Who's Fault Is It?
Sermon
From Upside Down To Rightside Up
Cycle C Sermons for Lent and Easter Based on the Gospel Lessons
The youth pastor at one of my former congregations had a cartoon taped to his office door. It pictured a little guy standing, trembling, in front of a massive desk behind which was sitting a big, big man. The little guy wore torn jeans and a T-shirt, and had a leather loop around his neck holding a cross in front of his chest. His hair was messy and his toes peeked out the front of his sandals. A stick-on name patch read, “Hi! I’m Mike! I’m the Youth Pastor.”
On the dark and imposing desk was a bronze plate boldly proclaiming, “Senior Pastor.” A caption underneath carried the senior pastor’s booming message to his underling: “I DIDN’T SAY IT WAS YOUR FAULT; I SAID THAT I WAS GOING TO BLAME YOU FOR IT!”
Blame Game
Something goes wrong and we need to point fingers, don’t we? In tragedies, like those that happened while Jesus was teaching in Galilee, we need answers. The despotic ruler murders some opponents and people wanted Jesus to weigh in on the tragedy. But he would not take the bait. Instead, he turned the tables.
“You want to talk blame?” he countered. “What about when blame cannot be assigned, like when eighteen workmen died on the construction site; the tower collapsed right on them! Who are you going to blame? God?”
We are right in the crowd around Jesus, aren’t we?
Cancer threatens. Why me?
Cars crash on the highways and relatives make little memorial gardens of crosses nearby. Why did it happen to them?
Some come back from war and others don’t. And some who come back are not the people they used to be. Who is at fault?
For some, the virus was a brief bout with a cold. For others it took half of families and left the original infectors unscathed. What kind of world is this?
In pandemics and poverty, in pain and politics, we want to point fingers. We need to assess blame.
Birthed By Hurt
Probably no one has expressed these sentiments better than the novelist Peter De Vries. De Vries grew up in a Christian home but spent most of his life trying to sort out who God was to him. His most powerful novel, The Blood of the Lamb, was also his most tragic. It followed the career of Don Wanderhope.
Don’s family believed in God. They trusted that God held all things in his hand, and they knew God would always be there for them. Don, however, did not find this to be the case. One tragedy after another dogged him, and he wished God would not pay so much attention to him.
At the climax of the story, Don’s wife bore them a daughter, the one spot of grace in her father’s otherwise troubled existence. After Don’s wife took her own life, Don and little Carol forged a new life of grace together. But then, at the tender age of ten, Carol was diagnosed with leukemia. Treatments failed and Don desperately gave God another chance. Don went back to church and prayed for Carol, wasting away in the hospital. Don begged God to heal her, and to touch her life with relief and restoration.
But Carol died anyway. Don left the hospital carrying the birthday cake they were going to share at her bedside. Don walked past a church. Hanging over the doorway was a life-sized statue of Christ on the cross. Taking the cake in his hand, Don threw it at Jesus. Icing dripped from the face like blood.
That was Don’s final prayer. That was what he thought of the God who betrayed him. That was his final pointing finger of blame.
Job As Everyman
Have you been there? Many of us have. I’ve heard one refrain again and again during my years as a pastor: “Why did God let this happen? How could God do this to us? Why doesn’t God hear my prayers?”
It is the cry of Job in the seeming meaninglessness of life made painful by compounded hurts. Do you remember the story of Job? He was one of the wealthiest men in the ancient world, with houses, servants, and treasures. He had more of everything than any person could covet.
Job was also a devout man, careful to renew his relationship with God each day. It seems, in fact, that God was rather proud of Job. When Satan came calling one time, God bragged to him about Job. “Have you seen my servant Job?” he asked. “Now there is a man whose heart you will never own!”
Wagering
Satan was not so sure. He had cracked a lot of tough nuts in his time, and he took on Job as a special challenge. “Sure, Job loves you,” Satan said to God. “But that’s because you’ve bought his soul. You give him everything he wants. Why shouldn’t he serve you? Even I would do that!”
That is when the wagering began, according to the Old Testament book. God gave Satan permission to take everything away from Job, stipulating only that Satan could not harm Job’s own body.
So Job lost everything ― his children, his flocks, his buildings, and his servants. He became as poor as a church mouse. Yet still Job loved God and served him openly.
The wagering in heaven heated up, and Satan got one more shot at Job in round two. He was allowed to touch Job’s body without killing him. Job began to writhe in pain. And Satan touched Job’s mind so that he could no longer clearly hear God’s whisper of love. Job was all alone. His wife called him stupid, his friends called him a liar and a sinner, and the world did not even call him anymore. Outside, Job’s horizons had collapsed. Inside he had become an echo chamber of despair. Where was God?
