A Holy God And A Holy People
Sermon
Sermons On The First Readings
Series I, Cycle C
Perhaps some of you saw the pictures in the newspaper or on television when officials in New York City revealed six different architectural renderings for the new World Trade Center. Each of the six different proposals more than replaces the square footage of the collapsed twin towers. The twin towers will not be replaced. In fact, in each one of the proposals the exact spot where the twin towers stood remains vacant and unused. Some sort of memorial for the victims of September 11 is planned for the space. One of the officials said that this space will never be used for commercial property. It will always be set apart and reserved in memory of those people who lost their lives on September 11. It is sacred and holy ground!
This secular understanding of "holy" is very similar to the Bible's understanding of "holy" and especially this passage from the prophet Isaiah.
In the Old Testament the word holy, qadosh, is derived from the verb qad which means to cut off and set something apart, to cut off and reserve it for special use. Of course, when one speaks of "the holy," one must always begin with God. God is cut off, set apart, totally unique. There is no one or no thing in the entire universe that is like God. In Israel holy places, spaces, and objects were set apart and removed from the ordinary, everyday, and profane places of life. The Holy Place and the Holy of Holies in the Temple in Jerusalem were clearly set apart and separated from the ordinary. Certain people could only enter these places at special times of the year.
The practice of Holy War in the Old Testament is especially illustrative of what it means to be "holy." The practice of Holy War is one of the most difficult concepts for us to understand and appreciate today. That the Israelites would carry out a holy war and destroy an enemy in the name of God seems brutal and barbaric. But a closer look at Holy War reveals that it is not what it appears to be. Other nations might engage in a Holy War to enhance their national wealth and power. They would carry home the booty and spoils of war to build their treasuries and arsenals. But not Israel! Their God was holy, like no other god. And they were a holy people, like no other nation. Therefore, when the Israelites would make Holy War, it was conducted like no other nation. They fought for the glory of their holy God and not for their own wealth and power. Therefore, in Holy War they were required to make cherem, i.e., destroy all the booty and spoils that they captured. The booty and spoils were dedicated, consecrated, set apart for God by being totally burned and destroyed. The Israelites were prohibited from keeping it for their own personal use.
Today's Old Testament Lesson from Isaiah 6 is one of the most important passages in the Bible in helping us understand the nature of God's holiness. Here we truly see a God who is set apart, totally unique, and unlike anyone or anything in this universe. The Isaiah 6 text would surely be the delight of a Hollywood special effects director given the opportunity to portray the spectacular and supernatural phenomena of this passage. This scene reminds me of a scene in the famous George Lucas film of the 1980s Raiders of the Lost Ark. Perhaps some of you remember how the very presence of God was portrayed at the end of the film when the lost Ark is finally discovered. God is portrayed with the same kind of blinding light, thundering noise, and earth-shattering transcendence that is reflected in the prophet Isaiah's vision of God in the Temple.
Isaiah's vision is certainly a unique experience. There is smoke. There is an earthquake. The very doors of the Temple shake in their hinges. There are these strange six-winged, snake-like creatures called seraphs flying about the place. Two wings cover their eyes because in the Old Testament God is so awesome and terrible that no one can dare to look him in the face. Two wings cover their feet (actually a Hebrew euphemism for genitals) because they are ashamed to be in the presence of such a Holy One. And with two wings they flutter around the sacred space as they chant this eerie song praising the God before them: "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory."
God is present sitting on his throne. But outside a reference to the hem of his robe, his appearance remains a mystery. Isaiah either cannot or will not describe it. God is so unique, so unlike anything in human experience, so utterly other, so set apart and so holy that he is beyond words.
The holiness of God also has an ethical and moral dimension. God is the essence of moral and ethical perfection. That has very specific and negative consequences for Isaiah. In the presence of the holy God, Isaiah is acutely aware of his unholiness. He feels that he is an unclean man with unclean lips in the midst of an unclean people. In other words, in the presence of the righteous and perfect God, Isaiah has an acute sense of his own sinfulness. In the presence of such perfection, he can only sense his imperfection. He is afraid, filled with terror, concerned for his very life. Being in the presence of the holy God is not good news. It is not comforting. It is frightening, scary, deadly.
