congregational level, makes for effective mission.
The second truth is this: God’s Spirit is always with us. In the psalm we discover that wherever Kind David goes, the Spirit of God is there. Wherever he travels spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and even geographically, God’s Spirit is there. Reading between the lines, King David almost seems to say that he tried to flee from God’s presence but, like Adam and Eve before him, found it be an exercise in futility. Wherever he was, wherever he went, God was there. Can you say the same? Do you believe the same?
At the end of the movie Chisum, a classic western where the good guys win, John Wayne’s sidekick, “Mr. Pepper”, rides up to Chisum on horseback and says: “There’s an old Commanche saying that says there’s ‘No law West of Dodge, and no god West of the Pecos,’ right Mr. Chisum?” John Wayne, portraying Chisum, replies: “Wrong, Mr. Pepper – because sooner or later people find that there’s the law, and wherever they go they find that God’s already been there.”
But what if you don’t see it like Chisum? What if you don’t share the same experience of God’s presence as King David? What if God, to you, is a thought, a concept, or a possibility but certainly not an actual presence? Then I invite you to consider the words of Job. These words, for me, were a welcome tonic at a time in life where I thought God was nowhere to be found or had other fish to fry. On a personal note, this is one of my top five favorite selections from the Bible. Job, the afflicted one, says, in Job 23:8-10: “But if I go to the east, he (meaning God), is not there; if I go to the west, I do not find him. When he is at work in the north, I do not see him; when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him. But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold.”
King David sensed God’s presence everywhere. Job sensed it nowhere. But both knew that God knew it all. Both were on the receiving end of God’s magnificent love and mercy. Even better for all of us, in Jesus Christ that transparency, that love, and that mercy is embodied.
King David and Job shared their experiences; they told their stories. Will you share yours as part of this church’s mission?
Amen.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Text: Romans 8:1
Theme: “M4: The Acquittal” (4th in a Series)
4th Sunday after Pentecost
July 10, 2011
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.
This morning I’m glad to present the fourth installment in a series of messages to you about the mission of the church. Instead of calling it Mission: Impossible (an allusion to the television and motion picture series of yesteryear), I’ve titled it Mission: Possible.
It’s possible to believe, as we learned during the first message, that we are recruited to be a part of the mission. Likewise, we have all the resources necessary in the teachings of Jesus. Along the way, we learned the importance of welcoming others – or receiving them – in a genuine fashion. We don’t do it because we have to or because it is a choreographed task that churches undertake to show how nice they are in the hopes that someone will join. We welcome people genuinely because that is what Jesus did.
Last week, we discovered what a blessed thing it is to proclaim and extend the invitation of our Lord. “Come to Me, all you who are weak and heavy-laden,” says Jesus, “and I will give you rest.” We discovered that if we, the disciples of Jesus, are not offering the rest and refreshment that comes with being a follower of the Lord, we’ve overlooked a key component of the church’s mission. Whether it knows it or not, whether it can formulate it in words or not, our society desperately craves the spiritual nourishment that Jesus continues to provide through His Word and Sacrament.
Today’s message, entitled “The Acquittal”, brings to our hearts and minds another element – I would argue the central element – of mission. As a side note, I want you to know that I chose this title long before the verdict in the Casey Anthony trial came in last week. In the court of what we occasionally call “popular opinion”, the acquittal of Ms. Anthony on the charge of murdering her daughter is -- for a whole bunch of people in our country -- a travesty of justice. Some would say that the circumstantial evidence surrounding the case all but demanded a guilty verdict. But in America, popular opinion, however it is measured in anyone’s polling data, does not serve as judge and jury. In our grade school, junior high, and high school civics courses, we learned that any suspect is innocent until proven guilty. Second, the burden of proof lies with the prosecution. Third, guilt must be established “beyond reasonable doubt.” And finally there’s double jeopardy – which means that a defendant cannot go to trial a second time for the same crime.
