Real Peace. Real People.

Acts 1:1–11 In my former book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus began to do and to teach 2 until the day he was taken up to heaven, after giving instructions through the Holy Spirit to the apostles he had chosen. 3 After his suffering, he presented himself to them and gave many convincing proofs that he was alive. He appeared to them over a period of forty days and spoke about the kingdom of God. 4 On one occasion, while he was eating with them, he gave them this command: “Do not leave Jerusalem, but wait for the gift my Father promised, which you have heard me speak about. 5 For John baptized with water, but in a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.” 6 Then they gathered around him and asked him, “Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?” 7 He said to them: “It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority. 8 But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” 9 After he said this, he was taken up before their very eyes, and a cloud hid him from their sight. 10 They were looking intently up into the sky as he was going, when suddenly two men dressed in white stood beside them. 11 “Men of Galilee,” they said, “why do you stand here looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven.”

I honestly can’t decide what the greater miracle in this account really is. Is it Theophilus or Jesus’ supernatural levitation known as as ascension. It’s a toss-up. A few years ago, I probably wouldn’t have ever wondered that. Because in the past I’ve missed the Spirit’s point. I’ve read Scripture like this. My eyes have glazed over. My brain has gone into some kind of incoherent fog and I’ve totally missed what the Spirit was telling me. It’s happened when I’ve gotten to Matthew chapter one and then again when I’ve headed into Luke three. It’s happened in Genesis too. Probably especially when I’ve gotten to Genesis. Genesis has had my eyes trying to glaze already in its fifth chapter and then again in its tenth. And if I’ve managed to stick with the Spirit that long then it’s chapter thirty-six that has generally gotten my number. You know what the Spirit does in those chapters of the Bible? He lines up person after person after person after person – and all of them by name. All of them by name. When you read those chapters it’s like a scriptural tsunami of names. Name after name after name after name after name. It’s overwhelming.

Sometimes though, the Spirit doesn’t overwhelm you with the volume and the amount of names. Sometimes he impresses you because of how lonesome a name in the Bible is. Sometimes you see how one individual gets named. Just one. One person who gets noticed, and totally and singularly loved by God. That’s the approach Luke takes here. The singular one. The totally personal one. He names just one guy who is known, loved, and spoken to. And he does this as the first thing in Acts. Before he breathes a single syllable about Jesus, he speaks to this one guy and then – and only then – is willing to dive into the history of Jesus. In the English translation here it takes Luke just four little words before he says, “Theophilus,” (v. 1) I’m writing to you and for you.’ That’s at least partly why I’m wondering here what’s more miraculous the ascension of Jesus Christ or the love of God that zeroes in on just one single soul like there was no one else in the entire world. Just him. What’s more miraculous?

Before you answer that question, I suppose I should point out that Theophilus needed some special attention from God. We don’t know much about the problem that Theophilus had with Jesus, but we can guess. We can guess that he had too high an opinion of himself. So high that Jesus seemed unnecessary to him. So high that Luke had to treat him with kid gloves, coddle him, and walk on eggshells with him. You can’t miss that in Luke’s Gospel. He said there, “I myself have carefully investigated everything from the beginning, I too decided to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may know the certainty of the things you have been taught.” (Luke 1:3–4) And so write Luke did and some of it was tough love. None of the other gospels have the lost stories like Luke. That lost sheep, coin, and brother. I’ll bet those stories hit Theophilus like a ton of bricks. Perhaps it was those stories that showed him how lost he was; how critical and uncaring he constantly was of people outside his circle; how he was always chasing stuff not people; how much he had relied on his money and his power to feel something – anything; how he had used his title and his position and authority not for others, but for himself.

And perhaps it was in those very stories that not only revealed to Theophilus his true self, but also saved him. Because he was the one being found. Jesus had just never quit on him. He found Theophilus’ prideful heart so filled with position, status, and success and instead filled it with his cross. He found Theophilus and let him know, “I’m as real and saving as your sins are.” Because Jesus was still real. Still there. Still Alive. Really, he was. Jesus’ life and work was all a matter of historical record now. “After his suffering, he (Jesus) presented himself to them and gave many convincing proofs that he was alive.” (v. 3) Jesus was alive. And all of it was right there in black and white in Luke’s own hand. And better yet all of it was written to him, about him and for him. “Most excellent Theophilus,” Luke had said, “Jesus died and rose for you.” His own name. Written right there in the Scriptures. For Theophilus. For the status seeker in him. For the Pharisee in him. For the money lover and stuff chaser in him. Jesus was for him. Personally. Specifically. Individually.

Just one guy. But that’s totally God. God’s the kind of God who has names and people scrolling through his head like a divine ticker tape – a ticker tape we just get to glimpse in places like Luke three and Genesis five. God knows names. God cares about individuals. And not just in mass either. Jesus’ eyes don’t glaze over when the ticker tape starts running before him. That’s when they start shining. Jesus’ mind doesn’t fog with the mass of humanity. It gains laser like focus. You know how we know that? Because he zeroed in on you. And he picked you. And maybe for you it was just a bit like Theophilus. Maybe it your excellency that he took. Maybe he helped you see the you that was so lost that you didn’t even really realize you were lost. Maybe he helped you see that the ways in which you had been finding yourself – your parenting, your job, your morality – made you more lost than the people who already knew they were lost. But then somehow someway Jesus found you too and inscribed his cross right into your heart. And you were found. Singularly. Specifically. Individually.

I’m telling you that when God takes people and gives them faith that’s huge. HUGE. Remember those eggshells Luke had been walking on with Theophilus? Gone. You know what’s left in Acts? Just plain, “Theophilus.” (v. 1) Theophilus the disciple. Theophilus the believer. Theophilus the man who Jesus personally loved. And that is HUGE. Theophilus is a miracle of the most stunning variety. If you think making the blind see or the lame walk is something, try converting a human. Just try. I promise you that when it came to Theophilus God somehow someway did the spiritual equivalent of make a pig fly. Theophilus is a miracle of the greatest ranking. He ranks up there with the turning of the most hardened criminals, the most prideful of hearts, the most solid of Muslims, the most vocal of atheists, and the most lethargic of souls, even your aunt who the whole family knows swore off Jesus a decade ago. The Spirit here took the most impossible of people, Theophilus, and converted him.  And noticing that massive miracle couldn’t be more important to the rest of Luke’s point.

You know why? If we don’t see that you know what we’ll do in life? We’ll check out. We’ll hit the pause button and just hang out as a country club of the saved until Jesus comes back to get us. We’ll watch too much Netflix. We’ll scroll too much Facebook. We huddle up too often in our houses or in our church. We’ll pull up a lawn chair in life, slap on our sunglasses, and stare into the sky waiting for Jesus to come back. And why? Because we won’t think when Jesus says that “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (v. 8) that it’s going to do a lick of good. You know how the argument looks in your head, right? He’s too backward. She’s too unbelieving. They’re too hardened. He’s too into Buddhism. She’s too stuck on her sexual orientation or too in pursuit of her career or his good work or his easy lifestyle or her scientific studies or what their dad told them about God when they were eight. You know the arguments. And you know what the truth is? You’re right. You’re right about all of them them. Jesus is absolutely unfathomable to folks like that. You’re not turning them around. That’d be like you trying to take the stripes off a Zebra. Or the waddling from a penguin. Or the excellency from Theophilus. Or the unbelief from you.

And that’s why Jesus doesn’t task you with it. You’re not doing the converting. That’s Luke’s huge deal in this entire section. You’re not doing it. Really you’re not. He doesn’t come to you here in Acts 1 and say, “Better get to work at pounding Jesus into your atheist neighbor. It sure is going to take you a while.” Nor does he say, “You better have the exact phrasing for him or it might not work.” Nor does he say, “You better witness enough or people will be lost forever because of you.” Luke isn’t dumping commands on us about witnessing at all. Not in this section. You know what he does say? He says, “You’re going to get, “the gift my Father promised.” (v. 4) And he says, “You will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.” And as if that weren’t enough he goes on to promise, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you.” (v. 8) Luke’s all about the promise of power. That’s his big deal. And then – and I might add – and only then does he go on to say, “You will be my witnesses.” (v. 8) Do you see Luke’s point? We don’t convert anybody. We trust the Spirit to do it.

That’s Luke’s big deal. You have God. God. Not Jesus junior. Not God the Father the lesser. You have Pure, High, and Mighty God. God the Miracle Worker. God the Converter. God the Re-birther. God the Regenerator. God the Faith Starter. God the Spirit. And God the Spirit has mind blowing power, soul converting power. The kind of power that can take the stripes right off a Zebra, the waddling away from a penguin, the excellency from Theophilus, and the unbelief from you. Nobody’s too entrenched in their Buddhism that the Spirit can’t entrench them in Christ. Nobody’s too stuck in their sexual orientation that the Spirit can’t reorient them to Jesus. Nobody’s so in love with this life that he won’t have them falling in love with the coming life with Jesus. The Spirit of God has a firm non-discrimination policy. He’s after everyone no matter who they are. Nominal Christian or avowed atheist, comfortable American or religiously unaffiliated, upstanding citizen or hardened criminal. Nobody is too backward for the Spirit. Nobody. You know what the best proof of that is? You are. You’re the Spirit’s best work – his greatest miracle. Look in the mirror. See what you see. You know what I see in myself? The most unlikely of converts. Converted. The one running from him in life. Now chasing him. The unlovable. Loved. You are the work of the mighty Spirit of God. No less than Theophilus.

We must see his power. We must understand his consistency and his love. We must. You know why? Our problem with witnessing isn’t that we don’t know we’re supposed to do it. It isn’t even that we don’t quite know what to say. Our biggest problem is that we’re not sure it works. I mean why say something at the family Christmas party if it’s just going to get everyone stirred up? Why talk to the recent divorcee about the healing Jesus gives if she’ll never believe anyway? Why bring up the faith with that wealthy equestrian when he’ll probably just send it all packing? Why would we? We wouldn’t, but we would if we knew the Convertor was there. But we would if we thought the Regenerator would use it. But we would if we knew that Mighty God the Spirit was going to my voice, my faith thoughts, my love for Jesus to save someone. Then we would. Then we would and we’d stand there waiting to see the fireworks. We would. We stand there expecting results same way we would when we flip a switch, plug in a light, or turn the ignition in a car.

We would witness and then we’d watch. And that’s what Luke wants for us. Luke wants us to trust that the Spirit works through our witnessing. Because he knows that when we do, we’ll witness. We’ll get off Facebook and grab lunch with that hurting soul. We’ll get out of the lawn chairs of our lives and get into the County prison and out into that white collar office. We will. We’ll say what’s true at the book club and that dinner party and that Christmas gathering. We really will. Because we’ll see people as people. We’ll see that they’re a part of God’s ticker tape, a name on his brain. And then our eyes won’t glaze as we look at people and our minds won’t fog as we spend time with them. We’ll be zapped into the potential every moment has to change a person’s eternity. Because I’m standing with or sitting next to or eating with another person who Jesus loves with every fiber of his being. And now the Spirit is just waiting to leap from my thoughts – to use my very words to plug that name, that person, that soul into Jesus so that for the first time in their lives darkness becomes light and unbelief becomes belief and sadness becomes joy and death becomes life.

Theophilus got that. That’s why he bankrolled the writing of Acts. And he did bankroll it. He was the patron of the book. Luke was written because Theophilus wasn’t sure. Acts was written because he was. Theophilus put his checkbook, his resources, his heart on the line for witness. Because he believed a person catches the Spirit through it. Thick skinned Jews and heretical Greeks. Modern skeptics and humanistic Romans. Super religious people and super unreligious people. He knew all of them could be reached through witness. And why? Because God is there. God the Spirit. Lightning in the bottle of your witness. Divinity in the clothes of your words. Salvation coming right from your tongue. For your aunt – you know the one. For the mailman who comes by the house. For the lady in your running club. For the husband you married. For the child you gave birth to and your best friend from high school. I’m not sure which was the greater miracle in this account. Theophilus or Jesus’ supernatural levitation. To me, it’s a toss-up. I’ll tell you what I do know. I’m enjoying all the spiritual miracles sitting right here in front of me right now. You. And I can’t wait to see what miracle the Spirit’s going to do next. Through your witness. Amen. 

Acts 9:1–19 Meanwhile, Saul was still breathing out murderous threats against the Lord’s disciples. He went to the high priest 2 and asked him for letters to the synagogues in Damascus, so that if he found any there who belonged to the Way, whether men or women, he might take them as prisoners to Jerusalem. 3 As he neared Damascus on his journey, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. 4 He fell to the ground and heard a voice say to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” 5 “Who are you, Lord?” Saul asked. “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting,” he replied. 6 “Now get up and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do.” 7 The men traveling with Saul stood there speechless; they heard the sound but did not see anyone. 8 Saul got up from the ground, but when he opened his eyes he could see nothing. So they led him by the hand into Damascus. 9 For three days he was blind, and did not eat or drink anything. 10 In Damascus there was a disciple named Ananias. The Lord called to him in a vision, “Ananias!” “Yes, Lord,” he answered. 11 The Lord told him, “Go to the house of Judas on Straight Street and ask for a man from Tarsus named Saul, for he is praying. 12 In a vision he has seen a man named Ananias come and place his hands on him to restore his sight.” 13 “Lord,” Ananias answered, “I have heard many reports about this man and all the harm he has done to your holy people in Jerusalem. 14 And he has come here with authority from the chief priests to arrest all who call on your name.” 15 But the Lord said to Ananias, “Go! This man is my chosen instrument to proclaim my name to the Gentiles and their kings and to the people of Israel. 16 I will show him how much he must suffer for my name.” 17 Then Ananias went to the house and entered it. Placing his hands on Saul, he said, “Brother Saul, the Lord—Jesus, who appeared to you on the road as you were coming here—has sent me so that you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” 18 Immediately, something like scales fell from Saul’s eyes, and he could see again. He got up and was baptized, 19 and after taking some food, he regained his strength.

