Sermon: “Now What?”

12 August 2012

Scripture reading: Ephesians 4:17-24.
Sermon text: Ephesians 4:25-32.

“Now what?”

I saw the latest Bourne movie on Friday night. Following a thrilling motorcycle chase that involved spectacular stunts and ended with a horrific crash, the hero and heroine sailed off into the South China Sea on an old boat. My daughter, who really likes neat endings, expressed her frustration: “Now what?” What happens to our intrepid couple? Do they survive? Do they marry? Do they stay under the radar of the government agency trying to destroy them? We won’t know until someone produces the next Bourne movie.

I’ve noticed that over the past few decades, many Christians haven’t answered this question any better than the writers of the Bourne movies. We’ve focused our attentions almost solely on the salvation of those around us to the point we conduct special services, host special events, even write special prayers for people to repeat after us, all in the hopes that others will be born again. I still remember reading about one poor soul who said he was saved 4 times while walking across the quad at his university because he repeated a sinner’s prayer with 4 different evangelism groups on his way to class.

Don’t misunderstand me: I see nothing wrong with evangelism. In fact, I encourage it. However, any focus can become an obsession, so much so that we forget the rest of the picture. Salvation involves more than spiritual freedom and deliverance from eternal condemnation. Salvation involves a lifestyle that, when properly lived, brings joy to the Christian and conviction to unbelievers. The joy experienced by believers should flow out of their lives into the lives of everyone around them, convicting them of their need for salvation and drawing them to the only place they’ll find it: The cross and empty tomb of Jesus, Our Lord.

Following his call for church unity around the gifts of God to the Church — those God has called to serve the saints — St. Paul shifted gears in his letter to the Ephesians. St. Paul began describing the lifestyle the Ephesian believers should demonstrate in their society. Some of the qualities we read here appear in other works of philosophy in the ancient Greek world. None of these qualities would have appeared totally foreign to the Ephesians. However, the ability to live by this lifestyle would come only by the empowerment of the Holy Spirit, whose presence in the Christian would shine through the characteristics we read in the Scripture reading and sermon text for today.

St. Paul began by telling the Ephesian believers, “You must no longer walk as the Gentiles do, in the futility of their minds.” Here, St. Paul adopted the term “Gentiles” to denote unbelievers. Ephesus boasted the world-famous temple of Artemis, the Greek goddess of the hunt and of fertility and childbirth. The Greeks and Romans in Ephesus would have worshiped an entire pantheon of deities, with each deity overseeing a specific area of life. According to St. Paul, “They are darkened in their understanding, alienated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them, due to their hardness of heart.” The pagans remained separated from God because of their ignorance, but many of them refused the truth of Christ because of their hard hearts.

St. Paul continued by saying, “They have become callous and have given themselves up to sensuality, greedy to practice every kind of impurity.” Almost every ancient civilization witnessed sexual immorality of some sort. Repeated exposure to immorality both lessens the inhibitions to participate and increases the temptation to participate. Every civilization has eventually had to confront the damage caused by immorality. Never forget the lesson of history: Immorality demands a heavy price.

St. Paul then reminded the Ephesians, “But that is not the way you learned Christ!” The Ephesians didn’t learn of God in immoral pagan temples; they learned of Him in the Jewish synagogues. Then, when St. Paul came to Ephesus, he first visited the city’s synagogue and preached Christ to the attendees there. After the synagogue threw out the Christians, St. Paul taught the believers in the hall of Tyrannous (Acts 19:9) for 2 years. Throughout the Roman world, Gentiles disgusted with the immorality of their pagan religions had found their way to the synagogues, drawn there by the righteous lifestyle of the Jews. St. Paul didn’t take these Gentile “God-fearers” back into immorality; he brought them farther away from it through a living relationship with a living Christ.

Instead, St. Paul said, the “truth is in Jesus,” who called Himself “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). As the truth of Jesus permeated their lives, the Holy Spirit would help them “to put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires.” The Ephesian Gentiles had once lived in spiritual death, but St. Paul had already written that Christ had “made alive” all who believed in Him (Ephesians 2:4-7).

I believe St. Paul’s next words tell us plenty about how the Holy Spirit will transform us. He had already written to the Romans, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Romans 12:2). Now, St. Paul told the Ephesians “to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness.” Salvation does not instantly change us; rather, the Holy Spirit begins “making new” our minds.

Renewing our minds involves a new mindset, a new mentality. This involves a process of carefully selecting what we put into our minds. This also involves a conscious effort to use our minds to accomplish God’s plan for our lives. Many people seem to believe that the salvation lifestyle does not involve any mental preparation. God wants us to develop our minds for His glory. When we allow the Holy Spirit to guide our minds, He also guides us into “true righteousness and holiness.”

Believers will “put away falsehood.” Because we are “members one of another,” we will “speak the truth” with one another. The truth may sometimes hurt, but it will always strengthen us and guide us into righteousness.

The salvation lifestyle also helps us learn self control. “Be angry and do not sin,” St. Paul wrote; “do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil.” Few things bring shame on a person like a bad temper. No family wants a reputation as quick-tempered. Few things “give opportunity to the devil” like a temper tantrum. Few things give proof of the Holy Spirit’s transforming power like control of our anger.

St. Paul then turned to other practical issues in the Christian life. He told the thieves to “no longer steal, but rather let him labor, doing honest work with his own hands, so that he may have something to share with anyone in need.” Christians should perform “honest work” so we can help others. We should also encourage others to work for this purpose as well.

According to St. Paul, we must also prevent using “corrupting talk;” the words we speak should “build up” or encourage other people. The media today constantly spread words that belittle or discourage others; some people go through their entire lives without hearing an encouraging word. We should seek to build up other people with our words; every word we speak should remind others of their true worth before God, who created them in His image.

We must also “not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption.” We should bring joy to the Holy Spirit. We bring joy to the Spirit by avoiding “bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander;” our words will bring joy to the Spirit. Also, we should “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.”

Can any of the actions we read here show Jesus’ work in us? I think of all the actions listed by St. Paul, forgiveness ranks as the action most needed in our world today. We will always face the temptation to resent those who harm us, but we must forgive them as Jesus forgave us on the cross. Jesus prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:24). God, who is “rich in mercy” (Ephesians 2:4), has forgiven us of our sins and adopted us into His family (Romans 8:15). If our holy God can forgive us, we must forgive others.

This may sound like a lot of things for us to do; this sounds like a long “to do” list for Christians. I have great news for you! Jesus told His disciples the key to keeping all these actions: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:27-39). When we keep these commandments, we will naturally fulfill St. Paul’s instructions to the Ephesians.

To everyone who has asked the question “what now,” I have the answer: Love. Love, as Christ has loved us; love, and we will naturally speak wholesome words to one another. Love, and we will do honest work so we can provide for others. Love, and we will exercise self-control so we do not offend others. Love, and we will prepare our minds for the work of God in the world.

Love sent Christ to the cross and through death to a glorious resurrection. Love will bring us through the trials of this life to the eternal joys of a new heaven and new earth, a creation in which we’ll never have to wonder what comes next.

Sermon for Good Friday: Behold Your King

I’ve read sci-fi and BYTE Magazine author Jerry Pournelle for years, both as a science fiction buff and as a computer geek. Several years ago, someone started a discussion on Jerry Pournelle’s site regarding the question: Is it good for emperors to go into battle at the head of their armies? Someone pointed out that in the history of our Republic, only 2 of our presidents — George Washington and Dwight D. Eisenhower — have fought in battle, and both of them fought prior to their elections. We have never witnessed a U.S. president personally leading our forces in battle during a war.

This is a good thing, because the record of kings/presidents/ emperors in battle is not very good. Shakespeare wrote of several, but two of the most noteworthy both died: Macbeth and Richard III. There’s a good reason to keep your leaders away from a battle. Battles are deadly, and people in the front tend to get shot at first.

On the other hand, soldiers tend to fight harder for leaders willing to accept the same risks their troops face. In ancient Rome, rare was the emperor who didn’t come up the ranks of the army. Almost no emperor could rule without the title Ave Imperator, which designated someone as worthy to lead the armies of Rome. I think we all remember the reception President Bush received in Baghdad at Thanksgiving. The very fact the president was willing to risk flying into Baghdad, even though the visit was short, greatly motivated the troops stationed there. It also did some good for morale at home to see our President cared that much for our fathers, sons, and friends in Iraq.

We’ve all heard the Church compared to the army of Christ. We know Christ is our head; through the Holy Spirit, He gives the orders, we follow the orders. This setup works really well, as the growth of the Church from fewer than 200 to more than 2 billion today attests.

But the Church has succeeded for one reason: Our King was willing to shoulder our risks, even though it killed Him. Literally.

The Scriptures tonight demonstrate the twisted humor of Pilate and the Romans. In the preceding chapter (which I encourage you to read), the Jews have accused Jesus of declaring Himself a king. Pilate, after questioning Jesus, decides the charges are false and decides to release Him. To elicit the Jews’ sympathy, Pilate has Jesus whipped; the Roman soldiers, hearing this man has called Himself a king, taunt Him. “Hail, king of the Jews!”

But then the Jews play their trump card: “if you release this man, you are not Caesar’s friend.” They knew Pilate was on the hot seat with Rome for his treatment of the Jews and the trouble it caused. Caesar wanted everything quiet in the East, and Pilate wasn’t exactly helping attain this goal. Pilate faced a choice: risk the Jews’ accusation making its way to Rome, or crucifying an innocent man. Ever the pragmatist, Pilate chose the latter, but not before getting one last dig at the Jews: “Behold your king!”

By this point, Jesus looked like anything but a king. Isaiah had prophesied saying, “his appearance was so marred, beyond human semblance, and his form beyond that of the children of mankind.” To call Jesus “king” was the ultimate in ironic cruelty. Or so Pilate thought.

I once received a Good Friday e-mail from the Practical Christian Life list yesterday. I’ll quote from it here:

In those terms, we may say that God has paid his dues, has earned the right to talk to us about suffering because he has endured it with us. He endured not only physical pain, but the torments of doubt and uncertainty and fear. In the Garden of Gethesemane, waiting for the soldiers to come and arrest him, he was clearly in great distress of mind. Some people think that this shows a character flaw — that a truly great man, or a truly wise man, would say, “I never worry about things I can change, and I never worry about things I cannot change,” and so would not have been bothered by the prospect of torture and death. I reply that a man who did not let such things bother him would have very little to say to the rest of us.

And I take comfort in this; I take comfort in the fact that my King was not just bothered by the prospect of torture and death; He was terrified of them. He knows my fears; He knows the temptation to run and hide, to try to weasel out of trouble. And He faced it and won.

I found this passage in C.S. Lewis’ Letters to Malcom Chiefly on Prayer:

The beginning of the Passion — the first move, so to speak — is in Gethsemane. In Gethsemane a very strange and significant thing seems to have happened.

It is clear from many of his sayings that Our Lord had long foreseen His own death. He knew what conduct such as His, in a world such as we have made of this, must inevitably lead to. But it is clear that this knowledge must somehow have been withdrawn from Him before He prayed in Gethsemane. He could not, with whatever reservation about the Father’s will, have prayed that the cup might pass and simultaneously known that it would not. That is both a logical and a psychological impossibility. You see what this involves? Lest any trial incident to humanity should be lacking, the torments of hope — of suspense, anxiety — were at the last moment loosed on Him — the supposed possibility that, after all, He might, He just conceivably might, be spared the ultimate horror. There was precedent. Isaac had been spared: he too at the last moment, he also against all apparent probability. It was not quite impossible…and doubtless He had seen other men crucified…a sight very unlike most of our religious pictures and images.

But for this last (and erroneous) hope against hope, and the consequent tumult of the soul, the sweat of blood, perhaps he would not have been very Man. To live in a fully predictable world is not to be a man.

At the end, I know, we are told that an angel appeared “comforting” Him. But neither “comforting” in sixteenth-century English nor “ennischuon” in Greek means “consoling”.  “Strengthening” is more the word. May not the strengthening have consisted in the renewed certainty — cold comfort this — that the thing must be endured and therefore could be?

Again, this fact comforts me, strengthens me: that Jesus experienced that which we all face as we carry out His orders. For at the moment that Pilate sarcastically declared, “behold your King!”, Jesus was on the verge of winning the greatest battle ever fought. Within a matter of hours, Jesus would win victory over death. Not even the Roman emperor could even attempt to fight death.

What do you face tonight? Fear? Behold your King. Uncertainty about life? Behold your King. Are you waiting for God to answer your prayer, but you’re afraid of what the answer will be? Behold your King.

Christians everywhere tonight have heard the words, and I urge you to look to the cross, witness Jesus’ sufferings, and take the words to heart: “Behold your King.”

Sources:

“Empire and Battle,” available online: http://www.jerrypournelle.com/mail/mail302.html#Empire. Site copyrighted by Jerry Pournelle, 2004.

Isaiah 52:14.

James Keifer, “A Good Friday Meditation on an Unlikely Text.”