Not So Fast!

Texts: Isaiah 58:1-12; Matthew 6:1-4; 16-18

LAST YEAR IN LATE MARCH, I stood in this pulpit and asked how many of you had made specials vows for Lent.

If you were there, you may recall that no hands were raised. At least, I didn’t see any.

I guess it’s not a Presbyterian thing to give things up for Lent. That’s for the Roman Catholics, or maybe for the High Church Episcopalians. We Presbyterians don’t feel bound to observe special times and seasons. We’re not obligated to deny ourselves for any set period just because the Church says it’s a good idea.

And you know what? We aren’t bound from the outside to give things up for Lent. No church authority can tell us we must stop eating meat or chocolate or indulging in any good gift of God we happen to enjoy, for religious purposes. No human being has the right to tell us we must fast or pray or do acts of Christian love and service at any particular place or time.

Nevertheless, the Lord our God speaking in His Holy Scriptures assumes that from time to time we will set aside times deliberately to fast and pray. Moreover, He assumes that the exercise of physical and spiritual discipline will be good for us.

We have just read what the Holy Spirit says, speaking through the Prophet Isaiah, about the true nature of a fast that is pleasing to God. And in our reading from St. Matthew, our Lord Jesus tells us how we are to carry out our spiritual and physical discipline, when, not if we do it.

In both our readings, we have to pay attention to what our Lord tells us about how not to fast.

Now, at the beginning of Isaiah 58, we have to wonder what God is objecting to. I mean, His people are acting really zealous and devoted to Him! They aren’t just claiming to go hungry for religion’s sake, they’re actually doing it! As Jesus would put it, look at their uncombed hair and unwashed faces! See how somber they look! Look, some of them have even disfigured and cut themselves, to prove how sincerely they’re seeking God, how eager they are to know His ways! They’ve really humbled themselves, haven’t they? What more does the Lord want?

"Why have we fasted," they complain to God, "and you have not seen it? Why have we humbled ourselves, and you, O Lord, have not noticed?"

But that’s the problem. God’s people want Him to notice them. They’re treating Him like Baal or Astoreth or some other pagan god. They expect to bribe the Lord with their religious devotion, to make Him cough up whatever it is they want.

The pagan idea was that if you starved or disfigured yourself or screamed or wailed or whatever, you’d get your idol’s attention and he or she would be obliged to do what you wanted. If you were really desperate, you’d sacrifice your own children to your false god. For the pagans, fasting was all about making the gods perform. It was about bribing or coercing them to do what you wanted. And now the Israelites say, "Boohoo, no fair, Lord God of Israel! We’re doing our part, why aren’t You doing Yours?"

It must not be so with us. When-- not if-- you and I deprive ourselves of good things for the sake of religion or godliness, we must never, ever imagine that we’re putting God in our debt by it, or forcing Him to give us our way.

Another way not to fast is what Jesus points out-- doing your fasting or other acts of religion so other people will see you and exclaim over how pious and holy you are. Such public fasting is all about us. It has nothing to do with God-- why should He respond to it?

In our modern culture, we do such a good job avoiding this error, that the very words "pious" and "righteous" and "religious" are insults!

But have we in the West really stopped showing off our good deeds to be seen by others? How many of us do volunteer work not out of love, but because it’ll look good on our resumes or university applications? How many multi-millionaires do you know who donate a building and don’t expect their name to be on it?

It must not be so with us. When-- not if-- you and I fast or deny ourselves to give more to charity or when we make a deliberate effort to spend more time in prayer, we must do all we can to keep it between ourselves and God. And when we cannot, God must receive all the glory.

And then, God’s people were using their fast and their fast day as an excuse to be rude, cranky, and downright mean. They were quarrelling and fighting and claiming, "Well, it’s not my fault, I’m hungry and I’m in a bad mood." Their fasting wasn’t drawing them closer to God or making them more loving towards their neighbor; no, it was driving them further away.

It must not be so with us. When-- not if-- we fast and deny ourselves, we must use it as an occasion for love and charity towards God and our neighbor.

Now, we think we’ve got this problem solved. We think we can avoid doing all these bad things by never fasting at all. But that’s not our Lord’s idea of how to solve the problem. He wants us to understand what fasting really is, and for us to grasp all the good things it can actually get us.

