Making a concession about confession

Folks have all sorts of ideas about what their favourite part of a church service is.  Most people, when I ask them, usually say 'the end'.  Yeah, tee hee, the best part of a church service is when it's ending.  Bart Simpson said it best when he said that the best time of the whole week is right after church ends, because that's the maximum time between church and more church.

But beyond pithy, glib remarks about how much you hate boring old church, there are parts people like more than others; maybe it's the music, maybe it's the excellent sermon, maybe it's the fellowship, maybe it's the comforting liturgy that fits like a very familiar sweater, it could be anything.  But I think we can all agree that the most important part is the confession and absolution.
Can't we?

Probably not.  That's the funny thing about confession and absolution, in which it is extremely important, but very few of us actually think it's too terribly necessary.  In fact, if I was to run a service without music, and one without confession and absolution, which do you think would bother people more?  I'll give you a hint: music.

If we take seriously the entire point of the scriptures, they talk at great length about forgiveness of sins.  It's a central issue, before there were musical instruments, before there was a church, before there was anything that we would recognize as part of worship, there was sin and forgiveness.  When people transgressed that first rule, way back in the garden, there was sin.  And when God made his promises to them about a redeemer, there was grace.

Given that this is of such central importance, and given that the Christian church has nothing to offer EXCEPT forgiveness, really, why is it downgraded to such a low matter of importance in the life of the everyday Christian?  Primarily because nobody really genuinely believes that this applies to them.

I'll elaborate.  The law of God, as you know, is good and righteous.  It is perfect in every way.  But the trouble is in the way that you and I use said law: we use it very selectively.  We use that law of God to comb through the activities that other people do, we use it to check out what other folks are up to, and we are typically delighted when they collapse around us.  Most of us have a pretty basic knowledge of the Ten Commandments, and what is located therein.  We have a passing familiarity with the rules and laws that God has set up for us, and we are pleased with them because they point out the failings of others.  And this is what we're generally all about.  We are perfectly able to read through the scriptures, to check out the various laws of God, and to find in them where people have failed God.

And that's what we Christians absolutely love to do.  This is precisely why Christians have a reputation as being judgmental instead of humble, of being proud instead of meek, and of generally being pills about a lot of stuff - the trouble is we know the law of God really well, we know the ten commandments, we know the statutes that God has in mind for his people, but we generally just see how that looks in other people.

The readings from this last Sunday were pretty appropriate for this, most especially the one from 2 Samuel concerning Nathan and David.  You see, David had in mind to wed and to bed Bathsheba, whom he saw bathing on the rooftop.  But Bathsheba was already married to Uriah the Hittite, meaning that she was off limits.  But David was the king! He could do whatever he wanted!  He could be in charge of everything!  And most importantly, he had no earthly power telling him what he could and couldn't do.  So he went to the max, and had Uriah killed.  He had him put on the front lines of his army, with the full and complete desire to have him become arrow fodder.  Which he did.  And when Bathsheba was done with her period of mourning, David took her as his wife.

Wow, class act, David.  Well played.

But hold on just a second.  What I just did with David is exactly what the problem is - we read through the Bible and look for stuff other people are doing.  And this is no exception! There's David, being a murderer, and adulterer, a terrible reprobate, and living high on the hog because of it.  He is free to wallow in his own crapulence, and nobody is possibly ever going to catch up with him on it, because he's the King.  And it's good to be the king.

 And it was into this situation that the prophet Nathan entered, to show David his sin.  But you and I both know how well that would go.  How well does anyone react when you point out their failings? How well do you react when someone points out your failings?  When someone shows up to you and says 'you know, you probably shouldn't have been such a jerk,' your reaction is rarely to say 'oh, wow, you're right.'  Whether it's a total stranger, or your spouse, or anything in between, if someone points ou t to you that you're a mess, you probably react poorly. And that stands to reason.  Nobody wants to hear about how they're a disaster, or a scumbag.   You want to go to a church and be told that you're right, that you have the truth, that you're in good shape, and that the reason that the world isn't working the way it should is because other people are doing things wrong.

