YOLO - Seeking Wisdom

You know that I'm a hip guy.  I'm always on top of the latest trends.  I know that 8-track players are no longer cool.  I stopped saying "Gag with me a spoon" several months ago.  And just this week I learned about voice-activated T-shirts, which light up when you talk to them.  I also know what YOLO means.

YOLO is a trendy acronym that is showing up on T-shirts and on Twitter accounts and it stands for "You Only Live Once."  It usually appears when someone is texting you or tweeting about their latest poor decision or, more likely, a hypothetical poor decision.  So you might see a report that has "Filling my mouth with whipped cream and running down the street saying, 'I have rabies.'  #YOLO."  It's silly stuff, although if some of the things that get reported actually are happening I'm thinking YOLO ought to stand for "Youth Overlooking Lasting Outcomes."

But it's not just youth.  We older folks talk about our "bucket list" of things we want to do before we die, some of which involves a certain amount of irresponsibility.  And major ad campaigns encourage us to forget the consequences of our actions - just do it.  Pepsi's slogan of the moment is "Live for Now."  I saw an ad this week, I think it was for doughnuts, that said, "Indulge Now!"  I had never been commanded to eat doughnuts before so that was a strange moment.  Maybe I'm overthinking this trend but do you see a pattern here?  We are living in a  YOLO world and I'm wondering what it all means.  And what does it mean to be a Christian in a YOLO world?  Do we really believe that You Only Live Once?

Walter Brueggemann, an Old Testament scholar, has a new book out called Remember You are Dust and in it he talks about the culture clash that we are involved in.  It's not just a clash, he says, it's a crisis, and it's not the fault of liberals or conservatives, the 1960s or Wall Street.  What's happened is that we are now experiencing the fruit of 400 years of living in the modern world.  For about 400 years we have had a world developing that has relied on human reason as it's principle guide to knowledge.  Why do I trace that back 400 years, because that's when Rene Descartes, a French soldier, was sitting in a hut by a fire and started to doubt. He said to himself, "What if I can't trust anything around me to tell me who I am and what the world is like?  What if this is all a dream?  What is reliable?  What can I build a foundation on?"  People before Descartes might have said that God was that foundation, and Descartes believed in God, but he wanted something else to build on and the most trustworthy thing he could find for that was reason.  Do you remember what he said?  "I think, therefore I am."

So for 400 years thinkers, Christian and otherwise, have been building a world based on the best that human knowledge can achieve.  And we have achieved a lot.  We've got medicines that have cured diseases that plagued humanity for centuries.  We can navigate the oceans and fly in the air.  We've put human beings on the moon and a golf cart on Mars that's appropriately named Curiosity because we are a curious race.  I don't think many of us would give up the benefits of the modern world.  The quality of human life is immeasurably better because of it.  And yet, Walter Brueggemann says, we are facing a crisis.

"For many people," he says, "the deep threat and pain of this crisis is the awareness that their children can no longer relate to the great claims of faith, not because they are rebellious, but because they do not care, or caring, cannot understand or see the point.  They no longer know where responsible social passion comes from, why caring is important, or how the disciplines of faith matter, or why.  There is, between parents and children, a common yearning...[that] arises not because anyone is 'bad,' but because an alien perception of reality makes engagement with the tradition of 'fear of Yahweh' unconvincing and without credibility."*

What Brueggemann is saying there with that phrase 'fear of Yahweh' is that the whole biblical worldview and the whole biblical understanding of wisdom is at risk because the 'fear of Yahweh,' the 'fear of the Lord' is receding into the background in the modern world.  And the Bible tells us, in places like Proverbs 9:10 is that the "fear of the Lord is beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the Holy One is insight."  Is it human reason that gives us wisdom?  Or is it the 'fear of the Lord'?

Now let's don't beat the modern world over the head with a stick.  That's the temptation, right?  To say that is a godless, heedless world that has forgotten its roots and if it would just turn back to God it would find itself.  Well, perhaps.  And yes, the world often lives as if it is godless and heedless.  But I don't believe that people want to live that way.  I believe people yearn for something more.  They yearn for something to live for.  They yearn for something to die for.

