Come Clean
Sermon
Sermons On The First Readings
Series I, Cycle C
There is an old story about a mother of eight who walked into her house after visiting with a neighbor and found her five youngest children huddled together in the middle of the living room. On closer examination, she discovered that her children were gathered around a family of skunks. Utterly shocked, she screamed, "Run, children, run!" Responding to their mother's command, each child grabbed a skunk and ran.1
This story is a poignant parable of our sinful nature. Like giddy children huddled together around something unique, sin has a way of fascinating each of us. Like Adam and Eve in Genesis, it is the mysterious and forbidden fruit which is most attractive. In fact, sin can be so attractive that when we are told to run away from it, we cannot help but pick it up and take it with us, choosing to forget the unbearable stench it sprays over our lives. So even with love, advice, wisdom, warnings, and even screams, we apparently are unable to leave our sins behind.
Our inability to relinquish our sins makes the beginning of Lent very challenging. In order to prepare for the resurrection of Christ, we are encouraged to "give up" something. Unable to give up our sins, we dance around the edges of our weakest areas and lift up some token sacrifice, like chocolate or meat, and feel pretty good about "the cross we bear" until Easter.
However, the prophet Joel does not let us get away with our pseudo-sacrifices. Joel ushers in a wake up call, a reality check. Joel calls us to a true, honest, veneer-breaking repentance. And this call to repentance is nothing short of ominous, for Joel paints a picture that we do not want to see. A trumpet blares. A warning is made. The clouds turn threatening. Our phony pretenses dissolve into the darkness. And our only hope is found in the words that echo in the midst of the gloom: "Return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning" (v. 12). Yet even these words are terrifying because they mean we must return to God vulnerable and exposed.
There was an assumed rule that I recognized as a child. Whenever someone in our family saw an important person come up the driveway, he or she was legally, ethically, and morally responsible to scream, "Fire drill!" Whoever was within earshot of those resounding words was obligated to find anything on the floor that did not belong -- like clothes, dishes, magazines, newspapers -- gather them up and run to a back room, throw the junk inside, and close the door. Each of us was then required to regroup, slap on a smiling face, wait for the door bell to ring, and when the front door was opened say, "Oh! What a surprise! Come in and see us as we always are." Sound familiar?
Many times we do that to God. When the Lord comes knocking on the door of our hearts, we plead, "Please don't ask me to open that back room in my heart and reveal all the trash I have accumulated. Please don't ask me to 'rend my heart' and allow that sinful junk to spill out. They are my secrets, and I am afraid of what you will see." As a result, we continue to gather our skunks, run to a back room in our hearts, and seek to hide them from God.
Our reluctance to return to God with all of our heart stems from the fear in confronting the truth within ourselves. It is difficult to probe below the surface and take a hard look at our sins. It is easier to bask in the light of denial than to stare into the darkness of truth. It is more comfortable to look the other way than to come face to face with painful reality. And, understandably so, because for some, the painful reality is the jealousy, resentment, and anger that is eating away at their souls bit by bit. For others, it is the destructive habits that wear them down to complete helplessness. Still, for many, it is the lonely and bitter life of living only for themselves. In short, returning to God with all of our heart may mean returning to God with a deteriorated heart.
The contemporary theologian Frederick Buechner gives us insight into the destructive nature of sin when he writes:
The power of sin is centrifugal. When at work in a human life, it tends to push everything out toward the periphery. Bits and pieces go flying off until only the core is left. Eventually bits and pieces of the core itself go flying off until in the end nothing at all is left ... sin is whatever you do, or fail to do, that pushes [God] away, that widens the gap between you and [God] and also the gaps within yourself.2
This is not anything new for the majority of us. Most of us are aware of the tremendous gap between what we are and what we are called to be. It takes little self-examination to realize how far we have fallen short of the glory of God. But what is difficult for us to learn and accept is what it takes for us to be free from sin's shackles. What is difficult for us is to get our minds around the fact that returning to God with all of our heart is all about surrendering.