And knowing that, Nathan, God's prophet, did something very clever. He told David a hypothetical situation involving people who didn't really exist, but who were standing in for people who did.  He told the story of a rich man who stole a poor man's sheep, and had it killed so that the rich man, who already had an abundance, could have more.  And at this, David's anger burned hot, and he said that the rich man deserves to die, and he must pay back everything he owes to the poor man in spades.  And it is then that Nathan says 'You are the man!'  And no, not in the way that we throw around these days, but in the way that says 'this story is about you.'  And all of a sudden, David, King David, King David who had been in charge of so much, who had been responsible for such a great kingdom, who was untouchable in the extreme, that David had to be humble. He had humility pressed onto him by the story Nathan told, because Nathan had gotten to the heart of what David was all about - able to see sin in others, but not in himself.

You see, God is smart enough to know that this is how we saunter through life, and he's smart enough to know that we are unlikely to just sit there and listen if he berates us for our bad behavior.  And so when you hear the teachings of Jesus, they're typically in parables.  Why?  So that you'll listen.  The idea is that you listen to the teachings of Jesus, understand that they're good and righteous on their own,  and then see how they apply to you.  That's the real trick.  That's how God's word works, though, is that it points out to you your flaws, and offers you forgiveness.  And as usual, if you read through the scriptures and find only where everyone else has to improve, then you've missed the point, and you need to start over.  Why am  I so keen on pointing this out?  Because unless you get this rather mundane point, then the religion has actually nothing to offer you.  Christianity is about justification, and if you think you don't really need any, then the faith is empty for you.

The Gospel reading is great for this.  The reading is that of a woman and of a Pharisee, and the woman is a sinner.  And the idea that the Pharisee has is that Jesus should be pushing her away when she washes his feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair, because she's a bit of a scumbag.  And if Jesus was a prophet, then he'd know that she was a mess, that she was a sinner, and that she deserved nothing.

And so Jesus teaches him with a parable, talking about, what else, the forgiveness of sins.  He mentions that this woman is grateful because she has been forgiven much.  She has been forgiven of a great many sins, and those sins, which had been weighing heavily on her, have been lifted.  And what a great and wonderful feeling it must have been, because she was certainly aware of what she had done.  She was certainly aware of her own condition, she was certainly aware of her own failings, of her own problems and difficulties, and when Jesus promised to take care of that, she could not have been happier.  The only reason that the Pharisee was not there right along with her was because he really understood his own sin as not that big a deal.

He who is forgiven little loves little.  And that's where we Christians are.  Not that God won't forgive more sins, and not that he won't forgive all your sins, but he won't forgive what you retain.  If you come to God only with something minor, as Christians tend to do; if you come to God with the following list of sins:

coveting sometimes
saying 'damn'
skipping church one Sunday
not eating fish on Fridays.

If that's your list of sins that you have, then you will love little, because God has nothing to offer you.  All he has to offer you is holiness and righteousness through the forgiveness of sins, and if you bring him nothing for him to forgive, then why do you care about any of this?

But Luther was onto something when he told us to sin boldly.  Don't hide your sin from God, don't pretend you don't have any.  Don't be like the Pharisee at that dinner party and smugly assume that you're okay because you're not as bad as the next lady.  Sin boldly, so that the grace of God may be apparent in you.  Bring God your actual sins, not just a list of safe sins that it's okay to commit, because what's the point?  Bring him your lust, your desires, your greed, your pride, your gluttony, your sloth, your shortness with your friends and family, your dreadful bigotry.  Bring him all of that and be forgiven of that.  Can you imagine how much more you'd love God if he actually forgave your real sins?  Can you imagine how much closer your relationship with him would be if you let him do what he's here on earth to do, to forgive sins?

