Transcript

He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt. Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee, the other a tax collector. The Pharisee standing by himself was praying thus, God I thank you that I'm not like other people, thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector I fast twice a week, I give a tenth of all my income. But the tax collector standing far off would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying God be merciful to me, a sinner. I tell you this man went down to his home justified rather than the other, for all who exalt themselves will be humbled and all who humble themselves will be exalted. The Gospel of Christ. To those of us who've been around the barn a few times it is clear that some of the stories Jesus told need to be repaired or as we say in the South they need fixing. Not long ago we had one of these stories Luke seems to have gathered the most offensive of them and it was the story of the prodigal son. I decided to preach it as it was. I had been invited by a church in North Georgia to preach on that text that Sunday and I did, but I gave it just as it was. There was a man who had two sons, the older son stayed at home and worked and did the father's bidding. The younger son went away into a far country, lived among Gentiles apparently, fed the hogs, came into terrible times, and decided to return home. As he approached the house the father met him, embraced him, kissed him and the son said, Father I've sinned against heaven and in your sight I'm not worth. Calling your son make me a slave, but they brought the robe and the rings, they hired the fiddlers, they killed the calf, they had a party upon his return. I thought it was appropriate that I say to the people that God frustrates the proud and gives grace and forgiveness to the humble sinner. After the service my wife and I were taken to lunch by an attorney in that church and his wife and at the lunch he said I really don't know whether to say I didn't like your sermon or I didn't like the text. He says it is easier to say I didn't like your sermon because my wife doesn't like for me to speak against the Bible. I said well you can't hear what's your problem and he said it's receiving that boy back home and having a party for him and I said well what would you have transpired? He said he should have been arrested. He broke the law, he ruined the family, lived with Gentiles, out with the pigs, told me against the law he should have been arrested. I said and given a mandatory sentence he said at least six years. He was serious, I tried to make light of his comments and he would have none of it. So I decided that story needs to be fixed, it's running into problems. So when I was invited to a church to teach an adult Sunday school class some distance from here it was Sunday morning about 9.20 when I was called. Can you teach our class? I said it's Sunday already and I said well yes but our teacher's just called and is ill. Can you come and do it? I said well I have to have time to repair or you can do it. It's New Testament, it's a parable, we're studying parables. Well which parable? The prodigal son. I said okay and I decided to fix it on the way. It had not gone over well before and so I said there was a man who had two sons and the older son stayed home, did his father's bidding, worked hard on the farm. The younger son took his money, wasted it in a far country, came into hard times, decided he should come home but confessed his wrong. Well when he drew near the house he heard music and dancing and he called one of the servants and said what is this party going on? And the servant said you know your older brother who stayed here and worked, your father appreciates him and is giving him a party. Well I couldn't even get myself straightened up in front of this class till some woman in the back yelled out that's the way it should have been. So now I knew how to deal with this Bible business and then Luke a few chapters later does it again. Two men at the temple to pray, the one of Pharisee and I hope that word is not too flavored in your mind. He was a man committed to the law, oral and written law. One should obey the word of God night and day, 24 hours a day, waking and sleeping. He gave a tenth of all he had for the poor and the needy, prayed and fasted regularly and kept himself clean, not like adulterers and thieves and rogues and even like this tax collector he was squeaky clean, give him credit. He could have run for office with no fear of somebody pulling things out of the closet and getting him disqualified immediately. He was okay. He was proud of being okay. The other a tax collector was a reprehensible character. He had decided to collect taxes for the Roman government from his own people. He was a political trader. He was in terms of citizenship, a non-entity. He couldn't serve on a jury. He could not do anything a normal citizen did because he was out. He couldn't even look around. He couldn't look up. He couldn't look down. He couldn't look within. He just beat his breast and said, please God. And he went home