I think what really irks the American people is the possibility that favorable verdicts – meaning an acquittal, in the case of a defendant – can be bought. Three years ago, a movie actor by the name of Wesley Snipes was acquitted of tax fraud. On the same day when headlines reported the acquittal of Mr. Snipes, a Boston appeals court convicted a man named Richard Hatch for the same charge. Hatch got nailed. Wesley Snipes walked free. Why is that? Well, think about the resources available to the prosecution (the government) and to defendants. Hatch did not have the resources to retain a high-brass, high-dollar defense team. He couldn’t retain F. Lee Bailey, Robert Kardashian, or Johnny Cochran. Snipes, however, did have the cash. Instances such as this feed the thought that “justice goes to the highest bidder.”
In courtrooms all across America, judges ask defendants how they wish to plead. On Sunday mornings, however, in houses and places of worship all across the world, Christians come forward to offer a plea of their own. We did that earlier this morning – and the plea was guilty. In other words, we confessed our sins; we agreed with the charge of the prosecution. We didn’t come before God and one another only to offer a plea of “not guilty”. In addition, we didn’t come before our God to plea bargain – in other words, “Yes, God, I’ve made a few mistakes; I may have even sinned a time or two. But I’m a nice guy (or gal); I treat others kindly (unless they cut me off in traffic); I don’t beat my wife; I spend time with my kids. I support causes that you like, God. Therefore, we can work this out; we can cut a deal. For crying out loud, dear God! Throw me a bone, God!”
Neither did we plead nollo contendere (a Latin phrase still used in courts of law) which means “no contest”. Essentially, we’re not admitting guilt but we’re not contesting the judgment of the court either; that’s nollo contendere. Here’s a classic example: Vice President Spiro T. Agnew, during the years of Richard Nixon, plead nollo contendere to tax fraud, extortion, bribery, and conspiracy. The judge accepted this plea on the condition that Agnew resign the Vice-Presidency – which he did. Interestingly, nollo contendere is a very popular option among God’s people today. The attitude is very simple and very popular: “God, I’ll take whatever you dish out. I’ll roll with whatever punches come my way. After all, You’re sovereign; You’re in control. But I’m not going to “fess up” until others – like Joe, Jim, Jane, or Judy – confess. I may sin, but Joe, Jim, Jane, or Judy sin far more than I do, and you need to deal with them first; it’s only fair. Until you get into gear, God, and right what is wrong, I have nothing to say. That’s the language – and the attitude! – of nollo contendere before God.
To plead “not guilty”, nollo contendere, or to try to plea bargain away the accusation against us all is basically a big heaping pile of what the apostle Paul called skubala – or dung, or excrement, or crap. The Bible makes no bones about it; it pulls no punches when it says that “All have sinned and have fallen short of the glory of God – and that includes OJ and Spiro Agnew and Casey Anthony and you and me and even my dear old Aunt Esther Mae who was truly one of the nicest, most Christian human being I ever met! God’s Word goes on to say that “If you keep the whole law of God perfectly but stumble just once, you’re guilty of the whole thing.” King David, once described as the “apple of God’s eye”, went so far as to say: “I was born in sin, and in sin did my mother conceive me.”
The apostle of Paul, in Romans chapter 7, puts into words something of the spiritual civil war that we all are engaged in. He writes: “I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?” That language doesn’t exactly lift the spirit, but it is gut-level honesty.
Dear friends, I’ve lived fifty years. Were someone to ask me to sum up my experiences, I’ve come to the point where I believe I can do that quite easily. First, the human condition is far worse than any one of us can begin to imagine. Despite the incredible advances the human race has made (antibiotics, vaccines, splitting the atom, the microchip, etc.), we’re in far worse condition than we can begin to imagine. But secondly, at the same time, the human condition is far better than we can possibly conceive. The human race, because of Jesus Christ, is blessed in such grand and glorious scope that one scarce can take it in.
