The New Covenant: God’s Radical Grace

February 26, 2023
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Jeremiah 31:31-34; Luke 22:14-20[1]

Today I want to talk about “Covenant.” A covenant is an agreement between two parties, generally between people and God, stating their relationship and stipulating their future rights and responsibilities. It provides the arrangements within which ordinary life can flourish. It defines the common center of value that holds the community together and creates the conditions for free and responsible interactions.

Remember Noah and the Rainbow Covenant, where God promises to never again destroy the earth with a flood. Remember God’s covenant with Abraham, to make him the father of many nations, the ancestor of the “people of the book” as Jews, Christians, and Muslims are known.

Covenant is a powerful idea. As an arrangement created by God who makes the covenant, it is a gracious gift. God gives us the covenant as a means of providing us with peace, justice, happiness, freedom, and all of the good things in life that are priceless. The covenant stipulates a way of life based on the gift. In order to make the promises of the covenant a reality, we must respond with faith and obedience. We must live up to our obligations, take care of our responsibilities.

The covenant is a gift in the sense that it can be refused. We have to agree to the covenant. We have to choose to let God be our God. But, because it is based on our agreement, on consent rather than coercion or force, it creates a relationship between people and God where we are accountable to one another. We are in this together. For the promises of the covenant to be fulfilled, both God and people have to do their part.

God makes a covenant with us, and we receive the benefits of belonging to the people of God. God is especially concerned with justice and peace as the basis for human flourishing, and God’s promises make peace and justice a reality. We also take on some responsibilities as part of that covenant. God’s covenant with Moses and the Israelites involved a lengthy list of laws and rules about proper behavior. And that seemed to work… for a while.

But promises get broken, agreements are forgotten, and temptation draws us away from the commitments we’ve made. We all know what it is like to break a promise, or to have a promise that was made to us broken. I don’t think any of us is a stranger to that feeling of hurt, disappointment, betrayal. It breaks down our relationships. It ends friendships. It divides families. And it is so hard to build up a trust which has been lost.

All of the historical covenants appear to have been broken. It’s part of human nature, it seems. If we follow the story through the historical books of the Bible – Joshua, Judges, 1st and 2nd Kings, 1st and 2nd Samuel, etc. – we see God’s people repeatedly breaking the covenant. God, of course, gets angry with the people and so allows them to be conquered by different nations and even exiled from the “Promised Land.”

And yet… God never gives up. The prophets record the words that God speaks over and over again: “I will be their God, and they shall be my people.”[2] And the fact that after all we human beings have done to one another and to the world, God still has hope for us, is truly amazing. We hear that hope in the words of Jeremiah: “they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.”[3]

The promise, I will be your God and you shall be my people, is fulfilled in the life and destiny of Jesus Christ. The new covenant that Jesus speaks of during the Last Supper is the covenant that God writes on our hearts. It is the covenant of love that goes with us all the way to the grave and beyond. It is the promise of forgiveness, the gift of God’s grace. It is the way of the servant, giving ourselves to others in the name of the one who gave himself for all of us.

Radical grace is a term coined by the 20^th century theologian, Karl Barth. He was trying to respond to the Reformation idea of grace, proposed by John Calvin and others, that there is election or predestination. The Calvinist view of election teaches that in eternity God chose some individuals from the mass of fallen humanity to be saved without regard to any merit or foreseen faith in them, but solely based on God’s choice. Those elected are predestined to go to heaven.

Barth recognized in the church’s language of predestination an attempt to express the sovereignty of God. For him, this is the sum of the gospel—that God elects humanity and that this election is utterly unconditioned by any human merit, preparation, or disposition. But Barth’s reinterpretation of the doctrine of election rejects any form of double-predestination whereby some are elected to salvation and others to damnation.

Christ, has elected humanity for salvation. But Christ is also the one chosen before time to restore the broken covenant between God and humanity. The election of any particular person is always an election “in Christ,” and the election “in Christ” is an election of all persons for salvation and eternity. In this way, Barth removes speculation regarding the eternal destiny of any particular person and transforms it into an affirmation of radical grace. Radical grace means everyone is saved. The covenant is no longer dependent on our choice, but given no matter what.

