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Creekside Church
Sermon of August 27,
2000
"Curvature
of the Christian Spine"
John
6:56-69
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Rev. David
Bibbee
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No
one knows exactly when he checked out. Most think it happened
years ago when he was married with two children. He had such
a vivid memory of the moment it seemed like yesterday. Every
day for the rest of his life started out like that yesterday
long ago. He was given one of those good news, bad news scenarios.
The good news was that his wife wanted to continue to be married.
The bad news was that she wanted to be married to someone
else. "That," they say, "was the moment he checked out." But
it didn't happen all at once. It took years for him to get
to the point where he just didn't care anymore.
You would never know it by
looking at him that he had once been in positions of great
responsibility. In fact, his expertise with numbers made
him the choice of the company to go into difficult situations
as a troubleshooter. He was a leader in his church and a
Sunday school teacher. He made a decent living, but you
never would have known it by the rusted out junker he drove
which looked destined for the scrap heap. A scrap heap is
what he felt his life had become. His wife left him. His
children wanted nothing to do with him, and rarely came
by to visit though they lived in the same town. No one knows
the moment when everything caved in, but he checked out
of life, and he idled away the hours of each day a lonely
and bitter man.
Once or twice a year, a hardy
group of individuals from the church went to clean his house.
They had to be hardy. It was not a pleasant experience.
When he was done with a snuff bag, he would spit it on the
floor. Newspapers were piled in the living room in stacks
six feet high. There was a mound of empty milk jugs on the
kitchen floor. When he finished a gallon, he just pitched
the jug on the pile by the refrigerator.
No one wanted to volunteer
to clean the refrigerator or the bathroom. Opening the refrigerator
door, the odor was strong enough to knock you out. What
once was food had decayed and oozed together into a big
bacterial blob which had to be scraped out. In the bathroom,
the tub and sink and toilet were encased in black mold.
Other volunteers did his laundry. In his closet were 250
pairs of socks and dozens of pairs of underwear. Instead
of washing his clothes, he wore them till they were sufficiently
dirty and then he threw them into the closet and bought
new ones.
It took a few years, but
by deciding not to move on and leaving the bitterness behind,
he let it build. Instead of reaching out, he merely existed
in a self-imposed sentence in a penitentiary of loneliness.
And though I never met the man, only hearing of him, I picture
him walking stooped over like he was carrying a great invisible
weight on his back.
We know people like this,
so stooped over all they can see is the ground. But today
I am not talking about a physiological curvature. I'm talking
about the curvature of our being; a state of the soul where
we find ourselves stressed, spread thin, overloaded, and
just plain worn out.
If you have nothing better
to do someday, count all the messages which come to you
from the moment you wake until your head hits the pillow
at night. Count the commercials on radio and television.
Count the billboards. Count the advertisements which pop
up on the computer screen while on the internet. Count the
stories of the news telling you about the latest murder,
the famines, the wars, and the peace accords broken. Every
day we are bombarded with alluring and authoritative voices
telling us to drive this, drink that, eat this, enjoy that,
wear this, don't wear that, smoke this, sample that.
I wish I had a big off switch
which I could throw and make everything stop... traffic,
telephones, computers, radios and televisions. I would turn
it all off and make everyone stop talking long enough to
breathe some peace and quiet into their lives. I would love
to make everything stop, but I can't. I can tell you what
we have done instead... we have turned ourselves off. We
hear about the absolutely awful things which happen, but
we don't feel a thing. How many times do we shake our heads
and say, "How can human beings do such things to each other?"
before we shrug our shoulders and say, "That's just the
way it is."
Martin Luther gave a definition
of sin as "the heart being curved in on itself." We usually
think of sin as "doing" something wrong. But sin can also
mean withdrawing from life. We're guilty of sin when we
are curled up in a protective ball, hiding instead of letting
our light shine for all to see. Have you ever thought of
sin as the failure to stand tall and be bold and act like
the children of God we are? How can the redeemed of the
Lord say so if they have curvature of their spiritual spines?