A little over a week ago I had the opportunity to have a lunch with some of the staff and the superintendent of Northampton County Schools.  I listened as they talked about the testing numbers that were needed to declare our schools successful or even adequate.  "We need a 70 and we've got a 69."  It was only when they started to talk about the children that I realized what I needed to hear, what we all long to hear - that success is not measured in test scores.  It's measured in human lives.  And I believe that our children, our parents, our teachers, even our administrators, are yearning for a mission that they can give their whole lives to.  We want to believe...we have to believe that we are meant for something more and our schools will not be transformed until we do believe that something radically important is going on there.

So when we talk about 'putting the fear of God' back into folks, I don't think it's as simple as browbeating people back into submission.  The fear of God is not like the fear of some great and terrible thing where we all get in line because if we don't, well, look out!  The fear of the Lord is not a trembling fear, it is as Bruggemann says, "to take God with utmost seriousness as the premise and perspective from which life is to be lived."**  To take God with utmost seriousness.  That is a countercultural act.

Which brings me to Solomon and the text we read for today.  When we think of wisdom we almost always end up talking about Solomon, because Solomon asks for wisdom.

The Bible seems to look at Solomon with a certain amount of ambivalence.  On the one hand Solomon is revered as being at the highpoint of Israel's history as a nation.  Solomon picked up where his father David left off and built Jerusalem into one of the finest capital cities in the world.  Solomon imported cedars from Lebanon to furnish the new Temple he built for Yahweh, the God of Israel.  Solomon began many building projects, enlarged the army and even began a navy for Israel.  People came from far and wide to admire the wonders of King Solomon.  He developed a reputation for wisdom and later generations would attribute the books of Proverbs and Song of Songs to him.

That’s not all there is to the story of Solomon, though.  He is also remembered as the end of the glorious united kingdom of Israel.  The riches and wealth and honor he attained were short-lived and the kingdom divided after his death thanks to the heavy taxes and forced labor he imposed to build up Jerusalem.

He also seems to have had some issues with women.  Solomon was said to have 700 wives and 300 concubines.  That by itself would have been problem enough - imagine being beholden to 1000 relationships!  But the real problem was that each of these wives brought with them their own cultures and their own religions, since many of them were not Israelite.  Each time a marriage with a foreign woman took place, the custom was to build a shrine in Jerusalem to her nation's god.  So Solomon bore the blame for bringing in all of these idols and foreign gods.

When we get to verse 3 of chapter 3 in 1 Kings we're told that Solomon was a great king who loved Yahweh, the God of Israel, and who followed in the footsteps of David, his father, EXCEPT...and this is a pretty big except...except that he had a habit of offering sacrifices and incense on the high places - and not just in Jerusalem where all worship was supposed to take place.

In fact, Solomon is out making a sacrifice at one of these high places when God finds him in a dream. God appears to Solomon in a dream and doesn't chastise him for being in this strange place, God merely says, "What can I give you, Solomon?"  This is a great dream, huh?

Many of us would be ticking off the new boat, the vacation home in Maui, the extreme makeover, the chance to have dinner with St. Augustine.  (Hey, you have your dreams and I have mine.)  But Solomon is very wise in his response, which makes us wonder if he really needed to be given the gift God gives him.  Solomon remembers God's relationship with his father, David and then says, "You know, God, I'm really like a small child when I think about the shoes I'm trying to fill.  I've got all these people to take care of and they look to me for justice.  I'm going to need help, God."

God says to Solomon in this dream, "You didn't seek long life for yourself, you didn't seek riches for yourself, and you didn't ask for the life of your enemies.  Instead, you asked for wisdom, and because of this I will also give you what you didn’t ask for – riches and honor and long life.”

Then Solomon wakes up and realizes that it’s all been a dream.   Solomon is not a model citizen – just as all of Israel’s kings were flawed and broken people.  But he did have this insight that the world and our responsibilities in it are far more complex than we can handle relying just on our own abilities.  We need humility.  We need a heart that's open to God.  We need wisdom.

Where we will find wisdom in this world?  We have become the masters of knowledge.  Our technologies for sharing information are the best that human history has ever produced.  But we have not become wise.  What we long for is something that can't be zipped along in a tweet or an e-mail.  We long for something that will speak to our souls and we wonder if there is anything that can give it to us.

