"Trophies or Transformation" – John 3:14-21

 John 3:14-21

And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.

“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.

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Think of images that we lift up as images of victory and achievement – images that drive and influence our pursuit of excellence and inform our understanding of what success looks like.

First, if you are a professional football player, or merely a fan, what is the image of ultimate success?

The image we lift up is an image of someone literally ‘lifting up’ the Lombardi trophy following victory in the Super Bowl, while team-colors-specific confetti fill the atmosphere of the stadium.

Next question. If you are someone who likes to go fishing, what image motivates you? What does success look like?

An image of someone literally ‘lifting up’ a big fish.

How about if you are in the movie business, either as an actor or producer or director or sound engineer or costume designer; what image of success comes to mind?

‘Lifting up’ that Oscar, or Academy Award, as applause fills the theater and millions of people watching at home resolve to watch your movie.

Now think of students who work so hard day in and day out solving problems, reading, writing essays, and taking tests. What is the image of ultimate achievement?

It’s likely the image of wearing the cap and gown and ‘lifting up’ the diploma case (even though they’re always empty!).

If you’re a golfer, what is the image that motivates you?

An image of someone literally ‘lifting up’ a club above his or her head after hitting a hole-in-one or sinking the winning put.

Now think about your image of retirement – something that some of you are immersed in while others are still thinking, dreaming, planning, and saving for (or should be!).

How about this image! Sitting on a beach before a beautiful sunset, ‘lifting up’ your hand held by the spouse who has been with you for the wild ride of marriage, work, and kids.

Last one: As a disciple of Jesus, a child of the one true God, what image do we “lift up;” what image influences our pursuit of excellence and inform our understanding of what a ‘successful’ Christian life looks like.

The ‘lifted up’ broken and bloodied body of God on the cross.

So, to conclude this exercise, I ask you, which is these is not like the other?

There’s nothing wrong with…
rooting for your team to win the championship;
seeking that big fish;
wanting your creative work to be celebrated;
dreaming about finally getting that hole-in-one;
celebrating academic success;
or planning for and enjoying a relaxing retirement.

Where we get into trouble, however, is in mixing up these images of success with what it means to be followers of Christ.

The Christian life is not about winning trophies or awards; it’s not about earning achievements or recognition or success. Rather, it’s about self-sacrifice, generosity, adversity, love in the face of rejection, faith without assurance, and hope in the midst of despair. Christian disciples don’t worship the lifted up trophy of victory; we worship the lifted up broken and bloodied body of God on the cross.

The image of the broken and bloodied body of God lifted up on the cross reminds us that we do damage to God and God’s children with our efforts to earn salvation, compete for religious goods and services, and wrap our self-serving pursuit of power in holy language and holy war.

That’s actually good news; but it’s also the news we don’t really want to hear.

We prefer to think that our faith in Jesus Christ means that we have won and now we can relax, even if others are suffering.

We prefer to think that our faith in Jesus Christ gives us rights and privileges and power over and above those who do not believe.

We prefer to think that our faith in Jesus Christ will be rewarded with personal safety, wealth, and a life of ease.

As a church, we prefer to think that our faith in Jesus Christ will yield bigger sanctuaries, more parishioners, and balanced budgets.

But look at the Son of Man who has been “lifted up so that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.”

Look at him.

That’s what we worship.

True, divine, faithful victory looks anything but victorious.

The esteemed theologian Miroslav Volf writes, “Sometimes, by some strange alchemy, ‘Take up your cross and follow me’ morphs into ‘I’ll bring out the champion in you,’ or the cross itself becomes a symbol of destruction and violence rather than of creative love that overcomes enmity.”1

All-too-often we want to skip ahead to the resurrection, preferring to believe in the Jesus wrapped in brilliant white garments who ascends into heaven. We forget that believing in Jesus also means believing in the Jesus who suffered a criminal’s death on a cross because the truth he revealed unsettled the powerful, released the captives, and forgave the unworthy.