Though few if any of us have ever had an experience like Isaiah's, our experiences of the presence of God are still similar to Isaiah's. When we sense that we are in the presence of divinity, we, like Isaiah, shudder. We sense our inadequacy. We feel accused, guilty, and the need to justify ourselves.
In this sanctuary we have a sacred space, set aside for holy use. As a result we don't feel comfortable using it for recreation or for a party. We sense that we should respect the altar, the pulpit, the font, and the sacred space around them. This is hardly the place for a card game or a dance party. This space should be "respected," treated with a little "fear and trembling."
God knows and my children repeatedly remind me that I am far from resembling divinity. Nevertheless, as the pastor I represent God and his presence. So when the pastor shows up, people can't help but feel slightly nervous and act a tad differently. People always feel a little threatened, a little ill at ease, perhaps even a little guilty in the presence of the pastor. When the pastor approaches, someone always sounds the alarm. "Here comes the pastor. Watch your language. Clean up your act."
I would be a rich man if I had a dime for every time this has happened to me. I'm walking through the grocery store and bump into someone from church. It may have been the farthest thing from my mind, but I always seem to get a litany of excuses as to why they haven't been in church lately. I guess the presence of the pastor automatically makes people feel guilty.
Have you ever heard one of those omnipresent "Saint Peter Jokes"? You know how the jokes go. Someone arrives at the gates of heaven and Saint Peter must decide whether to admit them into heaven or not. The jokes always assume that admittance depends on the merits of one's behavior. It seems that arriving at the gates of heaven and being in the presence of God puts everyone on the defensive. God is about righteousness. Morality and good works matter. Usually the punch line has something to do with that expectation.
That is also Isaiah's experience of being in the presence of God. He is overwhelmed with his sense of sin. Unlike our culture's emasculation of sin, where it has simply become a matter of making a mistake or an error or slip up or "getting caught in a naughty," Isaiah's sense of sin means that his relationship with God is in trouble. His sins are more than minor slip-ups. They are signs of a fracture in his relationship with God. Sin is ultimately a theological problem and not just a human problem. Therefore, being in the presence of this holy God, who is the ultimate expression of righteousness and ethical purity, terrifies Isaiah. He, a sinner, has seen God. He, a man with unclean lips in the midst of an unclean people, is in big trouble. As a sinner, in the presence of the holy God, he is doomed.
But then the text takes a surprising turn. There is one more dramatic event that must take place. It is an utter and complete surprise. Without warning or explanation, one of the seraphs flies to Isaiah holding in a pair of tongs a white hot burning coal from the altar in the Temple and touches it to the lips of Isaiah. In this dramatic gesture Isaiah miraculously is not burned and destroyed but is purged and cleansed of his sin. Isaiah was convinced that the holiness of God was bad news for him. But in fact it was just the opposite. The holiness of God is good news. That which sets God apart, cuts God off, makes God like no other, is God's grace and mercy. That which makes God utterly unique is not just that he reads the riot act to sinners. There is nothing unique or unusual about that. Everyone in the world thinks that is what God is like. What makes God utterly unique is his desire to be merciful and forgiving of sinners. That is what the holiness of God is all about. That is the holiness that God reveals to Isaiah.
This encounter with the grace and mercy of God changes Isaiah. It transforms him. It is a life-changing experience. It sets Isaiah apart. It cuts him off and makes him different. It makes him holy. Isaiah is now all too willing to be a prophet for God. "Here am I; send me!"
We see that, in this text from the prophet Isaiah, God's holiness is two-sided, bi-focal, "a two-edged sword," as Saint Paul sometimes describes it in the New Testament. This is the distinction between Law and Gospel. God's holiness is expressed as Law and Gospel. As the Law, God's holiness exposes our sin and drives us to our knees with fear and trembling. But as the Gospel, God's holiness overcomes the Law and its deadly criticism, silences its accusations, and forgives our sins. The Gospel is God's last word to us. It is this expression of God's love and mercy without any merit or worthiness in us that makes God unique, so special, so set apart, so different, so unlike any other ... so holy!
