God's Baffling Grace
Sermon
Conversations Over Bread And Wine
Meditations For The Lord's Supper
"Listen, you are well now; so stop sinning or something worse may happen to you."
If I should tell you that these words of Jesus are among the most helpful, positive, and affirming statements in the entire Bible, you would probably think me crazy. They seem clearly to be words of warning; they are threatening and intimidating. And because most of us don't like threats, we skip over them as quickly as possible, consigning them to that list of negative statements of Jesus we are content to ignore.
But to ignore Jesus' words to the man of Bethzatha, whom he had healed only moments before, or to see them essentially as a threat is, in my judgment, an enormous mistake! It is to misunderstand what are among the most profoundly hopeful words ever uttered. On the list of favorite Scripture passages, John 5:14 ought to rank right up there with the familiar words of John 3:16: "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son...." For the message of both statements is precisely the same. In one, it is the gospel, the good news of God's grace, spoken in the majestic language of poetic eloquence. In the other, it is the same good news, only this time in the conversational style of a real--life encounter: "you are well now; so stop sinning or something worse may happen to you."
You still don't get it? Then look at the order of things as they unfolded in the story. Here was a man who for 38 years had been a helpless cripple. Only moments before, he had been too weak even to pull himself to the edge of the pool near which he had sat all those years waiting for help. Now he stood on legs made strong by the healing touch of Jesus, his infirmity totally gone. And the healing had come as a gift. If we can believe the story as it is told in the fourth gospel, our Lord had not laid down a single requirement for the crippled man to be made well. He had not said, "Before you can be cured you must get your life straightened out. You need an attitude adjustment. You've got to get rid of all those negative thoughts, all preoccupation with yourself and your condition. No more self--centeredness! No more feeling sorry for yourself! No more blaming others for not helping you! What I want to see is some sign that you are ready to start over again." Jesus did not say any of those things. Rather, all he did was ask a question: "Do you want to get well?" And on the basis, not of the man's promise that he would try harder to be a better person, but out of sheer compassion and love, Jesus healed him.
Only after the man stood there with his limbs restored did Jesus say anything about what he needed to do. The words, "Stop sinning, lest something worse happen to you," were not spoken as a condition for his healing, but were rather to be his response to having been healed - a life--changing reaction to what he had received, motivated by gratitude for what he had been given. His healing, then, was not based on what he had done or was going to do in the future. It was based entirely on Jesus' kindness and love. Grace! That's the key word. Unconditional love! Good News and the central affirmation of the Christian faith!
We have trouble seeing grace in the story, I think, because we have trouble believing it anytime, anywhere. Grace is the repeated message of the New Testament, reiterated again and again in the life and teachings of Jesus: in the parable of the young man, for example, who asked for his share of his father's inheritance, left home, and went into the far country. You remember the details - how he spent all his possessions on a style of living that left him not only physically destitute but spiritually bankrupt as well. And then how amid the squalor and stench of the pigpen which had become his home, he remembered his real home and his father. "I will go home," he said, "and I will ask my father to take me back not as a son but as a slave." So he set out for home. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him, ran to meet him, welcomed him back with great joy, dressed him in robes of sonship, and ordered a great banquet to celebrate his return. There wasn't a thing the son had done or even could do to warrant such treatment. He had come back home where he belonged, and that was enough for the father.
We call the story the parable of the prodigal son, but no one would dispute the fact that it should more appropriately be called the parable of the waiting father, for its focus clearly is on the amazingly gracious response of the father. And the good news that is Christianity says to us: "That's how it is with God! That's what God is like!" Divine love and blessing forever come as gifts, never as something we earn.