The reality of salvation can only be fully affirmed if the event is seen to come to humankind as a gift that is already actual and complete. The gift is effective whether or not it is acknowledged by the recipient. The alternative, describing salvation as in some sense dependent on a human response, would imply that salvation is a mere possibility not yet realized in human existence. The gospel would become yet another law by which humanity was condemned.

Jesus didn’t come to condemn people to eternal damnation. In John’s Gospel, we read: “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”[4] Who did Jesus condemn? No one. Who did Jesus forgive? The disciples who deserted him, the Roman soldiers who killed him, the Roman and Jewish ruling elite who condemned him to death, yes. Was he forgiving us all forever, for all our sins? This is the gospel.

Don’t give up on each other. Keep forgiving one another. Keep on loving one another, even when it is hard. Keep on serving others, even if they don’t recognize or appreciate what you are doing. Keep building the kingdom, the reality of God’s peace and justice and love that has been promised in the new covenant of Jesus Christ. Let God’s radical grace rain down upon us all.  Amen.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Jeremiah 31:33.

[3] Jeremiah 31:34.

[4] John 3:17.

Two Went to Pray

October 23, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 18:9-14[1]

Which of these do you see in yourself, a Pharisee or a tax-collector? I find myself in both people, at times. Which of us has not, at least once, felt self-satisfied on a Sunday morning in church? Thank God I am not like other people: my neighbor off playing a round of golf right now instead of attending worship; that person in the other political party who does not understand how wrong they are; that scruffy-looking bus driver sitting two pews over. I am here every Sunday, I pledge faithfully, and I have served on Church Council!

Maybe it’s pride. We work hard to be good people, to always do the right thing. Is it wrong to want a little recognition for being so wonderful? We know that other people don’t try hard, are sinful and worthy of scorn. Is it so wrong to bring attention to our noble endeavors?

For some of us, it is only when we mess up in a big way that we gain the humility of the tax-collector. Hitting rock bottom, losing a job, a friendship, or a marriage—major mistakes are sometimes the only way we see our need for God’s grace and forgiveness. Only when we have encountered the error of our ways do we pray: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” (v. 13). Even if we do everything right and follow the rules, we may still find ourselves in a cold, dark, lonely place where we are humble enough to accept that we need, truly need God.

I have always been uncomfortable in job interviews and writing resumes. I’m more practiced in humility, and find that listing my accomplishments doesn’t come naturally. Certainly, I feel pride in myself, and I may share that pride with my parents or my spouse, but I’m not one to say “look what I did!” I learned from my ancestors the habit of lifting up others, praising their accomplishments, rather than seeking ways to take credit. There are times when it is important to acknowledge my own successes, but I try to always recognize the ones who helped me on the way. I also acknowledge my failures and try to right my wrongs. That’s why the Pharisee in this tale rubs me the wrong way.

I see the Pharisee in the dishonesty of politicians who take credit for bringing money for a new highway to their constituents, even when they voted against the bill. I prefer the ones who acknowledge that it takes many people working together to do big things. I see the Pharisee in the athlete who claims victory alone, but blames others when they lose. I prefer the ones who take the blame for the loss on themselves, while taking the victory as an opportunity to give accolades to teammates, coaches, and assistants.

This parable isn’t really about pride and scorn, selfishness and contrition, however. It is really about the idea of justification. After the tax collector humbly prayed for God’s mercy, the text says, “this man went down to his home justified rather than the other” (v. 14). The doctrine of justification asks the question of how we reach a status of righteousness in God’s eyes. The Pharisee trusted in himself for his own righteousness, counting on his adherence to the law for his holiness. The tax collector trusted in God for righteousness. He did nothing to earn or deserve God’s mercy. God’s mercy was freely given to him. The Apostle Paul said that “God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).

How seductive it is to trust in ourselves that we are righteous and to regard others with contempt (v. 9). We do our good duty and confess our sins on communion Sundays, we put our envelopes in the offering plate. We serve the church and the world in many ways. Hooray for us. Boo for those who don’t follow the rules like us, who aren’t worthy of our respect. Even if we don’t judge others to that extreme, we might still find ourselves looking down on others with contempt when they don’t conform to our standards of behavior, especially in regards to religious practice.