It has been said that "genuine religious conversions are blessed defeats."3 This means that we must come clean, confessing and exposing our whole hearts to God, even those areas we have hidden away. We are called to do this not because God is angry that we have been hiding something. God is intimately aware of what we have tried to keep hidden. We are called to come clean because confessing and exposing requires us to let go of the ownership of our hearts and allow God to take over. It requires us to let go of pride and take comfort in our complete dependence upon God. It requires us to let go of sin and embrace the healing that comes through God's forgiveness in Christ.
When we come before God open and vulnerable, we need not be afraid. For God's promise in Joel is that God is "gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love" (v. 13). I relish the words, "abounding in steadfast love." To me, they mean that God does not give up on us and is always willing to pour out gifts of love and grace lavishly. All we must do is receive them.
I heard about a woman who opened herself to God's abounding love and received far more than she ever expected. She had become active in a church and was beginning to release sins and wounds from a checkered past. She was reluctant, however, to bring her bleeding heart to God; yet as she felt the love and acceptance of the congregation and God's Spirit, she began to experience the freedom that comes from trusting in God's mercy. Soon she felt ready to express her liberating faith through the sacrament of Baptism. Her pastor was so excited about her transformation that he planned a baptism unlike any other. When the day came for her baptism, the whole congregation gathered in great anticipation. At the appointed time, the pastor, who usually baptized by sprinkling, took a jumbo-sized cup, dipped it in the baptismal font, and said, "I baptize you in the name of the Father!" -- and poured the entire cup over her head. He took another cupful and said, "And of the Son!" -- and poured it all over her head. Then he took the third cupful and said, "And of the Holy Spirit!" -- and poured the water all over her head. The woman was drenched. The water was heard trickling off her hair and clothes and on to the floor. But she was not uncomfortable. In fact, she was relieved. She stood in front of the chancel soaking wet and leaned over to whisper in the pastor's ear, "Now I know Jesus loves me."4
What holds you back from a fresh new baptism of God's Spirit? Why not return to God with all of your heart and experience the abundance of God's steadfast love? Return to God with all your sins and bathe them in the lather of God's forgiveness. Return to God with all your vulnerabilities and be drenched in God's acceptance. Return to God with all your tears and allow God's warm blanket of grace to dry them all. Come clean and be made clean.
____________
1. Just for Laughs (The Christian Communications Laboratory, 1982), p. 132.
2. Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC (New York: Harper Collins, 1973), p. 88. Used by permission.
3. Attributed to C. S. Lewis.
4. Story shared with me by a colleague.
This story is a poignant parable of our sinful nature. Like giddy children huddled together around something unique, sin has a way of fascinating each of us. Like Adam and Eve in Genesis, it is the mysterious and forbidden fruit which is most attractive. In fact, sin can be so attractive that when we are told to run away from it, we cannot help but pick it up and take it with us, choosing to forget the unbearable stench it sprays over our lives. So even with love, advice, wisdom, warnings, and even screams, we apparently are unable to leave our sins behind.
Our inability to relinquish our sins makes the beginning of Lent very challenging. In order to prepare for the resurrection of Christ, we are encouraged to "give up" something. Unable to give up our sins, we dance around the edges of our weakest areas and lift up some token sacrifice, like chocolate or meat, and feel pretty good about "the cross we bear" until Easter.
However, the prophet Joel does not let us get away with our pseudo-sacrifices. Joel ushers in a wake up call, a reality check. Joel calls us to a true, honest, veneer-breaking repentance. And this call to repentance is nothing short of ominous, for Joel paints a picture that we do not want to see. A trumpet blares. A warning is made. The clouds turn threatening. Our phony pretenses dissolve into the darkness. And our only hope is found in the words that echo in the midst of the gloom: "Return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning" (v. 12). Yet even these words are terrifying because they mean we must return to God vulnerable and exposed.
There was an assumed rule that I recognized as a child. Whenever someone in our family saw an important person come up the driveway, he or she was legally, ethically, and morally responsible to scream, "Fire drill!" Whoever was within earshot of those resounding words was obligated to find anything on the floor that did not belong -- like clothes, dishes, magazines, newspapers -- gather them up and run to a back room, throw the junk inside, and close the door. Each of us was then required to regroup, slap on a smiling face, wait for the door bell to ring, and when the front door was opened say, "Oh! What a surprise! Come in and see us as we always are." Sound familiar?