In our reading from Isaiah, we see that "fasting" is really a code word for self-denial and self-discipline. It’s about giving up our will and our wants so the will of God may be done, on earth as it is in heaven. As Jesus would say, it’s taking up our cross and following Him. The self-denial that the Lord wants isn’t only about not doing certain things, it’s also about doing certain things, things that are hard, things that are inconvenient, things that are awkward, for the sake of God and His glory.

Awkward things like speaking out against injustice wherever we find it, and liberating the exploited and oppressed--regardless of what political party we support. Inconvenient things like feeding the hungry and housing the homeless-- even if they are dirty and disgusting and ungrateful. Hard things like always treating the members of your own family with grace and kindness and never, ever taking them for granted.

So why can’t we just do that instead of denying ourselves physically? Let’s just exercise social justice and charity and forget about fasting and prayer!

But God knows we need both. We need to learn to deny ourselves in our bodies and spirits, so we can draw closer to Him. We need to experience denying ourselves in our money, time, efforts, and attitudes, so we can draw closer to our neighbors. As Jesus tells us in the Sermon on the Mount, giving to the needy on one hand and fasting and prayer on the other hand go-- well, hand in hand. One is first towards God and one is first towards our neighbor. Both, if undertaken in true humility and faith can make us more holy and more like Him.

Both kinds of self-denial draw us closer to God and make us more aware of our need for Him. If you’ve ever made a sincere vow to give up something good for the Lord’s sake, or if you’ve ever decided deliberately to do good, you know what I mean. You begin well, but then it gets hard. You really want to eat that food or indulge in that amusement. Maybe the people you’re really doing good for aren’t grateful, or people question your good motives. The tempting little voice in your head starts saying, "Oh, go ahead, give up. God won’t care! He won’t make you keep your promise!" But you did promise God, and the only way you can be faithful is to cry out to the Lord and say, "Father, help me do this! I can’t keep it up without you!" Both kinds of self-denial show us God’s strength and our weakness-- and that’s good.

Both kinds of self-denial open our ears to listen for the Lord’s voice and guidance. It’s easy to say we’re going to be good to our neighbor all the time, and yes, we should be. But when you deliberately choose for a time to do something in particular for Jesus’ sake and in Jesus’ name, you become more aware of working side by side with Him, of being His disciple and accepting His teaching. You become humble when you realize how far you are from conforming to His image, and hopeful when time and again He comforts you with His sanctifying Spirit.

Both kinds of self-denial help us enter into the suffering and struggles of our Lord Jesus Christ as He faced the Cross for the sake of you and me. Going without a meal or meat or chocolate for a time seems absurdly like nothing compared to what He went through. But it’s all about saying No to our flesh and Yes to God and becoming more like our Master who prayed, "Not My will, Father, but Yours be done." Denying our flesh and going out of our way even for our enemies helps us to grasp a little of what Jesus Christ gave up and did for us and fill us with gratitude and praise.

Exercised in faith and total dependence upon Almighty God, both kinds of fasting bring us into the pleasure and delight of our Lord. As He says through Isaiah, if we fast as He requires,

Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.

Jesus says that when we fast and pray and do our acts of charity to please God and to benefit our neighbor, our Father in heaven will reward us. Our spiritual ancestors the ancient Jews wanted to be rewarded by God, but they were after the wrong reward-- worldly security and riches and the freedom to do whatever they pleased. But the reward of God is so much better than that! The reward of God is His eternal presence with us. The reward of God is life and meaning like a spring whose waters never fail. The reward of God is light in darkness and comfort in need. The reward of God is God Himself.

You may decide to undertake a special act of self-denial or service this Lent. Or you may decide to do it at some other time. No one in the Presbyterian Church-- not I, not your interim pastor, not the Moderator of the General Assembly-- can order you when or where or how. But when-- not if-- you give to the needy; when-- not if--you spend special times in prayer; when-- not if-- you fast, do it to the glory of God and for the good of your neighbor, confiding in the strength of Jesus your crucified and risen Lord. And your Father in heaven will be your great and glorious reward.

________________________

Preached at an Ash Wednesday service of penitence and Holy Communion

Wholly Holy

Texts: Leviticus 20:7-8; 1 Peter 3:13-22

HOW MANY OF YOU MADE SPECIAL vows for Lent?

How many of you are still keeping them?

How many of you are still keeping them, but wish you didn’t have to be still keeping them?

