What Wondrous Love!

 What Wondrous Love!

Mark 15:1-47[1]

Love is a mystery. It’s wonderful and painful. It can bring out the best and the worst in us. We long for love and yet at the same time we are at least a little afraid of it (or maybe a lot!). Hopefully, all of us at some time in our lives have someone who embodies the best of love. They love us “just because,” without any conditions, exclusions, or limitations. And they keep loving us that way for as long as they’re a part of our lives, no matter where we go or what we do. Unfortunately, one of the greatest tragedies in this life is the fact that some of us never get to experience that kind of love from another human being.

It’s not the same thing, but I think that recognizing the love of God expressed for us by Jesus Christ can help us here. The Bible speaks of God’s “unfailing love” long before Jesus was born. But I think in Jesus our Savior we see just how far that love extends. There is no place we can go in this life where we are excluded from God’s love. Wherever we may find ourselves, even the most hopeless places, God has already been there in Jesus Christ to pave the way back to his love. In truth, even the love of those people who have loved us so wonderfully is “complicated” by their humanity. That means all of us will come to the place in life where we must look to God’s love to sustain us, because his is the only love that truly never fails.

I see that unconditional, unlimited, and irrevocable love displayed in the story of Jesus’ experience of being arrested, tried, beaten, mocked, and crucified. Our Gospel lesson for today includes it all. And one thing that amazes me is the fact that Jesus—who was fully human and subject to our physical limitations—endured that whole ordeal out of his unwavering resolve to carry out God’s saving purpose for us fully. When I think about all that he went through over the course of about 18 hours that day, it’s overwhelming. It’s hard for me to grasp that Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior willingly subjected himself to it all out of his commitment to be “obedient to the point of death” (Phil. 2:8).

I thought we might walk through the events of that day in order to have a better sense of all that Jesus endured. Prior to our lesson, Jesus prayed in the garden of Gethsemane. His prayer revealed his anguish about what was about to happen to him. And to get an idea of the emotional and physical toll of the stress he felt over what he knew was coming, Luke’s Gospel tells us he was sweating profusely as he prayed. He felt the dread that any person would feel when faced with impending trauma.

That evening, Jesus was arrested and taken before some of the Jewish religious leaders, where he was interrogated all night. He was bound and was subjected to constant questioning. Mark’s gospel tells us he was assaulted by the false accusations of “many” lying witnesses. That takes its toll emotionally and physically. Finally, at daybreak, they sent him off to Pontius Pilate, the Roman official who was governing the province of Judea.  We don’t know how long this interrogation lasted, but it seems that he endured more verbal attacks from his accusers for several hours. Remember that Jesus had been up all night, and the last food he had eaten was the evening before.

After that, Pilate brought Jesus and a rebel named Barabbas before the crowd, both of them bound as criminals. Perhaps he may have even recognized the faces of some of the people who had shouted, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord” when he had entered Jerusalem a few days earlier (Mk 11:9). But now they were shouting, “Crucify him!” So Pilate handed Jesus over to be crucified and had him beaten. Jesus was “scourged” with a whip made of leather straps to which were attached nails, glass, or rocks. Some who were “scourged” didn’t survive the beating. At this point, the soldiers who were going to crucify him staged a “mock coronation” for him as the “king of the Jews.” They struck him, they spat on him, and they placed a crown of thorns on his head.

Finally, they took Jesus to crucify him. He had endured the physical and emotional stress of no sleep, no food, and a constant barrage of verbal assaults. He was literally beaten to within an inch of his life. It’s no wonder he couldn’t carry the crossbeam they laid on him! One detail that sticks out to me is, after all that, Jesus still had the presence of mind to refuse the mixture of wine and myrrh that was intended to ease his pain. After all he had endured to this point, his determination to fulfill God’s saving purpose completely remained resolute. He was “obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Phil. 2:8). After reading the full story, I think that may be something of an understatement!

