Providence United Methodist Church
Scripture ~ Psalm 32; Jeremiah 33: 1-9;
II Corinthians 5: 16-21; Luke 13: 1-5
Sermon ~ Forgiveness
Preacher ~ George Thompson
Two elementary school boys were playing basketball in a Charlotte park when a rabid Rottweiler attacked one of them. The other quickly ripped a board off a nearby fence. He wedged it down the dogs collar and twisted the board until it broke the dog’s neck, thereby saving the fate of his endangered friend.A sports writer for the Charlotte Observer heard about the incident and rushed over to the neighborhood to interview the brave hero. Before arriving he entitled his article, "Young Heels Fan Saves Friend From Vicious Animal." When the youngster was told of the proposed title, he candidly reported, "I’m not a Heels fan." The surprised reporter apologized, "I was told that you are a native North Carolinian, and I assumed that you are a loyal Tar Heel." So the reporter scratched on his notebook pad, "Youthful State Fan Rescues Friend From Horrific Attack." The little hero explained that he was not a State fan either. "I’m a Duke supporter," he proudly announced. The journalist completed the interview and the next morning the Observer ran his article titled, "Little Stuck Up Yankee Devil Kills Beloved Family Pet."
This story has nothing to do with this morning’s sermon except that I would like to ask for your forgiveness in telling it.
The Hebrew psalmist issued these beatitudes: "Happy are those whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Happy are those to whom the Lord imputes no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit."1
There was a time in which Lent was a season of redemptive pilgrimage for all Christians: a time in which the faithful earnestly sought forgiveness for their transgressions. In this somber, reflective season each disciple of Jesus was encouraged to explore personally the dynamics of the seven deadly sins, to examine one’s own relationship with God, and to amend one’s behavior through acts of contrition and restitution. The church possessed a diverse, flexible vocabulary for naming the powers that separate us from God. Lent was that annual time for purgation and performing the ritual of spiritual transformation in preparation for Easter joy. In any given village or hamlet everyone was expected to undertake a thorough self-examination with the help of the parish priest or spiritual mentor.
In the early years of Methodism, all participants in the Wesleyan revival gathered in weekly sessions of small groups. These were called the Societies. Our Book of Discipline still contains the responsibilities of the Society leaders. The language seems out of place in relationship to what we have become as contemporary Methodists. Each leader was required to ask at the weekly meeting, "How does your soul prosper?" He or she had the responsibility "to advise, reprove, comfort or exhort, as occasion may
require. . . ."2 All manner of people throughout England were participants in these Societies. All that was required, in the words of John Wesley, was "a desire to flee from the wrath to come, and to be saved from their sins."3 These small groups were the backbone of the early Methodist movement and a key to the rapid growth of our denomination. Our ChristCare emphasis here at Providence Church is a contemporary expression of this early Wesleyan reliance upon the power of small group spirituality.
How do we deal with forgiveness in today’s culture?
Not very well. We have practically done away with the priestly role of receiving confession and offering absolution. We have even denied the reality of sin. We make mistakes. No apologies are necessary. We don’t even know what to say to political leaders like Jesse Jackson or military leaders like the careless submarine captain. We are a culture of victims. Sin has become a meaningless nomenclature. Gluttony is now a means of self-fulfillment. Lust is an expression of true humanity. Avarice is purely market economics and an affirmation of the American way of life. Anger is an acceptable form of self-expression. Envy is the healthy, Madison Avenue-driven urge that dives a thriving economy. And pride is regarded to be an admirable form of self-assertion. Hollywood, not the Bible, has propagated the absurd notion that love means not having to say, "I’m sorry."
But all of us are yearning for something more profound. We come to church all washed and cleaned. We even wear our best cloths as an outward and visible sign of our desire to have a spiritual cleansing. We want to become our very best self before God. In short, we want to get rid of our sins. How is this accomplished?
Here at Providence Church we have consciously chosen to maintain a traditional service of worship. Each week lectionary texts are read. These sacred texts define our agenda in worship. A corporate prayer of confession is prayed. The focus of this weekly prayer arises from the language of the lectionary passages. We confess collectively because earnest confession is what sets us apart from the prevailing culture. Outside the church, the people are sinners who are not necessarily aware of their need for redemption. Inside the church, we are also sinners; but we share an awareness of our sinful nature. We come to church not only in order to be forgiven, but also to receive the power to walk in newness of life!
Forgiveness, therefore, is a three-part process: contrition (acknowledgement of our need for God’s grace), confession (the naming of our sin), and sanctification (the performance of acts of restitution and reparation).
The gospel message cannot, therefore, be reduced to the trivial notion, "I’m O.K.—You’re O. K." The gospel suggests that I’m not O.K. and you’re not O.K.; but, through the incarnation of Jesus Christ, God has granted us the power of transformation. Forgiveness, therefore, begins with what God has already done by going to the cross for our sins. God has entered, and continues to enter, this world of suffering and sin. The apostle Paul perhaps said it best when he asserted, "But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us."4 When we are confronted with this truth, when we hear the story of God’s passion (the central narrative of Lent), we are brought to contrition. We are then truly sorry for our sins.