All right, if you didn’t make any special Lenten vows, who all here is sick of winter and wish Spring would come for good?

Most everyone here, it looks like.

All right. How many of you sometimes find it hard to be a Christian?

How many of you wish Jesus would do something to make it not so hard to be a Christian anymore?

Yes, we’d all find that to be a good thing.

All these things-- keeping Lenten vows when you’re tired of keeping them, longing for Winter to turn into Spring, and putting up with difficulties in your Christian life-- all have something in common. They’re all about wishing we could get something unpleasant we’re going through now over with so we can get on to the enjoyable thing we look forward to later.

But the Holy Spirit speaking through the Apostle Peter tells us what we’re going through now is necessary if we want to get what we’re looking forward to later. In other words, a proper cold Winter is necessary if we want the flowers of Spring, and self discipline and endurance are necessary if we want to participate in Christ’s resurrection. When we suffer and endure and discipline ourselves for the sake of Jesus Christ, we are being trained for holiness. We’re learning what it is to be holy, as our Father in heaven is holy.

What is Christian holiness? Is it schlumping around with a long, fake-pious face, telling people what you don’t do and being proud of the fun you don’t have? Do you have to be so above-it-all and unapproachable that ordinary mortals are afraid to bother you with their everyday concerns? Is it wishing you could die right away so you can go to heaven, or floating six inches above the sidewalk because your feet are so pure they don’t touch the ground? If that’s what you think of when you think of being holy, no wonder so many Christians don’t really want to be!

Here’s how Peter describes being holy, up in verse 8:

"Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble. Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this you were called so you may inherit a blessing."

When you are holy, you’ll be eager to do good, because Jesus Christ has been good to you. You’ll walk around in your every day life treating others the way Christ has treated you. To be holy is to resist the temptation to be disharmonious, unsympathetic, unloving, insensitive, and proud and to practice harmony, sympathy, love, compassion, and humility instead.

Like when? Like when that motorist cuts you off, and you don’t flip him off, instead you feel sorry for him, that he’s in such a hurry to get someplace, and you pray he-- and everyone else on the road with him-- will get there safely. Holiness is when someone has been unjust and hurtful to you, and you calmly and frankly present your case to them, instead of gossiping about them behind their backs. To be holy is to treat your neighbor with the love and grace of Jesus Christ, especially at home and at church-- because sadly, those are the places Christians are tempted the most to let it all go and be as unholy and selfish as they can.

Peter says, "Who is going to harm you if you are eager to do good?" Well, most people, no. For most people, if you’re a truly holy Christian you’ll be a joy to have around. But there will be those who can’t stand anything truly holy, because it exposes just how unholy they themselves are. People like that will take your gentleness for weakness, your sympathy for gullibility, and if you take any stand for truth-- well, to them that’s just your self-righteous arrogance.

Peter speaks more about this problem in his letter. He mentions the unbeliever who can’t understand how you can possibly believe in this crucified Rabbi. To them, respond in holiness, that is, with the wisdom, reasonableness, gentleness, and respect of Jesus Christ.

Then there are those who charge that if you’re doing anything good as a Christian, it’s all a fake and you really must be a hypocrite inside. I got my copy of the Pittsburgh Magazine a couple days ago, and in it I read about a play being put on next month at the City Theatre called The Missionary Position, dealing in part with, quote, "A Christian activist’s unhealthy obsessions."

Well, of course. If you’re a Christian activist, or an active Christian of any kind, you must have unhealthy obsessions. Not just plain human weaknesses and sins, but active evil inside just because you are a Christian. That’s the malicious attitude you’re going to encounter if you truly try to be holy.

But keep on being holy. Keep on blessing where you are cursed. Keep on hoping and praying that Jesus will open the eyes of those who slander you and take away their sins just as He took away yours.

But it’s hard to be holy! And it’s frustrating. If being good is so good, why can’t it feel good now? Why can’t people appreciate your sweet Christianity now? Why do we have to endure Winter to get to Spring, and why is Lent and its discipline so long before we can enjoy the feasting and joy of Easter?

I’m convinced from the Scriptures that the Lord willed it that way, so we would know that our holiness is not from ourselves, but solely from Him.

In Leviticus He says, "I am the Lord, who makes you holy." He commands us to consecrate ourselves and be holy, but it’s a struggle and we fail time after time.