When I stop to really think about all this, I find myself overwhelmed: I grieve to know that Jesus went through all of this for me. I’m humbled by his unflinching commitment. But perhaps most of all, I’m amazed by the love that I believe was behind it all, motivating him to endure everything he suffered for our sakes. As our affirmation of faith says it, “there is no sorrow he has not known, no grief he has not borne, and no price he was unwilling to pay” to enable us to know the unconditional, unlimited, and irrevocable love of God. All I can say in response is, “What wondrous love”![2]

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[1] © 2021 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 3/28/2021 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Crucified God, 277: “There is no loneliness and no rejection which [God] has not taken to himself and assumed in the cross of Jesus.”

No Comparison

No Comparison

Romans 5:12-19[1]

I think one of the worst things to happen to the Christian faith was when sin became the primary focus of attention. That might sound like a strange thing for a preacher to be saying on the first Sunday of Lent. Of course, I’m not trying to say that sin is unimportant. But whatever you make the starting point for your faith is going to have a significant effect on what you believe. You know what I’m talking about: you’ve been to other churches where people are constantly made to feel guilty. And as a result, God’s love comes across not as unconditional, but as something that depends on what we do. If we make the right choice, then the “good news” is that we’re in the clear. If not, well, the “news” is not so good.

One of the things I like about the way we approach the faith in our tradition is that we start with God’s grace. We see that in the sacrament of Baptism: it demonstrates that God’s love chooses us before we even have the capacity to make a choice for ourselves. We see it in the sacrament of Communion: God’s love continually strengthens us so that we can follow Christ. Obviously, we don’t ignore sin. We have a confession of sin at the beginning of every worship service. But we confess our sins with the confidence that we’re approaching a God of grace, whose love for us is unconditional and irrevocable. In my mind, that makes all the difference in the shape of our faith.

This might also seem like a strange introduction to a sermon about our lesson from St. Paul’s letter to the Romans. In this passage, Paul reminds us that the “original sin” of our first parents had consequences for the whole human race.  Something about that just doesn’t seem right to our way of thinking.  How can one act have such widespread effects?  Part of the explanation is that one sin has a tendency to lead to another. And another. And another!  St. Paul looks at the whole sweep of human experience, so full of violence and greed and hatred and abuse and corruption and exploitation and injustice and oppression, and he says in effect that it all started with one sin. 

For most of us, the idea that the “original sin” of Adam and Eve could be held against us all seems to be unfair. How can God hold us all accountable for something we didn’t do?  The reason why we can’t claim that it’s unfair is that we all have our own history of sin.[2] None of us can claim never to have done anything that might contribute to the spread of sin’s effects on the whole human race.  In fact, each and every one of us, in some way or another, at some time or another, has done our part to extend the grasp of sin on the human race a little farther.  In a very real sense, what Paul is trying to do is move us to the Lenten discipline of confession—to acknowledge that our sin has far-reaching consequences. 

I think we also have a problem with St. Paul’s assertion that one sin brought death to the whole human race.  But what we have to understand is that Paul isn’t primarily talking about the physical limits of human mortality.  I think he’s talking about death as a spiritual condition.   He’s talking about those actions that affect the spirit, the heart, the mind, the very the soul of who we are as human beings.  Even still, we might not like the idea that one sin could lead to the death of a person’s very soul. But I think if you ask a victim of any kind of violence or addiction you will find that it can!  I think what the Apostle Paul wants us to consider is that every sin you and I commit has the potential to spread death and destruction much farther than we can imagine.  And there are some sins that have the potential to destroy the whole human race.  

But if we stop there, we run the risk of completely missing the point!  St. Paul’s point is not just to make us all keenly aware that each sin has far-reaching consequences. I think the main point of this passage is that however powerful the effect of our sin may be, there is no comparison with the powerful effect of what Jesus did for us on the cross. Paul insists that while one sin brought “death” to the whole human race, the one faithful act of Jesus Christ, humbling himself and becoming obedient to the point of death on a cross, brought God’s grace to the whole human race. And God’s grace is far more powerful than our sin. Through that one act, God’s generous grace was poured out on all humankind, healing the destructive effects of our sin, restoring the hearts and minds and souls that have been subjected to all kinds of death, and replacing it with the gift of life.[3]