That is the hardest challenge in life, isn’t it? I remember sitting with a mother in a hospital corridor, praying for the life of her daughter. The young woman was just beyond her teen years, and only a dozen months into marriage to a wonderful man. When the doctor assisted her delivery of her first child, he nicked something with his knife. Now the infant was turning every shade of yellow and gray and had been flown half-way across the country to get the best medical attention possible.
The mother was unconsolable. When we prayed, she felt no peace and could not find God. For three hours we watched her daughter’s life slip away.
The mother stopped going to church. The young husband grew angry and did not know how to care for his young child. Where was God?
I hear his voice echoing that of Elie Wiesel, who endured the horror of the Nazi death camps. Wiesel watched women and children herded into gas chambers. He cried with men beaten down by cruel soldiers. He saw a young boy hanging on a gallows. “Where is God?” he cried.
The question of Job is asked in every generation: “Where are you God?” And often, as with Job, the only answer is silence. The promises of scripture become dead fantasies. The Holy Spirit leaves and the heart grows chilly. The newspapers report events that make no sense. Where is God? Where is God when a child dies? Where is God when a mother is snatched from her family? Where is God when nuclear reactors melt down, airplanes crash, and mines collapse? Where is God?
And Satan looked down from heaven with glee. He knew that he had Job then. He knew that he would never get out of that one. He knew the cards in his hand were the winning draw. Can faith remain when God is silent? Can trust carry on when there seems to be no one at the other end of the line?
“No!” shouted Satan. But he did not have the last world.
“Yes!” whispered Job. “Even though I cannot see him, even though I do not understand what is happening, even though every human wisdom tells me God’s not there, I know that my redeemer lives, and with these eyes I shall see him!”
That is the deepest level of faith possible. This is what Jesus calls out to those who wonder and point fingers of blame in his community. There are no good answers. Job loves God not for what he gets out of it, but because it is the only way life itself makes sense. We trust in God not because we always feel the wonder of God’s presence, but because, even in the most absurd turns of life, and the seeming absence of God, there is still truly nowhere else to turn.
Back To Basics
This is why Jesus told his disciples to stop blaming and start thinking. We live in a compromised world where bad things happen, often to seemingly good people, and where logical equations of moral behaviors and expected reward outcomes leave us scratching our heads. We cannot figure out this thing. We cannot win the blame came. Ultimately, we do not find meaning and find fault in the same breath.
So Jesus said, “Ask yourselves how you are going to live in such a world.” Stop pointing fingers and start grasping for meaning and hope. When the moment of crisis comes, whether along the journey or at the point of death, what will sustain us? What will bring stability out of chaos? Where can we find footing in the rushing and destabilizing currents of life?
Years ago, Dr. Arthur Gossip preached a sermon he called “When Life Tumbles In, What Then?” He brought that message on the first Sunday he returned to the pulpit of his congregation after his beloved wife had suddenly died. This was how he ended the sermon: “Our hearts are very frail and there are places where the road is very steep and very lonely. …standing in the roaring Jordan, cold with its dreadful chill and very conscious of its terror, of its rushing, I… call back to you who one day will have your turn to cross it, ‘Be of good cheer, my brothers, for I feel the bottom and it is sound.’”
Somehow, by the grace of God, when we stop pointing fingers of blame and start grasping heavenly hands, the perseverance of patience carries us through, and we know the end of the matter as did Job and Dr. Gossip. God will not leave us alone forever. God will answer our questions in time or eternity. God will resolve the problems of life’s inequities and give us a future that Satan could never manufacture. The focus of faith carries us through, until we are no longer distracted by the unanswerable because our eyes have found a better place to look.
Sometimes, those who are new to faith know this best. L. Nelson Bell, the father-in-law of Billy Graham, was a medical missionary in China for much of his career. One of the earliest converts to Christianity under his ministry was a wizened old man that later church members simply called “Elder Cao.” When Dr. Bell asked Elder Cao to tell some visitors why he had become a Christian, the elderly gentleman put it simply.
“A man fell into a deep and slimy pit,” said Elder Cao, “and he was unable to get out. Along came the Buddha. He stopped and took pity on the man. ‘If you will come up here to me,’ said the Buddha, ‘I will teach you the way of enlightenment and you will never fall into the pit again.’ But the man could not get out of the pit, so the Buddha went on to bring enlightenment to others.
“Along came Confucius, and he too was moved with compassion by the plight of the man in the pit. ‘If you will listen to my teachings,’ said Confucius, ‘you will understand how society is formed, and what can be done to prevent anyone from falling into the pit.’ Then he, too, went on, for the man did not rise out of the pit.