I can't use reason to give you an answer here.  There is no piece of information I can share with you in this sermon that will meet that longing.  There is nothing new under the sun that's going to speak to that place in your soul that wants to hear a new word.  What I can give you is not knowledge but bread.  Because God's wisdom comes to us through the living bread which is Jesus.  And you attain this wisdom, not in an instant, but in a continual process of coming back to the living Word, coming back to the bread of life, coming back to Jesus over and over again until your famished soul begins to feel alive once more.  Wisdom happens one prayer at a time, one meditation at a time, one meal at a time.

Hans Urs Von Balthasar, who has one of the greatest names for a theologian I can imagine, says:

"We think that God's word has been heard on earth for so long that by now it is almost used up, that it is about time for some new word, as if we had the right to demand one.  We fail to see that is is we ourselves who are used up and alienated, whereas the word resounds with the same vitality and freshness as ever; it is just as near to us as it always was.  'The word is near to you, on your lips and in your heart' (Rom. 10:8)."***

It is just as near to you as it always was.  Despite the fact that we talk about being born again, I think it is true that you only truly live once.  It is a deep, bone-deep kind of living that doesn't give itself over to the superficial comforts of the passing world.  The world doesn't remember where it has come from and it doesn't know where it is going.  It has become disconnected from the promises of God and the story of Christ.  It does not know that it is being longed for by God and therefore redeemed by God's love.  Imagine that.  God is longing for you.  Thanks be to God.

*Walter Brueggemann, Remember That You are Dust [Cascade: Eugene, OR, 2012], pp. 22-23.
**ibid., pp. 13-14.
***Hans Urs von Balthasar, Prayer [Ignatius Press: San Francisco, 1986], p. 16

Absalom, Absalom

Today's story of David and Absalom is a story of how David's chickens came home to roost.  Now, actually, I don't know if David had any chickens.  I rather doubt it.  And why chickens coming home to roost should be a dark omen is not clear to me.  That's what chickens do at the end of the day.  They come home to roost.  There's nothing menacing about it.  It's not like the movie The Birds where ordinary sweet-looking birds start pecking poor Tippi Hedren.  Chickens are just not that scary a creature.  But that's the phrase we use to describe what happens when things you have done in the past come back to haunt you.  And if I were doing one of those modern paraphrases of the Bible I would headline this section from 2 Samuel that we read "David's Chickens Come Home to Roost."

Now that I've got that off my chest - I think it is remarkable that we have this story at all - at least in the form that we have it.  We are used to having stories of heroes with clay feet in our day.  Not that our heroes literally have clay feet.  That's another one of those phrases that...well, never mind.  You know what I mean.  If David MacCulloch, the historian, were going to write a history of Thomas Jefferson, we would expect that he would include all sorts of things about Jefferson, from the great things (Declaration of Independence!) to the not-so-great (Sally Hemmings!).  But in the ancient world what we usually get are stories that are so cleaned up that great men (and they are almost always men) are described as moving from one great and historic victory to another without ever stumbling or getting so much as hangnail.

David, however, gets the full treatment.  King David, the greatest king the nation of Israel ever had, the uniter of the nation, the establisher of Jerusalem, the man after God's own heart, the most interesting man in the world - THAT David had some issues.  We saw some of them on display last week in the story of Bathsheba where David takes a man's wife, tries to cover it up, orders the man's murder and then pretends like nothing has happened.  And when Nathan the prophet confronts him about it, we hear Nathan's ominous prophecy: "David, thus says the Lord: beware the chickens.  Beware the chickens that will come home to roost."  You know, it's a little bit different in other translations.  This is kind of my paraphrase.  But basically the idea is that because of his sins, David will suffer terrible consequences.  Besides the death of the child that Bathsheba will bear, God tells David that one day trouble will come from within his own house.  Someone in his own house will take his own wives...(yes, wives, plural - it was different back in the day)...someone from his own household will take his own wives and lie with them within full view of the nation.