Many times we do that to God. When the Lord comes knocking on the door of our hearts, we plead, "Please don't ask me to open that back room in my heart and reveal all the trash I have accumulated. Please don't ask me to 'rend my heart' and allow that sinful junk to spill out. They are my secrets, and I am afraid of what you will see." As a result, we continue to gather our skunks, run to a back room in our hearts, and seek to hide them from God.
Our reluctance to return to God with all of our heart stems from the fear in confronting the truth within ourselves. It is difficult to probe below the surface and take a hard look at our sins. It is easier to bask in the light of denial than to stare into the darkness of truth. It is more comfortable to look the other way than to come face to face with painful reality. And, understandably so, because for some, the painful reality is the jealousy, resentment, and anger that is eating away at their souls bit by bit. For others, it is the destructive habits that wear them down to complete helplessness. Still, for many, it is the lonely and bitter life of living only for themselves. In short, returning to God with all of our heart may mean returning to God with a deteriorated heart.
The contemporary theologian Frederick Buechner gives us insight into the destructive nature of sin when he writes:
The power of sin is centrifugal. When at work in a human life, it tends to push everything out toward the periphery. Bits and pieces go flying off until only the core is left. Eventually bits and pieces of the core itself go flying off until in the end nothing at all is left ... sin is whatever you do, or fail to do, that pushes [God] away, that widens the gap between you and [God] and also the gaps within yourself.2
This is not anything new for the majority of us. Most of us are aware of the tremendous gap between what we are and what we are called to be. It takes little self-examination to realize how far we have fallen short of the glory of God. But what is difficult for us to learn and accept is what it takes for us to be free from sin's shackles. What is difficult for us is to get our minds around the fact that returning to God with all of our heart is all about surrendering.
It has been said that "genuine religious conversions are blessed defeats."3 This means that we must come clean, confessing and exposing our whole hearts to God, even those areas we have hidden away. We are called to do this not because God is angry that we have been hiding something. God is intimately aware of what we have tried to keep hidden. We are called to come clean because confessing and exposing requires us to let go of the ownership of our hearts and allow God to take over. It requires us to let go of pride and take comfort in our complete dependence upon God. It requires us to let go of sin and embrace the healing that comes through God's forgiveness in Christ.
When we come before God open and vulnerable, we need not be afraid. For God's promise in Joel is that God is "gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love" (v. 13). I relish the words, "abounding in steadfast love." To me, they mean that God does not give up on us and is always willing to pour out gifts of love and grace lavishly. All we must do is receive them.
I heard about a woman who opened herself to God's abounding love and received far more than she ever expected. She had become active in a church and was beginning to release sins and wounds from a checkered past. She was reluctant, however, to bring her bleeding heart to God; yet as she felt the love and acceptance of the congregation and God's Spirit, she began to experience the freedom that comes from trusting in God's mercy. Soon she felt ready to express her liberating faith through the sacrament of Baptism. Her pastor was so excited about her transformation that he planned a baptism unlike any other. When the day came for her baptism, the whole congregation gathered in great anticipation. At the appointed time, the pastor, who usually baptized by sprinkling, took a jumbo-sized cup, dipped it in the baptismal font, and said, "I baptize you in the name of the Father!" -- and poured the entire cup over her head. He took another cupful and said, "And of the Son!" -- and poured it all over her head. Then he took the third cupful and said, "And of the Holy Spirit!" -- and poured the water all over her head. The woman was drenched. The water was heard trickling off her hair and clothes and on to the floor. But she was not uncomfortable. In fact, she was relieved. She stood in front of the chancel soaking wet and leaned over to whisper in the pastor's ear, "Now I know Jesus loves me."4
What holds you back from a fresh new baptism of God's Spirit? Why not return to God with all of your heart and experience the abundance of God's steadfast love? Return to God with all your sins and bathe them in the lather of God's forgiveness. Return to God with all your vulnerabilities and be drenched in God's acceptance. Return to God with all your tears and allow God's warm blanket of grace to dry them all. Come clean and be made clean.
____________
1. Just for Laughs (The Christian Communications Laboratory, 1982), p. 132.
2. Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC (New York: Harper Collins, 1973), p. 88. Used by permission.
3. Attributed to C. S. Lewis.
4. Story shared with me by a colleague.