We hear it, but we don't accept it. Something about it seems to be inherently wrong. It's too good to be true! It's too easy! The concept of divine grace given with no requirements undermines the moral foundation of the universe. Logic requires that there be some conditions, and so we humans seek constantly to establish them. The elder brother in all of us says, "In this life you have to pay for what you get. Only the righteous should have entrance into the Kingdom. Only the good should be healed. Only the person who keeps God's commandments should be given eternal life." In every generation, the faithful have sought to correct the Gospel and make it say what obviously it should have said in the first place: salvation the old--fashioned way - we earn it! We make new rules or return to old ones that must be adhered to before one can be a real Christian. It has to be that way! The moral order demands that God's love be conditioned by what we humans do and how good we are. Why, if divine acceptance is free and has nothing to do with a person's goodness, people are going to run wild. They'll do whatever they want to do. They'll just go on sinning. Why not? Why not eat, drink, and be merry - if they can get away with it? We must have requirements that accompany divine grace. Human logic demands it.
But the Christian faith has never rested on the foundation of our logic or reason. And no matter how baffling it seems to us, the cornerstone of the gospel remains grace - unearned and undeserved love. Jesus said to the cripple, "You are well now," and only after that did he go on to say, "therefore stop sinning...." Blessing before commandment, you see! Healing before obligation!
The only condition for healing was framed by the question: "Do you want to be well?" In other words, are you tired of the old life with its limitation and ready for the new to come? What an absurd question, it would seem! Here was a man who had been crippled for 38 years, and Jesus asks him if he wants to get well. Of course he wants healing! But the question is not quite that simple, or, more accurately, the answer may not be quite that self--evident. Our Lord understood a fact about human beings that some of us have not acknowledged. Many years ago, Sigmund Freud uncovered one of the most monumental of his discoveries about people. He called it by the simple but descriptive name "resistance" - a phenomenon he observed in a large number of his counselees who, though they paid significant sums of money for his services, forgot appointments, came late, lied about details of their case history, or withheld significant information all together. Even though they appeared eager for his help, their behavior indicated that at some deep level they did not really want to be helped or to change.
That is a reality that sooner or later becomes evident to anyone who deals much with people. It is one thing for a person to ask for help; it is another thing for the person to want it and be ready to receive it. In his book, The Passionate People, Bruce Larson tells about a woman, a close friend, who had recurrent bouts with mental illness. Through the years she had gotten the best of medical care, but progress had always been slow. It was following recovery from her most recent period of illness, which seemed a remarkable turnaround, that Dr. Larson asked her what she thought was the turning point that enabled wholeness to come. She looked up and said in all sincerity: "I began to get well when I said to myself, 'Enough! It's time to move on!' "
Jesus understood that phenomenon. "Do you want to get well?" he asked the crippled man. It was a crucial question in the long ago, and it is a crucial question today. I don't know what your specific need is, what has to happen in your life for you to become a whole person. Is it discovering a new purpose? A better sense of self--worth? Strength to resist some weakness or temptation? Restoration of a relationship? Control of runaway emotions? Greater patience? Hope that replaces depression? A fresh experience of faith? Healing for some illness of body or spirit?
Whatever it is, I know that all of the reasons we can give for staying in our present condition - we're weak; we're only human; we're just frail creatures - are of no use at all. Of course we're weak and frail and only human! And all of the efforts we make to gain God's favor in order to be strengthened - as if by our goodness we can place God in our debt - are equally futile. None of it works!
But this I also know. We are loved by God endlessly and unconditionally! And there is strength and newness available to us every moment. The question is - and it is the only question a loving God asks: Do we really want that new life? We want freedom from the limitations of spiritual paralysis, but are we ready to leave behind the comfortable security of the old life and face the risks that come with newness? Do we really want to be healed, strengthened, and renewed - want it with all our hearts, more than anything else? God is willing to give us those gifts. They are available to all of us every moment, regardless of our condition, whether we are worthy or unworthy. But receiving them is up to us, dependent on how earnestly we desire what Christ can do for us.
The real risk, of course, is that having been touched by Christ's healing hand, we may in fact become different persons. Given a new beginning, we may want to go out to live new lives, not because it is demanded of us as a condition of God's blessing, but because we are grateful and choose it. Not because it is required, but because, having been touched by divine love, thankfulness will let us do nothing less.