What makes God holy is his grace and mercy. That holiness is what sets God apart in the Old Testament and in the New Testament. That holiness is also at the heart and center of Jesus' life and ministry. What is at the heart of Jesus' holiness? The Golden Rule? The Great Commandment, to love God and neighbor? The Great Commission, to go and make disciples? No. At the heart and center of Jesus' life and ministry is this simple announcement. At the beginning of the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, Jesus begins his ministry by saying it all: "The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent and believe the good news!"
Jesus is the incarnation of the kingdom of God. Watch him. Listen to him. See what happens to him and you will see what the kingdom is all about. You will see the holiness of God. That holiness is evident in Jesus' life of incredible grace and mercy, his forgiveness of sinners, his willingness to befriend outcasts in the name of God.
The proper response to this kingdom is repentance and faith. It is a repentance that is not just recognition of one's sin but a total re-orientation of one's life. Isaiah not only recognized that he was lost, a sinner, a man of unclean lips, but also he recognized that God was calling him to be a prophet. It totally changed his life. He could not resist. "Here am I; send me!" That is repentance.
The response to the kingdom of God and the gracious holiness of God is also faith. Faith trusts that this searing, white-hot holiness of God will not destroy us but purify us. Faith trusts that God has overcome his judgment and anger and instead has forgiven us. Faith trusts that God's last word to us is a wonderful promise. God is not our enemy but our friend.
In today's Gospel, Peter encounters the twofold holiness of God. When at Jesus' direction the disciples reap a miraculously large catch of fish, like Isaiah, Peter responds to this holiness with fear and trembling. In the presence of such divine holiness, Peter is acutely aware of his sin. He is not worthy to be in the presence of such holiness. But Jesus overcomes Peter's fear by comforting him with a holy word of grace and mercy. "Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people." This cowering sinner Jesus chooses to make one of his disciples. There is no test for worthiness. There are no hoops to jump through. There is only Jesus' gracious offer and gentle affirmation of Peter.
Did you recognize the words that were chanted by the seraphs in Isaiah's vision? "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory." These are the same words that we regularly sing as part of our Communion liturgy. The seraphs sang them as they praised this holy God who is like no other. We now sing these same words as we come forward to this altar to encounter once again the holiness of God. Like Isaiah, God will place the white-hot burning coals of Jesus' body and blood to our lips. Like Isaiah, we will be seared, purified, and forgiven our sins. The holy God will make us a holy people, set apart, sacred, and special, like no others, because we have been forgiven.
Erika Kirsten Wujek also encountered the holiness of God and became a holy person this morning at this font. She received holy Baptism. When water was poured and God's promise was spoken, she was there with Isaiah in the Temple. She was there with Peter at the Lake of Gennesaret. She had her lips, heart, and body seared with the white-hot mercy of God's love. The creator of the universe, who is beyond the most distant galaxy and further than the deepest black hole, has decided to touch the life of this little child in this small Indiana town and make her a holy person, a saint, set apart, special, forgiven.
Let me tell you a story of holiness, God's holiness and our holiness. It is a story about the difference that God's holiness can make in our lives. It is a story told by a friend of mine who is a pastor and in the business of sharing the holiness of God.
I have had the opportunity to see this difference in the life of a seventh grader by the name of Matt. Matt was one of some seventy students participating in an all-night youth lock-in at a church in St. Louis where I was youth director. The rules for the evening were clear. No alcohol, drugs, or unruliness were allowed. The due consequences for breakage would be "home you go" regardless of the hour.
It was midnight and the kids were settled in for watching a movie. I retreated to my office to prepare for our next devotional activity, when, lo and behold Mark (one of the youth counselors) came in with Matt, a small but always energetic seventh grader.
"He's gotta go home, Pastor!" Mark exclaimed. "I caught him drinking during the movie!"
Mark held up a little bottle of whiskey, the kind served on the airlines.
"Is it true, Matt?" I asked. "Were you drinking?"
But he was silent.
"Send him home!" Mark shouted. "We have to make an example of him. Send him home."
"That's enough, Mark," I said sharply.
I turned to Matt again. "You know what we said about drinking ... don't you?"
His silence persisted.
"We said anyone who drinks would be sent home."
