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Creekside Church
Sermon of December
8, 2002
"The Perfect
Gift for Christmas: Forgiveness"
Mark
1:1-8
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Rev. David
Bibbee
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There
once was a beautiful woman who was a heart-throb to many
would-be suitors. But no one could win her because of her
staunchly protective father. He intimidated so many suitors
that the daughter feared all the eligible men would give
up. To allay her fears and his concern that she have only
the finest mate, he devised a test. A notice was sent to
all bachelors to come to a designated site. When they gathered,
the father led them to the end of a long, narrow pool. He
said, "Whoever can swim to the other end wins my daughters
hand." And to make the contest more interesting, the
pool was filled with ravenous alligators.
Father
and daughter stood at the far end, watching the men doing
cost-benefits analysis at the other. They looked at the
daughter's eyes, the alligator's eyes, and each other's
eyes. None stepped forward. But just as the father was about
to close the contest, "Kersplash!" one of the
men dove in. The brave soul swam frantically while around
him the water boiled with slapping tails and snapping jaws.
Miraculously, he made it and crawled out unscathed. The
father was moved by the young man's bravery. "You have
proven your character. As I promised, you may have my daughter's
hand, and if there's anything I can do, just let me know,"
the father said. Still panting for breath, the man said,
"Well, sir, there is one thing you can do." "What's
that?" "Find out which one of those clowns pushed
me in!"
Think
of all the stories where a person or prize is sought and
the pursuer must first penetrate a fortress, slay a dragon,
or walk a tightrope over a fiery cavernous pit to get it.
This is how I feel on the second Sunday in Advent. Christmas
is coming. The lights and sights, the candles and carolers,
Jack Frost nipping at your nose, the birth of the Savior.
Christmas is such a special time. But before we get to it
we must swim through a gator pool.
The
Gospel of Mark doesn't have Jesus' birth story. It simply
says, "The beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ,
the Son of God." Boom! Short and straight to the point.
But the beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ the Son
of God doesn't begin with Jesus. There are no swaddling
cloths. No baby's breath. Just camel's hair and locust breath.
No holy infant so tender and mild, but an eccentric prophet
so firey and wild called John the Baptist.
To get
to Jesus in Mark's gospel, we must first face John. If you
have come to Advent worship expecting no turbulance and
a serene Christmas landing, forget it. John was all business.
His job was to get people ready to receive Jesus. John didn't
know whose way he was preparing. He didn't have any names.
He didn't know when he would show. He hardly knew anything
about him at all, except that he was unfit to untie his
shoes.
Receiving
the Messiah required preparation. This was John's calling
to
clear the path; to wake people up and get them ready. He
did it by preaching one sermon over and over
the necessity
of a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.
And you're sitting there thinking, "Lighten up, pastor!
We're supposed to deal with joy and peace and hope. Let
us feel good about ourselves for a change. Put this sin
and forgiveness business in Lent where it belongs. For the
love of Gabriel, it's Christmas!" But are we ready
to receive the graces and gifts of Christ if we take lightly
the state of our souls? It's hard to appreciate the birth
of Jesus apart from our need of forgiveness.
Huston
Smith is an authority on world religions. In a lecture he
walked through each of the great religions emphasizing what
made each one unique. He spoke of the devotion to prayer
in Islam, and the self-emptying of Buddhism, and the complexity
of Hinduism. "What makes Christianity unique,"
he said, "Is forgiveness, and even more, Jesus' demand
for forgiveness." Jesus forgave those who killed him.
Jesus told his disciples to forgive those who would harm
them. The world hadn't heard anything like it before. Wherever
Jesus went and whomever he touched he said, "Your sins
are forgiven."
What
is the beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ? Forgiveness.
Before we plead our case to God, before we try to make things
right, before we ever acknowledge a need of it, God's forgiveness
is already present. God made the first move to bring us
back. What a Christmas gift -- a package for everyone containing
this message: "You are forgiven!" Christianity
is the religion of the second chance, the new start, the
slate wiped clean.
Forgiveness,
whether giving or receiving it, probably isn't at the top
of our Christmas gift list. But is there anything more necessary
to get us through our lives? Hannah Arendt said, "Without
being forgiven, released from the consequences of what we
have done, our capacity to act, would that it were, would
be confined to one single deed from which we could never
recover; we would remain the victims of it's consequences
forever, not unlike the sorcerer's apprentice who lacked
the magic formula to break the spell."
