Sermon manuscript:
One of the unusual features of the times we are living in is
how many different beliefs there are. Perhaps you had a taste of that at your
Thanksgiving gathering. Your cousins, nieces, nephews, in-laws might have very
different understandings about what is right and wrong, the present state of
things in the world, or what we should do about all of it. There have always
been differences of beliefs. No two human beings have ever had the exact same
thoughts about everything. But in the last few years the sheer number of
beliefs available to be believed has increased dramatically.
Sometimes you might hear of people applauding this
development. More free speech and more diversity is automatically good. But many
of the new beliefs contradict older beliefs. For example, either we have been
made to be male and female—and that means something, or gender is just a fluid
social construct. Either male and female is something intrinsic and natural,
God-given, or what I’ve just said is judgmental and hateful. It is impossible
for both views to be good. They contradict each other.
So despite what people might say about diversity—that it
should be welcomed, the more diverse the better—they either aren’t seeing the
contradictions or they aren’t being totally honest. If they were being honest
they would say that those who hold the older beliefs are deplorable and have no
business holding any power or authority in our modern life. They should be run
out of the government, run out of our universities, run out of our schools.
They don’t go so far as to want to kill people, but they most certainly want certain
beliefs and ideas to die. The reason why they are so passionate for their
beliefs is because they genuinely believe that the death of these old ideas
will make the world a better place.
I wouldn’t be surprised if some of you had some vigorous
debates on Thanksgiving whether these newer ideas would make the world a better
place. I could take up the rest of this sermon time by giving you arguments for
why this or that belief is bad and will lead to worse conditions rather than
better ones. That might be an enjoyable way for us to spend our time. I suspect
that most of us are pretty much on the same page about the various issues. But
glorying in how right we are and how wrong they are would give the impression
that we—with our debating, with our fighting—we are what is indispensable for
Christianity and for the furtherance of Christ’s kingdom.
This is a very common, false assumption, which is held to
particularly in our circles. Being a Christian is assumed to be the same thing
as being a “conservative.” Being a Christian means that you fight for the old
beliefs as opposed to the new beliefs. Christianity is us versus them. We’re
right; they’re wrong. And what needs to happen is that either they need to
shape up so that they adopt our position, or they must be eliminated. Their
beliefs and ideas need to be eliminated. They must be run out of the
government, run out of the schools, run out of the libraries. Being a Christian
means that you are a cultural warrior.
This is not Christianity. This is one of the devil’s tricks.
We know from St. Paul that the devil likes to dress himself up as an angel of
light. There’s nothing that the devil likes more than to play around in
religion. What a harvest of souls the devil can collect for himself if he
convinces people that Christianity is a matter of being either conservative or
progressive. Then people will fight with each other over whether we should be
conservative or progressive, believing thereby that they are being ever so pious,
ever so religious, when in fact they will be accomplishing nothing that lasts
into eternity.
There is only one way for us to last into eternity, and that
is by becoming a new creation. Paul says a couple of times in his letter to the
Galatians that neither circumcision nor uncircumcision—an issue hotly debated
at the time—counts for anything. What is needed is a new creation. I don’t
think I am going wrong by modifying that statement to say, “Neither
conservatism nor progressivism is strong enough to accomplish anything. What is
needed is a new creation.”
And what is this new creation? John speaks of this at the
beginning of his Gospel. He says, “To those who received
the light [that is, Christ,] to those who
believed in Jesus’s name, he gave the right to become children of God. They
were born, not of blood, or of the desire of the flesh, or of a husband’s will.
They were born of God.” That’s how you become a new creation. You are
born again through faith in Jesus’s name.
This is very much tied up with baptism. One of the simplest
answers to the question of how to become a Christian is that you should be
baptized. Jesus speaks of baptism as being “born again
by the water and the Spirit.” Unless we are born again we cannot see the
kingdom of God.
And why is it so necessary to become a new creation? It is because
the change that is needed is too great. Neither conservatism nor progressivism
can save anyone from death. Neither conservatism nor progressivism can
reconcile sinners with God. Neither side can exorcise evil spirits to make way
for the Holy Spirit. Neither side can make anybody truly love. If anything it
seems that the more we fight the more we hate, the more we dehumanize our
opponents. And to what end? For greater diversity, equity and inclusion on the
one side? To make America great again on the other? However grand these ideas
might seem to be to people, they are far too small and temporary. Christ our
Lord operates on an entirely different plane of existence.