Well, today's story from 2 Samuel gives us a fulfillment of that prophecy.  Absalom, David's own son, is the trouble from within his own household.  Absalom rebels against his father.  Absalom takes over the Jerusalem as David runs away.  Absalom takes his father's wives to the rooftop of the palace.  Absalom brings all the achievements to the king to nothing.

The piece of the story that we read, though, doesn't give you everything.  It gives you the ending.  The last scene of the story is David mourning over the death of his son, Absalom, after his soldiers, under the command of the general, Joab, find Absalom, caught by his hair in a tree,    (I used to get my hair caught in the trees), hanging, the Bible says, between heaven and earth, and they pierce him with spears...kill him, despite David's orders not to harm him.  When the word comes back, David cries out, "O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom!  Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!"  And you would think that what we have is a story about grief and loss and the pain that comes when families are torn apart by rebellion and trauma.

Except the story is even more complex than that.  We have been here before with David.  He has played this scene out before.  Do you remember how he and his renegade army fought against the old King Saul?  How David had men out trying to take over the kingdom and how they did that, finally surrounding Saul and his son, Jonathan, whom David loved like a brother, on a mountain?  And when David hears that they have died he cries out, "How the mighty have fallen!...Saul and Jonathan, beloved and lovely!" [2 Sam. 1: 19, 23].  He does not seem to make the connection that going to war will entail death and loss.  Just like he doesn't seem to realize how sending men into battle against Absalom might lead to Absalom's death.

The relationship between David and Absalom is complicated, too.  This rebellion is not the only trouble that had arisen in his household.  Another son, Amnon, had attacked his sister, Tamar, and David had taken no action to rein in the son.  He gets angry but leaves the son alone because, the Bible says, "he loved Amnon" [2 Sam. 13:21].  Family trauma was no different then than it is now.  You and I know that the scars family members inflict on each other can be some of the deepest scars there are.  And you don't have to be a Freudian to know that trauma that is not dealt with - that does not get dealt with on the surface - will come out in other ways - in new cycles of violence and abuse.

So two years passed.  Absalom knows what his brother Amnon did to his sister Tamar.  Two full years pass and Absalom plans a feast for all the sons.  He begs the king to make sure that Amnon can come.  And after he gets Amnon good and drunk at the feast, he gives the command to his servants and they kill Amnon in front of all the brothers.  The chickens come home to roost.  Those chickens.

Absalom flees.  He stays away for 3 years until Joab - yes, that Joab, the general who will kill him - arranges for another prophet to come and tell David a story.  Just like Nathan told David a story.  This time the prophet is woman who tells a story about a man who has only two sons.  The sons get into a fight in the field one day.  It's a tragic fight.  It probably would not have ended badly except that there was no one to separate them and the one son kills the other.  The remaining son now faces the required punishment of death.  But the father will now lose both sons and the possibility of having any heir, which was very important in that society.  You have no name if you have no heir.

The woman prophet says that she is the mother.  She begs for the life of the remaining son.  David is moved.  He declares that not one hair of the son's head will be harmed.  And you remember how Nathan stopped the show with the words, "You are the man"?  Well, now the woman says to the king, in effect, "You have convicted yourself.  How can keep your son as an outcast banished from your presence?  You know good and evil, king.  God will help you discern.  Bring your son home."

So David relents and allows Absalom to come home, but there is no true reconciliation.  David refuses to see him for two years until Absalom forces the question by setting the general Joab's field on fire and demanding an audience with the king.  That just paves the way for the rebellion that follows.

That is the tortured history of David's relationship with his son.  So when he stands there grieving and crying out, "Absalom, Absalom," we know that David may be feeling real emotions, but he has been here before and the situation is complicated by his refusal to deal with the troubles he has caused.  David has shown that he can overlook injustice, that he can not see the consequences of his actions, that he can allow his emotions to overrule his judgment.  And people suffer all around him.

Even now, as he weeps over his son, people are suffering.  His soldiers sneak back into town, having risked their lives for David and the kingdom, but ashamed because the king does not seem to care about their sacrifice or about them.  He only sees Absalom.  It takes Joab to convince him that unless he goes out to see the troops he will lose them and lose the kingdom and very likely lose his life.  So he forces himself to go and sit on the seat at the gates of Jerusalem and to observe the troops filing past him into the city.  Sitting there like a chicken come home to roost.