All-too-often we want to reap all the benefits of faith (such as: eternal life, a renewed creation, peace, love, and hope for the hopeless) without acknowledging just how much suffering we will experience in the process; and without realizing that the cross is a promise of love.

I was convicted by something I read this week: “To ‘believe that’ Jesus died and was raised to save us is easy to understand in the sense that it requires almost nothing of us. But…to “believe” this Good News in a way that brings salvation requires more than “‘believing that’ [it happened]; it requires “trusting in.” To “trust in” Jesus is not simply to believe something about what happened long ago, but also to let our own lives be transformed by the Jesus we encounter in this story.”2

The Christian life is not a pursuit of trophies; it is a process of transformation.

The Christian life is not about being the best; it is simply about being present for others.

The Christian life is not about consumption; it is about conservation.

The Christian life is not about rejection; it is about redemption.

This is the image of success and victory that the Christian faith lifts up. This is the truth that motivates our lives as followers of Christ.

The good news is that in the shadow of the cross we don’t have to keep working on being a better and better Christian in order to be loved by God. Christ’s love has won victory over death and sin, which frees us to live in a way that is humble, honorable, honest, and holy.

Amen.

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1. Miroslav Volf, A Public Faith, Brazos Press, p12.
2. Lance Pape, “Commentary on John 3:14-21” http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2394

"Temple Cleansing and Forgiveness" – John 2:13-22

John 2:13-22

The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables. Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. He told those who were selling the doves, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” His disciples remembered that it was written, “Zeal for your house will consume me.”

The Jews then said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews then said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking of the temple of his body. After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.

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I read a blurb in a recent issue of The Christian Century magazine that told a story about Nadia Bolz-Weber where, after a speech/lecture at the First Baptist Church in Madison Wisconsin, a woman in tears spoke up and explained that she was unable to forgive herself, because she had been told so many times how unforgiveable she was. Nadia Bolz-Weber – the current, coolest Pastor in the ELCA, known as much for her sound theology as she is for her many tattoos and her snarky potty mouth – responded, “Maybe for as many times as you’ve been told that, you need to hear that God is gracious, and merciful, and slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and loves you as you are.” And then Bolz-Weber proceeded to forgive her with something like the words we share every time we make our confession in worship. She said, “…as a called and ordained minister of the church of Christ, and by Christ’s authority, I declare to you the entire forgiveness of all of your sins.” And the people in attendance responded, “Amen.”

In addition to the fact that the First Baptist Church of Madison, Wisconsin, let Nadia Bolz-Weber have the microphone – with all of her tattoos and lady-parts (this is progress, people) – this seemed newsworthy to me, in light of today’s Gospel story.

Because Jesus doesn’t sound like any of those things in this bit from John, chapter two, does he? “Gracious and merciful?” “Slow to anger?” “Abounding in steadfast love?” Not when he’s “cleansing the temple,” anyway, turning over tables, pouring out coins, throwing his weight around, driving out the cattle, the sheep, and the doves, with a whip and raising his voice – if you believe the exclamation marks in the text, anyway.

So first, I want to put some of that into perspective.

One thing it’s helpful to know is that back in Jesus’ day, it was common for things to be sold in and around the Temple. And, because the celebration of Passover was right around the corner, Jews from all over the place were traveling to Jerusalem to celebrate their big holiday. Since it’s difficult to travel with animals and because animal sacrifice was such an important, necessary part of Jewish worship, those who came to Jerusalem often had to buy the animals they were expected to sacrifice, once they made it into the city. All of that is to explain why the Temple looks and sounds and probably smelled, if you can use your imagination, a lot like a barnyard in today’s Gospel story.

