SERMON FOR JULY 20 & 23, 2006

SERMON FOR JULY 20 & 23, 2006 Ephesians 2:11-22

Grace Evangelical Lutheran Church

This is yesterday’s news report from Beirut, Lebanon – “Israeli troops clashed with Hezbollah guerrillas on the Lebanese side of the border Wednesday, while Lebanon's prime minister reported a death toll of 300 and demanded compensation from Israel for the "unimaginable losses" to the nation's infrastructure. As fighting entered its second week, Israeli warplanes flattened houses in south Lebanon and Hezbollah rockets made their first hit near Christian holy sites in Israel: Two rockets hit Nazareth -- the biblical hometown of Jesus -- killing two brothers ages 3 and 9 as they played.”

Human beings don’t get along. That’s a truth as old as the first human family. One son becomes jealous of the other and the rest is history: “Cain said to his brother Abel. ‘Let us go into the field.’ [Now the Lord looked with favor on Abel and his offering, but on Cain and his offering he did not look with favor.] [So] while they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him.”

It’s an age-old story; it’s only more obvious in places like the Middle East.

But even here, simple issues divide us:

Religion divides Jews from Muslims from Christians from pagan, and on and on.

Money divides the “haves” from the “have-nots.”

Skin color divides races.

Something as precious as faith can divide us into “believers” and “unbelievers.”

Something as trivial as a parking space can caused a street war.

Jesus said, as recorded in Matthew, chapter 5, that we don’t have to come to the point of murder to be sinning. If we harbor anger against someone, insult another person, or even call someone a “fool,” we are as guilty as if we had pulled the trigger and committed murder. (It really says that!)

Hostility is the opposite of peace; it results from egotism complicated by fear: Each and every one of us believes himself to be special, in fact, deeply down we believe ourselves to be more special than anyone else. And that’s a perfect example of how evil perverts truth—because the truth is, we really are special, each of us uniquely conceived and created, loved and cared for by God. If only we could be happy with equality. But because we’re so egotistical, we are also afraid: We live in fear that someone else might take our place in God’s sight. And so we see in conflicts like that in the Middle East only an exaggeration of what goes on between all of us all the time--jockeying for position, looking out for number one.

All of which breaks God’s heart—because it violates his one desire for all creation. And if you’ve ever wondered what in the world God does want, look at the first chapter of Ephesians, verses 9 & 10: “And [the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ] made known to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ, to be put into effect when the times will have reached their fulfillment—to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ.”

Here, the writer isn’t describing just a ceasefire or a negotiated compromise; he’s talking about real peace. Real peace doesn’t come from denying the reality of human hostility and crying “peace, peace when there is no peace” (Jeremiah 6:14). Real peace comes instead from facing reality. Only by admitting that we have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God and by accepting God’s forgiveness for our sins can we come into the family of God, the only place where real peace can reign.

Real peace comes from our security in Christ. When we have been baptized into his death and raised to live eternally, we don’t have to fear that someone else will become “Daddy’s favorite.” Because God loves each of us uniquely and equally, we can—if we will—relax our defenses (and our offenses) and love each other.

The verses immediately after Matthew’s version of what we call “The Lord’s Prayer” make one thing very clear: For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses. God will not forgive us if we hold grudges or harbor hatred against our brothers and sisters in Christ in our hearts. Forgiveness isn’t an option; it’s a commandment.

Of course, the deepest rift in creation is between those who are in Christ and those who are not. It’s true—peace is possible only in Christ. But God has made it very clear how we are to regard those not yet with us in Christ. 2 Corinthians 5:20 says it plainly: “We are Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. With those outside the body of Christ, we dare not have an “us against them” attitude. For it is to unbelievers that God sends us through his Great Commission. He commands us to “go and make disciples,” inviting the unbelieving world to come to Jesus.

There are only two God-pleasing ways to relate to other human beings: living in peace with those who are in Christ with us and compassionate hospitality toward those who have not yet come to know Him.

Last night, I did something really bizarre on the evening before I was to preach: I watched a movie. Not just any movie—but one that I had intended to watch ever since I heard that it was out. And I am glad I did, because I believe it powerfully summarizes what God is saying in Ephesians: [The movie] End of the Spear tells the true story of how the love of God in Christ, extended by the power of the Holy Spirit through a handful of Christians made the difference between war and peace, death and eternal life:

In a remote river basin on the Amazon Jungle in Equador lives a native tribe whose fierceness was legendary. More than ½ of them had died from the spears of their fellow tribesmen; their violence had brought them to the brink of extinction. This tribe believed that, by killing, they gained the strength they would need to defeat what they called “the great snake,” the ultimate evil each person must face when he dies.

In 1956, to this tribe came five Christian missionaries, under the leadership of a man named Jim Elliott. These missionaries had spent years learning and translating the New Testament into tribal language. From their airplanes, they search for the tribe, hoping to make contact and befriend them, so that eventually they could be given the opportunity to share with the tribe the Good News of peace through Jesus Christ. Finally, they met the tribe they had been searching for. The missionaries began to try to show godly love to the tribe in every way possible—bringing them food and supplies. And things seemed to be going well. But, then one day, after years of prayerful preparation and careful effort, the tribe suddenly, without cause, turned on the men with spears and machetes and killed every one of them.

The story of these Christian who died for their faith would be remarkable enough, in a century when evangelism efforts toward non-Christians have slowed considerably from previous centuries. But the most stunning fact of the story was yet to come.

Instead of launching a campaign of vengeance against, or, at the very least, escape from, the murderers, the missionaries’ wives and children did the exact opposite. Elisabeth Elliott, her daughter Valerie, and other of the missionaries’ wives and children stayed in that place of death. In the equatorial jungle, slowly but surely, they re-established contact with the tribe, building trust bathed in prayer, even to the point of staying with the tribe and nursing them during a quarantine while the polio virus raged, until eventually the very tribesmen who had murdered their husbands and fathers came to seek forgiveness and accept the Prince of Peace as their Savior.

The movie begins with these words: “Some people say we live in a world of irreconcilable differences. Others say that true peace, lasting peace can’t be obtained because we haven’t found a way yet to change the human heart. … [Jim Elliott] died at the end of a spear. And at the end of the spear, the man who killed him found eternal life.”

When will we human beings lower our spears—our distrust, the sharp knives of our harsh words, our sinful bitterness and cutting contempt toward even brothers and sisters in Christ, not to mention our murderous neglect toward those who are outside the family of God. Jesus is our peace; through his suffering, he has broken down every wall.

THURSDAY EVENING—on my way to worship—response letter from Jimmie Carter. His advice affirmed my leading.

Let us pray:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy;

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen.