Genesis 3:1-10

Advent 1:

Sermon notes

much credit should be given to J Elsworth Kalas and his book Christmas From the Backside

Normally Christmas is bathed in “loveliness”

• ·         Baby
• ·         Star
• ·         Angels singing
• ·         Men on a quest

So why start here? Why begin Advent with the story of "the Fall"? 

We need to understand the scandal in order to grasp the full magnitude of the impact of Christmas

It wouldn’t be Christmas, there wouldn’t even be a need for Christmas if not for OUR scandal.

Adam and Eve represent all of us.  They had everything going for them. They lived in the garden of exquisite beauty and perfection and then they made decisions that turned their life to shambles.  With that sin enters the scene and the human race becomes a race of sinners. 

The word “sin” often makes us think of only a certain type of action—pornography, addiction, murder, adultery.  All of these qualify but they also distract us from “the larger more compelling facts”

Fact: Sin affects all of us.  Our most basic sin is disobeying God.  Whether our sins are crude or sophisticated, naïve or knowing, the issue is still the same:  us being too consumed by us and not consumed enough by God. 

                We often like to sugar coat our sins—we justify them giving all kinds of *good* reasons for doing what we already new was wrong or hurtful or offensive.  And our excuses and explanations only make it clear how problematic our actions really were.

                Now, we may not feel all that scandalous in this moment, but I bet we could easily take a moment to recall moments we’d rather leave hidden and forgotten.  But it’s not just the moments that make us want to run and hide that are the problem. It’s the simple moments in between where we knew better but we did it anyway. 

                Author and theologian, J Elsworth Kalas, says it this way, “When we live below our best potential, when we’re mediocre when we out to be fine, cheap when we ought to be noble, shoddy when we should be upright—this is sin.” “When we are anything less than godly, it is because we’re involved in sin.”

                Now, back to Adam and Eve, they knew what they were not supposed to do and they did it anyway, together, both complicit and active in that sin (let’s not get carried away blaming things on Eve and leaving Adam blameless, both participated in full knowledge of what was right and what was wrong).  And then when God appeared on the scene, instead of asking for forgiveness, instead of trying to fix their relationship, they hid.  And then they tried to justify their actions….”well, we did it because we were naked.”  God created them naked, didn’t have any issue with their nakedness.  It was their sin and their shame that needed hiding, not their nakedness.  

                And we then follow suit and do the same thing, over and over again.  We know what is wrong, but we choose to do it anyway.  And whether you start it or I start it, it doesn’t really matter if we both participate in it.  And like Adam and Eve, when we get caught, our first reaction is not to apologize and set things right, instead our first course of action is to justify why we had to do what we did and why we shouldn’t be punished for it.  And when that fails, we point at something else, we blame all the other stuff in our life avoiding the heart of the matter, which is our disobedience. 

                And there you have the problem with the human condition: we are a scandalously sinful bunch and when we get caught, we are rarely the model of humility and repentance.  

                But that’s not really what we want to hear now is it?  You probably didn’t come to worship hoping to hear about what a compulsive sinner you are, we are.  But that’s our truth.  The fact is we are sinful, not beyond-redemption-evil (though I’m not sure such a thing actually exists), but scandalously disobedient and defiant running form God and hiding behind self-justification and excuses. 

                And that’s why we need Christmas.  Not the holiday, but the incarnation.  We need to meet Emmanuel.  We need to receive God’s abundant gift of redemption, forgiveness, and new life through Christ.  Those are all desperately needed in our world.  Not just because of Adam and Eve but because of us. Not just for “those people” in prison but for “these people” here in these pews. 

                Our deviance provokes God’s action…an action we see most clearly through the person of Christ. 

                J. Elsworth Kalas points  out something interesting.  He says that secular stories often say it better than some of the Christian merriment.  Think of “A Christmas Carol”, the story of Scrooge.  Charles Dickens wrote that “[Scrooge] was a tight fisted hand at the grind stone…a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner!”  Did you catch that?  A sinner.  Scrooge was a sinner.  And at the end of the story, he was converted (not Dickens term, but relevant nonetheless).  He became a generous, compassionate and benevolent man—that was as much a conversion as any.  

                Or we could take the story of the Grinch Who Stole Christmas by Dr Seuss.  Again we encounter a curmudgeon who embodies the greed and meanness that epitomizes all that is wrong in the world.  And at the end of the story, again we see a conversion.  (Not Dr Seuss’ term either, but again it’s relevant).  At the end Grinch works to insure a merry and happy Christmas for everyone. 

                In a way, the secular stories say what the original Christmas stories always have. We have a problem—Scrouge, Grinch, Adam, Eve, Bob, or Sally—all need to be converted, all need their hearts transformed from selfishness and disobedience, to holy humility. 

                And so God offers that opportunity.  God gave us Christmas, not for the sake of the holiday, but for the Holy-day—so that we might be changed and moved out of our sinfulness and into God’s wholeness, away from our disobedience and into awesome relationships with God and with others. 

                It really is no wonder we look forward to Christmas and anticipate it for months.  Sure, some of our focus has been co-opted by consumption and materialism—but the heart of it is, we look forward to the conversion—the good news that we don’t have to be stuck in the sins of our past or forever labeled a Grinch or a scrooge.  Instead, we can be the bearers of joy and hope.  But that doesn’t happen without the gift of the Christ-child.  We need to meet Emmanuel, God with us, to be transformed.  We must encounter real love in order to share it with others.  And God offers that to us through Jesus. 

4th of the 7 last words

Matthew 27:38-46

Have you ever tried to do something really worthwhile, really noble, only to have it blow up in your face?

·         Maybe you took in someone in need only to have them steal from you.

·         Or maybe you went above and beyond to make amends with a friend only to have them berate you and tell you how awful you are.

·         Or maybe you sent substantial money to a charity only to find out the project was a scam.

                Having our earnest attempts at faithfulness blow up in our face knocks the wind out of us.  It can feel like we’re suffocating when we learn the awful news. Our heart stops and drops into the pit of our stomach as we try and wrap our minds around the truth of our heartbreak, the betrayal that we feel. 

                In the midst of our pain, we are tempted to ask, “God where are you?  I was seeking to serve you, to honor your laws.  What happened?  How could you let it go so wrong?  We are tempted to question we have misheard God, or whether God misled us?

·         Was I really supposed to take that person to my home?  Is that really what you wanted me to do?

·         Or was reconciliation even possible? Was forgiveness even worth it?  After all, I only made it worse…

·         Or how could that so called Philanthropist have lied? How could they show all those starving children and then take the money for themselves?  They said they were doing your work Lord, why did you let this happen?

·         Why God? How could you let such things happen?  Why is it worth being faithful if awful things happen?

We ask those questions, don’t we? When our hearts are breaking.  When we feel lost and betrayed.

This week, as we look at the 4^th of the 7 last words, we hear Jesus ask a similar question, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”  Jesus, in the midst of doing the most selfless thing ever done is betrayed, abused, and mocked.  He might have hoped for at least one person who understood—one person who recognized what he was doing as he hung there suffering. But instead of seeking eternal victory—eternal salvation—the crowds, the guards, the Pharisees—all they wanted was the quick fix. 

So what if he freed himself from the cross?  Aside from a quick show of power, what would have been accomplished?

What if he had fought the Romans, to what end? Even if he freed the Jews from Roman rule—for how long?  They couldn’t have been safe forever.

Instead, Jesus followed God’s plan for a lasting victory, for eternal salvation and so he hung there on the cross, ever faithful to God and to the people he sought to save. And things couldn’t have felt more desperate. 

·         Beaten

·         Rejected

·         Barely breathing

·         Spat upon

·         Mocked

·         Neglected

·         Betrayed

·         Heartbroken

“My God, my God why hast thou forsaken me?”

Jesus was desperate, alone, and hurting.  The Word who put on flesh hit bottom emotionally and ached for a reprieve.  He’s hurt as much as we have. That living hell that we experience from time to time—he was there, on the cross. 

Because of Easter, we are prone to romanticize the cross. Because we’ve seen the happy ending, we think the suffering must not have been that bad. But it was. It was worse than our greatest pain.  Christ’s pain was greater as he hung there alone, rejected, and  betrayed on the cross.  It was greater, not so he could win the “my-hurt-is-greater-than-yours” contest but so that no matter our circumstances no matter how awful we feel, how deeply we are wounded or how often we’ve been betrayed, God can always empathize and say, “I know how bad it hurts. I promise I do. And it will get better. I made sure of that.”

In addition to forgiveness, in addition to salvation, in addition to new family relations, God wanted us to know that we are never alone in our pain. As deeply as we’ve hurt, Christ has hurt.  As lonely as we’ve felt Christ has felt. It is because of Christ, through Christ that we know we are never neglected or forgotten.

That’s the first part of the story—God knows our pain. God has felt desperation, loneliness, and betrayal. And God has overcome all of that. Remember, when God tell sus God knows our pain—God also promises it will get better. A truth God knows because of Christ’s victory. A truth that was known even before then, a truth that has been known for centuries, one that was told by the psalmist.

Jesus’ words, “Eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani. My God, my God why hast thou forsaken me?” come from the 22^nd Psalm—parts of which we read as the call to worship today.  The Psalm starts with the cry for help: My God, my God why hast thou forsaken me? The psalmist pleads to be heard by God, but hears no reply.  But even when he hears no answer, he still acknowledges that God has been faithful through the ages.  God saved the ancestors—they trusted and were not disappointed.  The psalmist reminds himself that God has provided for and helped him to this point.   And then the psalmist tells of the trial he faced. “many bulls surround me” “roaring lions open their mouths wide against me” “my strength is dried up”. The psalmist pleads again for help and then begins to praise God. He claims the promises, claims God’s victories—clinging to the hope of the future.

That’s the story of the psalm and, in essence, that’s Jesus’ story on the cross. His cry of dereliction wasn’t any ordinary plea for help.  It’s to claim the promise of hope—confidence in how God will heal and save. 

Jesus cried out in desperation that day. That cannot be denied.  He hurt as deeply as any of us have ever hurt. And he hoped—as earnestly as any of us have for the fulfillment of God’s promises.  He cried out as we have, in his darkest hour, desperate to hear God’s voice and though he heard no answer, he had hope—hope that carried from his ancestors—hope that allowed them to keep on despite the magnitude of their pain. Hope that was transformed and amplified by Christ’s death on the cross.

The 4^th of the 7 last words gives us assurance that God knows the depth of our pain intimately AND it reminds us to have hope even through our toughest trials and worst heartbreaks.

 Let us give thanks to God.  Amen

2nd of the 7 last words

This is the second Sunday in Lent and our 2^nd week studying the 7 last words of Christ. We are examining the last things he said while on the cross at Calvary.  And we are seeking to understand what they mean for us and our understanding of the cross, as well as in our faith walk.

Last week we heard the 1^st saying from the Gospel of Luke.  “Forgive them Father, for they do not know what they do.”  We saw how central forgiveness is for us. We say how Christ asks God to forgive us even as we sin. We saw how forgiveness is offered firsts, before we repent, before we confess, Christ offers us forgiveness.  His first action on the cross was to pray for us, the sinners, so that we might be forgiven. We also saw that as part of our discipleship, as part of our attempt to follow him, and walk in his ways, we are called to forgive others as we have been forgiven.

Today, we will look at the 2^nd word—the word we hear from the gospels of Matthew and mark.  “Today you will be with me in paradise.”  To understand any of the last sayings, we have to see Jesus on the cross—we have to imagine the scene at Calvary and this passage helps us to do that.   Today, we will hear from a woman, a passerby, he remembers that day, those events, only too well. 