And here’s why. It comes in the form of today’s text. After confessing total despair and wretchedness, the apostle Paul goes on to announce: “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus!”
There you have it: The verdict is in and the acquittal is announced. It is also known as the forgiveness of all your sins! “But wait,” someone says. “That’s not justice!” Oh, yes it is! It’s a rough justice – no doubt about it. You can say that it’s a justice that was bought.
But it was not bought in the process of securing high-brass, high-dollar attorneys. It was not bought with hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars in legal fees. In some of the greatest words the Protestant Reformer Martin Luther ever wrote, we read as follows: “Jesus Christ…has redeemed me, a lost and condemned creature, purchased and won me from all sins, from death, and from the power of the devil; not with gold or silver, but with His holy, precious blood and with His innocent suffering and death, that I may be His own, and live under Him in His kingdom, and serve Him in everlasting righteousness, innocence, and blessedness!”
It’s worth repeating – and committing to memory: “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” Amen.
Theme: “M4: The Acquittal” (4th in a Series)
4th Sunday after Pentecost
July 10, 2011
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.
This morning I’m glad to present the fourth installment in a series of messages to you about the mission of the church. Instead of calling it Mission: Impossible (an allusion to the television and motion picture series of yesteryear), I’ve titled it Mission: Possible.
It’s possible to believe, as we learned during the first message, that we are recruited to be a part of the mission. Likewise, we have all the resources necessary in the teachings of Jesus. Along the way, we learned the importance of welcoming others – or receiving them – in a genuine fashion. We don’t do it because we have to or because it is a choreographed task that churches undertake to show how nice they are in the hopes that someone will join. We welcome people genuinely because that is what Jesus did.
Last week, we discovered what a blessed thing it is to proclaim and extend the invitation of our Lord. “Come to Me, all you who are weak and heavy-laden,” says Jesus, “and I will give you rest.” We discovered that if we, the disciples of Jesus, are not offering the rest and refreshment that comes with being a follower of the Lord, we’ve overlooked a key component of the church’s mission. Whether it knows it or not, whether it can formulate it in words or not, our society desperately craves the spiritual nourishment that Jesus continues to provide through His Word and Sacrament.
Today’s message, entitled “The Acquittal”, brings to our hearts and minds another element – I would argue the central element – of mission. As a side note, I want you to know that I chose this title long before the verdict in the Casey Anthony trial came in last week. In the court of what we occasionally call “popular opinion”, the acquittal of Ms. Anthony on the charge of murdering her daughter is -- for a whole bunch of people in our country -- a travesty of justice. Some would say that the circumstantial evidence surrounding the case all but demanded a guilty verdict. But in America, popular opinion, however it is measured in anyone’s polling data, does not serve as judge and jury. In our grade school, junior high, and high school civics courses, we learned that any suspect is innocent until proven guilty. Second, the burden of proof lies with the prosecution. Third, guilt must be established “beyond reasonable doubt.” And finally there’s double jeopardy – which means that a defendant cannot go to trial a second time for the same crime.
I think what really irks the American people is the possibility that favorable verdicts – meaning an acquittal, in the case of a defendant – can be bought. Three years ago, a movie actor by the name of Wesley Snipes was acquitted of tax fraud. On the same day when headlines reported the acquittal of Mr. Snipes, a Boston appeals court convicted a man named Richard Hatch for the same charge. Hatch got nailed. Wesley Snipes walked free. Why is that? Well, think about the resources available to the prosecution (the government) and to defendants. Hatch did not have the resources to retain a high-brass, high-dollar defense team. He couldn’t retain F. Lee Bailey, Robert Kardashian, or Johnny Cochran. Snipes, however, did have the cash. Instances such as this feed the thought that “justice goes to the highest bidder.”