Jesus challenges us to avoid trusting in our own efforts at fulfilling the law or following the religious codes of our time and, instead, humble ourselves before a merciful and loving God. We should not trust in our self-righteousness, in our own ability to be holy, but trust instead in the mercy of God, recognizing that we all fall short.

In Ephesians 2:8 Paul writes, “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.” Our justification, therefore, comes when we acknowledge our guilt and shame, allowing for God’s forgiveness and the gift of God’s righteousness. One of the key concepts of the Protestant Reformation is sola gratia, the idea that we are justified by God’s grace alone—being saved not by our own righteousness (impossible to achieve) and only through the righteousness of Christ. We can’t earn salvation; we can only receive it from God.

This is not to say that good works are not important. Jesus doesn’t say that we should ignore the law, that we should act with cruel hearts and evil intent. The commandment to love God and love our neighbor still stands. What we must remember is that our good works don’t earn us points with God. They are instead a response to the knowledge of God’s grace, acts of thanksgiving and praise. If we believe we are loved and forgiven by God, how could we hate what God loves? How should we respond to grace but with grace and gratitude?

There is a song by Amy Grant called “Better Than a Hallelujah”[2] that draws from this parable:

The tears of shame for what's been done
The silence when the words won't come
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah.

Tax collectors were known for grift, stealing a little off the top of the taxes they collected, accepting bribes, and collaborating with the powerful, the oppressors of their own people. However terrible this man might have been, he has come to the Temple to pray. He trusts only in the mercy of God. If a tax collector can find mercy from God, can’t we? Can’t we all?  Amen.[3]

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Amy Grant, “Better than a Hallelujah” on Somewhere Down the Road, Copyright 2010 Sparrow Records.

[3] This sermon draws heavily from the work of Laura S. Sugg, Robert Leach, and Marjorie Proctor-Smith, commentors on Luke 18:9-14 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year C, Vol. 4, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, General Editors (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), pp. 212-217.

Welcome Home

March 27, 2022 – Fourth Sunday in Lent
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 15:11-32[1]

The fate of the younger son in the first part of this parable is something most of us recognize. Though we may not have run off with our inheritance, we have squandered our resources and found that we have spent everything. How many of us have lost ourselves in dissolute living? I have been drunk, smoked cigarettes, and I even have a tattoo. I have felt lost and far from home. Some of us have turned our backs on our family, our homeland, or even our religious upbringing.

The younger son comes to such a state of disgrace that he goes to work feeding pigs. For a Jew, pigs are unclean; not only should you not eat them, you shouldn’t even touch them. He has become thoroughly wretched. When he finally comes to himself, recognizing the condition he is in is worse than the life of his father’s hired hands, he prepares to return home to humiliate himself in order to survive.

For addicts, it is called hitting rock bottom. We might call it the dark night of despair. It is that feeling of being so lost from who we are supposed to be that there is no further to fall. When the depth of our failure, our greed, our sin has extinguished all the lights, then we can most clearly see the light of hope and grasp for the lifeline God has held out for us all along.

In that culture, the response of the Father is unexpected. The son who has squandered his inheritance has brought shame on the family and should have been disowned. And yet, this father’s love has never burned more brightly than when the son returns. The father’s response to the prodigal’s return reveals the heart of this parable, the grace of God. As the father runs to greet him, we see the parent who has never given up hope, who kept looking to the horizon for any glimpse of the return of lost child.

The prodigal comes prepared to debase himself, to beg, not for forgiveness, but merely for the chance to become one of the servants. He rehearses what he will say, that he has become unworthy to be called a son, unworthy to be loved as part of the family. Before he can speak a word, however, his father has already embraced him. Hearing the speech of unworthiness, the father is having none of it. The finest robe, a ring for his finger, and sandals for his feet. Even more, we will feast and celebrate; “for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!”[2]

Such depth and breadth of love, compassion, and grace is offered by God. In this moment we see God’s deepest desire for us, God’s dream for all of us to return, to live again, to be found. We humans were made to be in loving relationship with God, each other, and all creation. We break our relationships; we fracture our connections and distort our view of one another. We lose ourselves in frivolous pursuits, seeking pleasures, riches, and accolades, while forsaking who we are and who we are meant to be. Yet God never gives up on us. God never loses hope. God never stops searching the horizon for a hint of our return.