There are so many things going on in this story.  Some of it goes all the way back to the prophet Samuel's warning that Israel will regret having asked for a king, because the king will take the attention that ought to be devoted to God.  The king will cause misery and suffering.  The king will fail them.  So, in addition to the family drama of David and Absalom, there is the national drama of Israel and Yahweh, Israel's God.

But the perspective we want here is the theological drama.  What does God think of all this?  Surely, yes, God is disappointed by David's actions.  God demands justice and the king fails to deliver.  God expects things that David is incapable of giving sometimes.  And yet, God gives us this story.  We are the heirs of this story.  This story is our story.

We recognize ourselves in this story, don't we?  David's family could be our family because every family, even the best of families, has experienced times when there is undeserved suffering.  Parents victimize children.  Children wound their parents.  Siblings fall out.  The people who are closest to us fail us sometimes.  That's our story.  And we know it.  We journey with it.  We live through it.  It shapes who we are.

But we are baptized into another story.  You can live your whole life shaped by the twisted narrative of the broken world.  You can live your whole life armed with the sense of injustice that comes from being abandoned.  Being hurt.  Being rejected.  Being wronged.  Being the one who has wronged.  And that can be your reality.

Or...you can recognize that what happens in the Bible is the rejection of that reality.  Being baptized in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit means that you are branded with a new name and you become part of a new story that has a new ending.  And in this narrative you are the child who has been wounded by sin who is redeemed by a love that is most clearly visible on a cross.  OK, you're a victim.  What of it?  You are a victim whose identity is redeemed by Jesus.  OK, you were abandoned.  What of it?  Christ was abandoned, too.  He went to that cross alone and he did it to show that God has never abandoned you.  OK, the monarchs and rulers of this world will fail us, our politics will disappoint us, our systems will not work like they're supposed to.  What of it?  God comes to establish a new kingdom and chooses you to be the agents of its proclamation.

I've been very distressed this week by the story of the accident up the road in which a woman struck a child who went into the road after chasing a balloon.  The death was tragic.  But the confrontation that followed was disturbing, too.  Xavier Hill, the child was African-American.  The woman in the car was white.  And in an instant the accident was caught up in all kinds of narratives that had to do with a whole lot more than a child wandering into the road.  People surrounded the car.  Racial epithets and bottles were thrown.  Friends who came to get the driver were assaulted.

The grief was compounded by grievances related to race and beliefs about each other that go back hundreds of years.  We live with those stories all the time, even if we never acknowledge them.  The legacy of racial tensions is all around us and it will continue to cause suffering until it is brought to the cross.  Until it is brought into the light of God's love.  Until we acknowledge that the best place to look for healing is not to our own conflicted hearts, but to the heart of God.  And until we talk to one another out of a deep sense of humility in the face of the wounds that are all around us.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote a poem, not about chickens coming home to roost, but about an albatross.  In The Rime of the Ancient Mariner he talks about how he was forced to wear a dead albatross around his neck as a reminder of his crime for killing it.  The dead bird becomes a symbol of all of his guilt, all of his regret, all of his sins.  One stanza of the poem talks about how he looked to his fellow mariners.  It says:

Ah! well a-day! what evil looks
had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
about my neck was hung.

What things have you done, have we done, that would be hung around our necks?  What would be the symbol of our pain and our shame?  And what would it mean if, instead of an albatross, the cross was hung?  The cross on which we find the possibility of new life and new beginnings?

Whatever the burden is around your neck today, I pray that you will lay it down.  I pray that you will let it go.  Cling to Jesus.  Cling to the old wooden cross.  Cling to the promise of the God who loves you, who hates what sin has done to you, and who wants to make us whole.  This is the God whose son was hung to a tree, suspended between heaven and earth, who was pierced by a spear, who wept for the world, and who knows that the last word is not death but resurrection and life.  May that God give us the courage to fully embrace life and to confront those things that keep us from it.  Thanks be to God.