In courtrooms all across America, judges ask defendants how they wish to plead. On Sunday mornings, however, in houses and places of worship all across the world, Christians come forward to offer a plea of their own. We did that earlier this morning – and the plea was guilty. In other words, we confessed our sins; we agreed with the charge of the prosecution. We didn’t come before God and one another only to offer a plea of “not guilty”. In addition, we didn’t come before our God to plea bargain – in other words, “Yes, God, I’ve made a few mistakes; I may have even sinned a time or two. But I’m a nice guy (or gal); I treat others kindly (unless they cut me off in traffic); I don’t beat my wife; I spend time with my kids. I support causes that you like, God. Therefore, we can work this out; we can cut a deal. For crying out loud, dear God! Throw me a bone, God!”
Neither did we plead nollo contendere (a Latin phrase still used in courts of law) which means “no contest”. Essentially, we’re not admitting guilt but we’re not contesting the judgment of the court either; that’s nollo contendere. Here’s a classic example: Vice President Spiro T. Agnew, during the years of Richard Nixon, plead nollo contendere to tax fraud, extortion, bribery, and conspiracy. The judge accepted this plea on the condition that Agnew resign the Vice-Presidency – which he did. Interestingly, nollo contendere is a very popular option among God’s people today. The attitude is very simple and very popular: “God, I’ll take whatever you dish out. I’ll roll with whatever punches come my way. After all, You’re sovereign; You’re in control. But I’m not going to “fess up” until others – like Joe, Jim, Jane, or Judy – confess. I may sin, but Joe, Jim, Jane, or Judy sin far more than I do, and you need to deal with them first; it’s only fair. Until you get into gear, God, and right what is wrong, I have nothing to say. That’s the language – and the attitude! – of nollo contendere before God.
To plead “not guilty”, nollo contendere, or to try to plea bargain away the accusation against us all is basically a big heaping pile of what the apostle Paul called skubala – or dung, or excrement, or crap. The Bible makes no bones about it; it pulls no punches when it says that “All have sinned and have fallen short of the glory of God – and that includes OJ and Spiro Agnew and Casey Anthony and you and me and even my dear old Aunt Esther Mae who was truly one of the nicest, most Christian human being I ever met! God’s Word goes on to say that “If you keep the whole law of God perfectly but stumble just once, you’re guilty of the whole thing.” King David, once described as the “apple of God’s eye”, went so far as to say: “I was born in sin, and in sin did my mother conceive me.”
The apostle of Paul, in Romans chapter 7, puts into words something of the spiritual civil war that we all are engaged in. He writes: “I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?” That language doesn’t exactly lift the spirit, but it is gut-level honesty.
Dear friends, I’ve lived fifty years. Were someone to ask me to sum up my experiences, I’ve come to the point where I believe I can do that quite easily. First, the human condition is far worse than any one of us can begin to imagine. Despite the incredible advances the human race has made (antibiotics, vaccines, splitting the atom, the microchip, etc.), we’re in far worse condition than we can begin to imagine. But secondly, at the same time, the human condition is far better than we can possibly conceive. The human race, because of Jesus Christ, is blessed in such grand and glorious scope that one scarce can take it in.
And here’s why. It comes in the form of today’s text. After confessing total despair and wretchedness, the apostle Paul goes on to announce: “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus!”
There you have it: The verdict is in and the acquittal is announced. It is also known as the forgiveness of all your sins! “But wait,” someone says. “That’s not justice!” Oh, yes it is! It’s a rough justice – no doubt about it. You can say that it’s a justice that was bought.
But it was not bought in the process of securing high-brass, high-dollar attorneys. It was not bought with hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars in legal fees. In some of the greatest words the Protestant Reformer Martin Luther ever wrote, we read as follows: “Jesus Christ…has redeemed me, a lost and condemned creature, purchased and won me from all sins, from death, and from the power of the devil; not with gold or silver, but with His holy, precious blood and with His innocent suffering and death, that I may be His own, and live under Him in His kingdom, and serve Him in everlasting righteousness, innocence, and blessedness!”
It’s worth repeating – and committing to memory: “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” Amen.