Still, he said nothing. He did not even have the wherewithal to look at me. As much as I hated to do it, I picked up the phone to call his home. It was now about 1 a.m., mind you. I got Matt's mother (who understandably was not very happy) and explained all that had happened. She pleaded with me to let him stay, which I thought was a little strange. But I insisted that she come and take him home, which she did.
While the kids went to their next activity, I returned to the office. Pretty soon I heard a terrible commotion. It was Mark, and Matt was with him.
"Matt's back," he said. "And he wants to speak with you. Whatever you do, don't let him back!"
"That's enough, Mark," I snapped, gesturing with my hand that he chill out.
"What is it, Matt?" I asked.
Still not able to look me in the eyes, he spoke, "Pastor, I left without saying I'm sorry ... so I'm saying it now. I'm sorry."
I gently lifted his chin until my eyes met his. "You're forgiven, Matt. You know that, don't you?"
"I know," he said. And the hint of a telltale smile told me that he really did.
Mark blurted out again, "Don't let him...!"
"No, Mark!" I cut him off.
Looking Matt straight in the eyes, I asked, "So, what do you want to do now?"
"Oh," he said with the greatest of ease, "I want to go back home."
"You do?" I asked.
"Yah," he said. "It would send the wrong message not to."
"You're probably right," I said. "But you do know you're welcome to come back ... for future activities."
"Oh, yes!" he said and with great certainty.
Matt walked out the door. Mark and I looked at each other half stunned by what we had just witnessed: repentance and responsibility, borne of forgiveness.
It was now the time for our last devotional activity with the group. They were still very angry with me for sending Matt home. But then, Mark and I told them about what Matt had done -- how he came back to say he was sorry, and how for their sake (so that they would not get the wrong idea about forgiveness and the kind of responsible repentance it breeds) he decided to go home. I am convinced that no amount of explanation on my part could have ever brought that message home to the kids. It took the life of a Christian, of a Christian they knew, warts and all. It took Matt to bring the message home....1
That night at the youth lock-in, Matt, Mark, the pastor, and those seventy youth encountered the holiness of God. The holiness not only exposed sin, but more importantly it granted forgiveness. It was a holiness that surprised. It was unique. It was unanticipated. It was the gift of a holy God that for that night at the church lock-in created a holy people.
____________
1. Quoted from Reverend Steve Kuhl in The Olive Leaf, March 2002 Newsletter of Mount Olive Evangelical Lutheran Church, Mukwonago, Wisconsin.
This secular understanding of "holy" is very similar to the Bible's understanding of "holy" and especially this passage from the prophet Isaiah.
In the Old Testament the word holy, qadosh, is derived from the verb qad which means to cut off and set something apart, to cut off and reserve it for special use. Of course, when one speaks of "the holy," one must always begin with God. God is cut off, set apart, totally unique. There is no one or no thing in the entire universe that is like God. In Israel holy places, spaces, and objects were set apart and removed from the ordinary, everyday, and profane places of life. The Holy Place and the Holy of Holies in the Temple in Jerusalem were clearly set apart and separated from the ordinary. Certain people could only enter these places at special times of the year.
The practice of Holy War in the Old Testament is especially illustrative of what it means to be "holy." The practice of Holy War is one of the most difficult concepts for us to understand and appreciate today. That the Israelites would carry out a holy war and destroy an enemy in the name of God seems brutal and barbaric. But a closer look at Holy War reveals that it is not what it appears to be. Other nations might engage in a Holy War to enhance their national wealth and power. They would carry home the booty and spoils of war to build their treasuries and arsenals. But not Israel! Their God was holy, like no other god. And they were a holy people, like no other nation. Therefore, when the Israelites would make Holy War, it was conducted like no other nation. They fought for the glory of their holy God and not for their own wealth and power. Therefore, in Holy War they were required to make cherem, i.e., destroy all the booty and spoils that they captured. The booty and spoils were dedicated, consecrated, set apart for God by being totally burned and destroyed. The Israelites were prohibited from keeping it for their own personal use.