There are a lot of things that could be said about Paul’s conversion. I could tell you that it’s apparently so important that a whopping nineteen verses of Acts aren’t enough to cover the event. Not according to Luke. Because it comes back again later in Acts. And then as if two recountings and now 39 verses of it weren’t enough, Luke hits us with it a third time in Acts. Depending on which verses you count, we’ve got 50 verses and a full three different tellings of Paul’s conversion. Luke obviously thinks it’s pretty important that we sit and think about that single fact for a while. I think if we did it’d bring up pretty healthy questions like: what does that tell us about the theology that Paul gives us? What does that tell us about how the Spirit feels about his teachings? For now, though, I think what we really need to deal with is the Jesus who appears in this account and how he heals Paul in it.

Because the fact of the matter is that this is an appearance of the resurrected Jesus to Paul. We have to see that. Just like when Jesus showed up to doubting Thomas. Just like when Jesus showed up to Mary. Just like how Jesus showed up to more than 500 folks. Jesus appeared to Paul just like that. By the way, that’s not just my emphasis. That’s Paul’s. Paul talks about that ALL THE TIME. That’s, in fact, the reason why Paul can claim to be Jesus’ own apostle. He saw personally and was personally sent by the risen Christ. Here’s the deal though. This post-resurrection appearance of Jesus is unlike any other. Every other time Jesus shows up, he acts like – well – Jesus. He breathes the Spirit on people. He tells people they have peace from him. He gives hungry people fish. He lets the disciples touch his crucifixion wounds to give them confidence. Every other time Jesus shows up, he acts just like we expect Jesus to act. Except here.

Except here. When he shows up here he’s not breathing Spirit or telling people they have peace or frying up fish. Here he shows up alongside something resembling a devastating lightning bolt. Luke describes it saying, “As he neared Damascus on his journey, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him.” (v. 3) And then when Jesus starts talking he’s as emotional as you’ll ever see him. Seriously. You can just feel the pain dripping from his voice as he says, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” (v. 4) Like every time Paul had grabbed a Christian woman by the hair. Jesus had felt the tug. Like every time Paul had dragged off the daddy of a Christian child Jesus was the one seeing the whites of their eyes and feeling the pain in their souls. Like when Paul was standing there approving that the life was draining out of Stephen Jesus was the one there having his heart ripped from his chest. Like Jesus just loved the people in his church. And now Jesus was showing up to charge Paul with his crimes against them. And, yes, Paul was charged.

You just have to watch Jesus in action to get that. Everything that Paul had intended to do to Christians was done to him in that moment. Paul wanted Christians down and on the ground. That’s where Paul found himself. Paul wanted Christians tied up and led away in chains. And that is what happened to Paul. Jesus blinded him and Luke says that as a result, “They led him by the hand into Damascus.” (v. 8) So let’s get this straight. Jesus shows up to Paul in an angry lightning bolt; charges him with crimes; knocks Paul to the ground; blinds him, and forces him to be led humiliatingly into the city Paul had intended to persecute. Sound like the typical healing post-resurrection appearance of Jesus? No. Not exactly. And, yes, it is true that it had to be that way since Paul wasn’t a disciple yet. And that’s putting it lightly, Paul was actually the ultimate un-disciple. Luke says that he was quite literally snorting his rage against the Lord and his disciples like a bull in a bull fight. He says, “Saul was still breathing out murderous threats against the Lord’s disciples.” (v. 1) Paul wanted Christians dead. That is until Jesus showed up and totally ruined him.

And shockingly, that’s the only personal and physical interaction Jesus has with Paul. That’s it. The resurrected Christ came and left Paul totally in ruins. He was convicted of heinous crimes, blind, and helpless. Why do I point this out? For one clear reason. I want you to get post-resurrection Jesus. And, no, I don’t mean that in the way you might think. I’m not saying Jesus likes to ruin people. He never, ever does. He wants to heal them. Always. And he does heal Paul. This murderous, awful, assassin does become here an overwhelmingly powerful apostle. This Jesus hater does become the most prolific and most aggressive missionary of Jesus. This fear-inducing assassin does become a mighty apostle. What’s strange and shocking and striking is that Jesus isn’t the one who technically and in the flesh does it. He ruined him, but he doesn’t heal him. You know how he does it? Through the most unlikely of ways. And I do mean unlikely. Never in a million years would Paul have expected it.

I’m not sure we do either. Whether it was a gift to me or not, I grew up as a child immersed in the culture of the 90’s. You know what the means? It means all my friends had lunch boxes with Homer’s mug on them and everybody had t-shirts with Bart saying, “Don’t have a cow, man!” Whatever you think about the Simpsons I can tell you this, that show was a big time cultural barometer. For the first time in our culture, Christians were pictured as Neanderthals like Flanders and pastors were lazy, droning, cultural ninny’s like Pastor Lovejoy. In other words, ministers had no wisdom for you about human nature; no vision to offer of how to heal your soul; and they had no purpose to offer you in life. They were those who put on robes, accommodated to culture like chameleons, whose most profound transformational achievements were the likes of Ned Flanders. Now I don’t know what to make of that. Did the Simpsons simply mirror the culture or did they influence it? I don’t know. My point is that if you’re like me and come from that cultural background then you’re going to be just as shocked as Paul is at how Jesus healed him.

You know how Jesus very strikingly and shockingly heals the ruin he brought to Paul? A minister. A minister. Now once you’ve let that sink in also let another fact of this case sink in. You know where the minister was from? Damascus. Do you see what that means? A minister that Paul had been about to capture and probably kill – a minister that Paul had been hunting to squelch out of existence was sent to heal and forgive Paul. Think of the grace in that and let it blow you away. Jesus used the ministry that Paul was trying to murder to bring him life. And so some guy, a minister by the name of Ananias shows up and says to Paul, "Brother Saul, the Lord – Jesus, who appeared to you on the road as you were coming here – has sent me so that you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” (v. 17) So the Jesus who had physically shown up and left Paul on the ground, blind, and charged with horrible crimes did heal. He always does. It’s just that he didn’t do it personally or physically. The post-resurrection Christ heals and fills people with the Holy Spirit through ministers.

This is, by the way, something that Ananias understood quite well already in that moment. He said, “Jesus has sent me.” (v. 17) And then he went on to say, “That you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” (v. 17) Jesus sends ministers, who are just people. Think of it. They’re always real flesh and blood people. Jesus cares about people so he sends people. The shocking part is that these ministers are all nobodies. Who’s Ananias? Ananias comes and goes in Scripture like a ghost in the night. Ministers are nobodies. And then he makes the ministry of those nobodies really and divinely matter. That’s exactly what Ananias said to Paul in that very moment. He said, “Jesus has sent me so that you may be… filled with the Holy Spirit.” (v. 17) Shocking stuff. That some nobody can go to some other nobody with Jesus’ words and with Jesus’ baptism and fill them with the Holy Spirit. That some nobody can come in and do for Paul the exact thing that we expected Jesus himself to do in his appearance to Paul. In fact, what Jesus does is ruin Paul so that one of his nobody minister could heal and fill Paul with the Spirit. If that isn’t one big, massive commendation of Christian ministry straight from Jesus, then I don’t know what is.

The Spirit wants everybody to have someone they call pastor in their life. Everybody gets pastored. Even one of Jesus’ apostles got pastored. Everybody needs someone they call pastor. Here’s the trouble. Once you have one sin will always try to distort his ministry to you. And that always happens in one of two ways. You will either think so highly of a pastor that you will miss Jesus. Or you will think so lowly of a pastor that you will miss Jesus. By the way, Paul here is the perfect example of how to avoid either extreme. After Ananias had healed and forgiven Paul in Jesus’ name, Paul didn’t say, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Ananias! You have saved me!” Neither did Paul throw him to the curb and say, “Come on, Ananias, let’s get real. You can’t act for Jesus. Where’s Jesus when you need him?” There wasn’t a denial that Jesus had sent Ananias and there also wasn’t a destructive idolizing of Ananias either. There was only Jesus. And frankly that’s how it is with every pastor. There’s only Jesus. There’s the Jesus who graced and gifted that pastor. And there’s the Jesus who went ahead and somehow fit that minister right into your life.

And so you know what you do with a pastor? First order of business? Hear Jesus forgive you through him for the times you missed Jesus in him and this time listen when he says, “you’re forgiven in Jesus’ name.” Then don’t think so lowly of him that you don’t seek his counsel or bother listening to his sermons or so highly of him that he disappoints you when you notice he’s just a nobody – a sinner too. The Spirit makes it clear that he calls pastors who only give the grace they themselves have received. That’s how it’s always worked. Jesus called a scriptural nobody named Ananias to minister to Paul. He called Paul, the assassin, to minister to thousands in the ancient world. He called that denier known as Peter and that doubter known as Thomas and that runner named Jonah and the weakling named Jeremiah and those two brother James and John who needed anger management therapy and that highway robber named Matthew. All sinners. All given grace. All eager and driven to share that same grace with others. And do you see where that leaves us? With Jesus and his grace and a world full of nobody pastors who give grace the same way they receive grace.

So today Jesus has some of you looking for a pastor. Now you know why. And today others of you know why you have one. And today still others are getting one for the first time in many years. And now you know what Jesus is up to in it. You know why I point this out? I want you to see Jesus in your life as plainly as the pastor who’s standing in front of you in the moment. Because when you see Jesus at work in your life nothing is more powerful or beautiful or comforting. And I want you to see that today for yourself. I want you to see that just like Paul did in Ananias. I may be a fresh faced thirty something, but I can still hold the hand of an octogenarian who’s just lost her husband and speak words that matter. I may be skinny as a pole, but I can be the guy who gets a text or an office visit from someone whose conscience is just killing them and I can say, “Jesus forgives you.” I may be a guy who Jesus had to die for too, but because I know he did I can preach a sermon or offer a word of counsel that sets someone free. I may need even more grace from Jesus than you, but I can still commune tired souls; baptize sinners; and teach truths that will carry you all the way from this life to the next one.

At the end of the day, there’s only one person I know who could build a grace-filled system like that. Only Jesus. Only Jesus could take a former nobody like Ananias and light on fire the world’s greatest missionary. Only Jesus could use a Peter, a Thomas, and a Jonah; a Jeremiah, a Matthew, and in a far, far, far lesser way a me. Only Jesus could make it so that at the end of the day the exact same thing is always happening. One sinner is giving another sinner the same grace he’s received himself so that everything’s always and only about Jesus. Amen. 

Acts 9:1–19 Meanwhile, Saul was still breathing out murderous threats against the Lord’s disciples. He went to the high priest 2 and asked him for letters to the synagogues in Damascus, so that if he found any there who belonged to the Way, whether men or women, he might take them as prisoners to Jerusalem. 3 As he neared Damascus on his journey, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. 4 He fell to the ground and heard a voice say to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” 5 “Who are you, Lord?” Saul asked. “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting,” he replied. 6 “Now get up and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do.” 7 The men traveling with Saul stood there speechless; they heard the sound but did not see anyone. 8 Saul got up from the ground, but when he opened his eyes he could see nothing. So they led him by the hand into Damascus. 9 For three days he was blind, and did not eat or drink anything. 10 In Damascus there was a disciple named Ananias. The Lord called to him in a vision, “Ananias!” “Yes, Lord,” he answered. 11 The Lord told him, “Go to the house of Judas on Straight Street and ask for a man from Tarsus named Saul, for he is praying. 12 In a vision he has seen a man named Ananias come and place his hands on him to restore his sight.” 13 “Lord,” Ananias answered, “I have heard many reports about this man and all the harm he has done to your holy people in Jerusalem. 14 And he has come here with authority from the chief priests to arrest all who call on your name.” 15 But the Lord said to Ananias, “Go! This man is my chosen instrument to proclaim my name to the Gentiles and their kings and to the people of Israel. 16 I will show him how much he must suffer for my name.” 17 Then Ananias went to the house and entered it. Placing his hands on Saul, he said, “Brother Saul, the Lord—Jesus, who appeared to you on the road as you were coming here—has sent me so that you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” 18 Immediately, something like scales fell from Saul’s eyes, and he could see again. He got up and was baptized, 19 and after taking some food, he regained his strength.

There are a lot of things that could be said about Paul’s conversion. I could tell you that it’s apparently so important that a whopping nineteen verses of Acts aren’t enough to cover the event. Not according to Luke. Because it comes back again later in Acts. And then as if two recountings and now 39 verses of it weren’t enough, Luke hits us with it a third time in Acts. Depending on which verses you count, we’ve got 50 verses and a full three different tellings of Paul’s conversion. Luke obviously thinks it’s pretty important that we sit and think about that single fact for a while. I think if we did it’d bring up pretty healthy questions like: what does that tell us about the theology that Paul gives us? What does that tell us about how the Spirit feels about his teachings? For now, though, I think what we really need to deal with is the Jesus who appears in this account and how he heals Paul in it.

Because the fact of the matter is that this is an appearance of the resurrected Jesus to Paul. We have to see that. Just like when Jesus showed up to doubting Thomas. Just like when Jesus showed up to Mary. Just like how Jesus showed up to more than 500 folks. Jesus appeared to Paul just like that. By the way, that’s not just my emphasis. That’s Paul’s. Paul talks about that ALL THE TIME. That’s, in fact, the reason why Paul can claim to be Jesus’ own apostle. He saw personally and was personally sent by the risen Christ. Here’s the deal though. This post-resurrection appearance of Jesus is unlike any other. Every other time Jesus shows up, he acts like – well – Jesus. He breathes the Spirit on people. He tells people they have peace from him. He gives hungry people fish. He lets the disciples touch his crucifixion wounds to give them confidence. Every other time Jesus shows up, he acts just like we expect Jesus to act. Except here.