This is something that our readings today about the end of
the world point out so forcefully that it strikes me as being almost brutal. We
think the stuff that we deal with is so important, so consequential. The future
of our country or the future of the world depends on us winning the cultural
war. What our readings today reveal is that it isn’t about us at all. The most
outstanding thing is Jesus Christ being Lord and God.
In our reading from Matthew we hear about how this King
comes with magnificent splendor and power. All the souls born of Adam and Eve
are gathered before him. Each and every one of you are one of those souls. The
most powerful person who will have ever wielded the reins of government will be
one of those souls. The most lowly—the retarded, the aborted, the slave—will be
one of those souls. And how are they judged? They are judged by the presence or
absence of the chief and foremost fruit of faith, which is love. Did they love?
And who did they love? Did they love only their own, and to hell with
everybody else or did they love the least of these?
Our epistle reading is also supremely grand. Paul speaks
about the resurrection and what will happen at the end. Paul is correcting the
Corinthians, some of whom didn’t believe that the resurrection from the dead
was likely or possible. Paul says, no, there is most certainly a resurrection
from the dead. If there is no resurrection from the dead then Christianity is a
joke. It’s simply not true if there is no resurrection.
But what I find so captivating is what he says towards the
end of our reading. He says that at the end Christ will bring to nothing every
rule, every authority, every power. All his enemies must be put under his feet.
Then he will deliver the kingdom—all those who have been raised together with
Christ—he will deliver them to God the Father. Even Christ himself will be
subject to God the Father. Then God will be all in all.
To be honest, I’m not sure I understand everything that Paul
has said. One thing is clear though: Christ’s kingdom is what is
extraordinarily important and there is no alternative. There is no alternative
universe for DEIers, or for Trumpers, or for never-trumpers. “There is one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father
of all, who is over all, and through all, and in us all.” This
inclusivity is extreme! It is only in Christ that there can ever be true unity,
true oneness. And there will be oneness, because either you will be in him, and
one with him, or you will depart from him. This inclusivity is extreme. It
seems brutal—harsh, even.
But this is where it is important to remember what kind of
Lord and King Jesus was. When you are tempted to believe that this is all too
extreme, nasty, brutal, and so on, you must remember the way that Jesus was in
the Gospels. His disposition towards us has not changed.
What the Gospels reveal is that Jesus is an extremely
strange king—so different from those who have earthly power. He did not enslave
the world so that everybody would serve him. Just the opposite: He poured
himself out for the benefit of all. He healed, he set right that which was
wrong, he cast out demons, he forgave. And the works didn’t need to be
extraordinary or grand. On the night when he was betrayed he got out a basin,
put water in it, tied a towel around his waist, and washed the disciples feet.
What kind of king does that?
And, of course, as you are well aware, Jesus was king in a
supreme way when he was nailed to the cross, suffered God’s wrath for our sins,
and died. Because he died, we will not die. Because he is risen, we will rise
too. This is the stuff that Paul talks about in our Epistle reading. It is
going to happen to us. We will rise at his coming. Death will be destroyed
forever. We will be caught up in this whirlwind of Christ’s kingdom where all
things will be brought to nothing and Christ will rule over everything. Then we
will be delivered to God the Father so that God will be all in all.
In light of all of this we must all repent and believe the
Gospel. Whatever improvement projects we might have for ourselves or for others
are futile. They can never reach deep enough. Nothing that we do can ever
change the human heart. Only God, through the death and resurrection of his
Son, by the power of the Holy Spirit can make us new creatures.
This is where the extreme inclusivity, the seemingly brutal
oneness, should not be seen as being as brutal as it first appears. It seems
brutal because God does all this without asking for our permission or our
approval. He’s going to do what he’s going to do whether we like it or not. Losing
control, losing our say about what we think is good or what should happen, is
frightening.
But what if none of us is good at knowing what is good and
evil? What if all our hearts are evil and in need of redemption? Then it is
much better for the King, who is wise and good, to take the reins. He continues
to set right that which is wrong, to cast out evil spirits, to forgive. Nobody
can do what he does. He does all things well.