I was thinking about my own need to be holy last week. I resolved to make a conscious effort to practice personal holiness in my job the next day. And what happened? I got some bad news about a decision the client had made about a project I’m working on and I was so stunned I couldn’t even think about holiness, let alone practice it.

But looking back on it, I can see that God helped me. He kept me from saying the sort of thing that can get a person fired. He gave me work on another project to do until the excess adrenalin had died down. He gave me some good counsel about how I should address the issue. I may not have felt holy, but in various ways my Father God was making me holy.

If it were easy for us to be holy, we’d think it was something we’d achieved on our own and be proud of it. Instead, whatever holiness we have, we have because we belong to Jesus Christ and He clothes us in the holiness that is His alone.

Christ’s servant Peter knew how hard a struggle it is. He knew how tempted we are to be afraid when we should strive for holiness instead.

What is the solution to fear? "In your hearts set apart Christ as Lord." These words "set apart"-- in the Greek they literally mean "make holy." In other words, when you are struggling to do what is good, gracious, and right, remember the holiness of Jesus Christ. Treasure who He is and what He has done for you. Embrace the fact that He is far more than a great teacher, or a good example-- He is the Son of God who died on the cross to take away your sins. He is the Holy One of God, and He makes you holy.

How can you be assured that Jesus really makes you holy? He assures you in your baptism. This is what the Holy Spirit wants us to understand when St. Peter reminds us of the story of Noah and his family. In the days of Noah, God sent the floodwaters in judgement and wrath on the sins of humankind. But through the waters Noah was saved. On Calvary, God poured out His judgement and wrath on His innocent Son. But through Jesus’ outpoured blood, we are saved! In baptism we are plunged into the death of Christ, who was plunged into death for our sins. The risen body of Jesus is our ark, that saves us alive through all the struggles and evils of ourselves and this fallen world.

When you struggle to be holy, it seems always to be Lent and never Easter. Too often, the devil, the world, and your own nagging conscience seems to be telling you to give it up. But against all that you can come back this ringing affirmation: "Do not bother me, for I Have Been Baptised."

Say that to yourself, again and again. "I have been baptised, and the holiness of my Lord Jesus Christ is now my own." Remember it next week, when we will baptise a man into the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ during the first service. Whether you will be attending that service or not, I urge you to take that as an opportunity to reaffirm your own washing into holiness. Confess again that your sins were washed away by the blood of Christ, just as water washes away the dirt from your body. Baptism saves you by confirming to you that Christ’s resurrection will be your resurrection. That His place in heaven will be your place in heaven, as well. That the authority He exercises over angles, principalities, and powers, He exercises for your sake, to defend and keep you and make you holy in His sight.

Because holiness on this earth is about hope. Winter will turn to Spring, struggle will result in triumph, and the long, slow weeks of Lent will be crowned with the glory of Easter. Walk in the awareness that Jesus Christ is in you, with you, and all around you, making you holy as He is holy. Rejoice in His love for you, and be at peace. Amen.

The Divine Do-Over

Texts: Genesis 3:1-19; Matthew 4:1-11

WHEN YOU WERE A KID, AND YOU messed up while playing a game, did you ever ask for a "do-over"? I believe grown-ups have the same thing in golf; it’s called a mulligan. So many times in our lives, we wish we had a do-over. We want our mistakes and our foolish acts to be wiped out. We want things to go back to the way they were before we said those terrible words or committed that awful deed, so we can try again and do the thing over right.

But we saw from our reading from Genesis that there aren’t do-overs like that in this life. God told Adam and Eve not to eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. They ate from it anyway. "God, couldn’t You cut us some slack? Couldn’t You ignore our sin just this once? We want a do-over!"

The Lord God had said that if they ate of the Tree, they would surely die. This wasn’t God being arbitrary. It was the way the Universe works. When Adam and Eve disobeyed, they rebelled against the source of all Life. They set up on their own as their own little gods. God was still ruler over them, no doubt about that, but the peace, the wholeness, the spiritual life was gone.

So God couldn’t give them a do-over. Their sin had real consequences, for them and for us their descendants. Curses in childbearing. Curses on marriage. Curses on work. Curses on the land and curses on the serpent. No do-overs. Not then. Not ever.

Or is that totally true? Did God hold out the possibility that humanity could try again and do things over right?