Except here. When he shows up here he’s not breathing Spirit or telling people they have peace or frying up fish. Here he shows up alongside something resembling a devastating lightning bolt. Luke describes it saying, “As he neared Damascus on his journey, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him.” (v. 3) And then when Jesus starts talking he’s as emotional as you’ll ever see him. Seriously. You can just feel the pain dripping from his voice as he says, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” (v. 4) Like every time Paul had grabbed a Christian woman by the hair. Jesus had felt the tug. Like every time Paul had dragged off the daddy of a Christian child Jesus was the one seeing the whites of their eyes and feeling the pain in their souls. Like when Paul was standing there approving that the life was draining out of Stephen Jesus was the one there having his heart ripped from his chest. Like Jesus just loved the people in his church. And now Jesus was showing up to charge Paul with his crimes against them. And, yes, Paul was charged.

You just have to watch Jesus in action to get that. Everything that Paul had intended to do to Christians was done to him in that moment. Paul wanted Christians down and on the ground. That’s where Paul found himself. Paul wanted Christians tied up and led away in chains. And that is what happened to Paul. Jesus blinded him and Luke says that as a result, “They led him by the hand into Damascus.” (v. 8) So let’s get this straight. Jesus shows up to Paul in an angry lightning bolt; charges him with crimes; knocks Paul to the ground; blinds him, and forces him to be led humiliatingly into the city Paul had intended to persecute. Sound like the typical healing post-resurrection appearance of Jesus? No. Not exactly. And, yes, it is true that it had to be that way since Paul wasn’t a disciple yet. And that’s putting it lightly, Paul was actually the ultimate un-disciple. Luke says that he was quite literally snorting his rage against the Lord and his disciples like a bull in a bull fight. He says, “Saul was still breathing out murderous threats against the Lord’s disciples.” (v. 1) Paul wanted Christians dead. That is until Jesus showed up and totally ruined him.

And shockingly, that’s the only personal and physical interaction Jesus has with Paul. That’s it. The resurrected Christ came and left Paul totally in ruins. He was convicted of heinous crimes, blind, and helpless. Why do I point this out? For one clear reason. I want you to get post-resurrection Jesus. And, no, I don’t mean that in the way you might think. I’m not saying Jesus likes to ruin people. He never, ever does. He wants to heal them. Always. And he does heal Paul. This murderous, awful, assassin does become here an overwhelmingly powerful apostle. This Jesus hater does become the most prolific and most aggressive missionary of Jesus. This fear-inducing assassin does become a mighty apostle. What’s strange and shocking and striking is that Jesus isn’t the one who technically and in the flesh does it. He ruined him, but he doesn’t heal him. You know how he does it? Through the most unlikely of ways. And I do mean unlikely. Never in a million years would Paul have expected it.

I’m not sure we do either. Whether it was a gift to me or not, I grew up as a child immersed in the culture of the 90’s. You know what the means? It means all my friends had lunch boxes with Homer’s mug on them and everybody had t-shirts with Bart saying, “Don’t have a cow, man!” Whatever you think about the Simpsons I can tell you this, that show was a big time cultural barometer. For the first time in our culture, Christians were pictured as Neanderthals like Flanders and pastors were lazy, droning, cultural ninny’s like Pastor Lovejoy. In other words, ministers had no wisdom for you about human nature; no vision to offer of how to heal your soul; and they had no purpose to offer you in life. They were those who put on robes, accommodated to culture like chameleons, whose most profound transformational achievements were the likes of Ned Flanders. Now I don’t know what to make of that. Did the Simpsons simply mirror the culture or did they influence it? I don’t know. My point is that if you’re like me and come from that cultural background then you’re going to be just as shocked as Paul is at how Jesus healed him.

You know how Jesus very strikingly and shockingly heals the ruin he brought to Paul? A minister. A minister. Now once you’ve let that sink in also let another fact of this case sink in. You know where the minister was from? Damascus. Do you see what that means? A minister that Paul had been about to capture and probably kill – a minister that Paul had been hunting to squelch out of existence was sent to heal and forgive Paul. Think of the grace in that and let it blow you away. Jesus used the ministry that Paul was trying to murder to bring him life. And so some guy, a minister by the name of Ananias shows up and says to Paul, "Brother Saul, the Lord – Jesus, who appeared to you on the road as you were coming here – has sent me so that you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” (v. 17) So the Jesus who had physically shown up and left Paul on the ground, blind, and charged with horrible crimes did heal. He always does. It’s just that he didn’t do it personally or physically. The post-resurrection Christ heals and fills people with the Holy Spirit through ministers.

This is, by the way, something that Ananias understood quite well already in that moment. He said, “Jesus has sent me.” (v. 17) And then he went on to say, “That you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” (v. 17) Jesus sends ministers, who are just people. Think of it. They’re always real flesh and blood people. Jesus cares about people so he sends people. The shocking part is that these ministers are all nobodies. Who’s Ananias? Ananias comes and goes in Scripture like a ghost in the night. Ministers are nobodies. And then he makes the ministry of those nobodies really and divinely matter. That’s exactly what Ananias said to Paul in that very moment. He said, “Jesus has sent me so that you may be… filled with the Holy Spirit.” (v. 17) Shocking stuff. That some nobody can go to some other nobody with Jesus’ words and with Jesus’ baptism and fill them with the Holy Spirit. That some nobody can come in and do for Paul the exact thing that we expected Jesus himself to do in his appearance to Paul. In fact, what Jesus does is ruin Paul so that one of his nobody minister could heal and fill Paul with the Spirit. If that isn’t one big, massive commendation of Christian ministry straight from Jesus, then I don’t know what is.

The Spirit wants everybody to have someone they call pastor in their life. Everybody gets pastored. Even one of Jesus’ apostles got pastored. Everybody needs someone they call pastor. Here’s the trouble. Once you have one sin will always try to distort his ministry to you. And that always happens in one of two ways. You will either think so highly of a pastor that you will miss Jesus. Or you will think so lowly of a pastor that you will miss Jesus. By the way, Paul here is the perfect example of how to avoid either extreme. After Ananias had healed and forgiven Paul in Jesus’ name, Paul didn’t say, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Ananias! You have saved me!” Neither did Paul throw him to the curb and say, “Come on, Ananias, let’s get real. You can’t act for Jesus. Where’s Jesus when you need him?” There wasn’t a denial that Jesus had sent Ananias and there also wasn’t a destructive idolizing of Ananias either. There was only Jesus. And frankly that’s how it is with every pastor. There’s only Jesus. There’s the Jesus who graced and gifted that pastor. And there’s the Jesus who went ahead and somehow fit that minister right into your life.

And so you know what you do with a pastor? First order of business? Hear Jesus forgive you through him for the times you missed Jesus in him and this time listen when he says, “you’re forgiven in Jesus’ name.” Then don’t think so lowly of him that you don’t seek his counsel or bother listening to his sermons or so highly of him that he disappoints you when you notice he’s just a nobody – a sinner too. The Spirit makes it clear that he calls pastors who only give the grace they themselves have received. That’s how it’s always worked. Jesus called a scriptural nobody named Ananias to minister to Paul. He called Paul, the assassin, to minister to thousands in the ancient world. He called that denier known as Peter and that doubter known as Thomas and that runner named Jonah and the weakling named Jeremiah and those two brother James and John who needed anger management therapy and that highway robber named Matthew. All sinners. All given grace. All eager and driven to share that same grace with others. And do you see where that leaves us? With Jesus and his grace and a world full of nobody pastors who give grace the same way they receive grace.

So today Jesus has some of you looking for a pastor. Now you know why. And today others of you know why you have one. And today still others are getting one for the first time in many years. And now you know what Jesus is up to in it. You know why I point this out? I want you to see Jesus in your life as plainly as the pastor who’s standing in front of you in the moment. Because when you see Jesus at work in your life nothing is more powerful or beautiful or comforting. And I want you to see that today for yourself. I want you to see that just like Paul did in Ananias. I may be a fresh faced thirty something, but I can still hold the hand of an octogenarian who’s just lost her husband and speak words that matter. I may be skinny as a pole, but I can be the guy who gets a text or an office visit from someone whose conscience is just killing them and I can say, “Jesus forgives you.” I may be a guy who Jesus had to die for too, but because I know he did I can preach a sermon or offer a word of counsel that sets someone free. I may need even more grace from Jesus than you, but I can still commune tired souls; baptize sinners; and teach truths that will carry you all the way from this life to the next one.

At the end of the day, there’s only one person I know who could build a grace-filled system like that. Only Jesus. Only Jesus could take a former nobody like Ananias and light on fire the world’s greatest missionary. Only Jesus could use a Peter, a Thomas, and a Jonah; a Jeremiah, a Matthew, and in a far, far, far lesser way a me. Only Jesus could make it so that at the end of the day the exact same thing is always happening. One sinner is giving another sinner the same grace he’s received himself so that everything’s always and only about Jesus. Amen. 

Romans 8:31 What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? 32 He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? 33 Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. 34 Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. 35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? 36 As it is written: “For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.” 37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

When do you think Satan realized how intent God was to pursue you and to win you? When do you think he realized that the trip from heaven to earth wasn’t too much or for that matter the trip from earth to hell either? That no height was too high or no depth too low in his pursuit of you? When do you think he grasped that it wasn’t just death that can’t harm you, but that life can’t either? That those days that come when it feels easier to die in faith than to keep living in it that there in those days too is a Lord of grace and power. There for you. When do you think Satan saw that and despaired? That not even his greatest historical achievements like the World Wars could get you. That this present moment or the one that’s coming can’t either. When do you think he saw that though he was the prince of power and our greatest threat that as far as we were concerned he was defanged, dethroned, and destroyed – that there was no distance too great, no chasm too wide, no sin too grievous, and no life so backward that God wouldn’t or couldn’t bridge the gap? That’s my question. When did Satan get that he couldn’t have you?

Do you think he realized that he had lost before he ever began to fight? Do you think he already knew as he was slithering out of the Garden of Eden? There he was probably thinking that he had won total victory in his proxy fight with the Lord where he used Adam and Eve. There he no doubt was celebrating like the Evil One that he is, but then God barked joy to those first humans when he announced his plan to win both them and you. He said, “I’m going to win you back. Eve, you will have a son someday. He’s going to come. And he will be big enough. He will be strong enough. And he will be powerful to take his very human heal and crush Satan’s serpentine, lying head forever. Do you think in that moment that Satan already knew?  

Or did he hold out hope for you yet? Hope that revived when Satan was able to raise up Cain. And it did revive. For a moment Satan must’ve thought that he was going to always own everybody. Here he was having captured the entire future line of humanity in Cain. Able was dead and Cain was the only heir. “They’ll be mine forever,” Satan must’ve hissed joyously, “I’ve trumped God’s hand.” And he just enjoyed the thought of murderous, selfish humans endlessly propagating his rage and murdering each other. And then Seth was born. And the gospel was preached and people started believing. And for the first time it must’ve have dawned on Satan that maybe this God – maybe this God – wouldn’t ever quit pursuing his people. That he was going to keep raising up people of faith no matter what.

Or do you think it took a bit longer? That it took Satan’s loss of Jacob? That the Lord took that lying, weak, and self-reliant man and wrestled with him both figuratively and actually in his life. He wrestled him out to Laban’s place. He wrestled him in his home life and in his marriages and through his kids. He wrestled and wrestled and wrestled until he had Jacob trusting him and when he did – that’s when the Lord finally put the brother Jacob had so grievously wronged back in his arms. Do you think that’s when Satan got it? Do you think he saw how the Lord could wrestle the most twisted, sinful, and broken of people into believers? Do you think Satan saw how futile and empty his power really was?

Or do you think it took something bigger, something more mammoth? Someone as history creating as Moses. Something as epic as the Exodus. That God would be faithful to the oldest of promises in the most mind blowing of ways. That he would liberate from slavery and captivity and death. That he could take Satan’s minions, ones as hateful as Pharaoh and as greedy as Judas, and use them to show that he was the Lord who always keeps his promises. That no matter what trick Satan may try or what strategy Satan may use or what levers Satan may pull that the Lord was so magnificent and good and supreme that he was already ten steps ahead. That the best Satan could do to God’s people is be a pest to them on their journey, but that he could never actually stop them from coming home.

Or do you think it was the power of the prophets that made Satan despair of you? That the centuries marched onward and the Lord just wouldn’t quit. That prophet after prophet after prophet came and people kept on hearing the Word and the promises. And no matter how much fury Satan sent the way of God’s people, it would always backfire because they’d just cling even more to the Word like barnacles to a ship. That they’d become people would wait in their tears, in their pain – even in their sin. That they’d wait for the one who would come to bring them forgiveness, and life and peace. That Joel held them up in faith. And Jeremiah too. And Isaiah – Isaiah! – preached Christ like nobody had before. He said a Suffering Servant would come and people trusted. And no matter what Satan tried they just kept trusting.

Or did Satan finally know that you’d be lost to him when Gabriel showed up in the quietness of coming Christmas? There Gabriel was – this angel of similar power and weight showed up in human history at that key juncture and announced the Serpent Crusher is here and the Suffering Servant has come and that he is God. And that child grew into that man who stepped in his first pulpit there in Capernaum and preached the gospel so forcefully that one of Satan’s minions had to go screaming away. Do you think Satan knew that you were sealed off from him forever? Or do you think he still held out hope until even his best, his brightest, his most powerful group of demons, one called Legion, was sent horrifically plunging into the Sea of Galilee?

I wonder though it if took Satan watching Jesus give that same power to his followers. That Jesus had put a word, his word, on their lips and that now they could make the demons run too. That these 72 sinners – these former nobodies – could go out and tell other sinners that their sins were forgiven in Jesus’ name and that now even sinners could make his minions scamper away in horror. That that awful reality must’ve sunk into his mind with terror when Jesus announced to his first 72 preachers, “I saw Satan fall like lightning,” and then made sure they never became obsessed with that power. He told them to just keep rejoicing that the gospel was true for them too – that now their names were written in heaven.