We are justified by faith in Christ.  Our sins are forgiven, we are redeemed, we are given grace beyond all measure.  The only thing is, what do you do with it?  Do you love little because you are forgiven little, or love much because you are forgiven much . Jesus promises to forgive pretty much everything, it's just a matter of what do you turn over to him?  This was the question that many of us had in Catholic school growing up, which was, when it was time for confession of sins, we all asked 'what if you don't have any sins to confess?' It seems funny now, but we all earnestly thought that was going to be a problem - that we'd get to the confessional, and have nothing to say.  But sin boldly.  Sin boldly, and know your sin - not the 'I haven't read my Bible enough' or 'I don't pray as often as I should,' but 'I love internet pornography' or 'I can't stand my inlaws.'  If you take stock of your sin, for real, you'll realize how big it is.  And when you realize that Jesus promises to take away all those sins, you probably won't be able to stop kissing his feet and wiping his feet with your hair.  But if you, as a typical Christian, only give to him small sins for him to forgive, acceptable sins, then you will love him little.

But remember this - He promises to forgive everything.  The only thing preventing your forgiveness is you.  Sin boldly. Give him your sins, and be absolved.

PJ.

Sunday Sunday

What if I told you that the Sabbath wasn't Sunday?

Would it blow your mind?  It blew my mind.  I always thought that the week was arranged with Monday at the beginning, and Sunday at the end.  And that made sense!  It made sense that the weekend was the end of the week (simple, right?) I always assumed, naturally, that the Sabbath that God took off was Sunday. Why wouldn't it be?  Why would it be any other day?

And then imagine my surprise when I found out that the Sabbath, in the Bible, was Saturday.  God made light on Sunday, and then continued to create all the way through that week and then He rested on Saturday.  So where do we get off going to church on a Sunday?

Well, this is a very interesting topic of conversation, and it's worth asking ourselves some serious questions about why we do what we do.  Because again, it's not set in stone that we should worship on a Sunday, and indeed, if we were to rest on a day set by scripture, it wouldn't be Sunday.

So what was Saturday for?  Well, if you take the story of creation seriously (and you should, because it's a matter of faith, don't you know), then you'll know that God created everything that there is, and nothing that there isn't, in a six day period.  On day one, he spoke light into existence.  On day two, God divided the waters from the waters, and created dry land.  On day three, the earth brought forth vegetation, and then on thye fourth day, the stars all showed up and stuff.  And then on the fifth day, living creatures from the sky and land showed up.  And then on the sixth day, living creatures on the earth (including people) showed up.  And that was a Friday.  And then came Saturday, when all the work of creation was done, was wrapped up, and was finished.  And then God looked at all the work he had done, and saw that it was good, and he rested.

The Sabbath, and the insistence on not working on the Sabbath, was bound to that concept: that God rested on the seventh day, and set aside his Sabbath as a time when people should rest.  Moses passed that along to the people of Israel in the ten commandments, the decalogue, saying to them:

Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.  For six 

days you shall labour and do all your work.  But the 

seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God.  You shall not

do any work - you, your son or daughter, your male or female slave,

your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns.  For in six days, the 

Lord made heaven and earth, the sea and all that is in them, but rested on the 

seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day, and consecrated it.

Exodus 20:8-11

Seems simple enough, doesn't it?  But as with everything else, you need to ask yourself why.  The Christian life should never be as simple as saying 'God says so, so I say okay.'  As I've said before on the blog, something isn't wrong because God forbids it:  God forbids it because it's wrong.  And that's a vital distinction.  A very very important distinction.  And all the commands of God in the Bible, you need to find out why God was commanding this sort of stuff, or the Bible will end up being a rather closed book.  Or if it's open, it'll be bad stuff.  

And when you start poking around in the Old Testament, you'll find a bunch of stuff.  You'll find a bunch of strange commandments from God, and you probably won't know what to do with it.  You'll get a bit cross, because a great deal of things that you find in the Old Testament seem to be a little bit strange or offensive.  The commands of God seem to be abrasive and difficult for us to keep.  Have you ever read Leviticus?  If not, you're not going to like it.  Nor are you going to like Deuteronomy, or the back 9 of Exodus,The reason that you're not going to like any of this stuff is because it all settles disquietingly on our ears.  And there are two reasons they settle disquietingly on our ears:

1 - what's the point?
2 - seems like a lot of work.

But all this stuff in the Old Testament, it was designed for a couple of things - first of all, to set Israel apart, and secondly, to bring about the messiah.  The Christ.