justified. Now I knew with an audience like this, that wouldn't go over, so I have fixed it. When you get old, you like for people to like you. The way to make this acceptable is to consider the Pharisee is really the rogue. Narrow-minded and brittle, judgmental, bigoted, harsh, cruel in his treatment of others, condescending in his attitude, pinch-nosed, hmm. But the publican, I meet these all the time. This is Joe the bartender, a nice guy, an outsider. We love outsiders. Someone who can say, God, I thank you, then I'm not like these Pharisees and all these other people that do their religious duty. I'm free of all that. The things behind the bar takes counsel with the people, helps those who are in distress, whose family has left them, and is generally the healer, counselor, and pastor of the real people. Now, it's all right for him to go home justified because we've given a reason within himself to be justified. He's a nice guy. The other one, a reason not to be justified. He is a religious bigot. This is a little exercise you have to go through to make these stories acceptable. To find a reason in the person for being acceptable. Because there is in many of us, I can't speak for you, but there is in many of us a fundamental idea that people should just get what they deserve. And stories like the father with two sons, the two who went up to the temple to pray, and other such stories are offensive because they deal with that rare and strange experience known as forgiveness. In which, in which most people do not believe. Why is forgiveness so hard? Rodney King pulled from a truck, beaten almost to death, finally recovers, faces his attackers, goes over, shakes their hands. I forgive you. And the reporter says, we understand that Mr. King suffers some permanent brain damage. Why is it so hard to believe that he forgave them? You don't just forgive somebody for goodness sake. I've been thinking recently a good deal about George Wallace, who died recently. I remember him first, that square jawed man who stood across the path to equal opportunity. Segregation, yesterday, segregation, tomorrow, segregation, forever. It was not just a Southern disease. In the presidential primary, he took the city of Boston. He brought out a certain quality in people. They found a voice in George Wallace. George Wallace changed. I believe he really changed. The people who had supported him felt betrayed. Those who had opposed him were still suspicious. But I looked at the line of mourners as they went by his casket. All ethnic groups, all races, all kinds of people went by to pay their respect. I think he changed, given what he did for education, given what he did for politics and I think he really changed. But before he died, he said, I still don't understand why the American people have not forgiven me. Well, George, it's hard. I was this week at Vanderbilt, my old graduate school. We were dilly -dallying around there, having some ceremonies and talking. And we fell into reminiscences of the school when I was there. And a classmate of mine, Jim Lawson, a young man, black man, now a very significant minister of the United Methodist Church in Southern California. And he was engaged in a city in downtown Nashville and he was arrested. And he was by the Chancellor of Vanderbilt University, B. Harvey Branscomb. He was expelled from school. Last fall, Jim Lawson was back to receive an honor, a distinctive honor. Harvey Branscomb, at that time, almost 103, asked to go to the ceremony. He went to the ceremony and he asked to be taken up to Mr. Lawson and he put out his hand and said, Reverend Lawson, do you forgive me? And Jim said, I've already forgiven you. Took his hand. One of my old teachers, bless his heart, was there on that occasion and he was heard to mutter too loudly. It's not that simple. It's just a show. Why couldn't he accept that? Because forgiveness is very hard. It's hard to believe that it really, really takes place. Why? Well, part of it is just getting a lot of bad advice. People are in a situation that calls for forgiveness, get a lot of advice from friends and neighbors and relatives. Don't you ever forgive him. But what you're to do is to pretend that you do, but keep bringing it up every once in a while. And you will have power over that creep as long as you're married. You'll have. Others said, hey, look, who are you? You're not perfect. Nobody's perfect. Who are you to judge? Cut him a little slack for goodness sake. My land, we're all human. Bad advice everywhere. That's probably the reason. I don't know. Probably it's the fear of what other people will think. When Helen found out Jim was having an affair, she went home to her mother, was there about six weeks. And she had been in communication with Jim. She decided to return. She was packing her suitcase. Her mother came in the room. What are you doing? I'm packing a suit. Well, I see you're packing a suitcase. Where are you going? I'm going home. You are at home. I'm not at home. I'm going to my home. You're going back to your home. Yeah. Well, Jim will be there. I know it. I forgive him. I love him and I forgive