Do you think that made Satan even more desperate and even more personally involved? So desperate that he went straight for the jugular and tried to get Jesus to step aside from the cross. That he used Peter’s impulsive personality and outspoken nature to attack Jesus himself – it was the Garden of Eden all over in a sense Satan vs. a perfect person – and Jesus snapped back, “Get behind me, Satan, I’m going to the cross.” And that though Satan with his heart in his mouth and with everything on the line went after Jesus thickest and heaviest there in Gethsemane whispering into Jesus’ ear, “They’re not worth it. It won’t actually work.” And there the Son of God with you in his heart – true even though you weren’t yet in existence – stood up with absolute determination and said, “Get up. Here comes my betrayer.”

Do you think that Satan knew that God’s love for you was a runaway train – totally unstoppable – by then? Or do you think Satan’s gig wasn’t yet up? Not until Eve’s Serpent Crusher and Isaiah’s Suffering Servant hung there with the all sins of the world on his shoulders. Not until he saw the Lord’s faithfulness when the sun darkened and the temple curtain ripped in two and even one of Satan’s most hardened pawns acknowledged, “Surely, this was the Son of God.” Or perhaps even still on Easter morning Satan was still hoping however unreasonably, “Jesus may have done it all, but if I keep it under wraps I can still win.” And then the women showed up and the angels told them the truth and not all that long later the Spirit turned those them all from spiritual cowards into the most adamant and defiant group of gospel preachers the world had ever seen.

Or was Satan still yet hopeful for your soul? He still thought that maybe he could cut off hope from ever reaching your ears. That he could stop up the gospel. That he could make his best assassin, Paul, so determined, so ruthless, and so powerful that rest of history wouldn’t ever hear about the resurrection. Until God took Paul and made him one of the saved too. And Paul had churches sprouting up all over the world and people believing the good news everywhere so that the kingdom of this world was becoming the kingdom of our God. That’s what I want to know. I want to know when Satan figured out that he couldn’t have you. Not ever. When did he get that? When did he see that there was no suffering so profound, no chasm so wide, no sin so grievous, and no life so backward that God wouldn’t or couldn’t bridge that gap between you and him.

But you know what the truth it? It doesn’t matter. Not to throw everything I’ve just preached out, but the truth is that it doesn’t matter what Satan does or does not know. It never has. It matters what God’s pursuing. And he’s pursuing you. Maybe you’re just getting that when some pastor said, “in the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit,” over you that though that looked like some kind of churchy ritual that it was nothing less than holy name and God’s perfect promise. That he had claimed you and that he wouldn’t quit. That he’d pursue you more. So he gave you a father who loved you with the truth, a mother who told you Bible stories, or a friend who got into your life with the faith. So he sent you that Sunday School teacher who made the light bulb burn a little brighter; that pastor who pulled you metaphorically out of the bed of your boyfriend and put you back into the arms of God; and that church you were unmistakably drawn toward where you learned about a justification so good that you came to believe it was better than your best works and gave you a forgiveness so deep that it covered your worst offenses. I need you to see that your life’s been no accident, no fluke, and no happenstance.  You’re here and and I’m telling you that you’ve been loved through the life and work of history’s great hero and perfect man, Jesus Christ.

And nobody can take that gift from you. Not sin. Not death. Not Satan himself. No matter who you are or what you’ve done, you’re loved. No matter what’s happened to you or what’s coming at you. God’s going to make sure you’re way more than just ok. And what Paul’s after now with all his questions is something more than belief in that. I know that may sound strange, but it’s time to do something more than believe that. Paul wants you to be defiant about that. Defiant. Faith on steroids. Satan will send you guilt, accusation, and shame. He will do whatever it takes to take the gospel from your heart. So be defiant. When he says, “Remember that decade of wayward living?” Say, “Go choke on hellfire, Satan. I’m forgiven in Jesus’ name.” When Satan comes to you and says, “But you just started coming back to church in the past few weeks after a pretty long break from Jesus. The pastor can’t possibly be talking about you.” Do faith on steroids and say, “Take your lies and eat dirt, you snake. I’m one of God’s own too.”

And it’s not just accusation, guilt and shame that God wants you to defy. It’s also death and life; trouble and hardship; danger and persecution. Because if Satan can’t convince that you’re unforgiven, he’s at least going to make you believe that God’s not really for you. That your surgery means he’s uncaring. That your sadness means he’s checked out. That your trouble means he’s not so good after all. And you know what you do with that? Take those thoughts and stick them right back in the eye of Satan and every single one of his friends. Defy them by barking back at your deep sadness, “You may be in me in this moment, but bliss is coming!” Think even in the midst of your anxiety, “These worries absolutely have no basis in reality. God is for me.” God wants you to be able look at your low bank account and to feel your grief and have a beefy faith that says, “If God did not spare his own Son then how will he not also along with him graciously give us all things. Even the money I need. Even the healing I crave.” He wants you to take every fear, every worry, every sadness, anxiety and pain, look it straight in the eye, be defiant, and just plain hope in God.

And you can. What the Spirit is saying to you today is that the Bible isn’t just some book full of stories about how God’s people have been saved. It’s way better than that. It’s a book full of stories telling you that you’ve been saved. That you are the one God is pursuing. That you are the one God is for. That you are the one that will win through him. That he will make you so victorious that Paul had to make up a word for you: a hyper victor. A super conqueror. An over-the-top winner. God just won’t quit ‘til he’s got you home, resurrected like Jesus, and with him forever. You can be sure, defiant, convinced. Paul already was a couple thousand years ago. I think it’s time we were too – that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

Romans 8:31 What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? 32 He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? 33 Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. 34 Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. 35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? 36 As it is written: “For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.” 37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

When do you think Satan realized how intent God was to pursue you and to win you? When do you think he realized that the trip from heaven to earth wasn’t too much or for that matter the trip from earth to hell either? That no height was too high or no depth too low in his pursuit of you? When do you think he grasped that it wasn’t just death that can’t harm you, but that life can’t either? That those days that come when it feels easier to die in faith than to keep living in it that there in those days too is a Lord of grace and power. There for you. When do you think Satan saw that and despaired? That not even his greatest historical achievements like the World Wars could get you. That this present moment or the one that’s coming can’t either. When do you think he saw that though he was the prince of power and our greatest threat that as far as we were concerned he was defanged, dethroned, and destroyed – that there was no distance too great, no chasm too wide, no sin too grievous, and no life so backward that God wouldn’t or couldn’t bridge the gap? That’s my question. When did Satan get that he couldn’t have you?

Do you think he realized that he had lost before he ever began to fight? Do you think he already knew as he was slithering out of the Garden of Eden? There he was probably thinking that he had won total victory in his proxy fight with the Lord where he used Adam and Eve. There he no doubt was celebrating like the Evil One that he is, but then God barked joy to those first humans when he announced his plan to win both them and you. He said, “I’m going to win you back. Eve, you will have a son someday. He’s going to come. And he will be big enough. He will be strong enough. And he will be powerful to take his very human heal and crush Satan’s serpentine, lying head forever. Do you think in that moment that Satan already knew?  

Or did he hold out hope for you yet? Hope that revived when Satan was able to raise up Cain. And it did revive. For a moment Satan must’ve thought that he was going to always own everybody. Here he was having captured the entire future line of humanity in Cain. Able was dead and Cain was the only heir. “They’ll be mine forever,” Satan must’ve hissed joyously, “I’ve trumped God’s hand.” And he just enjoyed the thought of murderous, selfish humans endlessly propagating his rage and murdering each other. And then Seth was born. And the gospel was preached and people started believing. And for the first time it must’ve have dawned on Satan that maybe this God – maybe this God – wouldn’t ever quit pursuing his people. That he was going to keep raising up people of faith no matter what.

Or do you think it took a bit longer? That it took Satan’s loss of Jacob? That the Lord took that lying, weak, and self-reliant man and wrestled with him both figuratively and actually in his life. He wrestled him out to Laban’s place. He wrestled him in his home life and in his marriages and through his kids. He wrestled and wrestled and wrestled until he had Jacob trusting him and when he did – that’s when the Lord finally put the brother Jacob had so grievously wronged back in his arms. Do you think that’s when Satan got it? Do you think he saw how the Lord could wrestle the most twisted, sinful, and broken of people into believers? Do you think Satan saw how futile and empty his power really was?

Or do you think it took something bigger, something more mammoth? Someone as history creating as Moses. Something as epic as the Exodus. That God would be faithful to the oldest of promises in the most mind blowing of ways. That he would liberate from slavery and captivity and death. That he could take Satan’s minions, ones as hateful as Pharaoh and as greedy as Judas, and use them to show that he was the Lord who always keeps his promises. That no matter what trick Satan may try or what strategy Satan may use or what levers Satan may pull that the Lord was so magnificent and good and supreme that he was already ten steps ahead. That the best Satan could do to God’s people is be a pest to them on their journey, but that he could never actually stop them from coming home.

Or do you think it was the power of the prophets that made Satan despair of you? That the centuries marched onward and the Lord just wouldn’t quit. That prophet after prophet after prophet came and people kept on hearing the Word and the promises. And no matter how much fury Satan sent the way of God’s people, it would always backfire because they’d just cling even more to the Word like barnacles to a ship. That they’d become people would wait in their tears, in their pain – even in their sin. That they’d wait for the one who would come to bring them forgiveness, and life and peace. That Joel held them up in faith. And Jeremiah too. And Isaiah – Isaiah! – preached Christ like nobody had before. He said a Suffering Servant would come and people trusted. And no matter what Satan tried they just kept trusting.

Or did Satan finally know that you’d be lost to him when Gabriel showed up in the quietness of coming Christmas? There Gabriel was – this angel of similar power and weight showed up in human history at that key juncture and announced the Serpent Crusher is here and the Suffering Servant has come and that he is God. And that child grew into that man who stepped in his first pulpit there in Capernaum and preached the gospel so forcefully that one of Satan’s minions had to go screaming away. Do you think Satan knew that you were sealed off from him forever? Or do you think he still held out hope until even his best, his brightest, his most powerful group of demons, one called Legion, was sent horrifically plunging into the Sea of Galilee?

I wonder though it if took Satan watching Jesus give that same power to his followers. That Jesus had put a word, his word, on their lips and that now they could make the demons run too. That these 72 sinners – these former nobodies – could go out and tell other sinners that their sins were forgiven in Jesus’ name and that now even sinners could make his minions scamper away in horror. That that awful reality must’ve sunk into his mind with terror when Jesus announced to his first 72 preachers, “I saw Satan fall like lightning,” and then made sure they never became obsessed with that power. He told them to just keep rejoicing that the gospel was true for them too – that now their names were written in heaven.

Do you think that made Satan even more desperate and even more personally involved? So desperate that he went straight for the jugular and tried to get Jesus to step aside from the cross. That he used Peter’s impulsive personality and outspoken nature to attack Jesus himself – it was the Garden of Eden all over in a sense Satan vs. a perfect person – and Jesus snapped back, “Get behind me, Satan, I’m going to the cross.” And that though Satan with his heart in his mouth and with everything on the line went after Jesus thickest and heaviest there in Gethsemane whispering into Jesus’ ear, “They’re not worth it. It won’t actually work.” And there the Son of God with you in his heart – true even though you weren’t yet in existence – stood up with absolute determination and said, “Get up. Here comes my betrayer.”

Do you think that Satan knew that God’s love for you was a runaway train – totally unstoppable – by then? Or do you think Satan’s gig wasn’t yet up? Not until Eve’s Serpent Crusher and Isaiah’s Suffering Servant hung there with the all sins of the world on his shoulders. Not until he saw the Lord’s faithfulness when the sun darkened and the temple curtain ripped in two and even one of Satan’s most hardened pawns acknowledged, “Surely, this was the Son of God.” Or perhaps even still on Easter morning Satan was still hoping however unreasonably, “Jesus may have done it all, but if I keep it under wraps I can still win.” And then the women showed up and the angels told them the truth and not all that long later the Spirit turned those them all from spiritual cowards into the most adamant and defiant group of gospel preachers the world had ever seen.

Or was Satan still yet hopeful for your soul? He still thought that maybe he could cut off hope from ever reaching your ears. That he could stop up the gospel. That he could make his best assassin, Paul, so determined, so ruthless, and so powerful that rest of history wouldn’t ever hear about the resurrection. Until God took Paul and made him one of the saved too. And Paul had churches sprouting up all over the world and people believing the good news everywhere so that the kingdom of this world was becoming the kingdom of our God. That’s what I want to know. I want to know when Satan figured out that he couldn’t have you. Not ever. When did he get that? When did he see that there was no suffering so profound, no chasm so wide, no sin so grievous, and no life so backward that God wouldn’t or couldn’t bridge that gap between you and him.

But you know what the truth it? It doesn’t matter. Not to throw everything I’ve just preached out, but the truth is that it doesn’t matter what Satan does or does not know. It never has. It matters what God’s pursuing. And he’s pursuing you. Maybe you’re just getting that when some pastor said, “in the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit,” over you that though that looked like some kind of churchy ritual that it was nothing less than holy name and God’s perfect promise. That he had claimed you and that he wouldn’t quit. That he’d pursue you more. So he gave you a father who loved you with the truth, a mother who told you Bible stories, or a friend who got into your life with the faith. So he sent you that Sunday School teacher who made the light bulb burn a little brighter; that pastor who pulled you metaphorically out of the bed of your boyfriend and put you back into the arms of God; and that church you were unmistakably drawn toward where you learned about a justification so good that you came to believe it was better than your best works and gave you a forgiveness so deep that it covered your worst offenses. I need you to see that your life’s been no accident, no fluke, and no happenstance.  You’re here and and I’m telling you that you’ve been loved through the life and work of history’s great hero and perfect man, Jesus Christ.