If you read through the Old Testament, you might get the idea that God is in the real estate business, or that he likes Israel for arbitrary reasons.  But he doesn't, and he isn't.  He's into Israel because Israel is going to be the source of the messiah, the savior of the entire world.  And stuff like Jonah, which is a story that stands perfectly well on its own, is also a story about Jesus.  The sign of Jonah, where he was in the belly of the great fish for three days, it's a story about how Jesus was in the belly of the earth for three days.  And the story of the Sabbath, where God rests, it's also a story about Jesus.  When he rested.

No, Jesus didn't take Saturdays off all the time, as he did a lot of healing on the Sabbath, and made people upset, but what he was doing was restoring God's joy and blessing to people on the Sabbath.  And the story of the Sabbath is intricately linked to the story of the death of Christ.  Because Jesus did quite prominently take one Saturday off.  Can you think of which one?

Give you a hint.  It's the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday.

That was the day when God rested again.  He rested in the week of creation, and he rested before the resurrection.  Why was there that time between the death and the resurrection?  To fulfill the Sabbath.

Observant Jews today still observe the Sabbath, still observe the Sabbath on Saturday, and still do no work (or as little as possible).  They won't cook, won't take elevators, won't , well, won't do too much of anything.  Nothing resembling work, and they do that because they recall the rest that God himself took on that day.  And what do we as Christians celebrate on Sunday?  We celebrate the Lord's day.

Again, this is still completely linked to the story of Easter.  We Christians celebrate something pretty important on Sundays, something tied into the readings for this last Sunday.  The Old Testament reading was of Elijah and the widow's son from 1 Kings 17.  The Gospel readings was from Luke 7, about the widow's son at Nain.  And what are these passages about?  They're about resurrection.  The widow's son in 1 Kings was dead.  No breath left in him (or in Hebrew, no spirit left in him).  And in Nain, the widow's son was also dead.  These young men were both brown bread, and in the scriptures, with the Lord's activity, we see them restored to life.  We see God's power over life and death, we see him not just performing CPR, but putting the living spirit back into these young gentlemen.  And in this activity, what do we see?  We see death itself being worked backwards, and life, real life, being restored.  how is that done?  It's done in Elijah's case by praying to God, and asking God to restore the young man's life, which God does.  But in the case of Jesus Christ, Jesus himself speaks to the deceased young man of Nain, and calls him to life.  Jesus does the same thing with Lazarus, not asking permission from God, but essentially ordering him, speaking him, back to life.  Much in the same way that God spoke the universe into existence ten thousand years ago, Jesus, the word of God made flesh, speaks life into people.

And then comes the Sunday, the day we celebrate because that was the day that Jesus rose from the dead, when Jesus raised himself.  This is why we celebrate on Sunday, and why we worship on Sunday, and why anything on Sunday - because we're celebrating the Lord's resurrection.  We're celebrating the moment when God quite visibly declared in the world that death is not the end, and that there is hope for the future - there is always hope for the future.  No matter how bedraggled or worn out we are, even if we're actually dead, there's hope for the future.

Every Sunday then, is a mini-Easter.  You see that in lent, which is 40 days plus Sundays, because each Sunday is like Easter all over again.  On Sundays, we celebrate not that God rested, but we celebrate that he did work.  The big work.  The work that restored life and peace to us all.  The work that undid death, and granted us salvation

PJ.

Why does PJ wear those 'God Clothes?'

Am I seeking the approval of God, or of man?

That's the question that Paul asks in the reading from Galatians for this last Sunday, and it's a funny thing to ask, because of what we've done to Jesus over progressive years.  That is, we've made those two things into the same thing.

I'll elaborate.  Over successive generations, the presence of Jesus in the world, that awesome lion of Judah and consuming fire, he's been a bit of an interesting customer - fully human and fully divine.  The savior of the entire world, and of all of creation.  And that's a heavenly mantle for him to bear, and a heavy mantle for us to see on him.  And when he lowers the boom on us (as he frequently does), he says something like 'be perfect, therefore, just as your heavenly father is perfect.' And we get a little upset with it.