him. What? I love him and I forgive him. You mean you're going? Yes, mother. I'm going back. I love him and I forgive him. I never thought a daughter of mine would condone a thing like mother. I didn't say I condoned it. I said I forgive him. Well, it looks the same to me. Now, what are other people going to say? What are other people going to say? Oh, one thing they will say for sure is you're soft on sin. Pretty soft on sin. The way you prove that you're not soft on sin, never forgive anybody, anything. Show your moral courage. Show your moral statue. Never in my lifetime. And then everybody will know you stand for what is right. Even though I personally cannot think of anything more immoral than not forgiving. What makes it so difficult? One day Jesus was teaching his disciples and right in the middle of the lesson, they raised their hands and said, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. That's the Greek. It's hard to get it over in English. And they said, increase our faith. Oh, teacher, increase our faith. What you're asking is more than we can do. What was he talking about? Going the second mile, turning the other cheek, giving your coat, feeding your, no, you know what he was talking about? Even if someone sins against you, repents and turns and asks for forgiveness seven times a day, you will do it. And they said, that's, increase our faith. We just, we just can't do it. It's extremely difficult. Why is it difficult? I think part of it is that many people feel that you have only one of two alternatives to just cut everybody some slack and say, well, you know, it's not all that bad. Is it? My oldest brother, when he was in the school of journalism, University of Missouri, got married one weekend, his sophomore year. It wasn't too many weekends later that they were going to be divorced. I don't know, must have had a lot of bad weather in Missouri, but he got married and it didn't work, had death written all over it. He called me and said, do you know any minister in Columbia, Missouri? I said, yes, I know so. Could you give me the name of someone with whom I could talk? He was absolutely devastated. And he went to a minister I suggested, made an appointment, went in, talked to the minister and the minister said, well, what's, what's your problem Bill? And he said, well, I think we're going to be divorced. You mean that's your problem? You're on a campus for goodness sake. We have marriages and divorces all the time. Welcome to the club. I don't know how many years it was before my brother returned to church because he said, I expected to be taken seriously. But say many people think the only alternatives they have is to be non-serious. Oh, everybody has problems. You're a lie and a cheat. Somebody else cheats on the spouse and all like that, but nobody's perfect. Hey, that's the way the world is. On the other hand, you have people who choose the alternative, which they feel to be rigid, immovable, stand for this, crucify them, never let them off the hook. And the fact of the matter is forgiveness is another alternative. Forgiveness looks like looks like you didn't take it seriously, but feels extremely the pain of it. In order for there to be forgiveness, there has to be the pain of the one who stands for what is morally right. There has to be the release of the one who says, let him go. As Reinhold neighbor put it, forgiveness negates and yet fulfills all righteousness. And the only person who really can forgive is the one who's been hurt by what happened. What the rest of us don't, sitting around proving how liberal we are, how conservative we are, doesn't amount to a hill of beans because it's not our case. Drink gallons of coffee, sit in all the shops, go into all the cafes, make huddles at night. What do you think? I don't know. What do you think? What do you think? Well, the way I look at it is, huh? Yeah, the way I look at it. Do you know why we are so free with those opinions? Because we don't hurt. But the one who feels violated, something in me just wants to die is the only one who can say, I forgive you. This is why God is qualified to say, I forgive you. This is why you have been or will be qualified to say, I forgive you. I am willing, I am willing to turn loose of my pain, this pain that's really become my identification, this pain which I have vowed to carry with me because this is who I am now, the hurt one, the victim. I'm going to turn it loose. I saw a couple recently, I've known them for years, but about eight or nine years ago, he violated the marriage vow. I was there, I was there when he said, it's clear, it's crystal. Keep thee only unto her as long as you both shall live. And I heard him, he said, yes. He didn't, he didn't. It was so terribly destructive to her, to him, to the children, to the friends, to the parents. I saw them recently, they were walking along, talking, having a good time with another couple, just as happy as dead pigs in the sunshine. Oh, so it looked, so it looked. But were they really, were they really? Do you believe, I'm asking you a question now, do you believe that she could really forgive him?