If I should tell you that these words of Jesus are among the most helpful, positive, and affirming statements in the entire Bible, you would probably think me crazy. They seem clearly to be words of warning; they are threatening and intimidating. And because most of us don't like threats, we skip over them as quickly as possible, consigning them to that list of negative statements of Jesus we are content to ignore.
But to ignore Jesus' words to the man of Bethzatha, whom he had healed only moments before, or to see them essentially as a threat is, in my judgment, an enormous mistake! It is to misunderstand what are among the most profoundly hopeful words ever uttered. On the list of favorite Scripture passages, John 5:14 ought to rank right up there with the familiar words of John 3:16: "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son...." For the message of both statements is precisely the same. In one, it is the gospel, the good news of God's grace, spoken in the majestic language of poetic eloquence. In the other, it is the same good news, only this time in the conversational style of a real--life encounter: "you are well now; so stop sinning or something worse may happen to you."
You still don't get it? Then look at the order of things as they unfolded in the story. Here was a man who for 38 years had been a helpless cripple. Only moments before, he had been too weak even to pull himself to the edge of the pool near which he had sat all those years waiting for help. Now he stood on legs made strong by the healing touch of Jesus, his infirmity totally gone. And the healing had come as a gift. If we can believe the story as it is told in the fourth gospel, our Lord had not laid down a single requirement for the crippled man to be made well. He had not said, "Before you can be cured you must get your life straightened out. You need an attitude adjustment. You've got to get rid of all those negative thoughts, all preoccupation with yourself and your condition. No more self--centeredness! No more feeling sorry for yourself! No more blaming others for not helping you! What I want to see is some sign that you are ready to start over again." Jesus did not say any of those things. Rather, all he did was ask a question: "Do you want to get well?" And on the basis, not of the man's promise that he would try harder to be a better person, but out of sheer compassion and love, Jesus healed him.
Only after the man stood there with his limbs restored did Jesus say anything about what he needed to do. The words, "Stop sinning, lest something worse happen to you," were not spoken as a condition for his healing, but were rather to be his response to having been healed - a life--changing reaction to what he had received, motivated by gratitude for what he had been given. His healing, then, was not based on what he had done or was going to do in the future. It was based entirely on Jesus' kindness and love. Grace! That's the key word. Unconditional love! Good News and the central affirmation of the Christian faith!
We have trouble seeing grace in the story, I think, because we have trouble believing it anytime, anywhere. Grace is the repeated message of the New Testament, reiterated again and again in the life and teachings of Jesus: in the parable of the young man, for example, who asked for his share of his father's inheritance, left home, and went into the far country. You remember the details - how he spent all his possessions on a style of living that left him not only physically destitute but spiritually bankrupt as well. And then how amid the squalor and stench of the pigpen which had become his home, he remembered his real home and his father. "I will go home," he said, "and I will ask my father to take me back not as a son but as a slave." So he set out for home. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him, ran to meet him, welcomed him back with great joy, dressed him in robes of sonship, and ordered a great banquet to celebrate his return. There wasn't a thing the son had done or even could do to warrant such treatment. He had come back home where he belonged, and that was enough for the father.
We call the story the parable of the prodigal son, but no one would dispute the fact that it should more appropriately be called the parable of the waiting father, for its focus clearly is on the amazingly gracious response of the father. And the good news that is Christianity says to us: "That's how it is with God! That's what God is like!" Divine love and blessing forever come as gifts, never as something we earn.