Perfection is not something we feel comfortable in grasping.  It's a frightening thing to even consider, so when the possibility of it coming up arrives in our consciousness, we rush to knock it down.  And when Jesus shows up with perfection of his own, we get a little leery of the whole thing.  And we know that he commanded us to be perfect just as God is perfect, so we have a couple of options.  We can either be perfect as God is perfect, or we can, mentally at least, make God a little less perfect in our heads all the time.

And that's what it's turned into.  It turned into that quite some time ago, in which God became a bit of a convenient vessel for us to see ourselves in.  As usual, we conform him to us, rather than us to him.  And believe it or not, that is classic Pharisee operation.

Now I'm well aware that calling someone a Pharisee in a religious debate is the equivalent of ye old reductio ad hitlerum, but in this case, it happens to be valid.  The trouble with the majority of Christianity today is that nobody wants to look at the Pharisee in the mirror.  But why do you think that Jesus spent so much time opposing the Pharisees?

Because if he was hungry, he'd talk about food.

The major opponents to Jesus, and the prime target for his anger was the Pharisees, the chief priests, the scribes, the elders of the people, or in other words, the people who had gotten so close to God that they had no need for God.  To use a sort of coarse metaphor, but bear with me, it's sort of analogous to being in a marriage.  Why do you think affairs happen?  Well, for a wide variety of reasons, but part of the deal is that we get really complacent in our relationships, and we get bored and tired of it all.  For gentlemen, it's the same centerfold every month.  And what happens?  Guys (and ladies too) end up getting very relaxed in their relationship, and no longer feel the need to work on it.  After a while, you get so close to your spouse that you no longer need your spouse.  You two are in a relationship, so you get reallly slack with trying to impress your spouse, and you stop being as active in the caring department as you should be.  And as time wears on, you start to think much more that your spouse should be meeting your needs, rather than you meeting theirs in any real meaningful way.

It's the same with God, for the Pharisees as well as for us.  Oh, sure, it all starts out with the best of intentions, but we realize quickly that if we please God, he's awfully quiet about it.  It's the same as pleasing your spouse.  Part of the problem that my wife and I have is that I expect praise for accomplishing mundane tasks, and my wife feels as though that's just part of the married expectations as far as running the house goes.  That is, I regard it as a herculean accomplishment to keep my socks off the floor, whereas my wife would view that as just part of what you do when you're married, and you have a home together.  It's the same way with God.  He has an expectation for you as a Christian, and when you do what you do, what response do you get?

Will any of you who has a servant plowing or keeping sheep say to 

him when he has come in from the field:

'Come at once and recline at table?' 

Will he not rather say :

'Prepare supper for me, and dress properly, and serve me while I 

eat and drink, and afterward you will eat and drink?'

Does he thank the servant for doing what he was commanded?  

So you, also, when you have done all that you were commanded say:

'we are unworthy servants, we have only done what was our duty.'

Luke 17:7-10

Oh, what?  Is this for real?  After a lifetime of Christian service, you're supposed to just acknowledge it as your duty, and carry on?  Wow.  You're not supposed to make a big deal about it, you're not supposed to make a production over how much of a great neat guy you are.  You're supposed to just do what you're commanded to do, without any thought of how it might get you ahead.

But that flies against everything we want.  We want to be recognized, we want to be seen, we want to be lauded and appreciated, we want to be admired.  We live for the pats on the head.  And part of the reason that Jesus was so harsh on the Pharisees, again, was that they really felt as though they had earned the snuggles, the cuddles, and the love of God, by where they were born, and what they had done.

Now, it's into this world that I as a pastor walk.  Do I seek the approval of God or man?  Well, have you seen me dress?  If you're at church only on Sunday mornings, there's a good chance that you have no idea that I own other shirts.  You may have only ever seen me in one particular type of shirt, the clerical collar.  And what in the world am I doing wearing such a thing? And where do I get them?

Well, to answer the last question first, I get the shirts from Burns Hanley here in Regina, a Catholic store.  Don't tell them I'm a protestant!  That's all except for the shirt that my wife made for me as a wedding gift.  I wear that one when I perform weddings.