And nobody can take that gift from you. Not sin. Not death. Not Satan himself. No matter who you are or what you’ve done, you’re loved. No matter what’s happened to you or what’s coming at you. God’s going to make sure you’re way more than just ok. And what Paul’s after now with all his questions is something more than belief in that. I know that may sound strange, but it’s time to do something more than believe that. Paul wants you to be defiant about that. Defiant. Faith on steroids. Satan will send you guilt, accusation, and shame. He will do whatever it takes to take the gospel from your heart. So be defiant. When he says, “Remember that decade of wayward living?” Say, “Go choke on hellfire, Satan. I’m forgiven in Jesus’ name.” When Satan comes to you and says, “But you just started coming back to church in the past few weeks after a pretty long break from Jesus. The pastor can’t possibly be talking about you.” Do faith on steroids and say, “Take your lies and eat dirt, you snake. I’m one of God’s own too.”

And it’s not just accusation, guilt and shame that God wants you to defy. It’s also death and life; trouble and hardship; danger and persecution. Because if Satan can’t convince that you’re unforgiven, he’s at least going to make you believe that God’s not really for you. That your surgery means he’s uncaring. That your sadness means he’s checked out. That your trouble means he’s not so good after all. And you know what you do with that? Take those thoughts and stick them right back in the eye of Satan and every single one of his friends. Defy them by barking back at your deep sadness, “You may be in me in this moment, but bliss is coming!” Think even in the midst of your anxiety, “These worries absolutely have no basis in reality. God is for me.” God wants you to be able look at your low bank account and to feel your grief and have a beefy faith that says, “If God did not spare his own Son then how will he not also along with him graciously give us all things. Even the money I need. Even the healing I crave.” He wants you to take every fear, every worry, every sadness, anxiety and pain, look it straight in the eye, be defiant, and just plain hope in God.

And you can. What the Spirit is saying to you today is that the Bible isn’t just some book full of stories about how God’s people have been saved. It’s way better than that. It’s a book full of stories telling you that you’ve been saved. That you are the one God is pursuing. That you are the one God is for. That you are the one that will win through him. That he will make you so victorious that Paul had to make up a word for you: a hyper victor. A super conqueror. An over-the-top winner. God just won’t quit ‘til he’s got you home, resurrected like Jesus, and with him forever. You can be sure, defiant, convinced. Paul already was a couple thousand years ago. I think it’s time we were too – that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

Romans 8:18–25 I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. 19 For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. 20 For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. 22 We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. 23 Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? 25 But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.

“The camera pans across a starry sky so clear that it has the effect of putting you in touch with the galaxies. When you lie on your back and stare into the night sky, you feel as if you were tumbling upward through space.” The scene makes you feel away. Like you’re a nomad. Like you’re some traveler on some long trip. That’s opening scene Steve Spielberg gave his viewers in a film called E.T. The film became a blockbuster and even surpassed Star Wars to become the highest-grossing film ever – a title it held for another eleven years until Spielberg came out with Jurassic Park. To this day E.T. is still thought of as the greatest science fiction film ever made. And already from the moment the film came out, people recognized its power. Vincent Canby who I quoted before was one of the first people to see the film and went on to say this: “E.T is full of timeless longings expressed in children’s literature of all eras.” Timeless longings. Because we all long. We yearn. We search. We hope for home. I’m probably dating myself by telling you this, but I will never forget that line from E.T. because it resonated with me so deeply, “E.T. phone home.”

I’ll tell you this though. E.T. may fall into the category of children’s literature and may portray the longings of a child, but what E.T. felt was no childish thing. I suppose I could point out the obvious that children weren’t the ones paying to make that film the most wildly successful one in well over a decade, but maybe it’s more useful to point out that E.T. is just one of many, many movies that tap into this collective feeling we all have of feeling not quite home. It was just this past October when a movie called the Martian came out that was all about what it’s like to be on a planet that doesn’t feel like home. It was just a little while before that that Tom Hanks absolutely killed it in the flick called Castaway – being cast away from home. I mean I could go on and on and on and on. Hollywood has done a great job of tapping into the collective angst we all have about not being home, but it’s not just Hollywood. I could tell you about philosophy, music, novels, academia, etc. I won’t, but my point is this: we are all wrestling with a longing for home. We’re all feeling at least a little bit like refugees, like nomads on some crazy journey. And so at times we’re lonely, other times isolated and feeling away, but generally just longing for home.

It makes absolutely no sense. None. Why does it make any sense at all that I can have my heart ripped out of my chest and tears in my eyes as I watch ET’s glowing finger reach for something more? Why did that touch me so deeply? And why did it touch so many others? Why does Coldplay sing a song about what it feels like to be a UFO? Why do novelists describe our longings for something that feels permanent and perfect? Why do philosophers even have special terminology for the longing for home that characterizes us? And why do I sense that in me? Why do I feel right now so much longing when this is my planet, my South Carolina, my Aiken, and my home? Shouldn’t this be enough? Shouldn’t this satisfy me? Paul’s answer? “No, it shouldn’t. And that is God’s will.” “The creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it.” (v. 20) Creation was stopped from fulfilling its purpose, which was to give us our ultimate paradise, our eternal home. It was stopped. That’s why this planet – this life – is not what we want it to be or expect it to be. God willed that this place never feel perfectly like home. And that is frustrating.

And I think that’s putting it mildly. Other words Paul uses in this section to describe what we and the rest of creation experience right now are the words, “our present sufferings,” (v. 18), “decay,” (v. 21), and “groaning as in the pains of childbirth.” (v. 22) You can’t even make it from your bed to your bathroom without experiencing that. Or from your house to your place of work without noticing that. Or flip on the TV without seeing that. You climb out of bed and your neck hurts. You drive down Whiskey Road you spot that tree rotting tree and you notice how that car so tragically plowed into that church. You watch TV and you see governments unwinding, storms ripping, and people crying. And you and I both know I’m just getting started. I really don’t have to tell you about the polar bears or the rhinos, the sea turtles or the African lions. I don’t have to tell you about the emaciated horses, the dogs who limp, or the infants who cry. I don’t have to tell you about any of that because it’s not just out there in creation. It’s right here in your life. It’s your grandpa who has Parkinson’s and your friend who’s dying of cancer. It’s your relationships that can be so up and down and your body that’s just not what it used to be.

But again, I’m not telling you anything new. “We know that the whole creation has been groaning.” (v. 22) We know. And we do. Not just by experience either. We know what’s what’s going on in the whole of creation. We even know what’s been going on in the whole band of human history and that without ever hopping in a time machine. No, I’m not talking about a collective memory or a hive mind. I’m talking about the Scriptures. We were told in Scripture’s Act I that we had to leave the Garden of Eden after sin came and from that moment we all became refugees in a place that wasn’t home. So serious was God about our refugee status that he barred us with angels and a flaming sword from ever coming home here.  He couldn’t have us coming home here. He didn’t want us to mistake true home. Like we could be home without him. Like we could ever be satisfied without him. So off we went into exile. Into suffering. Into an earth slaked with thirst, full of hurting animals, and walking with bodies that would slowly whither and finally die.

Truly, God didn’t want to do that. God had to do that. Do you understand that? He had to keep us searching. So we’d only find in him. He had to keep us looking. So we’d finally get when we saw him. He had to keep us feeling away. So we’d only come home in him. Do you see that? Because of sin, there was no other way to keep us pointed at our true home with God than through suffering. In other words – and this a huge point to understand – God is totally out to get you. No seriously he is. God is totally out to get you. He wants your heart. He wants your thoughts. He wants you. And he’s serious enough about having you that he’s willing to do what it takes. I need you to see that with me. That’s what makes him your Father. A father is willing to do whatever it takes. I actually get this as a father myself. Every true father does. There is nothing that will stand in our way. There is no road we won’t travel and no option we won’t exhaust for the good of our kids. And your Father is willing to do what it takes to get you. He’s even willing to break his own heart – he doesn’t want you to hurt – but if he can make you forever healthy and get you home then nothing’s too much. That’s what father’s do. They do what it takes and nothing’s too much. Not even a broken heart.

Not even a broken heart. You have to see that God spares no expense for you. Not even a broken heart. He was willing and God remains willing to break his own heart if it means that in the end he will have you. What else explains the fact that you were saved? And, yes, that is past tense. We were saved. That happened. God sent us his heart. He sent us Jesus. God told Jesus to leave the perfect paradise of his presence not because he had to, but because God longed for us that much. He sent Jesus to our slaked dirt, our dying planet, and our dead souls to give us life. He sent Jesus far, far away from home. He sent Jesus so far from home Jesus became the perfect outsider and ultimate nomad when he was consigned to hell – you can’t get any farther away from God than that. Because that’s what fathers do. God spared nothing. Not even his own heart – it broke – for you! He sent Jesus away. To bring you home. He separated Jesus from his love. To reconcile you to it. He sent Jesus to hell. To bring you to heaven. “For in this hope we were saved.” (v. 24)

That’s God’s big deal right now. Hope. God’s after hope. Did you know that? God’s after hope. That’s why he names hope as his goal six times in this section. Six! God’s after hope. And you can’t hope for something if you already see it. And you can’t hope for something if you already have it. But, “if you do not yet have,” (v. 25) then you can hope. You can hope. In fact, I would argue that what we have here is a world perfectly designed to guide you to hope in Him. Every polar bear that suffers; every horse that hurts and dog that dies is another nudge to look forward to the coming new creation. Every disease that strikes us, all harm that comes into our lives, and every tree that rots is another opportunity to yearn and long and pray to God for him to keep his promises to us in Christ. Every moment we might try to get to comfortable here, God makes us hungry for there. Every time we might be tempted to only revel in our present house and job and family, God gets us anticipating our future house, our future job, and our heavenly family. Every time we think we’re comfortable here in our current skin, God makes us people, “waiting eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies.” (v. 23)

You know what the outtake of all this is? We need to make suffering work for us. And, yes, I did just say that. We need to make our suffering work for us. That’s the whole point. No loving God would send suffering for the sake of suffering. God’s not some big, bully in the sky. God’s not some massive meanie on the playground called life. He’s a Father who broke his own heart for us. He’s a Father who only does what’s best for his kids. And, therefore, suffering isn’t just something to get past. It’s got to mean something. And, therefore, suffering isn’t just something to get through. It’s got to grow us somehow. And, therefore, suffering isn’t just something to endure. It’s got to work for us. So make your suffering work for you. Use suffering. Don’t just get through it. Don’t just endure it. Make your suffering work for you. That’s what Paul modeled, “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing the glory that will be revealed in us.” (v. 18) Make your suffering work for you. Here’s how: Do the comparison between your current suffering and an eternity of glory.  Do that spiritual math. Consider the suffering vs. the payoff. And when you do, your suffering will produce hope.

And, yes, Paul did say, “I consider.” This a very, very personal thing. It’s an, “I,” thing and it’s a, “you,” thing. Nobody else can make your suffering work for you. Nobody. The comparison Paul’s talking about is something you get to do to grow your personal hope. You get to think about your tough childhood and say, “Worth it. Worth for the way to pushed me to hope for an eternity of ease with God.” You get to think about that emotional abuse you suffered for five years in that relationship and say, “Worth it. Worth it for the way it pushed me to Jesus.” You get to think about that death and that dog and that unemployment and think, “Worth it if the dogs there will stick around and the employment there will be joyous and the life there unending.” You get to do think, “My current sickness – God, I see this now – you’re focusing me on home.” You get to consider, “The deep sadness I feel – Lord for the first time in my life my heart’s becoming unglued from this time and place. I can’t wait for you take me home.” You get to glimpse the glory of what God’s been up to ever since he’s been up to anything at all, “God, you’re after me. You’ve sent me Jesus. You’ve even bent all of creation and my entire life at me. God I see that you want me to hope and you want me home.”

So please do, hope. Next time your dog limps, hope. Hope for that time when creation will be renewed and when the lion will lay down with the lamb. Next time your heart breaks, hope. Hope for that time when your heart never break again. Next time your knee creaks, hope. Hope in that time when Jesus will give you the eternal knee replacement called the resurrection from the dead. Next time your marriage cracks, hope. Hope for that place when all your relationships will be so good that marriage will be obsolete. Next time you’re longing for home – life here has left you feeling like the E.T. in your own life and you just want to phone home –  hope for that time when Jesus will one up you that. Hope for that time when you will get to go home. When Jesus will give you that bear hug that you know is coming and his Father will wipe away every one of your tears.

Did you know you’re not the only one hoping for that moment? God’s got his whole creation waiting on bated breath for that moment. Just waiting for you to be home. It’s actually a whole lot like birth pains in that way. The suffering can be incredibly intense, but the payoff – the payoff – is so worth it. A glorious, liberated, and new creation. A new you. A new home. Consider that. Consider that and I promise that when you do you will hope. And you will continue to hope until that time comes when you will never have to hope again because you’ll finally be home. Amen.

Romans 8:18–25 I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. 19 For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. 20 For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. 22 We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. 23 Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? 25 But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.

“The camera pans across a starry sky so clear that it has the effect of putting you in touch with the galaxies. When you lie on your back and stare into the night sky, you feel as if you were tumbling upward through space.” The scene makes you feel away. Like you’re a nomad. Like you’re some traveler on some long trip. That’s opening scene Steve Spielberg gave his viewers in a film called E.T. The film became a blockbuster and even surpassed Star Wars to become the highest-grossing film ever – a title it held for another eleven years until Spielberg came out with Jurassic Park. To this day E.T. is still thought of as the greatest science fiction film ever made. And already from the moment the film came out, people recognized its power. Vincent Canby who I quoted before was one of the first people to see the film and went on to say this: “E.T is full of timeless longings expressed in children’s literature of all eras.” Timeless longings. Because we all long. We yearn. We search. We hope for home. I’m probably dating myself by telling you this, but I will never forget that line from E.T. because it resonated with me so deeply, “E.T. phone home.”