Last week I mentioned that
many in the world see Christianity as a crutch for those
who don't have sufficient courage to face life. We are accused
of having our heads stuck in the sand because we can't face
reality. But whose version of reality are we talking about
here? By reality do you mean the crap that passes for entertainment
on TV and the stuff that makes headlines in the Truth? By
reality do you mean the daily assult on our senses which
sets us searching for novocaine for the brain so we can
shut out everything around us?
We are here because we believe
in a different reality. Week in and week out do you know
where you'll find the most courageous? In churches. What
we do may not make us look like a power to be reckoned with.
Because we march to a different drummer we will be out of
step with the world. In church we face the hard reality
of pain, struggle, and the suffering of life. Christians
are brave enough to see the world as it is with all of its
needs. But we are hopeful enough to believe that it won't
stay that way because God has other plans for it.
In today's text, Jesus says
things that aren't easy to grasp. Last week he said he was
the one who came to us from beyond... beyond our world and
beyond our expectations. He is the bread which came down
from heaven. Today we hear him say, "Those who eat my flesh
and drink my blood abide in me." I love the disciples response.
"this is a hard saying." Sometimes the only way a teacher
can be heard is if he says something shocking. Jesus wanted
them to think. He wanted them to pay attention because In
Jesus God was a brand new thing.
"Does this offend you?" Jesus
asked. They didn't answer at first... they didn't have to.
"The words I have give you are spirit and life," Jesus said.
The way he would show them was as different from their customary
view of life as flesh is different from spirit. Psychologist
Victor Frankl asked, "When does the eye see anything of
itself except when looking in a mirror?" The eye only sees
something of itself if it has cataracts or glaucoma. A healthy
eye sees through itself, which is a wonderful image of a
Christian who can see through bitterness and disappointment,
through those things of fleeting value which the world would
have us think is everything, and instead, see those things
that are eternal. Most of all, we can see through ourselves
and focus upon Christ.
As far as sermons go, this
wasn't one of Jesus' best. "This teaching is tough," they
said, "who can accept it?" John said that after Jesus finished,
many of his disciples thought better of it and no longer
went with him. He said to the 12 who remained, "Do you want
to leave too?" I love the disciples honesty. Sometimes they
admit to Jesus, "We just don't get it." Yet with these questions
and doubts there is also belief which I also love them for.
"Do you wish to go away?" Jesus said. And Peter answered,
"Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal
life."
I love those disciples because
they are so much like us. There are times when we don't
get it. There are times when we are tempted to turn our
backs on Jesus and walk away. He is so hard sometimes. Most
of us have tried what the world offers and found ourselves
wanting still. So back we come to him... to listen, to do
the difficult work of paying attention and allow our vision
to be changed. It means to no longer be curled up in a protective
fetal ball, but improving our posture to stand tall and
see straight.
The kind of attention we
need is not done by looking at Jesus from the perspective
of a detached observer. We have been taught to check things
out from a safe distance. We are taught to take "reasonable"
approaches. No use taking unnecessary risks. Don't get too
close. It has caused the spine of Christians to curve. It
leads us to be interested in Jesus, but not involved. After
all, it's interesting to apply the gospel to my life. It
is interesting to apply Jesus to human relationships, to
politics, and to international affairs. But it's something
else to allow ourselves to be involved with the faith and
not simply be hearers, but doers of the word.
When I was in the fourth
grade, the class often heard our teacher utter these words,
"Willis Evans! If you don't sit up straight in that chair
you're going to look like the letter 'C' before you're an
old man!" Willie Evans was a sloucher. When he sat at his
desk he slouched so low he looked like he was doing the
limbo. At age 9 posture was no big deal to us. Today I know
better.
Life today is so frantic
and frenetic and hard. Painful things happen which cause
our lives, if we are not careful, to turn in on themselves.
That's what Luther called sin... a heart turned in on itself.
And so we come here to worship... we come to pray and listen,
to pay close attention, to not be merely interested, but
drawn out and straightened up and led finally to Jesus because
there is no other to whom we may go, and when he has our
attention, there is none other to whom we shall want to
go.
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