Left Behind?
Sermon
Sermons On The Second Readings
Series I, Cycle C
I want to talk about the confusing, messy, often heartbreaking process we call life. And sometimes it can get even worse than that! That was never more evident to the Carver clan than in December of 1970. We were enduring a frigid winter in Canaan, Indiana, about 420 miles away from any known grandparent or other close kin. Our oldest son, Chris, was 22 months old and our twin sons, Brad and Scott, were four months old.
On a Wednesday night Chris became very sick. All night long and for most of the day on Thursday, we toiled to improve his condition. But it only worsened. On Thursday night we found ourselves running all over the nearby town of Madison trying to find something to keep him from dehydrating. The pharmacist recommended some awful stuff that smelled and tasted like bananas. It did not work. As his condition continued on Friday, we called his physician in Louisville, Kentucky, and were told to bring him to the emergency room at Children's Hospital. So, we traveled the sixty miles to Louisville.
Chris had to be admitted because he was so severely dehydrated. Then they told us the bad news. We could not stay with him. We could only sit in a nearby hall. Dragging my wife Sharlon from the hospital, I reasoned that we needed to check on the twins and promised her that we would return on Saturday morning. I said, "Lord, it can't get any worse that this!" But it did.
On the way home from the hospital Sharlon became deathly sick. After several stops, we arrived home and she was put directly to bed. I said, "Lord, it can't get any worse than this!" But it did.
On Saturday morning, Brad and Scott became ill. I was running in circles trying to work my Saturday job at the post office and get ready for worship services on Sunday at the "seminary" church I served as pastor. The church family heard of our predicament and began sending in teams of two to assist. I said, "Lord, it can't get any worse than this!" But it did.
About eleven o'clock on Saturday night, just after Carol Jean Poling and Sue Gassert had left, one twin woke up the other twin. I had one in my right arm and one in my left arm, when on cue -- the timing could not have been choreographed more perfectly -- both twins threw up! I said, "Lord, it doesn't get any worse than this!" But it did.
We struggled through Sunday. Sharlon had recovered enough by Monday morning to attempt a trip to Louisville. Our 22-month-old son had been in the hospital for three days and had not seen a member of his family. The experience of entering that hospital room still haunts me. We saw our son sitting in his bed, staring out the window with his bottle and his blanket by his side. Sharlon called out to him and he did not respond. I called to him. He did not acknowledge our presence. He just stared out the window. After what seemed like forever, some chewing gum, tears, and a few hugs, the little lad began to come around. He thought that his family had forgotten him. He thought that his family had abandoned him. He thought that his family did not love him. It does not get any worse than to feel that you are not loved.
Life can be that way. It was that way, to some extent, to the young church at Thessalonica to whom Paul addressed our text. After his first letter, the young in the faith Christians had several questions and some confusion about death and the Second Coming. But it was worse than that. Some false teachers in the gullible congregation were teaching that the Second Coming had already occurred! Well, if the Second Coming already had happened, then God had not taken them. God had abandoned them. God did not love them. They were left behind!
Paul wrote his second epistle to reassure them that they were not abandoned. God loved them. The Second Coming had not occurred. They were not left behind.
We may wonder why they did not just read their New Testament? Simple! They did not have one. First and Second Thessalonians are some of the very first New Testament books written, even before the Gospels, at least in the form that we know them. This was Christianity in its infancy, a theology in the making. This transitional time in the early church was a bit messy, even confusing.
In an effort to clear the air, Paul exhorts them to remember that they are loved, chosen, and called by God. "But we must always give thanks to God for you, brothers and sisters, beloved by the Lord, because God chose you as the first fruits for salvation through sanctification by the Spirit and through belief in the truth. For this purpose he called you through our proclamation of the good news, so that you may obtain the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ" (vv. 13-14). He encouraged the believers to remember that God had shown his love for them. God had initiated the entire process by showing his love through the Lord Jesus. He had chosen them for a unique and special place through which to fulfill their calling. They mattered to God. He would not only be with them but would empower them to do the work they were to do. Therefore, they could and must hold on to the teachings given to them by Paul. "So then, brothers and sisters, stand firm and hold fast to the traditions that you were taught by us, either by word of mouth or by letter" (v. 15 NIV).