Calling Out the King

​One of the things that I do when I'm in Dallas teaching is to try and catch up on current movies.  Ever since the Monoplex closed in Belle Haven I haven't had a place to go.  But there are lots of places to see movies in Dallas.  Unfortunately, unless you like spandex superheroes, there aren't a whole lot of good movies to see.

But I did see a film called Safety Not Guaranteed.  It stars Aubrey Plaza from the TV show Parks and Rec.  She plays an intern at a Seattle magazine who gets sent with a reporter and another intern to track down a man who has put a strange classified in the newspaper.  The classified ad says:

WANTED: Someone to go back in time with me. This is not a joke. P.O. Box 91, Ocean View, WA 99393. You’ll get paid after we get back. Must bring your own weapons. Safety not guaranteed. I have only done this once before.

So the three of them go off to a small coastal town to track down this guy who is promising time travel.

Only the reporter is going for an entirely different reason.  He wants to catch up with an old flame that he hasn't seen in twenty years, so he's doing his own kind of time travel.  But the intern, named Darius, discovers that the guy who placed the ad may really be on to something.  And she begins to believe that maybe she can go really go back in time to the moment before her mother died in a car accident.  Darius' last conversation with her mom had been a phone call when she had kind of rudely asked her mom to pick up something on her way home.  We realize that she has been living with oceans of regret ever since.

Kenneth, the man building the time machine, has regrets of his own.  He has lost a girl and, in a sense, has lost his mind and is trying to find his way back. I won't spoil the ending but what struck me is the deep personal work these characters are doing.  It's not about the machine.  It's about the healing.  And the movie title gets at what needs to be said - when you try to heal the past, safety is not guaranteed.  It will take confrontation with the pain.  All that said - it is a comedy.

Our Bible story says much the same thing - safety, when dealing with past sins, is not guaranteed.  Last week Peter told you that King David did a bad, bad thing.  The man after God's own heart did a bad, bad thing.  Neglected his duties to lead his armies, coveted and slept with his neighbor's wife, tried to cover up his misdeed when she becomes pregnant, and then murders her husband when that fails.  Yeah, I think that qualifies as several bad, bad things.  The scripture even says that what David did was "evil in God's sight."

David, however, is able to ignore the pain that he has caused.  He goes on as if nothing as happened.  So God sends Nathan to call out the king.  Not an easy position to be in.  But that's why the prophets get paid the big bucks.  Or they would have if they'd been paid at all.

​Nathan is a good storyteller, just like Jesus.  He has a great parable to tell the king.  Of course, he doesn't tell David that it's a parable.  Nathan presents it to him as if it's a real problem going on in another part of the kingdom and he tells it as if he wants David's advice.

​"There is this rich man," Nathan says, "and this poor man living in the same neighborhood.  The rich man has all kinds of sheep and cattle, but the poor man only has one little ewe lamb which he had to scrape up money to buy.  He's not going to make a meal out of this lamb, either.  He raises it up as a pet - more like a member of the family, really.  He lets it eat at the table with him and lets it drink from his cup - even let's it sleep with him.  The poor man really loves this lamb.

​"Now one day a traveler comes to stay with the rich man," Nathan continues.  Now hospitality is a big thing, even today, in the Middle East.  When you have a guest you go all out, sparing no expense.  So you would always have a huge meal and slaughter an animal for a feast.  It's such a big deal, and such a big responsibility, that it's even legal for you to take a neighbor's animal to use for the feast.  But there are two big restrictions - you can't take your neighbor's sheep if you have some of your own, which of course the rich man does.  And you can't take your neighbor's sheep if it is a pet, and, of course, the poor man's ewe is a pet.

​So there is no justifiable reason for the rich man to take the poor man's lamb.  But he does it anyway.  He takes that lamb which the poor man loved so much and fixes it up as a barbecue for his guest.
​
Well, when David hears this story he is livid.  David has a strong sense of justice.  He knows how hard it is for the poor to get an even break in Israel.  He swears by God and says, "As Yahweh lives, the guy who did this ought to die!  I'll make him pay four times over for that sheep and for his lowdown attitude!"