Text: Matthew 11:28-30
Theme: “M3: The Invitation” (3rd in a Series)
3rd Sunday after Pentecost
July 3, 2011
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.
At some point around about 4th or 5th grade, my mother gave me a volume entitled White Gloves and Party Manners. Essentially, it was a book of etiquette for young boys. I’m sure it was modeled after the classic work on etiquette – etiquette involves basic standards of behavior -- written by Amy Vanderbilt and first published nearly sixty years ago. It taught such things as the importance of proper grooming, how to comb your hair, trim your nails, fold a handkerchief, make a bed, and, more importantly, how to behave at social events. I remember using the book to learn how to tie a tie, but all that other stuff about being a good little boy I found to be positively boring. As a result, I’m not sure if my behavior at social events is always in keeping with the proprieties of etiquette!
Nevertheless, it is not unimportant to be aware of etiquette, to have good manners, to understand that there are certain standards of behavior that most people – at least civil and reasonable people – abide by. Take the whole matter of getting an invitation to an event or a party. It used to be you’d get an invitation via the U.S. mail – say, for a wedding – and it would have “RSVP” written or printed on it. RSVP is an abbreviation for a French term that means “The favor of a reply is requested.” That’s simply a nice way of saying “Let us know if you’re coming so we can get a head-count and know how much food and drink to provide, etc., etc.” Other invitations might have the two words “Regrets Only” found on them. “Regrets Only” means that the host of the party wants to know if you can’t make it. They don’t want to know if you can make it; they only want to know if you can’t make it.
I’m sure some of you have heard of E-vite. E-vite is an internet site that enables you to send invitations to your friends for whatever function you have in mind. It gives your would-be attendees the option to reply with “yes”, “no”, or “maybe attending” to your invitation.
Speaking of invitations, I recently finished reading a little smidge of history just in time for the 4th of July weekend. It was in the form of a book entitled 1776. It tells the story of the conduct of the Revolutionary War during the calendar year 1776 – which is, or course, the year that the Declaration of Independence was signed. During the course of that war, as the book makes plain, General Howe of the British army would occasionally want to communicate with General George Washington of the American army. General Howe would issue an invitation for such communication by sending a soldier – or “Redcoat” as they were called – over to the American side holding a sign of truce. Even war had a certain degree of etiquette. It was commonly understood that there would be no guns firing under the sign of truce.
In today’s Gospel reading, we heard the classic invitation of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. It is an old invitation – far older than our United States. Yet, it is ever new. Jesus Christ, crucified for our sins and raised again for our justification, puts it out there for everyone to hear: ”Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
It really is a strange invitation. There is no RSVP or Regrets Only. He doesn’t appear to be looking for a head-count. Thus, it would seem that it’s a blanket invitation meant for everyone. But take a second look. Oddly enough, the invitation does seem to limit the guest list. Jesus says, “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” He targets those who are weary and burdened – or “heavy-laden”, as another translation puts it.
Now what if you’re not weary? What if you don’t carry any recognizable burdens? What if you feel hale and hearty and rested and ready for any contingency in life? What if you feel as though you’re walking on sunshine without a burden or care in the world? As I look around North Texas, the only thing that appears to me to be weary or burdened is the sum total of air conditioning units in this oppressive, triple figure heat and humidity. Nevertheless, energetically and consistently, people are out and about doing their thing. They suit up and show up every day. They appear to engage their labor and their leisure with zest, with zip, and with a certain light-heartedness. This notion of being weary and over-burdened doesn’t appear to be completely accurate.
But, my friends, appearances can often be deceiving. In fact, there are some folk that become weary and burdened in the daily effort, which grows ever more difficult, of keeping up appearances. While not appearing that way, the fact is that many are very weary – spiritually, mentally, physically – due to the limits and the uncertainties and the stresses and strains of life. The burdens that they bear carry substantive weight, and that weight depresses them. It becomes more difficult, with each passing day, to appear strong and to give off the impression that you’ve got it together.