Hold to what? They must hold fast to the teachings of Paul even though other teachers might seek to refute them. The word translated "traditions" is the word paradosis in the original language. It also can be translated "teachings"! Here the word tradition does not mean some long-held customs, because they had none. They had no New Testament, no creed, no church manual, no book on systematic theology, or a rich and recorded tradition to which they could refer. They had the gospel!
The earliest written account of the gospel is found in 1 Corinthians 15:1-8:
Now, brothers, I want to remind you of the gospel I preached to you, which you received and on which you have taken your stand. By this gospel you are saved, if you hold firmly to the word I preached to you. Otherwise, you have believed in vain. For what I received, I passed on to you as of first importance: that the Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised the third day according to the scriptures, and that he appeared to Peter and then to the Twelve. And after that, he appeared to more than five hundred of the brothers at the same time, most of whom are still living, though some have fallen asleep. Then he appeared to James, then to all of the apostles.
And then Paul says, "Last of all he appeared to me."
That's what the early church had! They had the wonderful story of God's love as shown through Jesus Christ as it was orally transmitted by Christian teachers who spoke, wrote, and lived the gospel. They proclaimed by word and deed that God loved them and showed that love through Jesus' death upon the cross and by raising him from the dead. It was and is the simple gospel story.
We have been privileged to have Phyllis Tickle in our congregation on several occasions. In her wonderful book, God-Talk in America, she writes:
Religion holds a group together. Next to blood and maybe even beyond it, religion has been within recorded history the great cohesive agent in life, the one around which to-the-death loyalties are formed. When differing peoples -- even those of different bloods -- have shared a common religion; they have been one people ... All of which really is to say that people are one when they share a sacred story.1
Paul knew that nothing would bind the struggling church closer together than to remember the sacred story of Jesus and his love. It is just as true today, particularly when 25 percent of our vocabulary is new every twenty years. The story has staying power especially when the meaning of words can change with slight and sometimes hardly discernible variation. Story sticks in the mind and stays in the heart. At this stage of a theology in process, the transitional church had only the simple sacred story. Paul thought that it was enough. Still is!
It was the simple story that God loves you! He sent his son to die for you, raised him from the dead, and now wishes for the living spirit of Christ to live in and through you. It all begins with the love of a God who has chosen and called you. Simply, you matter to God. Everyone that you know or meet matters to God. You are somebody because you are loved by God.
Fred Craddock tells the story of being invited to a particular place to speak. Of all places, they made arrangements for him to stay in a nursing home. They even made arrangements for him to have his evening meals there. The director of the nursing home told him to be careful about where he sat in the dining room because the patients already had their pre-arranged places of seating. She told him to wait until everyone was seated and then find a place.
After everyone was seated, he looked over the room and saw a man sitting by himself. So, he sat with him. As he struck up a conversation with the gentleman, he asked, "What did you do?"
The man said, "I was in the Marine Corps Band and played the trumpet for 34 years."
Dr. Craddock said, "You must have had a lot of wonderful experiences."
The man replied, "Yes, I did. I played for five presidents."
Dr. Craddock said, "Well, that must have been wonderful."
"It was," the man answered. "One time when Franklin Roosevelt invited Winston Churchill over, we played for him. Afterwards Churchill mingled among us. Churchill came to me and said, 'You play a good trumpet there. Here, have a cigar.' I said, 'No, thank you. I don't smoke.' A thousand times I have wished I had taken that cigar! Why didn't I take that cigar? If I had taken that cigar, I could walk over this room and show people that cigar and say, 'Winston Churchill gave me this cigar.' I would be somebody. Now, nobody."
Paul wanted everyone to know that you are somebody because you matter to God. You are a person for whom Christ died. Now, that very same living Christ wants to live in you.
It is the simple truth that if we repent of our sins and ask Jesus to come in and control our lives, he gives to us his very character, personality, and nature. Everything is passed away. Everything has become new. We are a new creation in Christ wherein his very nature lives.