​David doesn't know what he's saying.  He's so caught up in the story that he can't see through it to what Nathan is really trying to say.  So Nathan spells it out for him with four of the most powerful words in the Bible: You are the man.
​
Nathan then proceeds to tell David how much God is displeased with him.  David, of course, is the rich man, and God accuses him of theft and murder in his sins with Bathsheba and Uriah.  Worse still, David is exposed as a hypocrite since his sense of justice doesn't extend to himself and his actions.

In the end Nathan pronounces God's curse which is that David himself will know the tragedy of death and murder in his family.  David himself will know the pain of having his wives taken from him.  And all of this comes true in the rebellion of his son, Absalom, which we'll talk about next week.
​
David is led to confession as he admits to Nathan, "I have sinned against God."

Have you ever been there where David was?  Oh, maybe you never went on a Ten Commandment-breaking spree like David did, but have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror and realized that there are things there you don't like.  Things you have done.  Things you regret.  Things you know have warped you.  Deep, deep wounds that continue to cause you pain.  Things that you don't know how to get rid of.  Maybe there's nobody like Nathan standing there pointing the finger at you and saying, "You are the man" or "You are the woman," but you don't really need one when you get in touch with the sin that has distorted your life, twisting you up in knots.  And what do you do with that pain when you acknowledge it?  What do you do with it?

Well, confession, they say, is good for the soul.  And confession of sins is always a step in the right direction.  It's David's first step.  "I have sinned against God," he says.  But confession is not a mechanical act.  It's not something that you and then it's over.  That's why in the medieval church there was such an emphasis on works of satisfaction.  You would go confess to the priest, you would receive some things to do or prayers to say to satisfy the punishment, and then you would receive absolution.

The writer Peter De Vries said, "Confession is good for the soul only in the sense that a tweed coat is good for dandruff - it is a palliative rather than a remedy."*  If we just do it to conceal the pain or to vaccinate ourselves against really dealing with sin, it is not enough.

Confession needs to do things: First, it needs to open us up so that we can see who we are and offer who we are to God.  Secondly, it needs to connect us to the God who knows the remedy and who knows how costly it is.

Safety is not guaranteed when God deals with sin.  It requires vulnerability and openness to the possibility that there won't be a happy ending.  David, as we'll see next week, knew all sorts of heartbreak in the wake of his sin.  Jesus deals with sin through suffering and death, baring his body and the heart of God to the worst that could be done to him.  But on that cross, God deals with sin.  Safety is not guaranteed but forgiveness is.


It doesn't mean that God deals with sin so that you don't have to.  The cross is not a get-out-of-jail-free card.  It's not meant to keep you from growing.  And the only way to keep growing is to do the work of dealing with your soul.  But it gives us the ground to walk on.  We can face the pain because Jesus faced the pain.  We can have confidence that our efforts to be open and brave in dealing with the roots of sin and the consequences of sin will be fruitful because Christ has gone there first.

The book of Hebrews, in chapter 4 beginning with verse 12, says, "God’s word is living, active, and sharper than any two-edged sword. It penetrates to the point that it separates the soul from the spirit and the joints from the marrow. It’s able to judge the heart’s thoughts and intentions. No creature is hidden from it, but rather everything is naked and exposed to the eyes of the one to whom we have to give an answer.

"Yet, let’s hold on to the confession [of our faith] since we have a great high priest who passed through the heavens, who is Jesus, God’s Son; because we don’t have a high priest who can’t sympathize with our weaknesses but instead one who was tempted in every way that we are, except without sin.  So at last, let’s draw near to the throne of favor with boldness so that we can receive mercy and find grace when we need help."

Martin Luther, the great Protestant reformer, when he finally had his moment of clarity, drew strength from this vision of Christ.  He was able to say, "“So when the devil throws your sins in your face and declares that you deserve death and hell, tell him this: 'I admit that I deserve death and hell, what of it? For I know One who suffered and made satisfaction on my behalf. His name is Jesus Christ, Son of God, and where He is there I shall be also!'”**

At the end, where else would we go?  When I know that "I am the man" or "I am the woman" to whom else shall we turn except the one who knows that safety is not guaranteed, but God's love is.  Thanks be to God.

*http://www.quotationspage.com/quotes/Peter_De_Vries/
**http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/29874.Martin_Luther