Creekside Church Sermon of February 27, 2000 "The Letter of Your Life" 2 Corinthians 3:1-6	Rev. David Bibbee
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A campaign organizer was putting together a major fundraiser for his candidate. Since we're in Elkhart, we'll assume it was a "Republican" gathering. Compiling the lists of perspective participants, the manager gave one of his old cronies a call, inviting him to buy a ticket or two for the dinner. Regrettably, the friend said he couldn't come, but assured the manager he would be there in spirit. The manager then replied, "That's good to know." Then he added, "I have seats for one hundred dollars, five hundred dollars, and one thousand dollars. Which seat would your spirit like to sit in?"

It's one thing to say you support something. It's something else when support rolls up its sleeves and pitches in. It's easy to tell someone having a rough time, "I'll be praying for you." But it's altogether different to put your arm around their shoulder and take time to listen and pray. It costs nothing to say you love humanity, but to love individuals who are different, difficult, and not particularly desirable, that's...well...you know. If you have ever been at all serious about loving people in particular, you know just how difficult it can be.

We cannot answer the question, "Are you a Christian?" in generalities. There are no Christians in general. Christianity is a lived religion. It is particular. Specific. And concrete. This is the theme of today's lesson, So, let's set the context of Paul's comments. We need to recall something about the Corinthian Church. It was split by fractious, feuding factions, each of which claimed the theological high ground. Spiritual gifts given by the Holy Spirit to pull the church together had become a wedge tearing it apart. One group claimed to have the truth cornered. Another looked down their noses at their spiritual inferiors. Instead of pulling their weight, the Corinthians threw their weight around. It wasn't much different from churches today.

In Paul's second letter to the Corinthians, another issue surfaced. Some questioned Paul's authority. "What makes him so special? Who does he think he is, telling us how things should be done?" If there's one thing a leader doesn't like, it's someone questioning their authority. When it happens, some follow the "therefore principle". "I'm management, you're labor, therefore you'll do as I say." "I'm the teacher, you're the student, therefore you will not create a disturbance in my classroom." If someone questions your authority, you point to those diplomas, double matted and spotlighted on the wall. "See?...The degree Dr. of Philosophy in Administration has been conferred on me with all the rights and privileges pertaining thereunto...so there!" "What gives you the right to say what you do from the pulpit?" "God and the Ministry Commission of the Northern Indiana District of the Church of the Brethren, that's who!"

But none of this was Paul's response to his antagonists. Paul posed two rhetorical questions. "Are we commending ourselves again? Do we need, as some do, letters of recommendation from you or to you? No!" His recommendation was Christ's doing...Paul was an instrument.

It helps to know that sending letters with someone was an ancient custom. If you were going to a town you had never visited before, and knew someone who had connections, they would write a letter of introduction vouching for your character. The practice is analogous to having letters of reference sent on our behalf to a prospective employer.

Notice what Paul does next. He turns the doubts about his authority back on the Corinthians. "I don't need a letter of recommendation," he said. "I already have one...it's you." Now he sounds more like the Postmaster General than an apostle. "You're the letter of Christ delivered by us. You're letter isn't written with ink but with God's living spirit in living hearts." Any authority Paul had would be revealed by the manner of lives the Christians at Corinth lived.

Have you ever thought of your life as a letter to the world from Christ? If Christ is to be made known, and if people are to be transformed by him, the initial step is up to us. A sobering thought, isn't it? Based upon the manner of our living, people may or may not consider Christ. How you live, how you speak, how you relate to and treat others, how you handle success and defeat, how you deal with circumstances placed in your path, and how you live in the shadows of life's ambiguities in questions that only God can answer, will have a bearing upon people's desire to consider Christ.

We are not junk mail. We are Christ's letter of love to the world. So practically speaking, what does this mean?

The great preacher, Harry Emerson Fosdick often said that, "Oughtness" is essentially related to "isness." In other words, how we behave is a factor of who we are. God doesn't look upon us as hopelessly flawed creatures, but as capable ones...earthen vessels which contain the treasures of Christ. Because the gulf between God and us has been bridged by Christ, and we have been delivered and forgiven and restored into the image in which we were created, we know who we are...we are God's. How we behave is determined by this fact.

A Senate candidate was scheduled to deliver a speech in a small town. He knew nothing about the people, but figured it would be a big plus if he knew their religious affiliation, so he warily addressed them. "My great grandmother was Episcopalian (silence). My great grandfather was Presbyterian (silence). My grandfather was a Baptist (more silence). But my grandmother was a Congregationalist (still more silence)." Now he is sweating. "But I had a great aunt who was a Methodist (loud applause), and I have always followed my great aunt."

To be an effective letter, we do not fit in or blend in, nor make decisions based upon expediency or whether or not we will be accepted. We are in the world as leaven in the loaf.

Another consideration has to do with consistency. If we are Christ's love letter, our witness must be steady, and not sporadic. Do you only express love to your spouse on Valentine's Day or your anniversary? Do you only attend worship on Christmas and Easter? The real test of love is day by day. It is loving though you've had a miserable day and come home late and tired and hungry and find out the family didn't save any supper for you. It means worshipping when you're not in a particularly worshipful mood.

This message got hold of a husband. Since love is not an expression offered only on an occasional basis, he decided to act on this insight. After work, he stopped and bought a dozen roses and a box of chocolates, rushed home and parked his car down the street so his wife wouldn't hear him coming. He walks to the front door, rings the doorbell, and stands there with a silly grin on his face. His wife comes to the door, flings it open, looks at her husband and says, "This really takes the cake. First the washer breaks down, then both kids leave school sick, and now you come home drunk!"

If the letter you convey is out of character with the letter you are; if you're oughtness and isness do not connect, the chances of your being an effective witness for Christ is diminished. The best letters are composed with consistency and constancy. We are not like those described with these cutting words: "They go to church on Sunday. They'll be alright on Monday. It's just a little habit they've acquired."

The Corinthians weren't a model church. I have yet to find one that is. Yet even with all its imperfections, the church still can point others to a better way. Consistency is the key.

As a church, we cannot expect others to deliver the mail for us. The greatest sermons ever preached have not come from pulpits. You are the mouthpiece of Jesus. You are a sermon preached every day. William Willimon puts it like this, "You are the only gospel some people will ever read."

In the film, Mr. Holland's Opus, there is a moving scene at the end where the whole high school and many former students return to pay tribute to the music teacher who taught more than music, but taught lessons that changed lives in profound ways. Speaking on behalf of all the student generations whose lives Mr. Holland touched, the girl who was a lousy clarinet player and went on to become Governor said, "We are your symphony. We are the notes and melodies of your opus. We are the music of your life.

After church we will go our different ways, and as you go, I want you to think about something. Think of the people who have been letters of Christ to you. How might your life have been different had they not come along? I think that among all the reasons we return here each Sunday, one is because someone at some time was Christ to you, and you know that it's your task to be Christ for someone else. We cannot be His Word in the world all alone.

As a Christian, you aren't just you anymore. You are in the service of someone else. A poet put the matter before us like this:

Isn't it strange that princes and kings
And clowns that caper in sawdust rings
And common people like you and me
Are builders for all eternity.

To each is given a bag of tools
A piece of clay and a book of rules
And each must fashion ere life has flown
A stumbling block, or a stepping stone.

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