It is a wonderful image of God’s love for us, but the parable doesn’t end there. We pull back from the scene of a party starting up to find the older son out in the field. He has remained faithful. He stayed by his father’s side; he HAS worked like a slave for his father all this time. If we’re honest with ourselves, we probably identify more with this child. We’ve been the good ones, we’ve been going to church for years, staying out of trouble, doing good things. Father never threw a party for us! Our jealousy and resentment keep us from being able to celebrate the return of our lost siblings.

This older son illustrates how we sometimes feel like we are being mistreated, neglected, or pushed aside when the undeserving have good things come their way. We’ve always been responsible; why does the irresponsible one get celebrated? We’ve always worked hard; why do the lazy ones who don’t want to work get things handed to them? I did it the right way; why do they get away with doing it the wrong way? We are worthy of God’s grace; why do the unworthy get it served on a silver platter?

This is where the parable shifts perspective, from the viewpoint of limited resources to the viewpoint of abundant grace in God’s kingdom. The father comes out to the older son to plead with him to join the celebration. Rather than scolding the older son, or defending the younger son, the father shifts attention to his own love and abundance. We are not running short of love, compassion, and grace here. “All that is mine is yours.”[3] The thing is, this isn’t your brother’s party; it’s mine. I am celebrating the return of one that I love, one I thought was lost forever yet has returned.

This is the good news of God’s kingdom. We human beings get lost, do things we shouldn’t, we bring shame upon ourselves and our families. We get jealous and resentful of others and of our place in the world. But God reaches out to us anyway; God seeks to reconcile our relationship, to celebrate when we return. The father absorbs the shame of the younger son’s disgrace, allowing him to return. The father seeks to pull the older son away from his jealousy and resentment, to draw him in to the celebration of love.

The parable is ultimately not about the younger son and his sin. It is not about the older son and his resentments. It is not about who deserves punishment and who deserves accolades. It is about God, and God’s endless love, God’s continual search for the lost in order to welcome them back home. God’s grace has no measure. When God gives grace to another, it doesn’t mean there is less for the rest of us. It means there is more. The parable is that mercy abolishes sin, abundance overcomes limits, and wayward children are welcomed home by loving parents.

This chapter of Luke began with the Pharisees and scribes grumbling about Jesus eating with sinners. It ends with the story of a father’s welcome of a prodigal son and a plea to the older son to join the celebration of the goodness of the father. The Pharisees and scribes, and all of us, are left with the question: will you keep standing out in the field burning with jealousy, or will you come join the welcome home party for the sinners?  Amen.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Luke 15:24.

[3] Luke 15:31.

Intentions of the Heart

August 29, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

James 1:17-27; Mark 7:1-23, selected[1]

“Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers” (James 1:22). This message from James may sound like common sense, but it was considered scandalous by Martin Luther, the Protestant Reformer. Luther called the Letter of James “an epistle of straw.”[2] For Luther, the Letter of James did not fit into his doctrine of justification by faith alone. What do I mean by that? Justification by faith is the theological principle that salvation comes to an individual by God’s grace through faith, apart from any works of merit. This is outlined by Paul in the letter to the Romans. In other words, we are “saved” not by anything we do, but only by faith in Jesus Christ. Luther had more appreciation for the “theological” letters of Paul than for this letter of James, which focuses its attention on the daily practice and acts or works of Christian life.

Of course, I think faith is very important. It’s part of my job description. But perhaps James was reacting to something he was experiencing in the early church. One commentary on James explains: “For some, justification by faith meant having faith without a commitment to others, without works. James, then, is trying to correct this idea by introducing works as an important element in justification.”[3] James saw a lack of integrity among those in the community to which he wrote. He criticized those who thought of themselves as if they were isolated individuals with no relationship to the wretchedness around them. He spoke out against those who were quick to speak and to get angry, but did nothing to change the circumstances that oppressed the poor, the orphan, and the widow.