The Church is a community of repentant sinners. Worship is the activity of hearing one another’s confession and receiving the grace that God wishes to spread throughout his new community.
I was leading a Disciple Bible group in another parish several years ago. Our group of twelve had entered into the phase of discussion called, "encountering the word." Our readings that week were focused upon the biblical concept of God’s mercy. I was pressing one of the group members by asking, "How do you know that God is merciful?" Perhaps because of the level of trust that had evolved in the class, he abruptly responded, "I know because I’m a recovering alcoholic." It was amazing how this brief moment of candor changed the intensity and spiritual intimacy of our group. His fellow Disciple Bible students immediately embraced him with redemptive love. In subsequent sessions, we all became much more candid in sharing about our spiritual welfare. We acknowledged our humanity. We were more receptive to the miracle of God’s grace in our lives. This young man later initiated a significant prison ministry. He became a transforming leader in that congregation’s United Methodist Men.
Emily Dickinson, writing in another era, interpreted the condition of a post-Christian culture when she observed,
"Those – dying then,
Knew where they went-
They went to God’s Right Hand –
That Hand is amputated now
And God cannot be found –" 5
Where do we go with our sins when all the church wants to do is sing praise music and act as if the cross on the altar has been replaced with a smile button?
Contrition in corporate worship begins the process of redemption. Then we confess by naming the sin. We thereby open ourselves to God. We become vulnerable through confession. The Johannine church reminded us that, "If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us."6 During the quiet time following corporate confession, we may name our sin in silence before God. We may later seek out a spiritual mentor, or speak with one of the pastors, or confidentially confide in a Stephen Minister.
When Jesus was teaching in Galilee, two events lay heavily upon the minds of the people. Pilate, the powerful governor, had ordered his soldiers to slaughter some devout Jews, even while they were preparing the Passover meal. Pilate, according to Josephus, was always stirring up the Hebrew people. He even placed effigies of Roman emperors on military standards in the streets of Jerusalem near the Temple. He clearly violated the Jewish commandment against graven images. Devout Jews wanted to know if Jesus felt that they deserved such humiliation by Pilate.
The other newsworthy event was the collapse of the tower of Siloam. These same devout Hebrews wanted to know if Jesus regarded this event to be God’s punishment for those who perished.
Of course Jesus rejected the notion that these acts of horror were an expression of God’s vengeance. But Jesus was emphatic in stating that these inexplicable tragedies invite reflection and a renewal of spiritual life. So, he insisted, "…unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did."7 Thus, Jesus emphasized the urgency of repentance. Jesus thereby refrained from preaching a gospel of cheap grace. Redemption is a costly three-part movement: contrition (being sorry), confession (naming the sin), and sanctification (struggling with sin’s effects).
If I were to push you into the path of a moving vehicle on Providence Road, it would do little good for me to rush over and merely say, "I’m sorry." If I were truly repentant, I would follow the ambulance to the hospital. I would pay your hospital bills. I would care for your family while you are out of work. I would seek to make amends, as long as it may take.
We may even call this response affirmative action. It is through affirmative action that we struggle with sin’s effect.
I know, for example, that I cannot pay the price for my great-grandfather’s owning slaves in Rutherford County. But I can acknowledge that my ancestors sinned. I can work toward such goals as equity in public schools of Mecklenburg County. Equal opportunity for every child in every neighborhood. I can urge all my Christian friends in South Carolina, beginning with the Methodist bishop, to work toward placing that confederate flag in a museum where it belongs. It is a symbol of a racist South that no contemporary Christian can tolerate.
Forgiveness is a process. The ministry of reconciliation is a spiritual metamorphosis. Thus, the apostle Paul wrote, "So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!"8 We cannot earnestly confess and then return to our old dispensations!
Two years ago I met a heroic Christian – Elias Chacour. He is a Melkite priest from a Palestinian parish in Ibillin near Nazareth. He is also the recipient of the World Methodist Council’s Peace Medal.
When Father Chacour was first assigned to the parish in Ibillin, he quickly learned that these people were deeply divided by unrepentant attitudes. When the village bells rang and the congregation assembled on his first Palm Sunday, Chacour looked upon faces that disclosed no peace. So, he left the pulpit and walked directly to the entrance doors. He padlocked the doors from inside the church. Then he returned to the chancel and announced to his startled congregation, "The doors of the church are locked. Either you kill each other right now here in your hatred and then I will celebrate your funerals gratis, or you use this opportunity to be reconciled together before I open the doors of the church. If that reconciliation happens, Christ will truly become your Lord, and I will know I am becoming your pastor and your priest."9
After ten minutes of petrified silence, a large burly policeman named Abu Muhib stood. He opened wide his long arms, as if embracing the whole congregation. He said, "I ask forgiveness of everybody here and I forgive everyone. And I ask God to forgive me my sins."10 With tears running down his face Abu put his strong arms around Father Chacour. Tears and laughter began to mingle among the pews. People who had not spoken to each other for years verbalized words of forgiveness and grace. The new priest unlocked the doors and announced that Easter had come early in the land of Jesus.
Yes, the Sundays of Lent are, in reality, little Easters. All who make the costly pilgrimage from contrition to confession to restoration experience resurrection. This is the only route for getting rid of our sin.
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