Today's Old Testament Lesson from Isaiah 6 is one of the most important passages in the Bible in helping us understand the nature of God's holiness. Here we truly see a God who is set apart, totally unique, and unlike anyone or anything in this universe. The Isaiah 6 text would surely be the delight of a Hollywood special effects director given the opportunity to portray the spectacular and supernatural phenomena of this passage. This scene reminds me of a scene in the famous George Lucas film of the 1980s Raiders of the Lost Ark. Perhaps some of you remember how the very presence of God was portrayed at the end of the film when the lost Ark is finally discovered. God is portrayed with the same kind of blinding light, thundering noise, and earth-shattering transcendence that is reflected in the prophet Isaiah's vision of God in the Temple.
Isaiah's vision is certainly a unique experience. There is smoke. There is an earthquake. The very doors of the Temple shake in their hinges. There are these strange six-winged, snake-like creatures called seraphs flying about the place. Two wings cover their eyes because in the Old Testament God is so awesome and terrible that no one can dare to look him in the face. Two wings cover their feet (actually a Hebrew euphemism for genitals) because they are ashamed to be in the presence of such a Holy One. And with two wings they flutter around the sacred space as they chant this eerie song praising the God before them: "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory."
God is present sitting on his throne. But outside a reference to the hem of his robe, his appearance remains a mystery. Isaiah either cannot or will not describe it. God is so unique, so unlike anything in human experience, so utterly other, so set apart and so holy that he is beyond words.
The holiness of God also has an ethical and moral dimension. God is the essence of moral and ethical perfection. That has very specific and negative consequences for Isaiah. In the presence of the holy God, Isaiah is acutely aware of his unholiness. He feels that he is an unclean man with unclean lips in the midst of an unclean people. In other words, in the presence of the righteous and perfect God, Isaiah has an acute sense of his own sinfulness. In the presence of such perfection, he can only sense his imperfection. He is afraid, filled with terror, concerned for his very life. Being in the presence of the holy God is not good news. It is not comforting. It is frightening, scary, deadly.
Though few if any of us have ever had an experience like Isaiah's, our experiences of the presence of God are still similar to Isaiah's. When we sense that we are in the presence of divinity, we, like Isaiah, shudder. We sense our inadequacy. We feel accused, guilty, and the need to justify ourselves.
In this sanctuary we have a sacred space, set aside for holy use. As a result we don't feel comfortable using it for recreation or for a party. We sense that we should respect the altar, the pulpit, the font, and the sacred space around them. This is hardly the place for a card game or a dance party. This space should be "respected," treated with a little "fear and trembling."
God knows and my children repeatedly remind me that I am far from resembling divinity. Nevertheless, as the pastor I represent God and his presence. So when the pastor shows up, people can't help but feel slightly nervous and act a tad differently. People always feel a little threatened, a little ill at ease, perhaps even a little guilty in the presence of the pastor. When the pastor approaches, someone always sounds the alarm. "Here comes the pastor. Watch your language. Clean up your act."
I would be a rich man if I had a dime for every time this has happened to me. I'm walking through the grocery store and bump into someone from church. It may have been the farthest thing from my mind, but I always seem to get a litany of excuses as to why they haven't been in church lately. I guess the presence of the pastor automatically makes people feel guilty.
Have you ever heard one of those omnipresent "Saint Peter Jokes"? You know how the jokes go. Someone arrives at the gates of heaven and Saint Peter must decide whether to admit them into heaven or not. The jokes always assume that admittance depends on the merits of one's behavior. It seems that arriving at the gates of heaven and being in the presence of God puts everyone on the defensive. God is about righteousness. Morality and good works matter. Usually the punch line has something to do with that expectation.
That is also Isaiah's experience of being in the presence of God. He is overwhelmed with his sense of sin. Unlike our culture's emasculation of sin, where it has simply become a matter of making a mistake or an error or slip up or "getting caught in a naughty," Isaiah's sense of sin means that his relationship with God is in trouble. His sins are more than minor slip-ups. They are signs of a fracture in his relationship with God. Sin is ultimately a theological problem and not just a human problem. Therefore, being in the presence of this holy God, who is the ultimate expression of righteousness and ethical purity, terrifies Isaiah. He, a sinner, has seen God. He, a man with unclean lips in the midst of an unclean people, is in big trouble. As a sinner, in the presence of the holy God, he is doomed.