We could offer that same critique to contemporary Christianity. Many of the attributes James criticizes are going on in churches today: hypocrisy, corruption, favoritism, gossip, divisiveness, navel-gazing, and a focus on saving ourselves for heaven rather than helping our neighbors escape the hell they are living in right now. If you have a big building that survived a hurricane, but you don’t offer to shelter those whose homes did not, I don’t think you actually have a church.

It is not only our failure to act, but also the words that we choose that can undermine the labor of love, justice, and peace. James tells us to “be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger” (James 1:19). We all know that words spoken in the heat of anger are the ones we most often regret. Words that are motivated by fear, pain, and frustration are often the most destructive, and are a quick way to cause a break in our relationships. James counsels us to slow down, to think before we speak, before we cause harm with our mouths.

Jesus has a similar warning in the passage from Mark. It is the things that come out of us, our words and actions, which can cause harm and defile us. Racial slurs and stereotypes, labels that dehumanize and shame, oversimplification, and outright deceit are poison that destroys community and relationships, and eats away at us from the inside. We cannot be who we are called to be when we allow the evil within our hearts to spill out of our mouths. We cannot reflect the word of God unless we bridle our tongues, and speak instead from the love and kindness that are also implanted in our hearts.

James must have sat through his fair share of contentious gatherings, and maybe even a few political campaigns. He understood that unless anger is transformed, unless it is tempered with patience, anger alone cannot make things right. “Be quick to listen” (James 1:19), he says, because it is in listening and in being listened to that we open ourselves to a welcoming, trusting relationship with one another. It is hard work, especially for those of us who are impatient, quick to judge, or have already made up our minds, to listen, really listen, to the other person. Patient listening can, however, redirect anger toward solving the problem and not just treating the symptoms.

When we look in the mirror, what are we like? Are we “hearers of the word and not doers” (James 1:23)? Honestly, we all fall short of perfection. I know I do. And that is one of the reasons often given for why people are leaving the church: hypocrisy, and the way that we fail to live up to our rhetoric. All are welcome here, but if your toddler makes too much noise, or you haven’t showered recently, or your skin is covered with tattoos, you will probably receive some “looks” if not an overt indication that maybe you’re not really welcome.

What we need to remember, and to practice with one another as the Church, is that we are not perfect. We are not the Kingdom of God. We are not the community of saints. We are a community of people who are trying to become saints. We are the broken people of God trying to find the Kingdom. We are imperfect, “hearers who forget” (James 1:25), wicked, sordid, angry sinners. But we’re trying. And we must be patient with one another as we try. We must listen to one another, learn from one another, and grow in faith with one another.

The Letter of James calls on us to live up to a high standard. James is trying to elicit integrity from us, that is, consistency in hearing, seeing, believing, speaking, and doing. We’ve all heard the gospel stories, we’ve learned the Great Commandment; does that change how we act? Do we really love God with all of our being? What do we do that shows that? Do we really love our neighbors? What do we do that shows that? How is the way that we live informed by our faith?

I have a friend who is an aggressive driver. She was ordained a few years ago, and now she has a “clergy” sticker in her car window. I remember her telling me how now she has to be careful about how she reacts to the other drivers around her. I had one of those stickers too, and let’s just say, I take a lot of deep, calming breaths while driving.

There are evil intentions in our hearts. There is “fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly” (Mark 7:21-22). But, we were created by “the Father of lights,” from whom we receive “every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift” (James 1:17). These intentions are in our hearts too: generosity, kindness, love, faithfulness, hope, respect, peace, and truth. But we must do these things, not just hear them, not forget—when we turn away from the divine mirror—that we have light inside us that is longing to shine forth.

We have work to do. It is the work that was begun long ago by those in the Old Testament who cared for the widow, the orphan, the stranger. It was given a new life by Jesus of Nazareth, who always found the pressing issues of those in need to be more important than any dogma or fine theological point. It is the work of loving our neighbor actively. It is the work of showing evidence of our faith through our actions. It is the work of taking responsibility for our anger, learning to listen well, and becoming builders of the community of Christ.

