"Deliver Us From Evil"
Sermon
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Sermons On The Lord's Prayer
Probably most of us are familiar with James Dickey's brilliant but disturbing novel, Deliverance (Dell Publishing, 1970). We've read the book or seen the film - maybe both. In Deliverance, four bored Atlanta suburbanites set off on a weekend canoe trip. They're amateurs. They don't know it, but the river is dangerous. So are some of the locals.
The canoe trip starts out as fun. But by the second day, things go really bad. Two grisly, gap--toothed mountain men - armed and dangerous - waylay two of the canoeists. In a brutal scene they assault one man. Then one of the other canoeists kills the mountain man with a bow and arrows they had brought along for hunting. The other mountain man is (temporarily) driven off.
Four ordinary men have a close encounter with evil. And it seems to me some of it begins to rub off. Lewis, the leader, just doesn't trust the local police. He talks the others into burying the body so that the killing - though seemingly justifiable - will never be discovered and thereby never investigated. All of them, some against their better judgment, go along. All four are now guilty of conspiracy.
As they continue down river, evil continues to lurk. For one thing, they must run dangerous, punishing rapids. Lewis is nearly killed when his canoe crashes into a rock. The river represents nature. Nature is not evil. But it is indifferent. Rivers, avalanches, hurricanes, and tornadoes do not care if human beings get in their way. Often we need deliverance from nature.
The canoeists are also stalked by the other mountain man. They shoot the rapids. He shoots at them. He kills one of the canoeists. Then one of the canoeists kills him. Again the surviving canoeists decide to hide the bodies and to tell more lies. The evil that has touched them, and infected them, spreads. By the end of their "vacation," three men are dead, one man assaulted, two injured, three bodies denied a Christian burial. And the survivors are trapped in a lifelong lie. Deliverance speaks to me about our human need for deliverance. It's realistic to pray, "Deliver us from evil." For evil is around us and inside us much of the time.
Where does evil come from? That's a question that has intrigued theologians, philosophers, and thinkers for centuries. But the Bible doesn't speculate. For, as someone once put it, if you wake up and smell smoke and find your house is on fire, you don't sit down and read a book on the origin of fire. You try your best to escape, then to put the fire out. The Bible equips us to fight the hellfire of evil. It doesn't stop to analyze where it's from.
Nor is the Bible particularly definitive on whether evil is faceless - or whether an Evil One runs it. In other words, is it "e--v--i--l"? Or should we add a "D" and make it "D--e--v--i--l"? I'm sure we all have opinions on that subject.
Scripture doesn't analyze evil. Instead it offers an assessment of our human condition. All of us, even the best of us, are sometimes like those canoeists: swept along by the rapids, enemies surrounding us, secrets within us. Evil is persuasive and pervasive. We need deliverance from it.
How do we fight it? To be honest, often we don't even try very hard, do we? Often we agree with Oscar Wilde: "The only way go get rid of a temptation is to yield to it." "Few speed records are broken when people run from temptation" (E. C. Mckenzie). We assume temptation is stronger than we are, and cave in.
That's the slippery slope we all walk. It's easy to slide down it. Sometimes it isn't the big evils that get us but the small temptations that slip us up. We can be like Bobbie Leach, an Englishman who went over Niagara Falls in a barrel, successfully. Not too long afterwards he slipped on a banana peel and broke his leg. Often, when faced with evil, we just give in, or slide in.
But the book of James advises us to "resist the devil, and he will flee from you" (4:7 RSV). That reminds me of something I learned about llamas, those long--necked, soft--coated creatures from Peru. Sheep ranchers in the American West were having trouble with coyotes. Sometimes the coyotes would kill fifty sheep from a flock in a year. The ranchers tried everything to get rid of coyotes: odor sprays, electric fences, loud battery radios attached to sheep's necks (probably playing rap). Nothing worked.
Today many sheep ranchers just put one lonely llama in with their sheep. Llamas, apparently, are fearless. When they see something - anything, no matter how big or dangerous it is - they just put their head down and head straight for it. Coyotes interpret that head--down advance as aggression. When faced directly, the coyotes run away.
You and I don't always need to cave in to evil. If we resist it, even for a moment, it often melts away. One pastor reminds us of Psalm 50, verse 15: "Call on me when trouble comes. I will save you," says God (quoted by Rick Warren in "How To Overcome Temptation," 7--2, "The Encouraging Word" ministries).
This same pastor encourages us, when tempted, to use a "microwave prayer." Not a long prayer: just a kind of "Help!" "Mayday!" "S.O.S.!" Warren, particularly recommends "microwave prayers" when:
(You) are tempted to commit a felony (because) your kids have irritated you to the limit. Or when (Y)ou're tempted to make a sarcastic reply to the boss when he blames you for his mistakes in front of other(s) ... Or when you smell the aroma of hot cinnamon buns in the mall.
How do you spell relief? P--r--a--y--e--r. That's how Jesus resisted temptation in the desert: prayer. That's how Jesus resisted temptation in the Garden of Gethsemane: prayer. "Resist the devil, and he will flee from you." Besides, the more we resist the stronger our spiritual "resistance muscles" become. We don't always have to give in to sin.