Part of the mission of the church and, therefore, the mission of our congregation here at First, is to keep issuing this glorious invitation of Jesus: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” And here’s a way that we can do that better: we stop at nothing to make this a place where people can identify their weariness, understand their weariness, own their weariness; make this a place where people can identify their burdens, understand their burdens, own their burdens. Make this a place where no one has to lie or to obfuscate or to keep up appearances. Make this a place where we can be ourselves – warts and all. Then, guess what? This becomes a place where people cannot wait to respond to that fantastic invitation of Jesus: “Come unto Me!”
Nearly ten years ago, something happened to me that I want you to know about. If this ends up sounding as though I’m bragging, please forgive me. That’s not my intent. There was a time, nearly ten years ago, when I realized I had to make a decision. Don’t get me wrong. I knew that I was saved. I knew that I was a dearly loved child of God. I knew that Jesus had done it all for me, and my good works had nothing to do with it. I knew it was all by grace alone. I knew it was all by faith alone, and so forth. I had it all straight in my head. But in my heart and soul, there was nothing but bankruptcy. I believed in God; I loved God, but, truth be told, I thought God was AWOL. I didn’t trust anyone. And it got to the point where I didn’t even trust myself.
My friends, I’m here to testify that such a life as I was living is extremely wearisome. It is, pardon me for saying it, one hell of a heavy burden to bear. It was suggested to me, at the time, that I might consider making a decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of God as I understood God. By the grace of God, I did make that decision. I also want to be crystal clear about the fact that I’m not saved because of that decision. Quite to the contrary, I’m saved because Jesus made a decision for me.
But I’m here to tell you, still, that it’s so much easier when you own that weariness and own that burden and then respond to the invitation of Jesus. He’ll take that weariness and take that burden and give you rest in exchange. He’ll give you His yoke and His burden, and you’ll discover that it is easy and it is light.
If this resonates with you, don’t send in your regrets. Send in your RSVP!
Amen.
Theme: “M3: The Invitation” (3rd in a Series)
3rd Sunday after Pentecost
July 3, 2011
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.
At some point around about 4th or 5th grade, my mother gave me a volume entitled White Gloves and Party Manners. Essentially, it was a book of etiquette for young boys. I’m sure it was modeled after the classic work on etiquette – etiquette involves basic standards of behavior -- written by Amy Vanderbilt and first published nearly sixty years ago. It taught such things as the importance of proper grooming, how to comb your hair, trim your nails, fold a handkerchief, make a bed, and, more importantly, how to behave at social events. I remember using the book to learn how to tie a tie, but all that other stuff about being a good little boy I found to be positively boring. As a result, I’m not sure if my behavior at social events is always in keeping with the proprieties of etiquette!
Nevertheless, it is not unimportant to be aware of etiquette, to have good manners, to understand that there are certain standards of behavior that most people – at least civil and reasonable people – abide by. Take the whole matter of getting an invitation to an event or a party. It used to be you’d get an invitation via the U.S. mail – say, for a wedding – and it would have “RSVP” written or printed on it. RSVP is an abbreviation for a French term that means “The favor of a reply is requested.” That’s simply a nice way of saying “Let us know if you’re coming so we can get a head-count and know how much food and drink to provide, etc., etc.” Other invitations might have the two words “Regrets Only” found on them. “Regrets Only” means that the host of the party wants to know if you can’t make it. They don’t want to know if you can make it; they only want to know if you can’t make it.
I’m sure some of you have heard of E-vite. E-vite is an internet site that enables you to send invitations to your friends for whatever function you have in mind. It gives your would-be attendees the option to reply with “yes”, “no”, or “maybe attending” to your invitation.
