a sinner

“ And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner. I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other: for every one that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted. ”

Two men come into the Temple to pray. We hear their prayers, make our observations and evaluations of them, and Christ separates them a world apart: one is justified by his humility and honesty— though his life is shot through with his sins ; the other has wasted his time in God's Presence, pretending perfection—and left with all his sins still all over him, though he feels completely satisfied with himself.

Many years ago I preached a sermon imagining what the sounds would be like if our sins made noises. Since most of you weren't here, I'll reconsider it today. We may see the signs of sin in people's faces, as expressions they may not realize pass their brow: a haughty look of distain, a malevolent face of hatred, the cool green glare of envy, the mad red face of anger, or the sleazy, sneaky leer of lust. We can control our faces, and look completely blasé, or wear sunglasses and hide what our sinful emotions are doing just inside.

But what if sins of our inner world made sounds? embarrassing, uncontrollable noises that betrayed us in public for what we are feeling inside? What if our private and most concealed thoughts were revealed by the shrieks of some voice our souls made: the harrumph of pride; the ‘gimme-gimme-gimme-I wanna-wanna-wanna' whimpers of covetousness; quivering anticipating pantings and bellows of lust or gluttony; or just a snort of disapproval. What if sloth made the sound of a balloon slowly emptied of its air. Or what if every time we were bored with church, or class or another person's presence a very loud yawning sound emerged from us?

We do a pretty good job at covering up these sins. But are we really all that well hidden? Have we really fooled anyone? Some of us can, being cute, having a good stage presence, being real politicians, or slick salesmen, false fronts. But most of us get a glimpse at the rest of us and have a pretty good idea of what goes on inside, and why? Because we're just the same. Abe Lincoln said it truly when he observed, “You may fool all the people some of the time, you can even fool some of the people all of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all the time.” What's the good of trying to fool the rest of the world? The rest of the world is doing its best to try and fool us.

Jesus painted for us a picture of two men going into the Temple to pray. Maybe his Pharisee really did stand before the Holy of Holies and boast out loud about himself: “I thank you that I am not like other men--robbers, evildoers, adulterers--or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.” Luke 18:11-12 I don't hear many people pray like this, not out loud. It's obviously just arrogance and pride. But what if the man went before God and said the expected prayer, “Lord, thank you for this day. I humbly ask of you to keep me in your good graces, with all those I love, and protect us from evil. Amen.” Now, this is what we hear, but underneath that, and yet heard loud and clear in heaven is, “God, you had a good day when you made me! I'm so great, you must be proud of yourself. Nothing like those thieves, sinners, whoremongers, moneygrubbers. I'm a religious and pious, upright citizen and you get your share from me always. Nice talking to you.”

That speech was the man's sin making noise. Don't pay attention to the display he makes of a humble prayer, for his sin is pride and pride is telling the truth through another voice. That voice is heard where he thinks he is directing his outward prayer. Ever pray like that?

We come to church with various ideas about ourselves, about God and what we do here. There are many people who don't come, who have the same fearful statement about the roof caving in if they entered that door. As if the people who do come aren't sinners too. As if a real sinner coming here would cause God to strike the church with a lightning bolt. But what is our idea about our worthiness or our purpose in being here? Is any one of us worthy to be in the Presence of Almighty God? If so, I've got some vestments for you to wear. I'll sit down and let you speak. Let me not pretend to be the holy man, here: perfect and wise in all my ways. I'm not.

Truly it's been said, “If you find a perfect church, don't join it. The day you do, it will cease to be perfect.” We are in church, not because we are the cream of the earth, the best people in the world, the good guys, God's best handiwork. Rather, we are just as other men, no better than thieves, whoremongers, moneygrubbers and sinners. We are no better than the worst of men, and we bring ourselves before Almighty God, not to boast of our worthiness, but to plead the clemency of heaven and seek God's face of mercy and forgiveness together. “God have mercy on me, a sinner.” “We do not presume to come to this thy Table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table…”

Let's not pretend, shall we. We've messed up. We've kicked the dog, leered at others, stolen something not our own, craved things we don't need, felt cheated by God and life itself, and hated people who are a little different from us. We have. That's not how we are going to stay, hopefully, but it is what we've been.

A problem I've seen with the popular understanding of Christianity is that we make a small step of believing in Christ, rejoice in His redemption, His sacrifice that is sufficient for us, and think we're different, think we will never fall anymore. We wake up one day finding out we do have the same weaknesses, can sin the same old sins, and have feet of clay. “How could I do it? Does this mean I'm not saved? Was my repentance and forgiveness false? Did my baptism and new life not take? Am I still the same old sinner, fallen, lost, hopeless in the face of the evil one? Maybe I can just pretend—I've got to put on a good face, smile and shake hands, keep everyone thinking I've got the faith, that I haven't lost something now that I know I'm still a sinner.”

Of course you're still a sinner. Any distinction between Christians and sinners is absurd: Jesus didn't come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. Mat 9:13 Once we repent, we have a battle to fight. It's not automatic. Our mid-week study group spent a couple of months looking at how one may systematically battle the flesh in favor of the Spirit, to honestly know our sins, confess them truly, see ourselves apart from the sin, put the flesh to death and mortify it. This is a painful, arduous process. It isn't automatic, and lazy Christian— like me —finds it hard to take all these steps, to maintain this process for each sinful tendency that has always etched itself into our soul. Then we make an allowance, justify it because everyone does it, and slide back into mediocrity, but with a good cover up. Or else we do battle with our flesh, and humble ourselves before God and man.

We rightly think of St. Paul as one of the greatest Christians of all time. His life of sacrifice and mission, the truths about which he wrote so eloquently set him above the rest. But a part of his testimony, making the rest of his epistles authentic and trustworthy, is his honesty about who and what he was. Speaking of seeing the resurrected Jesus, he said: “last of all he was seen of me also, as of one born out of due time. For I am the least of the apostles, that am not meet to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am: and his grace which was bestowed upon me was not in vain; but I laboured more abundantly than they all: yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me.” 1 Cor. 15:8-10

The grace of God is with you. You can still wallow in your sins, and either let them discourage you from coming to church at all, or pretend righteousness and sit here feigning holiness, while your sins scream out to high heaven. Or… you can honestly deal with the God of truth, and make a break, take one step closer to the holiest place. Let the fire of God burn one more layer of calluses off you. Let God put a new heart in you, and fill it full of His love. Let God wash you and tend you and give you new life, abundant life.

There is a life of true godliness to live. You'll know it when you feel it happening to you, because you'll feel six inches taller, love truly all the people you see around you, breath the air with thankfulness for every breath. Most of us have had moments like that, and those moments, hard as they are to keep, keep us coming back for more of that feeling of grace. It isn't phony, it isn't saccharine goodness, it isn't posing for pictures, pretending to be what we're not.

It's not a trick. It's not useless in your ‘special case'. It's not wasted on a sinner like you. St. Paul killed Christians for a living. St. Matthew collected taxes for the Romans and pocketed more than his share. St. James (of the Epistle) didn't believe his brother Jesus was the Messiah at all, until His resurrection.

We're in good company. Just a bunch of losers, sinners, and creeps until the day Christ arrived in our lives. Now we can just stop pretending to be any better, except by His grace, and our commitment to live for Him and keep up the walk, not just keep up the show.

PFH+