I’ll tell you this though. E.T. may fall into the category of children’s literature and may portray the longings of a child, but what E.T. felt was no childish thing. I suppose I could point out the obvious that children weren’t the ones paying to make that film the most wildly successful one in well over a decade, but maybe it’s more useful to point out that E.T. is just one of many, many movies that tap into this collective feeling we all have of feeling not quite home. It was just this past October when a movie called the Martian came out that was all about what it’s like to be on a planet that doesn’t feel like home. It was just a little while before that that Tom Hanks absolutely killed it in the flick called Castaway – being cast away from home. I mean I could go on and on and on and on. Hollywood has done a great job of tapping into the collective angst we all have about not being home, but it’s not just Hollywood. I could tell you about philosophy, music, novels, academia, etc. I won’t, but my point is this: we are all wrestling with a longing for home. We’re all feeling at least a little bit like refugees, like nomads on some crazy journey. And so at times we’re lonely, other times isolated and feeling away, but generally just longing for home.

It makes absolutely no sense. None. Why does it make any sense at all that I can have my heart ripped out of my chest and tears in my eyes as I watch ET’s glowing finger reach for something more? Why did that touch me so deeply? And why did it touch so many others? Why does Coldplay sing a song about what it feels like to be a UFO? Why do novelists describe our longings for something that feels permanent and perfect? Why do philosophers even have special terminology for the longing for home that characterizes us? And why do I sense that in me? Why do I feel right now so much longing when this is my planet, my South Carolina, my Aiken, and my home? Shouldn’t this be enough? Shouldn’t this satisfy me? Paul’s answer? “No, it shouldn’t. And that is God’s will.” “The creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it.” (v. 20) Creation was stopped from fulfilling its purpose, which was to give us our ultimate paradise, our eternal home. It was stopped. That’s why this planet – this life – is not what we want it to be or expect it to be. God willed that this place never feel perfectly like home. And that is frustrating.

And I think that’s putting it mildly. Other words Paul uses in this section to describe what we and the rest of creation experience right now are the words, “our present sufferings,” (v. 18), “decay,” (v. 21), and “groaning as in the pains of childbirth.” (v. 22) You can’t even make it from your bed to your bathroom without experiencing that. Or from your house to your place of work without noticing that. Or flip on the TV without seeing that. You climb out of bed and your neck hurts. You drive down Whiskey Road you spot that tree rotting tree and you notice how that car so tragically plowed into that church. You watch TV and you see governments unwinding, storms ripping, and people crying. And you and I both know I’m just getting started. I really don’t have to tell you about the polar bears or the rhinos, the sea turtles or the African lions. I don’t have to tell you about the emaciated horses, the dogs who limp, or the infants who cry. I don’t have to tell you about any of that because it’s not just out there in creation. It’s right here in your life. It’s your grandpa who has Parkinson’s and your friend who’s dying of cancer. It’s your relationships that can be so up and down and your body that’s just not what it used to be.

But again, I’m not telling you anything new. “We know that the whole creation has been groaning.” (v. 22) We know. And we do. Not just by experience either. We know what’s what’s going on in the whole of creation. We even know what’s been going on in the whole band of human history and that without ever hopping in a time machine. No, I’m not talking about a collective memory or a hive mind. I’m talking about the Scriptures. We were told in Scripture’s Act I that we had to leave the Garden of Eden after sin came and from that moment we all became refugees in a place that wasn’t home. So serious was God about our refugee status that he barred us with angels and a flaming sword from ever coming home here.  He couldn’t have us coming home here. He didn’t want us to mistake true home. Like we could be home without him. Like we could ever be satisfied without him. So off we went into exile. Into suffering. Into an earth slaked with thirst, full of hurting animals, and walking with bodies that would slowly whither and finally die.

Truly, God didn’t want to do that. God had to do that. Do you understand that? He had to keep us searching. So we’d only find in him. He had to keep us looking. So we’d finally get when we saw him. He had to keep us feeling away. So we’d only come home in him. Do you see that? Because of sin, there was no other way to keep us pointed at our true home with God than through suffering. In other words – and this a huge point to understand – God is totally out to get you. No seriously he is. God is totally out to get you. He wants your heart. He wants your thoughts. He wants you. And he’s serious enough about having you that he’s willing to do what it takes. I need you to see that with me. That’s what makes him your Father. A father is willing to do whatever it takes. I actually get this as a father myself. Every true father does. There is nothing that will stand in our way. There is no road we won’t travel and no option we won’t exhaust for the good of our kids. And your Father is willing to do what it takes to get you. He’s even willing to break his own heart – he doesn’t want you to hurt – but if he can make you forever healthy and get you home then nothing’s too much. That’s what father’s do. They do what it takes and nothing’s too much. Not even a broken heart.

Not even a broken heart. You have to see that God spares no expense for you. Not even a broken heart. He was willing and God remains willing to break his own heart if it means that in the end he will have you. What else explains the fact that you were saved? And, yes, that is past tense. We were saved. That happened. God sent us his heart. He sent us Jesus. God told Jesus to leave the perfect paradise of his presence not because he had to, but because God longed for us that much. He sent Jesus to our slaked dirt, our dying planet, and our dead souls to give us life. He sent Jesus far, far away from home. He sent Jesus so far from home Jesus became the perfect outsider and ultimate nomad when he was consigned to hell – you can’t get any farther away from God than that. Because that’s what fathers do. God spared nothing. Not even his own heart – it broke – for you! He sent Jesus away. To bring you home. He separated Jesus from his love. To reconcile you to it. He sent Jesus to hell. To bring you to heaven. “For in this hope we were saved.” (v. 24)

That’s God’s big deal right now. Hope. God’s after hope. Did you know that? God’s after hope. That’s why he names hope as his goal six times in this section. Six! God’s after hope. And you can’t hope for something if you already see it. And you can’t hope for something if you already have it. But, “if you do not yet have,” (v. 25) then you can hope. You can hope. In fact, I would argue that what we have here is a world perfectly designed to guide you to hope in Him. Every polar bear that suffers; every horse that hurts and dog that dies is another nudge to look forward to the coming new creation. Every disease that strikes us, all harm that comes into our lives, and every tree that rots is another opportunity to yearn and long and pray to God for him to keep his promises to us in Christ. Every moment we might try to get to comfortable here, God makes us hungry for there. Every time we might be tempted to only revel in our present house and job and family, God gets us anticipating our future house, our future job, and our heavenly family. Every time we think we’re comfortable here in our current skin, God makes us people, “waiting eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies.” (v. 23)

You know what the outtake of all this is? We need to make suffering work for us. And, yes, I did just say that. We need to make our suffering work for us. That’s the whole point. No loving God would send suffering for the sake of suffering. God’s not some big, bully in the sky. God’s not some massive meanie on the playground called life. He’s a Father who broke his own heart for us. He’s a Father who only does what’s best for his kids. And, therefore, suffering isn’t just something to get past. It’s got to mean something. And, therefore, suffering isn’t just something to get through. It’s got to grow us somehow. And, therefore, suffering isn’t just something to endure. It’s got to work for us. So make your suffering work for you. Use suffering. Don’t just get through it. Don’t just endure it. Make your suffering work for you. That’s what Paul modeled, “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing the glory that will be revealed in us.” (v. 18) Make your suffering work for you. Here’s how: Do the comparison between your current suffering and an eternity of glory.  Do that spiritual math. Consider the suffering vs. the payoff. And when you do, your suffering will produce hope.

And, yes, Paul did say, “I consider.” This a very, very personal thing. It’s an, “I,” thing and it’s a, “you,” thing. Nobody else can make your suffering work for you. Nobody. The comparison Paul’s talking about is something you get to do to grow your personal hope. You get to think about your tough childhood and say, “Worth it. Worth for the way to pushed me to hope for an eternity of ease with God.” You get to think about that emotional abuse you suffered for five years in that relationship and say, “Worth it. Worth it for the way it pushed me to Jesus.” You get to think about that death and that dog and that unemployment and think, “Worth it if the dogs there will stick around and the employment there will be joyous and the life there unending.” You get to do think, “My current sickness – God, I see this now – you’re focusing me on home.” You get to consider, “The deep sadness I feel – Lord for the first time in my life my heart’s becoming unglued from this time and place. I can’t wait for you take me home.” You get to glimpse the glory of what God’s been up to ever since he’s been up to anything at all, “God, you’re after me. You’ve sent me Jesus. You’ve even bent all of creation and my entire life at me. God I see that you want me to hope and you want me home.”

So please do, hope. Next time your dog limps, hope. Hope for that time when creation will be renewed and when the lion will lay down with the lamb. Next time your heart breaks, hope. Hope for that time when your heart never break again. Next time your knee creaks, hope. Hope in that time when Jesus will give you the eternal knee replacement called the resurrection from the dead. Next time your marriage cracks, hope. Hope for that place when all your relationships will be so good that marriage will be obsolete. Next time you’re longing for home – life here has left you feeling like the E.T. in your own life and you just want to phone home –  hope for that time when Jesus will one up you that. Hope for that time when you will get to go home. When Jesus will give you that bear hug that you know is coming and his Father will wipe away every one of your tears.

Did you know you’re not the only one hoping for that moment? God’s got his whole creation waiting on bated breath for that moment. Just waiting for you to be home. It’s actually a whole lot like birth pains in that way. The suffering can be incredibly intense, but the payoff – the payoff – is so worth it. A glorious, liberated, and new creation. A new you. A new home. Consider that. Consider that and I promise that when you do you will hope. And you will continue to hope until that time comes when you will never have to hope again because you’ll finally be home. Amen.

Romans 8:5–9a, 12–16 Those who live according to the flesh have their minds set on what the flesh desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. 6 The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace. 7 The mind governed by the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do so. 8 Those who are in the realm of the flesh cannot please God. 9 You, however, are not in the realm of the flesh but are in the realm of the Spirit… 12 Therefore, brothers and sisters, we have an obligation—but it is not to the flesh, to live according to it. 13 For if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live. 14 For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. 15 The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” 16 The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children.

The details are sketchy, but it seems that one day Bowe Bergdahl up and walked away from his post in the war in Afghanistan. He just up and walked away. Disenchanted with the war and exhausted from the conflict, he tiredly just up and walked away. And when he did, he did far more damage to himself and to others than he could’ve ever imagined. He was caught by terrorists and held for five years. Meanwhile the U.S. military abiding by their long held policy of no man left behind went in after him. Some say that the massive search and rescue operation that we mounted for Bowe cost six American lives. And now probably more lives have been lost. Because here’s the problem. It wasn’t just American blood that was shed. It was enemy skin that was saved. The trade to get him back from the terrorists wasn’t a 1:1 trade. Several hardened members of the Taliban were released from Guantanamo Bay to fight us again, which as you can imagine has the distinct possibility of adding to Bergdahl’s death tally.  Those are just some of the very real consequences of letting a terrorist win. Why do I tell you this? Because you bunk with one.

Helping us come to terms with that is apparently pretty high on the Apostle Paul’s to-do list. It’s why he gives us such a graphic description of this terrorist and even gives it a name. He calls it, “the flesh.” (v. 6) The flesh wants what it wants. And it does what it wants. And it only wants to do two things: it wants to do everything God says it shouldn’t do and it wants to not do everything God says to do. When it comes to God, it’s only a contrarian and according to Paul is his perfect enemy. It’s more perfectly opposed to God than ISIS is to the U.S. or Al Quaeda to New York. And it’s in you. The question is not whether or not it’s in you. It most certainly is. The question is whether or not it governs you. Paul says, “The mind governed by the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do so.” (v. 7) You can’t teach it. You can’t reform it. You can’t redirect it. You can’t send to some military school to beat some sense into it. You can’t even recondition it to make it function better. It’s absolutely impossible for, “those who are in the realm of the flesh… to please God.” (v. 8) Paul is basically saying, “You’d be better off trying to convert a prisoner in Guantanamo Bay to American values or trying to cuddle up to Osama Bin Laden with your Christianity. The flesh only has terror on its mind.” Your soul life is a personal cage match with a terrorist.

What’s interesting is Paul doesn’t spend any time describing what this looks like in our lives. Paul apparently thinks we’ll be able to work out ourselves how if we go to work in it for ourselves that our façade of niceness and our mask of service will blow its cover when it comes home. He thinks we’ll be able to forecast how the flesh won’t be able to fake it anymore and its wife – the minute she asks for something – will get an emotional sucker punch. Paul thinks we’ll see how its anger issues – it’s always ready to blow its top – come because deep down it’s scared. It’s scared it’s not going to get what it wants. Paul thinks we’ll see that it’s always ruining real sexuality. It’s in it to take, not give. And if its wife isn’t emotionally available – well – it’ll take from some videos instead. And it’s always medicating. It medicates the powerlessness it feels with gossip; it medicates the guilt it has with drink; and it medicates the affirmation it’s missing with the pursuit of some kind of Americanized version of success. Or it just plain wallows in its own darkness. It isolates itself when its depressed. It swims in its anxieties. It worries about its life and it gets bitter when it thinks stuff’s gone wrong. Paul thinks that all we need to know about this terrorist is that he’s always and only for himself.

What’s interesting about the flesh is that everybody – and I do mean everybody – is trying to get therapy for it. Everybody. Secular. Religious. Whatever. We’re all trying to get therapy. That’s why even psychologists need sessions and therapists need therapy. And by the way they do. The more honest ones will tell you that. You know what the trouble is? Even our best therapists – even our best psychologists aren’t sure what works. There was a bombshell article that came out this past fall in The New York Times. Maybe you saw it. The report basically said that talk therapy is far less effective than anybody’s ever thought before. When the statistics came out they shocked the whole counseling community. There was a Dr. Hofmann in the article that came out and said what everybody else was feeling about the findings. The doctor said, “There’s a sense of desperation out there because we need something new, and there’s very little on the horizon.” Why do I tell you this? Because I think you know just a bit what that feels like. The uncertainty you have with what God’s got going on in your life; the fears that brew; the lust that whirs; the way you’ll do anything for a pat on the back; the jealousy you have for those you have more; the disdain you have for those who have less. What I’m saying is that every single Christian has Bowe Bergdahl moments when you feel tired enough and conquered enough to just walk out to the terrorists.