Yes, we could all do better in resisting temptation. But in the end we end up - all of us - needing help. For there are evils stronger than our resistance: the destructive power of nature, sometimes our own body turning against us in illness. Plus there are the systemic evils of racism, chauvinistic nationalism, and economic injustice. We need a Strong Deliverer. Fortunately our Strong Deliverer is here.
Martin Luther writes of him in his great hymn:
Did we in our own strength confide,
Our striving would be losing,
Were not the right man on our side,
The man of God's own choosing.
Dost ask who that may be?
Christ Jesus it is he;
Lord Sabaoth his name.
From age to age the same,
And he must win the battle.
And though this world, with devils filled,
Should threaten to undo us.
We will not fear, for God hath willed,
His truth to triumph through us.
The prince of darkness grim,
We tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure,
For lo, his doom is sure:
One little word will fell him.
That "little word" that overcomes evil is "Easter." Evil is the great enemy of life. After all, "E--v--i-l" is "l--i--v--e" spelled backwards. On Good Friday evil tried to destroy life forever. Evil took the Prince of Light and Life and nailed him to a cross. His dead, broken body was laid in a tomb. A boulder was rolled across the mouth. It looked like evil had won.
But not for long, for Easter is God breaking the back of evil. Easter is God turning the "evil" of the cross back around into the "live" of the Risen Christ. Easter is hope and strength for us in our struggle against evil. Easter is our salvation. Easter is our deliverance. We pray, "Deliver us from evil." On Easter Sunday, God does.
Evil continues, to be sure. We can and must fight against it. Often we are stronger than we think we are. As a llama can drive away a coyote, so can we, with a little gumption, and maybe a few "microwave prayers," and the help of God, often drive away the devil.
And the devil's defeat is certain, anyway. Jesus already beat him on Easter. If we believe that and begin to live confidently in that promise, you and I can be delivered from evil.
When we encounter evil, we need not either give in to it or be afraid of it. There's a remarkable scene near the end of Charles Gounod's opera, Faust. Faust has sold his soul to the devil (identified in the opera as Mephistopheles). Faust draws his sword to do battle with evil. Faust isn't stronger than Mephistopheles or more clever. Nor is he quicker than the devil. Faust defeats Mephis--topheles when he holds the hilt of his sword aloft so it looks like an uplifted cross. Seeing the cross, the devil cringes and retreats.
Our confidence lies not in ourselves but in the victory of Jesus Christ. "One little word shall fell him." That word is "Easter." Even the gates of Hell cannot stand against Easter. "Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!" (1 Corinthians 15:57 RSV).
The canoe trip starts out as fun. But by the second day, things go really bad. Two grisly, gap--toothed mountain men - armed and dangerous - waylay two of the canoeists. In a brutal scene they assault one man. Then one of the other canoeists kills the mountain man with a bow and arrows they had brought along for hunting. The other mountain man is (temporarily) driven off.
Four ordinary men have a close encounter with evil. And it seems to me some of it begins to rub off. Lewis, the leader, just doesn't trust the local police. He talks the others into burying the body so that the killing - though seemingly justifiable - will never be discovered and thereby never investigated. All of them, some against their better judgment, go along. All four are now guilty of conspiracy.
As they continue down river, evil continues to lurk. For one thing, they must run dangerous, punishing rapids. Lewis is nearly killed when his canoe crashes into a rock. The river represents nature. Nature is not evil. But it is indifferent. Rivers, avalanches, hurricanes, and tornadoes do not care if human beings get in their way. Often we need deliverance from nature.
The canoeists are also stalked by the other mountain man. They shoot the rapids. He shoots at them. He kills one of the canoeists. Then one of the canoeists kills him. Again the surviving canoeists decide to hide the bodies and to tell more lies. The evil that has touched them, and infected them, spreads. By the end of their "vacation," three men are dead, one man assaulted, two injured, three bodies denied a Christian burial. And the survivors are trapped in a lifelong lie. Deliverance speaks to me about our human need for deliverance. It's realistic to pray, "Deliver us from evil." For evil is around us and inside us much of the time.
Where does evil come from? That's a question that has intrigued theologians, philosophers, and thinkers for centuries. But the Bible doesn't speculate. For, as someone once put it, if you wake up and smell smoke and find your house is on fire, you don't sit down and read a book on the origin of fire. You try your best to escape, then to put the fire out. The Bible equips us to fight the hellfire of evil. It doesn't stop to analyze where it's from.
Nor is the Bible particularly definitive on whether evil is faceless - or whether an Evil One runs it. In other words, is it "e--v--i--l"? Or should we add a "D" and make it "D--e--v--i--l"? I'm sure we all have opinions on that subject.
Scripture doesn't analyze evil. Instead it offers an assessment of our human condition. All of us, even the best of us, are sometimes like those canoeists: swept along by the rapids, enemies surrounding us, secrets within us. Evil is persuasive and pervasive. We need deliverance from it.