Now, it may surprise you that I do own other shirts.  A lot of other shirts.  And ties.  A magnificent array of ties.  And ascots, and bowties, and all that.  And with men in the business casual world of today, the tie and the suit, although largely similar, do allow for some degree of personalization.  But the idea with the shirts I wear, and with the robes I wear on Sunday morning as well, is that I'm supposed to be indistinguishable from all the other pastors you've ever met.  You're not supposed to see me, you're supposed to see Christ.  When I speak the absolution to you, you're not supposed to feel as though you're listening to Jim Chimirri-Russell, you're supposed to be listening directly to Jesus your Lord.  When I preach the word of God, you're not supposed to hear me speaking law and pronouncing Gospel, you're supposed to hear it from God Himself.  I'm supposed to be getting out of the way of the Gospel as much as humanly possible.  And that's tough to do, especially for a guy like myself, who likes to get nice compliments and have people tell me that I changed their lives and somesuch.  I want to hear that I did a good job, and I crave hearing that I did well, and that I was useful.  And when I get into thinking that way, it's good for me to remember that Jesus essentially requires humility.

This isn't Jesus. It's Phil Collins

As I quoted earlier, don't think that I was quoting from the scriptures just for you, I'm quoting for me, too.  I'm quoting for me, saying that Jesus Christ requires us to be humble.  Requires me to be humble.  He requires me, after I've done what I thought I had to do for the day, to get dressed again, and serve at his table.  He requires me to be as concealed as possible in the line of what I do, so that people don't see me, and so that they see Christ behind me.  It's as John the Baptist said about Jesus Christ "He must increase, and I must decrease."

That's true for me, and it's true for you, too.  It's a real thing that you, as an individual Christian, need to be aware of how you have to decrease, and Christ needs to increase.  That sounds bad, again, but it's actually a good thing, for a couple of reasons.  Firstly, for the right and proper reason that Christ's righteousness is what gives you grace.  If you're the big noise in the situation, you're never going to earn God's love.  You're too much of a mess!  And if you don't believe that, then you haven't looked closely enough, and the Christian church has nothing to offer you.

A real Phil Collins would never have a beard.

The other reason is a little bit more practical - if you decrease and Christ increases, then the world won't see you when it sees the church, and its worth.  Here's a simple test: have you ever found yourselves having to explain your way, as a Christian around someone like the Westboro Baptist Church, or abortion clinic bombers, or what have you, and told the people whom you were speaking to 'yes, but they're not real Christians.  Real Christians would never do anything like that.  Well, that's the great thing about this topic - by that definition, you're not a real Christian either.  And nor am I.  Would real Christians go around with malice in their hearts?  Would real Christians be smug or wrathful? Would real Christians be smug and proud of themselves?  Would real Christians be ardent pornographers?  Would real Christians deny Jesus Christ three times before breakfast, would real Christians call down hellfire on towns that didn't like them very much, would real Christians call into question the validity of the resurrection?

Oh, right, they totally would.  They did.  The last three did in the New Testament.  But when we look at the New Testament, we don't see that Peter was a coward, or that the sons of thunder were out for blood, or that Thomas flat out thought that the resurrection didn't happen.  We forget that, because we see Christ, and anyone else fits in around him.  Thanks be to God, that that's what can, and should happen today too!

Are you here to please God or man?  If you're here to please man, then you are going to have to be the single most moral, upright person on earth, because you stand alone.  And by the measure you use, by that measure you will be measured.  But if you're here to please God, then he must increase, and you must decrease.  Then you won't get the pats on the head from human beings that you want, but that's a good thing! Instead, you'll get covered over with the robe of Christ's righteousness, in the same way that my robes hide my individual clothing choices, as well as my big ol fat gut.  I'm covered up, and then it's not about me, it's about Christ.  It's the same way with you, although it'll be less obvious in your daily life.  But you absolutely cannot and should not claim to be a better person because of your Christian life.

You're just a forgiven person.  Would a real Christian do all the stuff you do in secret?  Not a chance.  Would a real Christian be forgiven of all his sins?  He or she absolutely would.

PJ.