Heather
Atwood's mother often left lists of things for Heather to
do around the house. When she was eighteen years old, Heather
started giving her mother trouble. She would stay out late
and kept the wrong company. But her mother was afraid to
confront her, so she did the angry parent thing, giving
chilling glances and slamming cupboard doors. Returning
late one night, Heather found a list pad beside her bed
stand. It said in large letters, "Wash Guilt."
What
was she saying? Wash guilt? Was she venting more anger?
Heather left the pad put. Her mother left in the morning
before Heather, so nothing was said, but those words followed
Heather everywhere. Wash guilt. What was it about? Why couldn't
she just yell at her? That evening the pad was still there.
When the two met in the kitchen there was silence. She knew
her mother would be looking for a reaction, some sign of
a change, but her eyes never found Heather's face. Heather
wondered:
Did she regret the dagger she put into my heart? If so,
why didn't she remove the pad? If she moved it she would
have to acknowledge that it had been there, but if she let
it be, we could both pretend it hadn't been written. Didn't
I just see a look? Is she inspecting my demeanor? No
she
only looked interested in making dinner.
The next day Heather woke and there were the words "Wash
Guilt." She spent the day with them again. That evening
her mother said nothing, and on it went for a week. Nothing
was said, and the words followed Heather everywhere. They
met her each night. It seemed like a parrot was screeching
"Waaaash Guilt." Sometimes it seemed like a monk
was standing over her with the pad in hand. Heather's behavior
didn't change much, but she wore the words like a hair shirt.
Then one day she came home, went up into her room and looked
at the pad once more in the sunlight. It read, "Wash
Quilt."
Suppose
there was a pad on your pillow that said, "Wash Guilt."
What thoughts would race through your mind? Would there
be a hamper full of stuff in need of washing? Absolutely.
None of us would have to dig deep to find dirty laundry
moments
when we caught ourselves being ourselves doing and saying
hurtful things, harboring jealousies and resentments, entertaining
lurid thoughts, refusing to forgive those who have hurt
us.
Of course,
we have our reasons and rationalizations, but finally it
all comes down to this
all have sinned and fallen short
of the glory of God. Notice how often this theme comes up
in our Advent and Christmas hymns:
Come,
Thou Long-Expected Jesus, born to set thy children free,
from our fears and sins release us
O Holy
child of Bethlehem, descend to us we pray, cast out our
sins and enter in, be born in us today.
Hark!
The herald angels sing, glory to the newborn king. Peace
on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled.
It would be a lot easier to skip this sin business and get
into some Christmas cheer-take a detour around the wilderness
so we won't be upset by John's bellering about our condition.
It would be easier, but we would be less appreciative of
the great, perfect gift God has given us in Jesus Christ.
Advent
is a time to remember what makes the good news Good News.
The beginning of the gospel is that for all who will accept
it, God forgives. Jesus has a lot to tell us in Mark about
life and how finding our way is often hard and how we often
fall, but it all begins with forgiveness. Christmas is about
our relationship with God restored, no matter who we are
or what we have done. Christians, of all people, have the
courage to be honest about themselves. And Christians of
all people have a burden to share the forgiveness they have
received from God to others.
One
of the nice things about not forgiving is how good it makes
you feel. You can point to someone and recite all the things
they did to hurt you. You claim the higher moral ground
because compared to them, you are pretty good. It's a great
help to have somebody to blame for why you have ended up
being the person you are. "It's their fault I'm this
way!" And we get caught in the leg trap of sin again.
By refusing to forgive, we refuse our own forgiveness.
Lord
knows we have much to be forgiven. We are capable of some
very ugly stuff. It is easy to get touch with the guilt
of the things we've done. In a fit of pride and self-centeredness
I betrayed a friend and had to live with the fallout for
two years. We would cross paths at meetings and the chill
between us was palpable. Then one day, the thing I feared
happened. We had signed up for a conference which brought
us face to face in a small group. I felt what Hannah Arendt
had said, "We would remain victims of our deeds and
consequences forever."
But
I received a gift
unexpected, and certainly underserved.
(This
is where Pastor David's printed sermon ends.)
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