Throughout this passage, St. Paul insists that there’s no comparison between the one sin of Adam and the one righteous act of Jesus, giving his life for us all. As he contrasts the two, he repeated says that the gift of grace and life through Jesus Christ “much more surely” outweighs the effects of our sin. I like the way The Message puts it: “There's no comparison between that death-dealing sin and this generous, life-giving gift” (Rom. 5:16). And so Paul concludes, “just as one man’s trespass led to condemnation for all, so one man’s act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all” (Rom. 5:18).[4]

I think the reason for all of this is that, while St. Paul certainly doesn’t minimize the problem of sin, God’s grace plays a far more important role in his understanding of the gospel. His faith is based on the conviction that God acts in each of our lives to bring us new life before we are even aware of what he’s doing. In fact, God is always working in each of our lives, constantly surrounding us with his love and mercy, drawing us to trust in him and so to find that his grace by far overcomes the consequences of our sins. When you think about it, how could our sin ever be more powerful than God’s love? As serious as our sin will always be, when you set it alongside God’s grace, there really is no comparison.

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[1] © 2017 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 3/5/2017 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Cf. Paul K. Jewett, Romans, 376.  Ernst Käsemann, Romans, 148, cites the Jewish apocalypse 2 Baruch 54:19, “each of us has become our own Adam.”  Cf. also James D. G. Dunn, Romans 1-8, 290, “Death continues to dominate humanity not solely because of one primeval act but because of humankind’s continued acts of sin.”

[3] Regarding the issue of whether Paul’s language of redemption applies universally to the whole human race, Dunn, Romans 1-8, 297, acknowledges the problem, but asks the question, “How, after all, can grace be ‘so much more’ in its effect if it is less universal than the effect of death?” Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics IV.1:333-35, where he speaks of the “alteration of the whole human situation” through Jesus’ death and resurrection.  Cf. similarly, Beverly Roberts Gaventa, “The Cosmic Power of Sin in Paul's Letter to the Romans” Interpretation 58 (July 2004): 240: “The gospel Paul proclaims is that God has not left us alone and powerless. In Jesus Christ, God has already broken Death and Sin and will finally crush Satan on our behalf. Confidence in that word is the beginning of peace and joy and the obedience of faith.” See also Jan Bonda, The One Purpose of God, 103-107; and Jewett, Romans, 370, 379-80.

[4] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope, 205, where he points to the divine righteousness as an event that takes place in the cross and resurrection of Jesus as “the universal gospel, which is oriented towards the new creation that fulfils all things, sets them right with God and so gives them status and being.” He continues, “Divine righteousness ‘happens’ here, and the gospel reveals it by proclaiming the event of the obedience of Jesus even to the death of the cross, by proclaiming the event of his surrender to this death, and by proclaiming his resurrection and his life as the coming of the divine righteousness to the unjust.”

Helping Ourselves?

Helping Ourselves?

Gal 2:15-21; Lk 7:26-50[1]

Through the ages, people have been enslaved by a variety of means. Though simple brute force and fear have been widely used, I would suggest that ideas have been the most effective means of enslaving people. Sadly, faith has been one of the most powerful ideas to enslave people. In Paul’s day and time, many people believed that their lives were under the control of the planets or simply an impersonal and uncaring ultimate principle in this world. Though they were basically enslaved to this belief, they devised elaborate means to get around their “destiny.”

The good news of the gospel is that Christ has set us free from everything that would enslave us. For example, one of the key points Paul calls attention to regarding Jesus was that he had demonstrated those “powers” that enslaved so many people to be powerless (cf. Galatians 4:8-10; Colossians 2:15). Basically, the point of much of what Paul was trying to do in his ministry was to help people find freedom from everything that could make them feel trapped.

Although we have progressed in many ways beyond the average person living in Paul’s day, we still have ideas that can bind us. We don’t believe the planets rule our lives, but there are other “myths” that determine how we live. For example, the belief that loyalty to my own kind supersedes all other concerns. Or the idea that you have to step on others to climb the ladder of success. Or the notion that you only live once, so you have to make the most of it.