We hear it, but we don't accept it. Something about it seems to be inherently wrong. It's too good to be true! It's too easy! The concept of divine grace given with no requirements undermines the moral foundation of the universe. Logic requires that there be some conditions, and so we humans seek constantly to establish them. The elder brother in all of us says, "In this life you have to pay for what you get. Only the righteous should have entrance into the Kingdom. Only the good should be healed. Only the person who keeps God's commandments should be given eternal life." In every generation, the faithful have sought to correct the Gospel and make it say what obviously it should have said in the first place: salvation the old--fashioned way - we earn it! We make new rules or return to old ones that must be adhered to before one can be a real Christian. It has to be that way! The moral order demands that God's love be conditioned by what we humans do and how good we are. Why, if divine acceptance is free and has nothing to do with a person's goodness, people are going to run wild. They'll do whatever they want to do. They'll just go on sinning. Why not? Why not eat, drink, and be merry - if they can get away with it? We must have requirements that accompany divine grace. Human logic demands it.
But the Christian faith has never rested on the foundation of our logic or reason. And no matter how baffling it seems to us, the cornerstone of the gospel remains grace - unearned and undeserved love. Jesus said to the cripple, "You are well now," and only after that did he go on to say, "therefore stop sinning...." Blessing before commandment, you see! Healing before obligation!
The only condition for healing was framed by the question: "Do you want to be well?" In other words, are you tired of the old life with its limitation and ready for the new to come? What an absurd question, it would seem! Here was a man who had been crippled for 38 years, and Jesus asks him if he wants to get well. Of course he wants healing! But the question is not quite that simple, or, more accurately, the answer may not be quite that self--evident. Our Lord understood a fact about human beings that some of us have not acknowledged. Many years ago, Sigmund Freud uncovered one of the most monumental of his discoveries about people. He called it by the simple but descriptive name "resistance" - a phenomenon he observed in a large number of his counselees who, though they paid significant sums of money for his services, forgot appointments, came late, lied about details of their case history, or withheld significant information all together. Even though they appeared eager for his help, their behavior indicated that at some deep level they did not really want to be helped or to change.
That is a reality that sooner or later becomes evident to anyone who deals much with people. It is one thing for a person to ask for help; it is another thing for the person to want it and be ready to receive it. In his book, The Passionate People, Bruce Larson tells about a woman, a close friend, who had recurrent bouts with mental illness. Through the years she had gotten the best of medical care, but progress had always been slow. It was following recovery from her most recent period of illness, which seemed a remarkable turnaround, that Dr. Larson asked her what she thought was the turning point that enabled wholeness to come. She looked up and said in all sincerity: "I began to get well when I said to myself, 'Enough! It's time to move on!' "
Jesus understood that phenomenon. "Do you want to get well?" he asked the crippled man. It was a crucial question in the long ago, and it is a crucial question today. I don't know what your specific need is, what has to happen in your life for you to become a whole person. Is it discovering a new purpose? A better sense of self--worth? Strength to resist some weakness or temptation? Restoration of a relationship? Control of runaway emotions? Greater patience? Hope that replaces depression? A fresh experience of faith? Healing for some illness of body or spirit?
Whatever it is, I know that all of the reasons we can give for staying in our present condition - we're weak; we're only human; we're just frail creatures - are of no use at all. Of course we're weak and frail and only human! And all of the efforts we make to gain God's favor in order to be strengthened - as if by our goodness we can place God in our debt - are equally futile. None of it works!
But this I also know. We are loved by God endlessly and unconditionally! And there is strength and newness available to us every moment. The question is - and it is the only question a loving God asks: Do we really want that new life? We want freedom from the limitations of spiritual paralysis, but are we ready to leave behind the comfortable security of the old life and face the risks that come with newness? Do we really want to be healed, strengthened, and renewed - want it with all our hearts, more than anything else? God is willing to give us those gifts. They are available to all of us every moment, regardless of our condition, whether we are worthy or unworthy. But receiving them is up to us, dependent on how earnestly we desire what Christ can do for us.
The real risk, of course, is that having been touched by Christ's healing hand, we may in fact become different persons. Given a new beginning, we may want to go out to live new lives, not because it is demanded of us as a condition of God's blessing, but because we are grateful and choose it. Not because it is required, but because, having been touched by divine love, thankfulness will let us do nothing less.