Our work is to move ourselves and the world around us ever closer to becoming the realm of God. We are the first fruits, the early signs of God’s new creation. We can embrace both the good and evil intentions of our hearts, and take responsibility for our words and our works. We can, with humility, accept our potential for construction and destruction, and seek to develop the best in ourselves, in one another, and in our community. In this way, together, we can transform the world. Amen.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Luther’s Works, vol. 35, Word and Sacrament I (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1960), pp. 395-397.

[3] Elsa Tamez, The Scandalous Message of James: Faith Without Works Is Dead (New York, Crossroad, 1985, 2002), p. 53.

Forgiveness and Mercy

September 13, 2020

St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Romans 14:1, 5-12; Matthew18:21-35, CEB[1]

Forgiveness is one of those defining traits of being a Christian. Like loving your neighbor, forgiveness is part of who we are. Our forgiveness is our response to God’s forgiveness of us, as we pray each week, “forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors”[2] What happens then, when we don’t forgive our debtors? As Peter seems to ask, what happens when we run out of forgiveness?

Here we have a person who has been generous. A fellow servant needed some cash, so our servant loaned out one hundred coins. Now the borrower is asked to pay up, and can’t. So, our servant has him jailed for defaulting on the debt.

I mean, if you can’t pay back what you owe, maybe you shouldn’t borrow money in the first place. My parents were born during the Great Depression. They didn’t borrow money. No car loans; they always saved up and paid cash. No credit cards. My dad was a minister, so they lived in the parsonage – no mortgage. Debt was to be avoided. Debt collectors aren’t known for being overly merciful, after all. Have you ever been on the receiving end of a collection agency phone call? Collecting on debts is just good business, anyway. Economies collapse when loans get defaulted.

So, what’s the problem? Why is Jesus getting involved? The servant, the central figure of this parable, starts out as the manager of a tremendous responsibility. How much is ten thousand bags of gold? Other translations read ten-thousand talents. It is meant to be understood as an unreasonably large amount, the kind of debt a nation-state owes. This servant can’t possibly come up with such a sum. Even though the servant promises to pay it back, with a little more time, that doesn’t seem realistic.

The master, in response to the pleadings of the servant, unexpectedly forgives it all. No extension of the loan, no refinancing or renegotiation. The loan is just cancelled. Poof. Gone. This is where Jesus gets involved. If the king, the master is meant to represent God, the debt that is forgiven, as colossal as it seems, is too small. God, creator of the universe, giver of life, and love, the earth and all it contains, has given everything to wayward sinners, irresponsible stewards, human beings with all our failures and faults. What we owe to God is beyond calculation. And yet, we are forgiven. Our sin, our failures, all of our unmet promises, washed away in a breath of mercy.

Our servant, having just been forgiven an enormous debt, can’t summon the grace to forgive even a small debt owed by a fellow servant. I’m offended. His fellow servants were offended. You were just forgiven so much, and over so little you send a fellow servant to jail? Are you for real? I’m more than offended now; I’m angry. The master is going to hear about this!

The master hears our story, and calls the servant to account. “You wicked servant!”[3] Ooh, this is going to be good, we’re thinking. Revenge is sweet! “Shouldn’t you also have mercy on your fellow servant, just as I had mercy on you?”[4] Oh, yeah, that’s right. Throw him in jail, master! Give him what he deserves!

Wait a minute. What just happened? Did we just become the unmerciful servant ourselves? We stop and stare into our memories, all the times we failed to forgive. How many times have I failed to forgive my family for not being who I want them to be? How many times have I failed to forgive a friend for failing me? How often have I relished revenge rather than mercy? And as the servant is handed over to punishment, have I done it again? God, have mercy.