In our lesson from the letter to the Galatians for today, it seems to me that the “myth” that Paul was addressing is the idea that “God helps those who help themselves.” I think many people view the Christian faith from this perspective—as if it were some kind of barter system, where we exchange going to church and helping the less fortunate and giving our income so that God will in the end give us eternal life in paradise. It is the idea that we have to justify ourselves somehow—in this case what we do.[2]

But that really is not consistent with the way in which the Bible presents the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, or the God and father of our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ. From beginning to end, God acts out of mercy and love and grace and compassion. Everything that God does on our behalf comes solely out of that steadfast love that endures forever; not as a reward for anything that even the most pious people do—not even Abraham!

Look at the story in our Gospel reading. Is Jesus’ encounter with the woman who washed his feet really an example of “God helps those who help themselves”? Of course Jesus does say to her, “your faith has saved you.” But would we really describe this as an instance where a woman “helped herself” to salvation? I think not! I think we would have to say that it was Jesus who saved her. But then that’s the way the Bible describes salvation from beginning to end—it’s wholly and completely something God does.

That’s what Paul is dealing with in our text from the letter to the Galatians for today. He’s actually addressing the idea that somehow your relationship with God is based on how well you live up to the stipulations of the Torah. Paul insists that the whole purpose of Jesus’ death on the cross was to set us free from that kind of thinking. He insists that the Gospel is about what God has done through Jesus, not what we do to “help ourselves.”[3]

This issue is actually the subject of a great deal of debate among biblical scholars and theologians. The question is whether we should translate passages like Gal. 2:16 to say that we are “justified by faith in Jesus” or “justified by the faithfulness of Jesus.”[4] It may seem like theological “trivial pursuit,” but there is actually more to it. The first version emphasizes that it is our faith that saves us. The alternate one, “justified by the faithfulness of Jesus,” emphasizes that it is what God has done through Jesus Christ that saves us. I think it is the latter, which is why I chose to read the lesson from the NET Bible.[5]

While we do not want to downplay the importance of responding in faith and obedience, we would not say that we are “helping ourselves” regarding salvation. In fact, Paul says that if our eternal destiny depends on anything we have to do, then “Christ died for nothing” (Gal. 2:21)! For Paul, for the biblical witness, and for the Reformed branch of the Christian faith, our eternal destiny is secured solely by what Jesus did, and nothing else. Our fate ultimately rests not on our faith, which can come and go like the tides ebb and flow, but on the faithfulness of our God and of our Savior Jesus the Christ![6]

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[1] © 2010 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 6/13/10 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.

[2] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, 186-87.

[3] Moltmann, Church in the Power, 187; cf. The Book of Order 2010-2011, G-3.300a., where we say that we are called to “tell the good news of salvation” that the “God who creates life, frees those in bondage, forgives sin, reconciles brokenness, [and] makes all things new, is still at work in the world,” placing the emphasis on salvation as something God does.

[4] For the former, see J. D. G. Dunn, Romans 1-8, 166-67; for the latter, Richard Longenecker, Galatians, 87-88. The issue revolves around the question whether Paul is speaking of the work of Christ as the “objective” basis for our salvation (i.e., “grace alone”), or the human response of faith as its “subjective” basis (i.e., “faith alone”). Cf. Hendrikus Berkhof, Christian Faith, 447-49. I like the way the language of the Heidelberg Catechism (question 61) balances “grace alone” and “faith alone”: “Q. 61. Why do you say that you are righteous by faith alone? A. Not because I please God by virtue of the worthiness of my faith, but because the satisfaction, righteousness, and holiness of Christ alone are my righteousness before God, and because I can accept it and make it mine in no other way than by faith alone.” Cf. also the Study Catechism (question 80): “Christ alone is my righteousness and my life; Christ is my only hope. Grace alone is the basis on which God has forgiven me in Christ. Faith alone is the means by which I receive Christ into my heart, and with him the forgiveness that makes me whole.”

[5] The KJV also adopts this translation for Gal 2:16!

[6] Cf. Karl Barth: Church Dogmatics 2.2.559, where he says that his faith in Christ “has its basis in the fact that He Himself, the Son of God, first believed for me.” Cf. also Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope, 116-120, 143-48, where he discusses the God who is revealed as the one who is faithful to the promise.