In verse 15, God says to the serpent, "I will put emnity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel." God is saying that someday a man born of woman will come along and get the better of that old tempter Satan. That this "seed of the woman," as some translations put it, will get a do-over for obedience and he will do it over right, though at great cost to himself.

Centuries later, the Lord God chose a people for Himself. He led them into the wilderness, out of slavery in Egypt, and gave them His law at Mount Sinai. God willed that Israel would be obedient to Him. They were follow His covenant and show the nations what human life was like lived in glad obedience with the Lord of all Creation. For forty years He proved them in the desert, to see if they would indeed follow Him. You might say that in Israel, God was giving humanity a do-over.

But Israel failed the test in the wilderness, and with rare exceptions, they kept on failing throughout their history. They got their do-over and they did it over wrong again and again.
And you know, Israel was just like you and me, and we’re just like Israel. We would do just the same in their position, and in many ways, we have.

And God wasn’t surprised by Israel’s failure. From the very beginning, the Lord declared to His servant Moses that the people would disobey. But God was working out His purposes in Israel. He made them to be the channel through which the Seed of the Woman would come into the world, the Son of Man who would get the cosmic do-over and do it over right.

We know who this Promised One is. He is our Lord Jesus Christ. The gospel writers record that as Jesus was baptised in the Jordan River, heaven opened and the Holy Spirit of God descended like a dove and a voice from heaven proclaimed, "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased." Jesus was about thirty years of age when this happened, and in all that time He had never needed a do-over, because in all those years He had always pleased His Father; He had always done what was just and good and right.

But what good did that do us? Jesus didn’t need a second chance; He’d never rebelled or disobeyed His Father’s will. Israel was the son who’d displeased the Father. Adam and Eve were the children who tried to set themselves up in the god business. We’re the ones who’ve been following in their crooked footsteps ever since! Jesus’ goodness does me no good unless He is good for me.

And God has willed that Jesus should be very good for you and me. He took what was wrong between us and God and went back and did things over on our behalf. That’s exactly what Jesus is doing as He is tempted in the wilderness. Like Israel, Jesus is led into the desert to be tempted and tried. Like Adam and Eve, the Devil offers Jesus food, glory, and power. Jesus has been fasting for forty days and nights. He’s famished. Exhausted. Perhaps light-headed. What an excuse to make a foolish decision! What a justification to reach out and grab what was desired, regardless of how God said things should be!

But Jesus resisted the Tempter, and passed the test. You’ve heard it preached that Jesus was tempted to show you and me how to resist temptation when it confronts us. Like, just memorize the right Bible verses and you’ll be fine. I’ve probably preached a few sermons like that, myself. But if that’s all this is, we’re missing the point and we will fail. No, here in these forty days in the desert, Jesus is taking our do-over for us, and He’s doing it over right. He’s the new Adam, and He says No to Satan’s offers of perverted food and perverted glory and perverted power. He’s the new Israel, and instead of rejecting God’s word, He affirms it and confirms it and lives by its light. He’s doing what Adam couldn’t do, what Israel couldn’t do, what we couldn’t do. Jesus does it for us, and God accepts His offering in our behalf.

God demonstrates this most fully when Jesus is dying on the cross. We would not submit to the Father’s rule and authority: Jesus submits to a death He does not deserve in order to bring many sons and daughters to the glory of God. We did not obey the word and Law of God: Jesus keeps to the letter what is written and fulfils God’s promise of triumph over evil for us. Jesus gives us His obedience that we might obey; He gives us His death that we might have life.

As Protestants, we know we’re under no obligation to given anything up or take anything on for Lent. If you’ve chosen to, it’s between you and God alone. Nevertheless, as a minister of our Lord, I do call upon you to do whatever you have vowed to do, in the Spirit of Christ. Between now and the Feast of the Resurrection, I call on you to learn the meaning of Jesus’ fast and temptation in the wilderness. I call on you to take a tighter hold on the meaning of His cross.
If you have made a special vow, you’ve already learned it’s harder to keep it than it was on Ash Wednesday! That struggle is exactly where Jesus’ temptation and cross come home to you.
Maybe the Tempter is whispering, "True, you did tell God you’d read your Bible every day. But it’s so hard to find time, and nobody’s making you do it! You can drop it now if you want!"? Maybe you’re being tempted to lie to God!