“Finally,” said Elder Cao, “Jesus came along. As with the others, he was filled with concern for the man in the pit. So he jumped down into the pit, and helped the man get out.
“This,” said Elder Cao, “is why I am a Christian.”
On the dark and imposing desk was a bronze plate boldly proclaiming, “Senior Pastor.” A caption underneath carried the senior pastor’s booming message to his underling: “I DIDN’T SAY IT WAS YOUR FAULT; I SAID THAT I WAS GOING TO BLAME YOU FOR IT!”
Blame Game
Something goes wrong and we need to point fingers, don’t we? In tragedies, like those that happened while Jesus was teaching in Galilee, we need answers. The despotic ruler murders some opponents and people wanted Jesus to weigh in on the tragedy. But he would not take the bait. Instead, he turned the tables.
“You want to talk blame?” he countered. “What about when blame cannot be assigned, like when eighteen workmen died on the construction site; the tower collapsed right on them! Who are you going to blame? God?”
We are right in the crowd around Jesus, aren’t we?
Cancer threatens. Why me?
Cars crash on the highways and relatives make little memorial gardens of crosses nearby. Why did it happen to them?
Some come back from war and others don’t. And some who come back are not the people they used to be. Who is at fault?
For some, the virus was a brief bout with a cold. For others it took half of families and left the original infectors unscathed. What kind of world is this?
In pandemics and poverty, in pain and politics, we want to point fingers. We need to assess blame.
Birthed By Hurt
Probably no one has expressed these sentiments better than the novelist Peter De Vries. De Vries grew up in a Christian home but spent most of his life trying to sort out who God was to him. His most powerful novel, The Blood of the Lamb, was also his most tragic. It followed the career of Don Wanderhope.
Don’s family believed in God. They trusted that God held all things in his hand, and they knew God would always be there for them. Don, however, did not find this to be the case. One tragedy after another dogged him, and he wished God would not pay so much attention to him.
At the climax of the story, Don’s wife bore them a daughter, the one spot of grace in her father’s otherwise troubled existence. After Don’s wife took her own life, Don and little Carol forged a new life of grace together. But then, at the tender age of ten, Carol was diagnosed with leukemia. Treatments failed and Don desperately gave God another chance. Don went back to church and prayed for Carol, wasting away in the hospital. Don begged God to heal her, and to touch her life with relief and restoration.
But Carol died anyway. Don left the hospital carrying the birthday cake they were going to share at her bedside. Don walked past a church. Hanging over the doorway was a life-sized statue of Christ on the cross. Taking the cake in his hand, Don threw it at Jesus. Icing dripped from the face like blood.
That was Don’s final prayer. That was what he thought of the God who betrayed him. That was his final pointing finger of blame.
Job As Everyman
Have you been there? Many of us have. I’ve heard one refrain again and again during my years as a pastor: “Why did God let this happen? How could God do this to us? Why doesn’t God hear my prayers?”
It is the cry of Job in the seeming meaninglessness of life made painful by compounded hurts. Do you remember the story of Job? He was one of the wealthiest men in the ancient world, with houses, servants, and treasures. He had more of everything than any person could covet.
Job was also a devout man, careful to renew his relationship with God each day. It seems, in fact, that God was rather proud of Job. When Satan came calling one time, God bragged to him about Job. “Have you seen my servant Job?” he asked. “Now there is a man whose heart you will never own!”
Wagering
Satan was not so sure. He had cracked a lot of tough nuts in his time, and he took on Job as a special challenge. “Sure, Job loves you,” Satan said to God. “But that’s because you’ve bought his soul. You give him everything he wants. Why shouldn’t he serve you? Even I would do that!”
That is when the wagering began, according to the Old Testament book. God gave Satan permission to take everything away from Job, stipulating only that Satan could not harm Job’s own body.
So Job lost everything ― his children, his flocks, his buildings, and his servants. He became as poor as a church mouse. Yet still Job loved God and served him openly.
The wagering in heaven heated up, and Satan got one more shot at Job in round two. He was allowed to touch Job’s body without killing him. Job began to writhe in pain. And Satan touched Job’s mind so that he could no longer clearly hear God’s whisper of love. Job was all alone. His wife called him stupid, his friends called him a liar and a sinner, and the world did not even call him anymore. Outside, Job’s horizons had collapsed. Inside he had become an echo chamber of despair. Where was God?
That is the hardest challenge in life, isn’t it? I remember sitting with a mother in a hospital corridor, praying for the life of her daughter. The young woman was just beyond her teen years, and only a dozen months into marriage to a wonderful man. When the doctor assisted her delivery of her first child, he nicked something with his knife. Now the infant was turning every shade of yellow and gray and had been flown half-way across the country to get the best medical attention possible.