But then the text takes a surprising turn. There is one more dramatic event that must take place. It is an utter and complete surprise. Without warning or explanation, one of the seraphs flies to Isaiah holding in a pair of tongs a white hot burning coal from the altar in the Temple and touches it to the lips of Isaiah. In this dramatic gesture Isaiah miraculously is not burned and destroyed but is purged and cleansed of his sin. Isaiah was convinced that the holiness of God was bad news for him. But in fact it was just the opposite. The holiness of God is good news. That which sets God apart, cuts God off, makes God like no other, is God's grace and mercy. That which makes God utterly unique is not just that he reads the riot act to sinners. There is nothing unique or unusual about that. Everyone in the world thinks that is what God is like. What makes God utterly unique is his desire to be merciful and forgiving of sinners. That is what the holiness of God is all about. That is the holiness that God reveals to Isaiah.
This encounter with the grace and mercy of God changes Isaiah. It transforms him. It is a life-changing experience. It sets Isaiah apart. It cuts him off and makes him different. It makes him holy. Isaiah is now all too willing to be a prophet for God. "Here am I; send me!"
We see that, in this text from the prophet Isaiah, God's holiness is two-sided, bi-focal, "a two-edged sword," as Saint Paul sometimes describes it in the New Testament. This is the distinction between Law and Gospel. God's holiness is expressed as Law and Gospel. As the Law, God's holiness exposes our sin and drives us to our knees with fear and trembling. But as the Gospel, God's holiness overcomes the Law and its deadly criticism, silences its accusations, and forgives our sins. The Gospel is God's last word to us. It is this expression of God's love and mercy without any merit or worthiness in us that makes God unique, so special, so set apart, so different, so unlike any other ... so holy!
What makes God holy is his grace and mercy. That holiness is what sets God apart in the Old Testament and in the New Testament. That holiness is also at the heart and center of Jesus' life and ministry. What is at the heart of Jesus' holiness? The Golden Rule? The Great Commandment, to love God and neighbor? The Great Commission, to go and make disciples? No. At the heart and center of Jesus' life and ministry is this simple announcement. At the beginning of the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, Jesus begins his ministry by saying it all: "The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent and believe the good news!"
Jesus is the incarnation of the kingdom of God. Watch him. Listen to him. See what happens to him and you will see what the kingdom is all about. You will see the holiness of God. That holiness is evident in Jesus' life of incredible grace and mercy, his forgiveness of sinners, his willingness to befriend outcasts in the name of God.
The proper response to this kingdom is repentance and faith. It is a repentance that is not just recognition of one's sin but a total re-orientation of one's life. Isaiah not only recognized that he was lost, a sinner, a man of unclean lips, but also he recognized that God was calling him to be a prophet. It totally changed his life. He could not resist. "Here am I; send me!" That is repentance.
The response to the kingdom of God and the gracious holiness of God is also faith. Faith trusts that this searing, white-hot holiness of God will not destroy us but purify us. Faith trusts that God has overcome his judgment and anger and instead has forgiven us. Faith trusts that God's last word to us is a wonderful promise. God is not our enemy but our friend.
In today's Gospel, Peter encounters the twofold holiness of God. When at Jesus' direction the disciples reap a miraculously large catch of fish, like Isaiah, Peter responds to this holiness with fear and trembling. In the presence of such divine holiness, Peter is acutely aware of his sin. He is not worthy to be in the presence of such holiness. But Jesus overcomes Peter's fear by comforting him with a holy word of grace and mercy. "Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people." This cowering sinner Jesus chooses to make one of his disciples. There is no test for worthiness. There are no hoops to jump through. There is only Jesus' gracious offer and gentle affirmation of Peter.
Did you recognize the words that were chanted by the seraphs in Isaiah's vision? "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory." These are the same words that we regularly sing as part of our Communion liturgy. The seraphs sang them as they praised this holy God who is like no other. We now sing these same words as we come forward to this altar to encounter once again the holiness of God. Like Isaiah, God will place the white-hot burning coals of Jesus' body and blood to our lips. Like Isaiah, we will be seared, purified, and forgiven our sins. The holy God will make us a holy people, set apart, sacred, and special, like no others, because we have been forgiven.