I remember attending Samford University with a fellow preacher-boy who was like me -- not the brightest student in the class. In fact, he tended to be a little slow, but had a wisdom that was of the Lord. Sometimes, as cruel as it may sound, some of the other preacher-boys would make light of him. I remember one particular time when we were all standing in the hall after a Greek class. He was, as always, full of life and spontaneous. Someone asked him a complicated question about the discussion. He looked up at them and as they began to giggle, he said, "Well, I really don't know about that. But I do know one thing: I know my Redeemer liveth." He lives because he lives in us!
John Killinger relates the following experience. It happened at a religious education conference in Texas.
A woman came up to me and, with a glint in her eye, said, "I bet you can't guess what I used to be." Because the conference was sponsored by the Disciples of Christ, I replied that maybe she was once a Methodist or a Baptist.
"No," she said, laughing. "I was a professional gambler. Would you believe," she continued, "that I once risked $109,000 on a single spin of the wheel? It was in Vegas. I was having the hottest streak of my career. I started at the slots, just for fun. Then I went to the tables. I won two out of every three times I played. I really had it going. By 11:30 I had run my original $5,000 up to $60,000. A little after midnight, I had $109,000. My husband wanted me to quit. I said no, I had this intuition about the next spin. I let everything ride -- and lost. I was sick for days. It was the biggest risk I'd ever taken." She laughed again.
"Since then," she said, "I've taken an even bigger risk. When I heard about God's love for me, and how his only son died on the cross for my sin, I said, 'I can't let that pass me by.' I bet everything I had on it. I stopped gambling. I said to my husband, 'Sam, don't laugh, I'm going to be a teacher down at the church.' I enrolled in the seminary, took some classes in Bible, and now I'm the head honcho -- I direct the whole Christian education program!"2
I would like to disagree with her ever so slightly. I do not believe that committing your life to Christ is the greatest risk you can ever take. I believe that not committing your life to Christ is the greatest risk that you could ever take. You would be risking your life for an eternity that God does not love you, did not die for you, and does not want his life to live through you. You would be betting everything that the Bible is a lie, Jesus was a sham, and millions have been deceived for 2,000 years. I don't like those odds.
I had rather "risk" that God loves me, sent his son to die for me, and wants to live in me. To me that is the surest thing around.
____________
1. Phyllis A. Tickle, God-Talk in America (New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1997), p. 165.
2. John Killinger, You Are What You Believe (Nashville: Abingdon, 1990), p. 19.
On a Wednesday night Chris became very sick. All night long and for most of the day on Thursday, we toiled to improve his condition. But it only worsened. On Thursday night we found ourselves running all over the nearby town of Madison trying to find something to keep him from dehydrating. The pharmacist recommended some awful stuff that smelled and tasted like bananas. It did not work. As his condition continued on Friday, we called his physician in Louisville, Kentucky, and were told to bring him to the emergency room at Children's Hospital. So, we traveled the sixty miles to Louisville.
Chris had to be admitted because he was so severely dehydrated. Then they told us the bad news. We could not stay with him. We could only sit in a nearby hall. Dragging my wife Sharlon from the hospital, I reasoned that we needed to check on the twins and promised her that we would return on Saturday morning. I said, "Lord, it can't get any worse that this!" But it did.
On the way home from the hospital Sharlon became deathly sick. After several stops, we arrived home and she was put directly to bed. I said, "Lord, it can't get any worse than this!" But it did.
On Saturday morning, Brad and Scott became ill. I was running in circles trying to work my Saturday job at the post office and get ready for worship services on Sunday at the "seminary" church I served as pastor. The church family heard of our predicament and began sending in teams of two to assist. I said, "Lord, it can't get any worse than this!" But it did.
About eleven o'clock on Saturday night, just after Carol Jean Poling and Sue Gassert had left, one twin woke up the other twin. I had one in my right arm and one in my left arm, when on cue -- the timing could not have been choreographed more perfectly -- both twins threw up! I said, "Lord, it doesn't get any worse than this!" But it did.