The mother was unconsolable. When we prayed, she felt no peace and could not find God. For three hours we watched her daughter’s life slip away.
The mother stopped going to church. The young husband grew angry and did not know how to care for his young child. Where was God?
I hear his voice echoing that of Elie Wiesel, who endured the horror of the Nazi death camps. Wiesel watched women and children herded into gas chambers. He cried with men beaten down by cruel soldiers. He saw a young boy hanging on a gallows. “Where is God?” he cried.
The question of Job is asked in every generation: “Where are you God?” And often, as with Job, the only answer is silence. The promises of scripture become dead fantasies. The Holy Spirit leaves and the heart grows chilly. The newspapers report events that make no sense. Where is God? Where is God when a child dies? Where is God when a mother is snatched from her family? Where is God when nuclear reactors melt down, airplanes crash, and mines collapse? Where is God?
And Satan looked down from heaven with glee. He knew that he had Job then. He knew that he would never get out of that one. He knew the cards in his hand were the winning draw. Can faith remain when God is silent? Can trust carry on when there seems to be no one at the other end of the line?
“No!” shouted Satan. But he did not have the last world.
“Yes!” whispered Job. “Even though I cannot see him, even though I do not understand what is happening, even though every human wisdom tells me God’s not there, I know that my redeemer lives, and with these eyes I shall see him!”
That is the deepest level of faith possible. This is what Jesus calls out to those who wonder and point fingers of blame in his community. There are no good answers. Job loves God not for what he gets out of it, but because it is the only way life itself makes sense. We trust in God not because we always feel the wonder of God’s presence, but because, even in the most absurd turns of life, and the seeming absence of God, there is still truly nowhere else to turn.
Back To Basics
This is why Jesus told his disciples to stop blaming and start thinking. We live in a compromised world where bad things happen, often to seemingly good people, and where logical equations of moral behaviors and expected reward outcomes leave us scratching our heads. We cannot figure out this thing. We cannot win the blame came. Ultimately, we do not find meaning and find fault in the same breath.
So Jesus said, “Ask yourselves how you are going to live in such a world.” Stop pointing fingers and start grasping for meaning and hope. When the moment of crisis comes, whether along the journey or at the point of death, what will sustain us? What will bring stability out of chaos? Where can we find footing in the rushing and destabilizing currents of life?
Years ago, Dr. Arthur Gossip preached a sermon he called “When Life Tumbles In, What Then?” He brought that message on the first Sunday he returned to the pulpit of his congregation after his beloved wife had suddenly died. This was how he ended the sermon: “Our hearts are very frail and there are places where the road is very steep and very lonely. …standing in the roaring Jordan, cold with its dreadful chill and very conscious of its terror, of its rushing, I… call back to you who one day will have your turn to cross it, ‘Be of good cheer, my brothers, for I feel the bottom and it is sound.’”
Somehow, by the grace of God, when we stop pointing fingers of blame and start grasping heavenly hands, the perseverance of patience carries us through, and we know the end of the matter as did Job and Dr. Gossip. God will not leave us alone forever. God will answer our questions in time or eternity. God will resolve the problems of life’s inequities and give us a future that Satan could never manufacture. The focus of faith carries us through, until we are no longer distracted by the unanswerable because our eyes have found a better place to look.
Sometimes, those who are new to faith know this best. L. Nelson Bell, the father-in-law of Billy Graham, was a medical missionary in China for much of his career. One of the earliest converts to Christianity under his ministry was a wizened old man that later church members simply called “Elder Cao.” When Dr. Bell asked Elder Cao to tell some visitors why he had become a Christian, the elderly gentleman put it simply.
“A man fell into a deep and slimy pit,” said Elder Cao, “and he was unable to get out. Along came the Buddha. He stopped and took pity on the man. ‘If you will come up here to me,’ said the Buddha, ‘I will teach you the way of enlightenment and you will never fall into the pit again.’ But the man could not get out of the pit, so the Buddha went on to bring enlightenment to others.
“Along came Confucius, and he too was moved with compassion by the plight of the man in the pit. ‘If you will listen to my teachings,’ said Confucius, ‘you will understand how society is formed, and what can be done to prevent anyone from falling into the pit.’ Then he, too, went on, for the man did not rise out of the pit.
“Finally,” said Elder Cao, “Jesus came along. As with the others, he was filled with concern for the man in the pit. So he jumped down into the pit, and helped the man get out.
“This,” said Elder Cao, “is why I am a Christian.”