Erika Kirsten Wujek also encountered the holiness of God and became a holy person this morning at this font. She received holy Baptism. When water was poured and God's promise was spoken, she was there with Isaiah in the Temple. She was there with Peter at the Lake of Gennesaret. She had her lips, heart, and body seared with the white-hot mercy of God's love. The creator of the universe, who is beyond the most distant galaxy and further than the deepest black hole, has decided to touch the life of this little child in this small Indiana town and make her a holy person, a saint, set apart, special, forgiven.
Let me tell you a story of holiness, God's holiness and our holiness. It is a story about the difference that God's holiness can make in our lives. It is a story told by a friend of mine who is a pastor and in the business of sharing the holiness of God.
I have had the opportunity to see this difference in the life of a seventh grader by the name of Matt. Matt was one of some seventy students participating in an all-night youth lock-in at a church in St. Louis where I was youth director. The rules for the evening were clear. No alcohol, drugs, or unruliness were allowed. The due consequences for breakage would be "home you go" regardless of the hour.
It was midnight and the kids were settled in for watching a movie. I retreated to my office to prepare for our next devotional activity, when, lo and behold Mark (one of the youth counselors) came in with Matt, a small but always energetic seventh grader.
"He's gotta go home, Pastor!" Mark exclaimed. "I caught him drinking during the movie!"
Mark held up a little bottle of whiskey, the kind served on the airlines.
"Is it true, Matt?" I asked. "Were you drinking?"
But he was silent.
"Send him home!" Mark shouted. "We have to make an example of him. Send him home."
"That's enough, Mark," I said sharply.
I turned to Matt again. "You know what we said about drinking ... don't you?"
His silence persisted.
"We said anyone who drinks would be sent home."
Still, he said nothing. He did not even have the wherewithal to look at me. As much as I hated to do it, I picked up the phone to call his home. It was now about 1 a.m., mind you. I got Matt's mother (who understandably was not very happy) and explained all that had happened. She pleaded with me to let him stay, which I thought was a little strange. But I insisted that she come and take him home, which she did.
While the kids went to their next activity, I returned to the office. Pretty soon I heard a terrible commotion. It was Mark, and Matt was with him.
"Matt's back," he said. "And he wants to speak with you. Whatever you do, don't let him back!"
"That's enough, Mark," I snapped, gesturing with my hand that he chill out.
"What is it, Matt?" I asked.
Still not able to look me in the eyes, he spoke, "Pastor, I left without saying I'm sorry ... so I'm saying it now. I'm sorry."
I gently lifted his chin until my eyes met his. "You're forgiven, Matt. You know that, don't you?"
"I know," he said. And the hint of a telltale smile told me that he really did.
Mark blurted out again, "Don't let him...!"
"No, Mark!" I cut him off.
Looking Matt straight in the eyes, I asked, "So, what do you want to do now?"
"Oh," he said with the greatest of ease, "I want to go back home."
"You do?" I asked.
"Yah," he said. "It would send the wrong message not to."
"You're probably right," I said. "But you do know you're welcome to come back ... for future activities."
"Oh, yes!" he said and with great certainty.
Matt walked out the door. Mark and I looked at each other half stunned by what we had just witnessed: repentance and responsibility, borne of forgiveness.
It was now the time for our last devotional activity with the group. They were still very angry with me for sending Matt home. But then, Mark and I told them about what Matt had done -- how he came back to say he was sorry, and how for their sake (so that they would not get the wrong idea about forgiveness and the kind of responsible repentance it breeds) he decided to go home. I am convinced that no amount of explanation on my part could have ever brought that message home to the kids. It took the life of a Christian, of a Christian they knew, warts and all. It took Matt to bring the message home....1
That night at the youth lock-in, Matt, Mark, the pastor, and those seventy youth encountered the holiness of God. The holiness not only exposed sin, but more importantly it granted forgiveness. It was a holiness that surprised. It was unique. It was unanticipated. It was the gift of a holy God that for that night at the church lock-in created a holy people.
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1. Quoted from Reverend Steve Kuhl in The Olive Leaf, March 2002 Newsletter of Mount Olive Evangelical Lutheran Church, Mukwonago, Wisconsin.