We struggled through Sunday. Sharlon had recovered enough by Monday morning to attempt a trip to Louisville. Our 22-month-old son had been in the hospital for three days and had not seen a member of his family. The experience of entering that hospital room still haunts me. We saw our son sitting in his bed, staring out the window with his bottle and his blanket by his side. Sharlon called out to him and he did not respond. I called to him. He did not acknowledge our presence. He just stared out the window. After what seemed like forever, some chewing gum, tears, and a few hugs, the little lad began to come around. He thought that his family had forgotten him. He thought that his family had abandoned him. He thought that his family did not love him. It does not get any worse than to feel that you are not loved.
Life can be that way. It was that way, to some extent, to the young church at Thessalonica to whom Paul addressed our text. After his first letter, the young in the faith Christians had several questions and some confusion about death and the Second Coming. But it was worse than that. Some false teachers in the gullible congregation were teaching that the Second Coming had already occurred! Well, if the Second Coming already had happened, then God had not taken them. God had abandoned them. God did not love them. They were left behind!
Paul wrote his second epistle to reassure them that they were not abandoned. God loved them. The Second Coming had not occurred. They were not left behind.
We may wonder why they did not just read their New Testament? Simple! They did not have one. First and Second Thessalonians are some of the very first New Testament books written, even before the Gospels, at least in the form that we know them. This was Christianity in its infancy, a theology in the making. This transitional time in the early church was a bit messy, even confusing.
In an effort to clear the air, Paul exhorts them to remember that they are loved, chosen, and called by God. "But we must always give thanks to God for you, brothers and sisters, beloved by the Lord, because God chose you as the first fruits for salvation through sanctification by the Spirit and through belief in the truth. For this purpose he called you through our proclamation of the good news, so that you may obtain the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ" (vv. 13-14). He encouraged the believers to remember that God had shown his love for them. God had initiated the entire process by showing his love through the Lord Jesus. He had chosen them for a unique and special place through which to fulfill their calling. They mattered to God. He would not only be with them but would empower them to do the work they were to do. Therefore, they could and must hold on to the teachings given to them by Paul. "So then, brothers and sisters, stand firm and hold fast to the traditions that you were taught by us, either by word of mouth or by letter" (v. 15 NIV).
Hold to what? They must hold fast to the teachings of Paul even though other teachers might seek to refute them. The word translated "traditions" is the word paradosis in the original language. It also can be translated "teachings"! Here the word tradition does not mean some long-held customs, because they had none. They had no New Testament, no creed, no church manual, no book on systematic theology, or a rich and recorded tradition to which they could refer. They had the gospel!
The earliest written account of the gospel is found in 1 Corinthians 15:1-8:
Now, brothers, I want to remind you of the gospel I preached to you, which you received and on which you have taken your stand. By this gospel you are saved, if you hold firmly to the word I preached to you. Otherwise, you have believed in vain. For what I received, I passed on to you as of first importance: that the Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised the third day according to the scriptures, and that he appeared to Peter and then to the Twelve. And after that, he appeared to more than five hundred of the brothers at the same time, most of whom are still living, though some have fallen asleep. Then he appeared to James, then to all of the apostles.
And then Paul says, "Last of all he appeared to me."
That's what the early church had! They had the wonderful story of God's love as shown through Jesus Christ as it was orally transmitted by Christian teachers who spoke, wrote, and lived the gospel. They proclaimed by word and deed that God loved them and showed that love through Jesus' death upon the cross and by raising him from the dead. It was and is the simple gospel story.
We have been privileged to have Phyllis Tickle in our congregation on several occasions. In her wonderful book, God-Talk in America, she writes:
Religion holds a group together. Next to blood and maybe even beyond it, religion has been within recorded history the great cohesive agent in life, the one around which to-the-death loyalties are formed. When differing peoples -- even those of different bloods -- have shared a common religion; they have been one people ... All of which really is to say that people are one when they share a sacred story.1
Paul knew that nothing would bind the struggling church closer together than to remember the sacred story of Jesus and his love. It is just as true today, particularly when 25 percent of our vocabulary is new every twenty years. The story has staying power especially when the meaning of words can change with slight and sometimes hardly discernible variation. Story sticks in the mind and stays in the heart. At this stage of a theology in process, the transitional church had only the simple sacred story. Paul thought that it was enough. Still is!
It was the simple story that God loves you! He sent his son to die for you, raised him from the dead, and now wishes for the living spirit of Christ to live in and through you. It all begins with the love of a God who has chosen and called you. Simply, you matter to God. Everyone that you know or meet matters to God. You are somebody because you are loved by God.