And that’s why Paul deals with us the way he deals with us. Not with law, but with gospel. Not with a heavy does of more rules, but with a massive dose of gospel. I want you to make an observation. You ready? There isn’t a single command in this entire section. Not a single command. There’s no Paul here who hammers on your will saying, “Try harder. Fight more fiercely. Euthanize more quickly.” You know what you give people tired and conquered people. You have announcements. You have announcements to you and about you. Let me say it another way. Paul’s not trying to make you a better soldier. Paul’s trying to make you a better believer. And there is a specific gospel reality that he wants you to trust. “You, however, are not in the realm of the flesh but are in the realm of the Spirit.” (v. 9) That’s so that Paul triples down on it later in the section. He says, “The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship.” (v. 15) Let me tell you what that means. The key to living a victorious life when you’re in a cage match is to know you can tag in the Spirit.

And you know what he does when he gets in the ring? He displays absolutely no mercy. None. He kills. Paul in other letters he writes even calls it a crucifixion of the flesh. So he’s pretty serious about this. The Spirit rains down death. “By the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body.” (v. 13) And that’s a beautiful thing. In fact, I’d go so far as to call this the only kind of proper euthanasia. It’s actually the only kind of good death there really is. It’s the death of something so that you can really live. In fact, that’s part of Paul’s deal here. He says that we have no obligation to nourish the flesh or help it or keep it alive at all. And he’s right. I mean what’s that terrorist ever done for you or anybody else? Has he ever helped you have a better marriage? Hardly. Has he ever handed you a happier day? Never. Has he ever bestowed on you more confidence for the future? Not for a minute. He’s a miserable guy who makes everybody else miserable too. The only proper thing to do is to put that poor guy out of his misery.

And you can. Paul would have you know that. It’s like Paul already knows your objections, “But Paul, the flesh is still strong in me. I’m not sure I really have the Spirit. I don’t sense him.” And immediately Paul comes back and says, “Of course, you have the Spirit! How else do you think you came to believe that you have a Father in God?” Paul says it this way: “By him (the Spirit) we cry, “Abba, Father.” (v. 16) That’s no calm conversation. It’s not measured. It’s not low key. It’s not whispered. It’s shouted. It’s joyed. It’s cried. And it’s there. I know it’s there. Why else would you be here? Deep down in your soul, the Spirit cries in you, “Father.” And I think you already know what that means. Your God isn’t far off, distant, and hands off. Your God is here, near, personal, hands on, and yours. He’s your Father, your fighter, your protector, your provider, your strength, your joy, and your crown. He’s the God who will never let a single thing go wrong in your life. Not ever. He’s the watchful eye who’s got you in the palm of his hand. He’s your Father and that’s what fathers do.

So you have a Jesus who won you, a Spirit who lives in you, and a Father who watches over for you. You know what we call this? We call this doing psychology. You have to understand there’s a reason why Jesus calls the Spirit the Counselor. Because he counsels. And you have to understand that God understands we have a psyche. He’s the one who gave us one. And here God is doing psychology. He is not only telling you how your spirit functions within you. He’s also telling you how the Spirit functions within you. This is nothing less than psychology. Why do you tell you this? Because probably the biggest problem we’ve got is that we don’t really think the gospel is big enough to heal our souls and, therefore, we don’t think enough about the gospel. But what Paul is saying is that it is. What he’s pushing here are God’s psychological tools for hurting souls; therapy for your psyche; and healing for your spiritual wounds. The gospel isn’t just the forgiveness of sins. It is that. And primarily that, but it isn’t just that. That truth has a massive trickle down effect into every part of your psyche. It gives the gift of a whole new psychology. What’s left is for us to truly understand that and push it out in the parts of our soul that are tired or hurting.

You have a Jesus who won you, a Spirit who lives in you, and a Father who watches over you. You have a whole Trinitarian all-everything God who is pouring out his all-everything-ness on you. And what I’m saying is that getting overwhelmed by that, believing that, and seeing that in your life will meet every one of your very real psychological needs. Finally, isn’t that what heaven is? We finally realize how true the gospel is and our psychological needs have been met. In fact, I’d suggest to you that while we’re here the depression, lust, and anxiety the flesh always push shows us that there’s some aspect of the gospel that the Spirit has yet to push into us. Think about it. Need affirmation or more romance? What’s more life affirming for you or more romantic than watching God pursue you passionately and expensively with his Son? Want a sense of stability in your life or to not worry so much about finances? Understand better that you have a Father who happens to make planets spin and makes the entire treasury of the U.S. government look like a pittance.

And, yeah, I’m just getting started. There’s a reason that Paul says that when we walk with God’s psychology and with his Spirit that we will have a life of, “life and peace.” (v. 6) You don’t have to wear a façade of niceness to work. You’re not there seeking. You’re there having. You don’t come home frustrated and ticked off. You come home ready to love your wife. And those fear/anger issues? Gone. The world’s not spinning out of the control. God’s got the world right where he wants it and you in your proper orbit. And the marriage bed? Well, you get to be with the the most beautiful woman in the world – the woman who God gave you, the one you share a life with, the one who knows you and loves you. And that search for affirmation or power through gossip? No deal. I’ve been affirmed through the cross and rose up through the ranks when I noticed that God has his eye on me. And guilt? I don’t need a bottle. I just need Jesus’ blood. And what’s to be worried about? God will get it right. He’s my all-powerful Father. And why swim in those anxious thoughts? Jesus rose from the dead and seriously made everything all ok. What the Spirit gives you in the gospel is relief from the cage match.

Do you see what I’m saying? What I’m saying is that the gospel isn’t just some kind of church pep rally cheer. What I’m saying is that the gospel is big enough for our souls. You start with your justification and you let it trickle down from there. Martin Luther understood that way better than me when he said, “Where there is forgiveness of sins there is also life.” So let me just say this in closing. You’re no Bowe Bergdahl. You’re a person brought in and adopted through the work of the ultimate combatant, Jesus Christ. You’re a person who through the hearing of the gospel has received the Spirit and now you cry, “Abba, Father.” You cry. Not whisper. Not guess. Not hope against hope that it’s really true. You have a Jesus who won you, a Spirit who lives in you, and a Father who watches out for you. We call that truth the gospel, the ultimate counsel, the perfect therapy, God’s psychology and what it does is produce in you something so victorious that the only term that does it justice is this one: resurrection life. That’s the Spirit’s daily work in you. There’s no tiredly walking away from that. There’s only joyfully walking in that. Every day of your life. Amen. 

Romans 8:5–9a, 12–16 Those who live according to the flesh have their minds set on what the flesh desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. 6 The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace. 7 The mind governed by the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do so. 8 Those who are in the realm of the flesh cannot please God. 9 You, however, are not in the realm of the flesh but are in the realm of the Spirit… 12 Therefore, brothers and sisters, we have an obligation—but it is not to the flesh, to live according to it. 13 For if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live. 14 For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. 15 The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” 16 The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children.

The details are sketchy, but it seems that one day Bowe Bergdahl up and walked away from his post in the war in Afghanistan. He just up and walked away. Disenchanted with the war and exhausted from the conflict, he tiredly just up and walked away. And when he did, he did far more damage to himself and to others than he could’ve ever imagined. He was caught by terrorists and held for five years. Meanwhile the U.S. military abiding by their long held policy of no man left behind went in after him. Some say that the massive search and rescue operation that we mounted for Bowe cost six American lives. And now probably more lives have been lost. Because here’s the problem. It wasn’t just American blood that was shed. It was enemy skin that was saved. The trade to get him back from the terrorists wasn’t a 1:1 trade. Several hardened members of the Taliban were released from Guantanamo Bay to fight us again, which as you can imagine has the distinct possibility of adding to Bergdahl’s death tally.  Those are just some of the very real consequences of letting a terrorist win. Why do I tell you this? Because you bunk with one.

Helping us come to terms with that is apparently pretty high on the Apostle Paul’s to-do list. It’s why he gives us such a graphic description of this terrorist and even gives it a name. He calls it, “the flesh.” (v. 6) The flesh wants what it wants. And it does what it wants. And it only wants to do two things: it wants to do everything God says it shouldn’t do and it wants to not do everything God says to do. When it comes to God, it’s only a contrarian and according to Paul is his perfect enemy. It’s more perfectly opposed to God than ISIS is to the U.S. or Al Quaeda to New York. And it’s in you. The question is not whether or not it’s in you. It most certainly is. The question is whether or not it governs you. Paul says, “The mind governed by the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do so.” (v. 7) You can’t teach it. You can’t reform it. You can’t redirect it. You can’t send to some military school to beat some sense into it. You can’t even recondition it to make it function better. It’s absolutely impossible for, “those who are in the realm of the flesh… to please God.” (v. 8) Paul is basically saying, “You’d be better off trying to convert a prisoner in Guantanamo Bay to American values or trying to cuddle up to Osama Bin Laden with your Christianity. The flesh only has terror on its mind.” Your soul life is a personal cage match with a terrorist.

What’s interesting is Paul doesn’t spend any time describing what this looks like in our lives. Paul apparently thinks we’ll be able to work out ourselves how if we go to work in it for ourselves that our façade of niceness and our mask of service will blow its cover when it comes home. He thinks we’ll be able to forecast how the flesh won’t be able to fake it anymore and its wife – the minute she asks for something – will get an emotional sucker punch. Paul thinks we’ll see how its anger issues – it’s always ready to blow its top – come because deep down it’s scared. It’s scared it’s not going to get what it wants. Paul thinks we’ll see that it’s always ruining real sexuality. It’s in it to take, not give. And if its wife isn’t emotionally available – well – it’ll take from some videos instead. And it’s always medicating. It medicates the powerlessness it feels with gossip; it medicates the guilt it has with drink; and it medicates the affirmation it’s missing with the pursuit of some kind of Americanized version of success. Or it just plain wallows in its own darkness. It isolates itself when its depressed. It swims in its anxieties. It worries about its life and it gets bitter when it thinks stuff’s gone wrong. Paul thinks that all we need to know about this terrorist is that he’s always and only for himself.

What’s interesting about the flesh is that everybody – and I do mean everybody – is trying to get therapy for it. Everybody. Secular. Religious. Whatever. We’re all trying to get therapy. That’s why even psychologists need sessions and therapists need therapy. And by the way they do. The more honest ones will tell you that. You know what the trouble is? Even our best therapists – even our best psychologists aren’t sure what works. There was a bombshell article that came out this past fall in The New York Times. Maybe you saw it. The report basically said that talk therapy is far less effective than anybody’s ever thought before. When the statistics came out they shocked the whole counseling community. There was a Dr. Hofmann in the article that came out and said what everybody else was feeling about the findings. The doctor said, “There’s a sense of desperation out there because we need something new, and there’s very little on the horizon.” Why do I tell you this? Because I think you know just a bit what that feels like. The uncertainty you have with what God’s got going on in your life; the fears that brew; the lust that whirs; the way you’ll do anything for a pat on the back; the jealousy you have for those you have more; the disdain you have for those who have less. What I’m saying is that every single Christian has Bowe Bergdahl moments when you feel tired enough and conquered enough to just walk out to the terrorists.

And that’s why Paul deals with us the way he deals with us. Not with law, but with gospel. Not with a heavy does of more rules, but with a massive dose of gospel. I want you to make an observation. You ready? There isn’t a single command in this entire section. Not a single command. There’s no Paul here who hammers on your will saying, “Try harder. Fight more fiercely. Euthanize more quickly.” You know what you give people tired and conquered people. You have announcements. You have announcements to you and about you. Let me say it another way. Paul’s not trying to make you a better soldier. Paul’s trying to make you a better believer. And there is a specific gospel reality that he wants you to trust. “You, however, are not in the realm of the flesh but are in the realm of the Spirit.” (v. 9) That’s so that Paul triples down on it later in the section. He says, “The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship.” (v. 15) Let me tell you what that means. The key to living a victorious life when you’re in a cage match is to know you can tag in the Spirit.

And you know what he does when he gets in the ring? He displays absolutely no mercy. None. He kills. Paul in other letters he writes even calls it a crucifixion of the flesh. So he’s pretty serious about this. The Spirit rains down death. “By the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body.” (v. 13) And that’s a beautiful thing. In fact, I’d go so far as to call this the only kind of proper euthanasia. It’s actually the only kind of good death there really is. It’s the death of something so that you can really live. In fact, that’s part of Paul’s deal here. He says that we have no obligation to nourish the flesh or help it or keep it alive at all. And he’s right. I mean what’s that terrorist ever done for you or anybody else? Has he ever helped you have a better marriage? Hardly. Has he ever handed you a happier day? Never. Has he ever bestowed on you more confidence for the future? Not for a minute. He’s a miserable guy who makes everybody else miserable too. The only proper thing to do is to put that poor guy out of his misery.

And you can. Paul would have you know that. It’s like Paul already knows your objections, “But Paul, the flesh is still strong in me. I’m not sure I really have the Spirit. I don’t sense him.” And immediately Paul comes back and says, “Of course, you have the Spirit! How else do you think you came to believe that you have a Father in God?” Paul says it this way: “By him (the Spirit) we cry, “Abba, Father.” (v. 16) That’s no calm conversation. It’s not measured. It’s not low key. It’s not whispered. It’s shouted. It’s joyed. It’s cried. And it’s there. I know it’s there. Why else would you be here? Deep down in your soul, the Spirit cries in you, “Father.” And I think you already know what that means. Your God isn’t far off, distant, and hands off. Your God is here, near, personal, hands on, and yours. He’s your Father, your fighter, your protector, your provider, your strength, your joy, and your crown. He’s the God who will never let a single thing go wrong in your life. Not ever. He’s the watchful eye who’s got you in the palm of his hand. He’s your Father and that’s what fathers do.