Forgiveness is hard. Revenge feels good. When someone who has hurt us gets hurt in return, we secretly (and sometimes openly) like it. We want payback, we don’t want to forgive without getting something in return, some payment or effort to make up for the wrong. What we forget is that sometimes what is owed is beyond what can be paid back. And what we owe, and have been forgiven, is beyond any payment we could make. What God has forgiven in us is beyond measure, and we are asked to be that merciful in return.

Forgiveness is not simply wishing away the loss, the harm, or the pain. It isn’t forgetting what has been done. Forgiveness takes hard work, acknowledging and understanding the negative impact of another person’s actions and attitude on our lives. We can’t forgive by denying we have been hurt, or minimizing how we have been affected. And we must not forget or dismiss the harm done by the abuse or betrayal of another.

To forgive is to choose to let go, to release the other from whatever punishment we think they deserve, however justified. Forgiveness is choosing to leave behind our desire for retribution, to release our resentment. Forgiveness is choosing to set ourselves free from the hold that the other has on our minds and on our hearts. It is denying the other person the power to live in our heads and keep us angry, bitter, and resentful. It is refusing to allow what has happened to keep us prisoner.

God forgives us. As we live each day in the grace of God’s mercy, we are called to show that same measure of forgiveness toward one another. As often as we forgive, we are always forgiven. As we forgive our debtors, the ones who owe us, who have sinned against us, who have trespassed on our hearts and minds, we are forgiven all that we owe to God, and blessed by God’s grace. “We all will stand in front of the judgment seat of God.”[5] It is there we shall be judged on the mercy we have shown by the God who showed us mercy.  Amen.

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[1] Scripture quotations noted CEB are taken from the Common English Bible, copyright 2011. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

[2] Matthew 6:12.

[3] Matthew 18:32.

[4] Matthew 18:33.

[5] Romans 14:10.

Wisdom for the Kingdom

July 26, 2020

St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

1 Kings 3:5-12; Matthew 13:31-34

Solomon, one of the greatest kings of Israel, was offered a gift from God.  God came to Solomon in a dream and said “Ask what I should give you.”[1]  And Solomon in that moment didn’t seek after his own selfish desires.  He didn’t ask for long life or riches, or for the life of his enemies.  He asked for wisdom, for “an understanding mind to govern [God’s] people.”[2]

And “It pleased the Lord that Solomon had asked this.”[3]  Solomon was given the gift of wisdom, and success followed after.  Solomon’s reign was long, prosperous, and for the most part peaceful.  “For the greater part of his 40-year reign Solomon preserved and enriched David’s kingdom without large-scale warfare”[4] through treaties, marriages, business links and trade.

“During Solomon’s reign Israel experienced a flowering of the arts.”[5]  Music, literature, and scholarship flourished.  Many of the Psalms were written during this period, and the “wisdom school” – that later produced the books of Proverbs, Job, and Ecclesiastes – was formed.

Of course, Solomon is probably best known for building the Temple in Jerusalem.  The Temple was an extravagant stone building with magnificent decorations in wood gold. It was built next to the palace, surrounded by the walls of the king’s compound.

But, even Solomon, with all that he accomplished, wasn’t perfect.  The “high places” were altars to different gods, and each city would have a high place dedicated to one or more gods.  The people of Israel were supposed to offer sacrifices only to the Lord at the Temple in Jerusalem.  But Solomon was tempted to worship other gods.  “The king went to Gibeon to sacrifice there, for that was the principal high place; Solomon used to offer a thousand burnt offerings on that altar.”[6]

Solomon built the Temple, but he built his own palace first, an opulent structure of cedar and stone. And, “The… temple itself was an affront to some Israelites… with the temple in the king’s compound, it seemed [it] had become the personal property of the king.”[7]

The beautiful buildings were built by slaves and conscripted workers.  The people were heavily taxed to support the king’s household.  Resentment of Solomon’s harsh rule began to build.  The people grew angry with Solomon building high places dedicated to other gods.  The northern tribes began to rebel.  “Within a short time after Solomon’s death in 922 bce, Israel’s empire disintegrated and the nation was divided into two rival kingdoms.”[8]

Solomon was one of the greatest leaders in history.  No one like him came before him and no one like him arose after him.  And in the end, he fell from greatness.  His kingdom shattered; his vanity got the best of him.  He turned his back on his people and turned to serve his own selfish desires.  But there was a moment when he got it right.  There was a moment when he was truly inspired.  The Lord came to him in a dream and he responded.