Fred Craddock tells the story of being invited to a particular place to speak. Of all places, they made arrangements for him to stay in a nursing home. They even made arrangements for him to have his evening meals there. The director of the nursing home told him to be careful about where he sat in the dining room because the patients already had their pre-arranged places of seating. She told him to wait until everyone was seated and then find a place.
After everyone was seated, he looked over the room and saw a man sitting by himself. So, he sat with him. As he struck up a conversation with the gentleman, he asked, "What did you do?"
The man said, "I was in the Marine Corps Band and played the trumpet for 34 years."
Dr. Craddock said, "You must have had a lot of wonderful experiences."
The man replied, "Yes, I did. I played for five presidents."
Dr. Craddock said, "Well, that must have been wonderful."
"It was," the man answered. "One time when Franklin Roosevelt invited Winston Churchill over, we played for him. Afterwards Churchill mingled among us. Churchill came to me and said, 'You play a good trumpet there. Here, have a cigar.' I said, 'No, thank you. I don't smoke.' A thousand times I have wished I had taken that cigar! Why didn't I take that cigar? If I had taken that cigar, I could walk over this room and show people that cigar and say, 'Winston Churchill gave me this cigar.' I would be somebody. Now, nobody."
Paul wanted everyone to know that you are somebody because you matter to God. You are a person for whom Christ died. Now, that very same living Christ wants to live in you.
It is the simple truth that if we repent of our sins and ask Jesus to come in and control our lives, he gives to us his very character, personality, and nature. Everything is passed away. Everything has become new. We are a new creation in Christ wherein his very nature lives.
I remember attending Samford University with a fellow preacher-boy who was like me -- not the brightest student in the class. In fact, he tended to be a little slow, but had a wisdom that was of the Lord. Sometimes, as cruel as it may sound, some of the other preacher-boys would make light of him. I remember one particular time when we were all standing in the hall after a Greek class. He was, as always, full of life and spontaneous. Someone asked him a complicated question about the discussion. He looked up at them and as they began to giggle, he said, "Well, I really don't know about that. But I do know one thing: I know my Redeemer liveth." He lives because he lives in us!
John Killinger relates the following experience. It happened at a religious education conference in Texas.
A woman came up to me and, with a glint in her eye, said, "I bet you can't guess what I used to be." Because the conference was sponsored by the Disciples of Christ, I replied that maybe she was once a Methodist or a Baptist.
"No," she said, laughing. "I was a professional gambler. Would you believe," she continued, "that I once risked $109,000 on a single spin of the wheel? It was in Vegas. I was having the hottest streak of my career. I started at the slots, just for fun. Then I went to the tables. I won two out of every three times I played. I really had it going. By 11:30 I had run my original $5,000 up to $60,000. A little after midnight, I had $109,000. My husband wanted me to quit. I said no, I had this intuition about the next spin. I let everything ride -- and lost. I was sick for days. It was the biggest risk I'd ever taken." She laughed again.
"Since then," she said, "I've taken an even bigger risk. When I heard about God's love for me, and how his only son died on the cross for my sin, I said, 'I can't let that pass me by.' I bet everything I had on it. I stopped gambling. I said to my husband, 'Sam, don't laugh, I'm going to be a teacher down at the church.' I enrolled in the seminary, took some classes in Bible, and now I'm the head honcho -- I direct the whole Christian education program!"2
I would like to disagree with her ever so slightly. I do not believe that committing your life to Christ is the greatest risk you can ever take. I believe that not committing your life to Christ is the greatest risk that you could ever take. You would be risking your life for an eternity that God does not love you, did not die for you, and does not want his life to live through you. You would be betting everything that the Bible is a lie, Jesus was a sham, and millions have been deceived for 2,000 years. I don't like those odds.
I had rather "risk" that God loves me, sent his son to die for me, and wants to live in me. To me that is the surest thing around.
____________
1. Phyllis A. Tickle, God-Talk in America (New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1997), p. 165.
2. John Killinger, You Are What You Believe (Nashville: Abingdon, 1990), p. 19.