How do we fight it? To be honest, often we don't even try very hard, do we? Often we agree with Oscar Wilde: "The only way go get rid of a temptation is to yield to it." "Few speed records are broken when people run from temptation" (E. C. Mckenzie). We assume temptation is stronger than we are, and cave in.
That's the slippery slope we all walk. It's easy to slide down it. Sometimes it isn't the big evils that get us but the small temptations that slip us up. We can be like Bobbie Leach, an Englishman who went over Niagara Falls in a barrel, successfully. Not too long afterwards he slipped on a banana peel and broke his leg. Often, when faced with evil, we just give in, or slide in.
But the book of James advises us to "resist the devil, and he will flee from you" (4:7 RSV). That reminds me of something I learned about llamas, those long--necked, soft--coated creatures from Peru. Sheep ranchers in the American West were having trouble with coyotes. Sometimes the coyotes would kill fifty sheep from a flock in a year. The ranchers tried everything to get rid of coyotes: odor sprays, electric fences, loud battery radios attached to sheep's necks (probably playing rap). Nothing worked.
Today many sheep ranchers just put one lonely llama in with their sheep. Llamas, apparently, are fearless. When they see something - anything, no matter how big or dangerous it is - they just put their head down and head straight for it. Coyotes interpret that head--down advance as aggression. When faced directly, the coyotes run away.
You and I don't always need to cave in to evil. If we resist it, even for a moment, it often melts away. One pastor reminds us of Psalm 50, verse 15: "Call on me when trouble comes. I will save you," says God (quoted by Rick Warren in "How To Overcome Temptation," 7--2, "The Encouraging Word" ministries).
This same pastor encourages us, when tempted, to use a "microwave prayer." Not a long prayer: just a kind of "Help!" "Mayday!" "S.O.S.!" Warren, particularly recommends "microwave prayers" when:
(You) are tempted to commit a felony (because) your kids have irritated you to the limit. Or when (Y)ou're tempted to make a sarcastic reply to the boss when he blames you for his mistakes in front of other(s) ... Or when you smell the aroma of hot cinnamon buns in the mall.
How do you spell relief? P--r--a--y--e--r. That's how Jesus resisted temptation in the desert: prayer. That's how Jesus resisted temptation in the Garden of Gethsemane: prayer. "Resist the devil, and he will flee from you." Besides, the more we resist the stronger our spiritual "resistance muscles" become. We don't always have to give in to sin.
Yes, we could all do better in resisting temptation. But in the end we end up - all of us - needing help. For there are evils stronger than our resistance: the destructive power of nature, sometimes our own body turning against us in illness. Plus there are the systemic evils of racism, chauvinistic nationalism, and economic injustice. We need a Strong Deliverer. Fortunately our Strong Deliverer is here.
Martin Luther writes of him in his great hymn:
Did we in our own strength confide,
Our striving would be losing,
Were not the right man on our side,
The man of God's own choosing.
Dost ask who that may be?
Christ Jesus it is he;
Lord Sabaoth his name.
From age to age the same,
And he must win the battle.
And though this world, with devils filled,
Should threaten to undo us.
We will not fear, for God hath willed,
His truth to triumph through us.
The prince of darkness grim,
We tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure,
For lo, his doom is sure:
One little word will fell him.
That "little word" that overcomes evil is "Easter." Evil is the great enemy of life. After all, "E--v--i-l" is "l--i--v--e" spelled backwards. On Good Friday evil tried to destroy life forever. Evil took the Prince of Light and Life and nailed him to a cross. His dead, broken body was laid in a tomb. A boulder was rolled across the mouth. It looked like evil had won.
But not for long, for Easter is God breaking the back of evil. Easter is God turning the "evil" of the cross back around into the "live" of the Risen Christ. Easter is hope and strength for us in our struggle against evil. Easter is our salvation. Easter is our deliverance. We pray, "Deliver us from evil." On Easter Sunday, God does.
Evil continues, to be sure. We can and must fight against it. Often we are stronger than we think we are. As a llama can drive away a coyote, so can we, with a little gumption, and maybe a few "microwave prayers," and the help of God, often drive away the devil.
And the devil's defeat is certain, anyway. Jesus already beat him on Easter. If we believe that and begin to live confidently in that promise, you and I can be delivered from evil.
When we encounter evil, we need not either give in to it or be afraid of it. There's a remarkable scene near the end of Charles Gounod's opera, Faust. Faust has sold his soul to the devil (identified in the opera as Mephistopheles). Faust draws his sword to do battle with evil. Faust isn't stronger than Mephistopheles or more clever. Nor is he quicker than the devil. Faust defeats Mephis--topheles when he holds the hilt of his sword aloft so it looks like an uplifted cross. Seeing the cross, the devil cringes and retreats.
Our confidence lies not in ourselves but in the victory of Jesus Christ. "One little word shall fell him." That word is "Easter." Even the gates of Hell cannot stand against Easter. "Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!" (1 Corinthians 15:57 RSV).