Or worse, maybe that "Me-voice" in your head is saying, "Oh, I’ve given up chocolate every Lent for the past ten years! I am so successful at this! Temptation has no hold over me!"? Maybe the Devil’s tempting you to give up a mouthful of candy for a bellyful of pride instead!
But you have promised God, and you know you mustn’t take His name in vain. And you know God cares about the attitude of your heart as much or more than He cares about your outward behavior. But your behavior is bad! And your heart is wrong! You’re locked in mortal struggle--and that struggle is the very wilderness that the Spirit of God has driven you into.

When you’re earnest about your Lenten discipline, you discover you can’t do things over right for yourself, you have to have Jesus do it for you. You’ll learn how absurdly dependent you are on silliest habits and indulgences. Me, I find it helpful to give up computer games for Lent. And it’s frightening how the childish, old-Eve self in me keeps whining, "But I want to play Spider Solitaire! I can’t be happy this evening until I can play Spider Solitaire!" That’s when I have to cry out, "Lord, I can’t do this! Do it in me!"

And I’m sure you’ll find it’s the same with you in your Lenten discipline. In fact, it’s the same whenever we make any covenant or promise to do something to please God, whether it’s big or small. We cannot do it right, unless Jesus does it in us. In a few minutes, we’ll be receiving new members into this church fellowship. These new brothers and sisters will be making vows before God and the church and we will reaffirm our own membership vows right along with them. They’ll actually be making a commitment to be and do something they cannot be and do on their own. God will accept their promises. He’ll expect them to keep their promises. And He wants them to know they really can’t keep those promises, not as mere sons of Adam and daughters of Eve.

That’s exactly where God wants them, and where He want us. It’s good for us to understand how weak we are. It’s good for us to admit we can’t keep our church membership vows unless we are members first of the Son of God. It’s good for us to realize we can’t resist the smallest of temptations outside of the power of our Lord Jesus Christ. That’s our wilderness. It’s there we discover for ourselves that only Jesus the sinless Son of God could do over humanity’s cosmic error of rebellion against God and this time, get it right.

The Cross of Jesus is the supreme do-over of history. On that one dark Friday afternoon Jesus wiped out all the mistakes, all the foolishness, and all the crimes humanity would ever commit and wiped our account clean. In this season of Lent, look to the Cross and what Jesus did for you there. Commit ourselves anew to God and let Jesus work out that commitment in and through you. And rejoice in hope: In Christ we have done things over, and in Christ we do all things well.

Running for Daylight

Texts: John 9:1-7; Philippians 3:8-16

I DON’T KNOW TOO much about football.

I surprised myself once when an Englishman asked me to explain it to him, and I was able to give him the basics. But that’s all I could do. I don’t know beans about what a nickel defense is or who or what a "wide-out" is or where the Red Zone begins.

So when I’m watching football on TV, and all those guys in helmets and pads are mixing it up down there on the field, I couldn’t tell you if they’re following the patterns their coaches laid down for them, or if they’re making it up as they go along.

But occasionally something happens that’s so clear, even an ignoramus like me can understand. Like last year a little way into the second half of the Super Bowl in Detroit, when Willie Parker got the ball. The Steelers’ defenders opened up the hole and Parker broke free of the mass of players and headed straight for the Seahawks’ end zone. He knocked down one tackler, he pulled loose of another, it didn’t matter how many Seattle players were chasing him, he ran and ran and ran till he scored the touchdown. "Running for daylight," they call it. His eyes were open, the way was clear, and nothing was going to stop him short of that goal.

It’s so easy to use sports imagery as a metaphor for the Christian life, it’s almost embarrassing. The church I pastored in Nebraska hosted the local teen chapter of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. There was one meeting, we sang the song "Drop Kick Me, Jesus, Through the Goal Posts of Life." Just for fun, you know. I mean, was the songwriter serious? Isn’t following Jesus too important to be compared to a game?

But you know what? The Apostle Paul wasn’t embarrassed to compare the Christian life to a game. He used sports imagery in his letters all the time! Meaning that the Holy Spirit, Who inspired Paul’s writings, wasn’t embarrassed about it, either!

When Paul uses sports imagery he’s generally talking about track and field, or sometimes boxing. I can imagine him sitting in the stands at the games, cheering the runners on, and wondering to himself what it’d be like to be one of those athletes; especially the one who stood on the victor’s podium crowned with laurel and fame. But I can also imagine the Holy Spirit saying to him, "Paul, you are an athlete running a race. You’re running the most important race of all: the race of the Christian life." And Paul would know that that’s true of all of us Jesus has called to be on His team. All of us Christians are to be like athletes who practice and train and press on and on towards the goal.