Speaking of invitations, I recently finished reading a little smidge of history just in time for the 4th of July weekend. It was in the form of a book entitled 1776. It tells the story of the conduct of the Revolutionary War during the calendar year 1776 – which is, or course, the year that the Declaration of Independence was signed. During the course of that war, as the book makes plain, General Howe of the British army would occasionally want to communicate with General George Washington of the American army. General Howe would issue an invitation for such communication by sending a soldier – or “Redcoat” as they were called – over to the American side holding a sign of truce. Even war had a certain degree of etiquette. It was commonly understood that there would be no guns firing under the sign of truce.
In today’s Gospel reading, we heard the classic invitation of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. It is an old invitation – far older than our United States. Yet, it is ever new. Jesus Christ, crucified for our sins and raised again for our justification, puts it out there for everyone to hear: ”Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
It really is a strange invitation. There is no RSVP or Regrets Only. He doesn’t appear to be looking for a head-count. Thus, it would seem that it’s a blanket invitation meant for everyone. But take a second look. Oddly enough, the invitation does seem to limit the guest list. Jesus says, “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” He targets those who are weary and burdened – or “heavy-laden”, as another translation puts it.
Now what if you’re not weary? What if you don’t carry any recognizable burdens? What if you feel hale and hearty and rested and ready for any contingency in life? What if you feel as though you’re walking on sunshine without a burden or care in the world? As I look around North Texas, the only thing that appears to me to be weary or burdened is the sum total of air conditioning units in this oppressive, triple figure heat and humidity. Nevertheless, energetically and consistently, people are out and about doing their thing. They suit up and show up every day. They appear to engage their labor and their leisure with zest, with zip, and with a certain light-heartedness. This notion of being weary and over-burdened doesn’t appear to be completely accurate.
But, my friends, appearances can often be deceiving. In fact, there are some folk that become weary and burdened in the daily effort, which grows ever more difficult, of keeping up appearances. While not appearing that way, the fact is that many are very weary – spiritually, mentally, physically – due to the limits and the uncertainties and the stresses and strains of life. The burdens that they bear carry substantive weight, and that weight depresses them. It becomes more difficult, with each passing day, to appear strong and to give off the impression that you’ve got it together.
Part of the mission of the church and, therefore, the mission of our congregation here at First, is to keep issuing this glorious invitation of Jesus: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” And here’s a way that we can do that better: we stop at nothing to make this a place where people can identify their weariness, understand their weariness, own their weariness; make this a place where people can identify their burdens, understand their burdens, own their burdens. Make this a place where no one has to lie or to obfuscate or to keep up appearances. Make this a place where we can be ourselves – warts and all. Then, guess what? This becomes a place where people cannot wait to respond to that fantastic invitation of Jesus: “Come unto Me!”
Nearly ten years ago, something happened to me that I want you to know about. If this ends up sounding as though I’m bragging, please forgive me. That’s not my intent. There was a time, nearly ten years ago, when I realized I had to make a decision. Don’t get me wrong. I knew that I was saved. I knew that I was a dearly loved child of God. I knew that Jesus had done it all for me, and my good works had nothing to do with it. I knew it was all by grace alone. I knew it was all by faith alone, and so forth. I had it all straight in my head. But in my heart and soul, there was nothing but bankruptcy. I believed in God; I loved God, but, truth be told, I thought God was AWOL. I didn’t trust anyone. And it got to the point where I didn’t even trust myself.
My friends, I’m here to testify that such a life as I was living is extremely wearisome. It is, pardon me for saying it, one hell of a heavy burden to bear. It was suggested to me, at the time, that I might consider making a decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of God as I understood God. By the grace of God, I did make that decision. I also want to be crystal clear about the fact that I’m not saved because of that decision. Quite to the contrary, I’m saved because Jesus made a decision for me.
But I’m here to tell you, still, that it’s so much easier when you own that weariness and own that burden and then respond to the invitation of Jesus. He’ll take that weariness and take that burden and give you rest in exchange. He’ll give you His yoke and His burden, and you’ll discover that it is easy and it is light.
If this resonates with you, don’t send in your regrets. Send in your RSVP!
Amen.
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