South Roanoke United Methodist Church

South Roanoke United Methodist Church

2330 South Jefferson Street
Roanoke, Virginia 24014

Phone: (540) 344-4437
Fax: (540) 345-8041

Sermon for October 24, 2004 
21st Sunday after Pentecost     

“Stand Far Off, Don’t Look Up, and Go Home Justified!”
     Joel 2:23-32; Luke 18:9-14
 

It has been said that the only thing that remains constant in life is that life always changes.  If you think things in life are finally in order right now, just wait—for things will change!  Change is the way life is.  The minute you think you finally have everything all sorted out;
          everything under control
things change.  I know this to be so true in my own family.  About four and one half years ago Dad was well-settled in his condominium in Newport News, about 12 miles from our parsonage in Poquoson.  He had been there five years since he moved there from Florida to be near us about a year following the death of my mother.  But that morning in March he was taking out the last load of trash before getting in the car to attend the funeral of his brother, my uncle, in Ohio.  He somehow stepped off the curb right at the drain cutaway, lost his balance, landed face-first on the pavement and broke his neck.  It was indeed a very close call.  He was in intensive care for two weeks, underwent rehabilitation, wore a neck brace for six months, resided for awhile in assisted living, then returned to his condominium with his brother, my uncle, staying with him for several weeks.  Dad has not driven a car since then. 

You see, I thought we finally had everything in order.  Life had changed in a big way for us all but it was manageable.  But life has a way of never staying manageable, does it?   It happens in my family’s life and it happens with you.  Just as soon as you think you finally have everything under control, things change. 

Jesus describes two men who went to the temple to pray.  The first is a religious man, a spiritual leader of the community who boldly stood before God and prayed,
          God, I thank you that I am not like other people:  thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.  I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.
Now there’s somebody who believes he has everything under control.  He has kept his hands clean.  He faithfully follows all the religious laws and requirements.  He has followed all the rules.  He has gotten everything right.  Here is somebody who believes he can handle anything.  Then the other man, the tax collector, offers his prayer—standing far off, he doesn’t even look up but speaks so humbly, is so downcast and defeated that he beats on his chest as if to punish himself and says,
          God, be merciful to me, a sinner!
Here is someone almost defeated by life; one who knows he has gotten it all wrong, he knows his hands are dirty, he may well have broken all the rules; he is so overwhelmed and feels so out of control that he simply cannot handle anything anymore.  Then Jesus said,

           I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.
 

You see, Jesus says that as soon as you feel you have everything under control you are no longer depending on God, you are depending on you.  Jesus says the minute you feel that you have kept your hands so clean, you have followed all the rules, you have gotten everything right—you are setting yourself up for a big fall.  Jesus says as soon as you get everything all figured out and find a very comfortable, safe place to be in life where nothing ever changes, things change.  When thing change, when bad things happen, when you suddenly loose all the control you thought you had, when you suddenly realize you can’t handle it, you know in the end you got it all wrong.

Richard Lischer, the professor of preaching at by far the finest seminary in the country, Duke Divinity School, has written a book about his first parish.  Open Secrets is the account of his very first pastoral experiences at a tiny Lutheran Church in the small farming and steel mill community of New Cana, Illinois in the late 60’s and early 70’s. In his book Dr. Lischer relates an encounter he had one evening with a senior neighboring pastor named Cecil Johnson.  Cece, as Dr. Lischer and his other friends called him, served the Lutheran congregation in nearby Cherry Grove.  They had previously spent much meaningful time together with other area Lutheran pastors who met regularly for Bible study, communion, and sharing of common pastoral concerns.  Cece stopped by the parsonage one evening for a visit.  As they shared pie and coffee together it was not long before the conversation drifted to what was bothering him.  He missed his wife terribly.  Geneva had died of heart failure not long before—just shortly before the Lischer’s became his neighbors.  As her health declined he cared for her needs lovingly and faithfully.  But his grief over her heath was not all that was on his heart that night.  It had come to him recently that during the time of her illness as he tended to her needs so faithfully one thing now tears at his soul.  He said,
          Once Geneva got sick, I could not bring myself to pray with her.
Now they had read the Bible and prayed together just about every day of their married life.  As a matter of fact, he is absolutely convinced that is exactly what held them together for more than 42 years.  But that night the burden of that memory was more than he could bear.
          I had spent hours and days on end with her, he said, but something had shut down in me.  It was as if I were the one dying…I never consciously decided not to pray.  I was so dead it never occurred to me…what good is the charade of being good old Pastor Cece, the beloved sage of Cherry Grove, if at the time it mattered most I couldn’t break through to the light?…When I most needed to be a pastor, I failed.  What good is it, if I couldn’t use it myself?
As they sipped coffee together his host said to him,
          I understand you, Cecil.  You think the whole practice of the gospel has let you down because you let it down…Pardon me for saying it, friend, but you do ten to be the hero of all your stories.  Enter Cecil (standing alone).  But here we are, the two of us, having this conversation.  I am trying to be a good listener, but I can’t possibly understand what is going on through your head.  And how can I even imagine what you had with Geneva?  All I know is that forgiveness was meant to be practiced but it was never meant to be practiced alone.  When we can’t do it, like you seem to think you can’t, there are others around us doing it on our behalf.  On your behalf…You see,
       Cecil Stem Johnson, we have these sentences we say to one another, even when we can’t get to the bottom of their meaning.  Like, ‘I forgive you all your sins in the name of the
       Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.’  We even have gestures that go with the words, Cece, like this one.
 

As Dr. Lischer offered the holy sign of absolution so familiar in the Lutheran tradition they shared, Cece received it like a child caught in a Big Fib.  As Dr. Lischer describes it, you see, he had concocted this long story about how, because he couldn’t do one thing, God could not possibly do another. 

The minute you figure you have it all under control, you are caught up so short in life.  Just when you finally have everything in order things change.  When things change you cannot change the circumstances, you cannot change another person, you can only change you.  Sisters and brothers, you can’t handle it.  That’s what the tax collector knew deep in his heart.  That’s what Cece finally had to admit. 

You can get so fooled by life, can’t you?  You strive so hard to live life so well, you try so hard to get life right. It’s awfully difficult to resist the temptation to confidently declare that you have indeed worked very hard to stand in God’s presence and be counted among the faithful.  It’s so easy to feel that your relationship to God is all up to you.  Then Jesus tells you a story and in that story you hear your Lord tell you to get off your high horse.  You are not in control here, God is.  You did not first choose God, God chose you.  The Old Testament prophet Joel makes it so clear this morning.  Any relationship you have at all, any life you have is not of your own doing, it is a gift—the gift of a gracious and loving God who freely grants relationship, love, and life to all who stand far off, don’t even look up, but  go home justified. 

Jesus said,
          All who exalt themselves will be humbled

                   But all who humble themselves will be exalted

No, you can’t change circumstances.  You can’t change other people.  You can only change you.  If you can only change you be the one who knows yourself well enough that you can only really say to God, “Be merciful to me, a sinner.”  And then listen, listen, for then you just might overhear your Lord say about you,
          I tell you, this one went home justified.
 

William G. Davidson
South Roanoke United Methodist Church