And all of that is to explain why Jesus was so fired up, because Jesus was trying to show how things were supposed to be changing for God’s people. See, all those animal sacrifices were old ways of showing devotion, of making confession, of seeking forgiveness, of offering worship to God for Jewish believers. Jesus was trying to show that these Jewish practices of sacrifice – all of this keeping with the old ways and the old laws – weren’t the way to worship anymore. With the arrival of Jesus, the kingdom had come in a new way and the Son of God was what worship was all about. Cattle, sheep and doves weren’t necessary and wouldn’t cut it anyway, anymore as far as sacrifices of repentance or confession or worship were concerned.

Jesus was letting the people of the Temple know they had lost their focus, that Jesus was (and is) the one and only thing on which they should focus their worship and attention. And, even though it’s hard to hear, even though it’s embarrassing to admit, even though it catches us by surprise a lot of the time, Jesus is forever reminding us that he is the one to whom we should direct our attention, still. Jesus’ cleansing of the temple is about Jesus very clearly, very deliberately, very loudly getting our attention and bringing it back to where it belongs.

Which brings me back to Nadia Bolz-Weber and that woman in Wisconsin. Remember, her struggle was that she couldn’t forgive herself, because so many people had told her so many times how unforgiveable she was. She, like so many of us, was looking in all the wrong places, in all the wrong ways for her forgiveness. She might as well have been buying and sacrificing cattle, sheep and doves and expecting to earn God’s forgiveness so she could feel better about herself.

But consider this: nowhere in the Bible is there talk of or encouragement to forgive ourselves. That’s the stuff of modern day psychology and self-help, really. But it’s not Biblical really. In other words, we can’t sacrifice enough cattle, sheep or doves to earn make our forgiveness happen. We can’t pray enough or worship enough or give enough money to justify ourselves. We can’t even feel sad or guilty or remorseful enough to merit our own redemption. And God knows – Jesus knew – that we might kill ourselves, sometimes figuratively, sometimes spiritually, sometimes literally kill ourselves because we couldn’t find the forgiveness we may long for.

Because the truth is, the only ones who can forgive us are the ones our sin offends, in the first place, or The One – God, in Jesus Christ – whose heart breaks whenever our sin does harm in the world around us. Forgiveness for our transgressions just isn’t something we can ever offer or extend to ourselves with any integrity, if we’re honest.

Because for some of us, forgiving ourselves might be too easy, right? We can deny or justify or ignore our sins in any number of ways and go about our lives without the least bit of concern or effort at making amends. Do you know anyone like that?

For others, like the poor woman in Wisconsin, our sins are too many and our shame is so deep, we can’t ever do enough of the hard work of retribution to feel reconciled in our heart of hearts. So to suggest that we need to – or are able to – “forgive ourselves” without including a second party, somehow, would always be incomplete, if not disingenuous and maybe even arrogant, to boot.

So God, in Jesus, offers to be the second party in the equation of our forgiveness. And Jesus shows up to say, “stop trying to do this yourselves. Stop trying to earn this grace. Stop trying to deserve this love. You cannot.” And he says, pretty dramatically in this Gospel story, that he’s done doing the math; that he’s done counting coins or cattle or sheep or doves as a way of doling out forgiveness and mercy and love; and that we should stop that sort of thing, too. And he promises that it must come, this grace and mercy and love and forgiveness – that it will come – that it has come – from God in Jesus Christ.

“Tear down this temple – destroy this body – crucify the very Son of God and you will see what I mean,” Jesus dares them. And because their minds were set on earthly things and on their own efforts in every way, those who were listening to Jesus thought he was talking, literally, about destroying the temple in Jerusalem, which they’d been building for 46 years or so.  Of course, after some Monday morning quarterbacking they – and the rest of us – with our eyes set on heavenly things, instead of on earthly things, know Jesus was talking about his own destruction, his own demise, his own crucifixion that was on the way.

And we are to see now, in that temple’s re-building, by his rising from the dead, through his resurrection Jesus becomes the sacrifice to end all sacrifices. And through him, we see and receive and experience our forgiveness – not through ourselves and not from our Priest or our Pastor either. Our forgiveness comes from the God of our creation. It is complete. It is full. It is more than we can accomplish on our own. And it is enough.

Amen