There were 3 crosses, 3 criminals hanging from them.  They are all 3 battered, bruised and bleeding.  They have all 3 endured incredible abuse by the soldiers, that’s how they liked to do it, the bloodier the better by their standards—it wouldn’t work as a “deterrent to future crime” if it didn’t look absolutely awful. Normally, they would each have to carry their own crosses, though the one they hung in the middle, for whatever reason, a different man was carrying his cross.  They hung their, battered and hurting just from the beating. And then they hammered those awful nails into their wrists and the one into their ankles.  The sight of it made me want to wretch.  I can’t even imagine how painful it all is. You’re so tired already and then you have your arms spread out like an eagle and it gets harder and harder to breathe.  I hate the crucifixions.  I try to avoid them if I can, but the Romans insist on doing them on the main roads and when you have to go that way, you have to pass them. 

I don’t think I would have noticed any real difference between the three men, except the one in the middle seemed to be the center of attention. He was wearing a crown of thorns and they had an old board above his head that said “King of the Jews.”  Though I thought, “He can’t possibly be a king. There’s no way they would get away with this if he were!”  I don’t know what he did, but it must have been awful. The crowd was outraged at him. They were ruthless—hurling insults at him.  Angry as wet hornets.  It seemed awfully spiteful since he was clearly powerless hanging on that cross. But they kept telling him to save himself.  He looked so pitiful.  Bloody and broken.  You could tell it wasn’t just his body—his heart seemed broken too. It seemed like no one would show him even the smallest kindness.  Even one of the other guys hanging there started in on him, “Save yourself and us!” 

I’m not sure if he was as angry and mean as the others or if he was just desperate. I think I might have asked the same.  I’m pretty sure I’d feel desperate hanging there in agonizing pain. I’d want someone to save me too. 

Never once did the man with the crown defend himself. He didn’t beg for mercy. He didn’t argue with them. He didn’t even get angry and tell them to “shut up”.

But then the other man, the third man, he spoke up.  It was the firsts courageous thing anyone did all day. He got after the other guy—the one on the other side. He said, “aren’t you even afraid of God? We’re not in any better shape hanging here and you have the audacity to mock him?!? How dare you. We’re at least getting what we deserve. We’re guilty. But this guy, he’s not.”

It was amazing. Not one person was willing to stand up for this supposed king, except for the murderer hanging on the cross.  And in that moment—something shifted for me.  Being an outsider I didn’t know any of these people. I didn’t know the Jews even had a king. The only king I knew was Cesar.  I couldn’t figure out what a king would have to do to be hung like this. I mean, if you’ve never seen one, a crucifixion is awful. It’s gotta be the worst way to die.  Never mind, of course you’ve seen one, we’ve all seen one around here.  They happen all the time.  Anyway, like I was saying, something happened. Remember the 3^rd guy said the king guy was innocent.  He hadn’t done anything wrong.  And then the 3^rd man turned to the king and said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

Jesus. His name was Jesus.  I don’t know that I can explain the power of that moment—but it was special—sacred even.  “remember me when you come into your kingdom.”  I’m not really sure what kingdom he meant. I mean, kings rule here on earth—while they are alive, not in death. I thought maybe the third gugy was hallucinating—you know with all the pain. But then Jesus responded. He said, “today you will be with me in paradise.  There was clearly something I did not understand,.

Today you will be with me in paradise. 

Today.

In paradise.

He had to mean there was something after death.  I mean they were both dying there.  There’s no surviving the cross.  But Jesus said, “today you will be with me in paradise.”  If Jesus was right, there has to be an afterelife.  There has to be something more.  And it’s called Paradise. I don’t know what you know about Paradise, but what I know is it’s amazing. Paradise is the king’s garden and it’s gorgeous.

Flowers.

Trees.

Waterfalls.

Animals. Beautiful exotic animals

Giraffes. Elephants. Peacocks. Horses. 

I even heard about one garaden that had a lion. Can you imagine?!?

I was sort of dumbstruck. It seemed like maybe this Jesus guy was a king. And obviously his kingdom came after death. I don’t really understand that but he said, ‘today you will be with me in paradise.” That must mean if we ask him to remember us, he will and we will get to join him in paradise. He will be our king and we get to go to his amazing gardens.