In that moment he reached for his people.  He sought his duty.  He turned to the only one who could give the greatest ruler in the world what he needed most in order to be able to rule a great people with justice and righteousness.  In that moment Solomon turned to God and asked for the greatest gift ever given, the gift of wisdom, and not for his own benefit, but in order to rule God’s own people.

When we pray, and ask God for things, we often ask for health for our selves or our loved ones. We ask for what we need to get through today, or a difficult time. Lately I’ve been praying for perseverance to make it through the time of COVID. I’ve been praying for people who are struggling to make ends meet, who have lost jobs and businesses, or a breadwinner or beloved partner, or a child. Perhaps I should pray for more wisdom, or patience, or faith that God hasn’t turned away from us.

Jesus taught us to pray saying, “Lead us not into temptation…”  Jesus knew that every day we are pulled in a thousand directions by temptation.  “Solomon used to offer a thousand burnt offerings on that altar.” But God doesn’t turn away from us.  God comes to us even when we are lost in temptation, sin and darkness.  Even though Solomon turned his back on the Lord, even as he turned away to follow other gods, the Lord did not turn away from Solomon.  God reached out to him, offering whatever he might ask.  God didn’t turn away from Solomon, and God doesn’t turn away from us.

The greatest gift…  For Solomon, the greatest gift that he could ask of God was wisdom.  And for a thousand years it was the greatest gift.  In three thousand years, only one gift has ever been given that was greater than what Lord gave to Solomon at Gibeon.

The greatest gift ever given was not asked for.  It wasn’t given for keeping the Laws of Moses. It wasn’t given to people who were perfect, never broke the law, never sinned.  Rather, the greatest gift was given to those who didn’t deserve it.  What gift could be greater than wisdom? The greatest gift ever given was grace, the grace of God revealed in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Jesus embodies the grace of God, and shows us how that grace becomes embodied in us.  A theologian named Grace Ji-Sun Kim wrote, “By grace people are redeemed, commissioned to serve, empowered, led, endowed with gifts, and made skillful.  The Christian life begins in grace and continues in grace.”[9]  Grace is a gift given to all those who seek it.  God offers grace so that we may live out our full humanity and stand in solidarity with all who suffer, all who are lost and broken, all who are burdened by sin and evil.

We don’t have to travel to the ruins of the second Temple in Jerusalem. We don’t have go to a high place or make a special sacrifice. God’s grace is given to us wherever we are, in any moment when we understand that we need it. And in grace we are set free to live the life shown to us in Jesus. Jesus: the bringer of good news to the poor.  Jesus: the healer, friend to tax collectors and sinners.  In Jesus we are washed clean of all of our faults, all of our temptations, all of our sin, and we become new beings.

We need not wait until we are perfect before we seek the grace of God.  We don’t need to acquire wisdom before we can seek the kingdom.  We need only begin where we are, with faith as small as a mustard seed. God accepts us with grace, just as we are, imperfect, tempted, sinners. And in the grace of God we find the wisdom needed to grow God’s kingdom. With forgiveness, compassion, and love, we spread tiny seeds of God’s grace, we mix a small amount of yeast into the bread of our communities.

May God grant unto us wisdom and courage. May God empower us with grace to seek justice and peace for all people. May God teach us to follow Jesus Christ and live in grace every day of our lives.  Amen.

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[1] 1 Kings 3:5. Unless otherwise noted, the scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] 1 Kings 3:9.

[3] 1 Kings 3:10.

[4] The Reader’s Digest Association, Inc., Great People of the Bible and How They Lived (Pleasantville, NY: The Reader’s Digest Association, Inc., 1974), 148.

[5] Great People, 150.

[6] 1 Kings 3:4.

[7] Great People, 192.

[8] Great People, 151.

[9] Grace Ji-Sun Kim, The Grace of Sophia: A Korean North American Women’s Christology (Cleveland: Pilgrim Press, 2002), 154.