But we’d better know where that goal line is and how we’re going to get there. To listen to some people, you’d think the goal of the Christian life is to be nice and tolerant to everyone they meet. Or that the victorious Christian life is about having a good marriage and raising fine, upstanding children. Or it means following all the rules in the Bible and a lot of other ones your particular church has made up to add to them. And if you listen to these people, they’ll tell you that you get to that goal is by trying really hard to be really nice and following their Ten Steps to a Successful Marriage and being so good and holy God just has to reward you with the heavenly equivalent of a Super Bowl ring. But those people are wrong. The fact is, you do that and it’s like Willie Parker last year not running 75 yards to the Seahawks’ goal line, but 25 yards to his own. Oops!

That’s what St. Paul wants us to understand in his letter to the Philippians. Paul thought he was a winner when he was known as Saul of Tarsus. He thought he’d already crossed the goal line and the ring was his. But he’d been running entirely the wrong way. He says, "If anyone else thinks he has reasons to put confidence in the flesh [that is, in our own efforts], I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for legalistic righteousness, faultless." He thought he’d not only crossed the goal line, he thought he’d been made game MVP!

But then, Jesus got hold of him. And Paul discovered that not only was he not a winner, he’d been playing for the wrong team. He says, "But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Jesus Christ my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things."

If you think you’re a winner because you’re a nice person, or because you try real hard and keep the rules, or because you have the perfect family, you’re running the wrong direction. You’re not running for daylight, you’re running into darkness. Saul of Tarsus thought he had a righteousness of his own that came from the law. He was self-righteous. But Paul the Apostle knew that all righteousness-- that is, all goodness, all kindness, all truth, all of what it takes to please God-- the only real righteousness there really is comes from God and He gives it to us through faith in His Son Jesus Christ.

As long as Paul thought he had the holiness game won, he was a loser. But as soon as he gave up all the so-called good stuff from his former life, Jesus could give him the really good stuff that only He can give.

We don’t have to knock ourselves out trying to keep all the rules! Jesus has kept them all for us! We don’t have to make people believe we’re living the perfect life! Jesus lived it for us! We don’t have to think of ourselves as nice people all the time! Jesus gives us something better than niceness, He gives us His perfect, burning goodness and love, the goodness and love that sent Him to the cross to die for our sins.

So what now? Can we Christians stop caring about how we live? That it doesn’t matter what we say and do in this world? That we no longer have to run for daylight?

That’s like saying to yourself, "Hey, God is merciful. I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and that He died for my sins. Good! It doesn’t matter if I commit a few more from time to time. Who needs to work at this Christianity business? My room in heaven is reserved. Why should I sweat things now?"

But Paul insists there is sweat and effort we have to put in here and now. He says, "I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings."

Over in Romans 6 he likens it to an employment situation. To keep our football metaphor going, it’s as if we’d been playing on the team of sin and death and the Devil, and we acted like it and we were getting the wages that sin always pays, which is death. But now Christ has come along in the power of His blood shed on the cross and forcibly taken us away from the Devil’s team. We’re playing for Jesus now, He’s paying us the astronomical salary of eternal life (which we could never, ever, ever earn), and He expects us to get in there and play the game the way He calls it. Not to pay Him back, but for our own good. That’s the only way we’re going to become strong and mature and reach the goal of becoming more and more like Jesus Christ.

Being a Christian isn’t a free pass to live however we want and Jesus foots the bill. That’s only another way of running the wrong way with the ball, as it were, another way of running into darkness.

But there’s yet another way we can lose sight of the goal. That’s when we say to ourselves, "Yes, God has called me heavenward. Jesus has saved me and brought me to the line of scrimmage. He’s my Example and my Inspiration. But now it’s all up to me and my own efforts to overcome the opposition and run for the goal of holiness and heaven." Like Peyton Manning might say, "Johnny Unitas was a great Colts quarterback. I can learn a lot from him. But winning this Super Bowl today is my job, not his."

Peyton Manning would be right if he said that about Johnny Unitas. For one thing, Johnny Unitas is dead. But the Holy Spirit says it’s definitely not that way with us and Jesus. As it says in verse 12, "I press on to take hold of that for which Jesus Christ took hold of me." If you want to push the football imagery a little farther, we can truly say that from God’s point of view, we’re not the ball carrier, we’re the ball!

God calls us to run this race of the Christian life, because Jesus His Son is running it with us and in us and for us. That’s what He sent the Holy Spirit to live in us for. Paul says in verse 10, "I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection." We have a risen Saviour who loved us so much He died for us! He rose again in power! And we can and must draw upon His resurrection power if we’re going to make any headway at all.

That’s our goal--to know Christ and the power of His resurrection. How can we ever expect to reach that goal if we treat Jesus like a dead legend or like some old-timer who’s not in the game any more? The victory is His and His alone. If we’re not out there living life in His righteous strength and wisdom, we may as well admit defeat here and now.

This takes discipline and self-denial and being willing to take the hits. Paul says he wants to know the fellowship of sharing in Christ’s sufferings and become like Him in His death. Suffering? Death? Well, Paul, if you want to be a martyr, be our guest. We pray that God will never make us suffer for our faith!

But God can’t say Yes to that prayer. He loves us too much. The resurrection cannot come without the cross.

It may be that God may call you and me to follow in Christ’s footsteps and suffer physically at the hands of evil men, for righteousness’ sake. From time to time we’ve all had to suffer emotionally or socially for being faithful members of God’s team. But knowing the "fellowship of sharing in Christ’s sufferings," goes beyond that that. Christ’s sufferings included the total submission to God that enabled Him to go to the cross and bear our sins for us.

We may not have to bear torture and hardship for the sake of Christ. But Christ does call each and every one of us to deny ourselves and take up our cross daily and follow Him. To say, "Your will be done, O Lord, and not my own." Self-denial is a necessary part of the Christian life. No resurrection without the cross; no glory without the shame.

And we have to deny ourselves perfectly, as Jesus did. Can we do that? Are we skilled at saying ‘no’ to our own wills and ‘yes’ to the will of God? No, every day we find ourselves intending to do what God wants but going our own way instead. We’re like football players who keep on playing the way we did in the schoolyard, instead of running the plays the way the big league coach tells us to.

But doing things Jesus’s way and in His power is the only way we’re going to win. Getting to the point where we do everything Jesus’ way and in Jesus’ power is what it means to win.

But even as we strive towards that goal, we fall short again and again. And guess what? Paul says it’s the same with him! "Not that I have already obtained all this," he says, "or have already been made perfect." He knows there’s a groove where the power of God is always flowing and it doesn’t matter whether one says "The Holy Spirit did it" or "I did it," because it’d be exactly the same thing. But he confesses that so far even he doesn’t half know what it’s like to be there.

Even so, there’s no way Paul’s going to sit down and say it doesn’t matter if he reaches the goal. Jesus is the Light of the world, and our whole purpose is to live in His light and be like Him as children of light. That’s what being a Christian is all about--for Paul, for me, for you, for all of us who are drafted to be on God’s team. So strain forward to grab hold of real life in Jesus Christ, because Jesus has already grabbed hold of you. Be like that running back who breaks free with the ball and heads for the goal line, for Jesus has you in the crook of His arm and He’s running there with you.

Run for daylight, because Christ has given you everything you need to reach the goal. He has given you His blood, which washes away your sins. He has given you His Holy Spirit, who lives in you and works through you, to do God’s will and bring you to maturity in Christ. And He gives you this meal we are about to eat. The bread and wine of the Lord’s Table is Christ present with you and in you. Here you can touch and taste the power of His death and resurrection, making you strong to press on to reach the goal of life eternal in Him.

Who knows what’ll happen in Miami this evening. Whatever happens on the field, remember that you, Christian, are a player in a contest far more important that any Super Bowl ever can be. You are an athlete on God’s own team and your player-coach is Jesus Christ. As long as you live, your aim and goal should be nothing less than to be like Him. Jesus is the resurrection power helping you run. He is the holy self-denial that breaks the tackles of complacency and sin. And He is the goal you’re running toward. Forget what’s behind, strain forward, and run for daylight. The prize is nothing less than perfect fellowship and resurrection life in Jesus Christ, the Light of the World. Keep your eyes on Him, because in Him, with Him, and through Him, the victory will be yours.