So you have a Jesus who won you, a Spirit who lives in you, and a Father who watches over for you. You know what we call this? We call this doing psychology. You have to understand there’s a reason why Jesus calls the Spirit the Counselor. Because he counsels. And you have to understand that God understands we have a psyche. He’s the one who gave us one. And here God is doing psychology. He is not only telling you how your spirit functions within you. He’s also telling you how the Spirit functions within you. This is nothing less than psychology. Why do you tell you this? Because probably the biggest problem we’ve got is that we don’t really think the gospel is big enough to heal our souls and, therefore, we don’t think enough about the gospel. But what Paul is saying is that it is. What he’s pushing here are God’s psychological tools for hurting souls; therapy for your psyche; and healing for your spiritual wounds. The gospel isn’t just the forgiveness of sins. It is that. And primarily that, but it isn’t just that. That truth has a massive trickle down effect into every part of your psyche. It gives the gift of a whole new psychology. What’s left is for us to truly understand that and push it out in the parts of our soul that are tired or hurting.

You have a Jesus who won you, a Spirit who lives in you, and a Father who watches over you. You have a whole Trinitarian all-everything God who is pouring out his all-everything-ness on you. And what I’m saying is that getting overwhelmed by that, believing that, and seeing that in your life will meet every one of your very real psychological needs. Finally, isn’t that what heaven is? We finally realize how true the gospel is and our psychological needs have been met. In fact, I’d suggest to you that while we’re here the depression, lust, and anxiety the flesh always push shows us that there’s some aspect of the gospel that the Spirit has yet to push into us. Think about it. Need affirmation or more romance? What’s more life affirming for you or more romantic than watching God pursue you passionately and expensively with his Son? Want a sense of stability in your life or to not worry so much about finances? Understand better that you have a Father who happens to make planets spin and makes the entire treasury of the U.S. government look like a pittance.

And, yeah, I’m just getting started. There’s a reason that Paul says that when we walk with God’s psychology and with his Spirit that we will have a life of, “life and peace.” (v. 6) You don’t have to wear a façade of niceness to work. You’re not there seeking. You’re there having. You don’t come home frustrated and ticked off. You come home ready to love your wife. And those fear/anger issues? Gone. The world’s not spinning out of the control. God’s got the world right where he wants it and you in your proper orbit. And the marriage bed? Well, you get to be with the the most beautiful woman in the world – the woman who God gave you, the one you share a life with, the one who knows you and loves you. And that search for affirmation or power through gossip? No deal. I’ve been affirmed through the cross and rose up through the ranks when I noticed that God has his eye on me. And guilt? I don’t need a bottle. I just need Jesus’ blood. And what’s to be worried about? God will get it right. He’s my all-powerful Father. And why swim in those anxious thoughts? Jesus rose from the dead and seriously made everything all ok. What the Spirit gives you in the gospel is relief from the cage match.

Do you see what I’m saying? What I’m saying is that the gospel isn’t just some kind of church pep rally cheer. What I’m saying is that the gospel is big enough for our souls. You start with your justification and you let it trickle down from there. Martin Luther understood that way better than me when he said, “Where there is forgiveness of sins there is also life.” So let me just say this in closing. You’re no Bowe Bergdahl. You’re a person brought in and adopted through the work of the ultimate combatant, Jesus Christ. You’re a person who through the hearing of the gospel has received the Spirit and now you cry, “Abba, Father.” You cry. Not whisper. Not guess. Not hope against hope that it’s really true. You have a Jesus who won you, a Spirit who lives in you, and a Father who watches out for you. We call that truth the gospel, the ultimate counsel, the perfect therapy, God’s psychology and what it does is produce in you something so victorious that the only term that does it justice is this one: resurrection life. That’s the Spirit’s daily work in you. There’s no tiredly walking away from that. There’s only joyfully walking in that. Every day of your life. Amen. 

Romans 8:1–4 Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, 2 because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death. 3 For what the law was powerless to do because it was weakened by the flesh, God did by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh to be a sin offering. And so he condemned sin in the flesh, 4 in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fully met in us, who do not live according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.

What if the high school valedictorian and the National Merit Scholar gets a B+ in her first college class? What then? What if the super mom who wore headphones around her pregnant belly that played Mozart; who intuitively knew when to change a wet diaper before her infant would even cry; who potty trained that same child in a day – what if she had just one hair brained moment when she wasn’t paying attention? What then? What if that savvy businessman who spent his entire life building his empire through blood, sweat and tears had it all taken away because of one nasty lawsuit? What then? What if that kid who spent his entire childhood chipping onto greens and honing his swing at the driving range made the tour only to get into a car accident and lose an arm? What then? What if that woman who spent her life trying to make people happy – she just wanted people to like her! – got stuck in an office that had more sharks than a reef in the Bermuda Triangle? What then? What if the pastor who worked his tail off – he just wanted to grow his church! – had people criticize his sermons? What then? What if the things you built your life on were suddenly all taken away?

I have a sense that you know we already know. We’ve known for a long time now. Probably one of the most public ways we’ve found out recently is through a woman named Rhonda Rousey. She might be one of the most recognizable female athletes in the world right now. Incredible MMA fighter. Undefeated. Unbeatable. That whole deal. I even remember reading articles saying that she might be the most talented athlete of our generation. She spent all day every day trying to win at MMA and she did. Until she didn’t anymore. I still remember what happened in the Twitterverse after the Holly Holm loss. The whole world reacted with what I can only describe as unbelief that Rhonda Rousey had actually been defeated. That’s how the world reacted, but it’s not how Rhonda reacted. Something far, far worse happened. In an interview on the Ellen DeGeneres Show she broke down describing what happened to her after the loss. I transcribed editing it only enough to make it appropriate for this audience. “I was like. I was like I was down in the corner and I was like. I was sitting in the corner and thinking about dealing with myself: ‘What am I anymore?’ I was thinking, ‘What do I do anymore? Nobody cares about me anymore.’ I looked up at my man. Travis was standing there. I looked up at him and I was just like, ‘I need to have his babies. I need to stay alive.’”

You know what we call that? We call that justification. She wanted justification for living. No, she needed justification for living. And when MMA was taken from her, she had to jump to a new justification and that’s just what she did. That’s why she said, “I need to have his babies.” Please understand I’m not picking on her. Not for a second. She’s just like us. We all need justification. It’s the most fundamental need our soul has. It’s what defines human spiritual existence. It’s what we’re all pursuing all the time. But then again, don’t take my word for it. Take Paul’s. That’s exactly what he said. He said that everybody wants to justify themselves. He even went so far as to call it a, “law,” (v. 2) or principle in our lives, which he says leads to, “sin and death.” (v. 2) Pretty direct, right? In this case, it’s not quite the spoonful of sugar that makes the medicine go down. Paul wants clarity. That’s the only way to deal properly with the addiction of self-justification. You have to out it. It was just a week ago when I saw how powerful this was already in my three-year-old. She did her cute new shoulder raise and announced, “Daddy, I’m not cute.” My wife, Melanie, and I both heard it and froze. We knew what she wanted. Elliana desperately wanted me to tell her she was cute. To correct her. To tell her she mattered and that she was justified because she was cute. And I couldn’t do it. I knew it would only lead her to spiritual death.

You want to know why? It’s sin. It keeps her thinking that she’s what matters. Not God. And that never ends well for us. Never. It wouldn’t for her either. It’d send her off to school completely vulnerable to the comments an 8th grade girl might whisper about her behind her back or lead her to invest too heavily in what some future guy might think of her. And worse yet, it’d keep her chasing self-justification. It’d keep her chasing her looks or her personality or her success or her smarts for her value. And they all – they all – lead to death. Someone will think she’s not pretty enough. Someone will tell her she’s not smart enough. Someone will remind her she’s not fun enough. And more catastrophic than that, it’d ruin her to God. It would suggest to her that she can meet God’s lawful standards of beauty and smarts and personality, which she can’t. Finally, all self-justification attempts are futile because we can’t meet God’s standards. That’s what Paul meant when he says, “The law was powerless… because it was weakened by the flesh.” (v. 3) Standards can’t help us be beautiful to God when our sin is always tilting us toward the ugly. God’s law can’t help us be pure when our flesh is always pulling away us away from it. Our flesh, the sin in us, is why we’ll never be enough. Not for people and not for God.

Now I understand you may not buy that just yet, but I should tell you your body does. At least, mine does. The new wrinkles, the changing hairline. The heart valve that’s probably narrowing, the barnyard dance with chemo that’s probably coming. It’s preaching to me with great, great clarity, “You don’t deserve the air you breath. You don’t merit the space you take up on this planet. You shouldn’t stick around.” Do you see that? The truth is that justification and death are intimately linked. If my existence is justified, God will have me stick around. Because I deserve the breathes I take. Because I merit the space I’m in. If I’m justified and, therefore, it’s right for God to keep me around, then rest assured he’ll keep me around. But if it isn’t and I’m not justified, then God will allow death to do its work in my body. So while our souls don’t always see it, our bodies always do. And that’s the point of death and decay here. They always preach. Every trip to the ER is another opportunity for death to say, “End whatever self-justification journey you’re on. It’s not working.” And every trip to the doctor is another chance to understand, “I don’t measure up.”

And as strange as it sounds that’s a grace. That’s a grace. Think of it as God’s intervention into our lives to get us to quit the addiction of self-justification cold turkey and get on board with God’s justification of us, which justification he also proved in a body. “He condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fully met in our case.” (v. 3–4) That’s what God did in the flesh of his Son. Our missing spiritual beauty and our existing spiritual ugly, our failed self-justification attempts, our too small smarts, our wrong-headed pride in our parenting, he condemned it in the flesh of Jesus. That’s what happened on the cross. God condemned our self-justification projects in Jesus’ body. That’s why Jesus died. It’s like I said justification and death are linked. Jesus didn’t deserve the space he was taking up here anymore. Not with our sinful baggage on him. Jesus didn’t merit the breathes he was taking. Not when he was carrying our self-justification attempts. God condemned them in Jesus’ flesh. And since Jesus carried it all, we now fully measure up. We meet every righteous requirement of the law. We’re beautiful enough. We’re pure enough. We’re holy enough. We’re justified in Christ Jesus.

And you may be surprised to find out that the Spirit’s whole job is to push that more deeply into us. “Through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free.” (v. 2) It’s, in fact, so the Spirit’s job to inform you of Christ’s justification of you that Paul calls it a law or a principle. In other words, it’s a principle of the Spirit that he’s a justification pusher for justification junkies. Think of it this way: the Spirit’s our new dealer and Jesus’ justification is our new drug. Something has to justify us. And when it can’t be MMA because it leads to death. And when it can’t be having somebody’s babies because it leads to death. And when it can’t be being cute enough because it leads to death. And when it can’t be something – anything – related to ourselves because we’re all already failed justification projects, then it has to come from the outside in. And it has to come from a spirit other than our own. And so it does. On both counts. The Spirit makes it his entire business to push Christ’s justification into us. That’s the Spirit’s entire work. To push Christ into your heart.

And for people who have that Paul says, “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” (v. 1) None. God can’t condemn you for sin in your life because it already condemned Jesus. And nobody can condemn you for a lack of spiritual beauty because our every spiritual ugly already disfigured Christ’s body. And it just expands from there. It’s not just eternal condemnation that can’t hound you anymore. The Spirit’s letting you know that in Christ Jesus there’s no condemnation period. Nobody can condemn you for your smarts (or the lack thereof), your not-so-great career, your personality quirks, or your failed marriage. Nobody. There is no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus. Because our justification does not rest on anything in us or about us. It rests on Christ – on his blood, on his body, and on what he did for us. Do you see what that means? When someone suggests your work performance makes you worthless, they lie. You’re worth the blood of God. When someone texts around pictures trying to make you feel lower than low they couldn’t be more false, Christ makes you more valued than all the gold on earth. And nobody can ever take that from you.

Ever. Do you realize that’s why this Scripture comes up right around Easter? Jesus’ justification is so big that it makes you worth hanging out with forever and ever and ever. Think about that. Jesus’ justification makes you so good that it makes you deserve breathes in the pure air of God’s presence and earns you a room in God’s heavenly mansion. Our spirits know that now. And your body will soon. God will erase the wrinkles and give you a new hairline (if you need one). God will give you a heartbeat that won’t ever quit and eradicate the need for chemo. Because your existence is completely and eternally justified both the breathes you breathe and the space you take. Let me say it another way. God already began his resurrection work in you when he raised up your spirit with Jesus’ justification of you. He’s not going to quit half done. He’ll raise your body too. He’ll have to. Jesus’ justification makes you look far too good to God. You know why we know that for sure? God was so excited about Jesus’ justification of you that he gave it the ultimate stamp of approval. He raised Jesus from the dead. 

My wife, Melanie, and I want that for our daughter. That’s why when my daughter said, “Daddy, I’m not cute.” We both immediately reacted. I suppose there were a lot of ways we could’ve handled it. I could’ve reassured her and said, “No, honey you really are. Daddy thinks you’re the cutest girl in the world.” Then poked her and followed up, “Cuter than the Easter bunny.” And Melanie could’ve said, “Elliana, we love you so much. You’re a beautiful girl.” And I suppose that maybe that would’ve made her smile for a moment. Neither of us did though. It was quite the moment actually. We both wanted to handle it so quickly we ended up talking over each other for a second. I said, “Honey, that doesn’t matter me or God. God loves you and Jesus died for you.” And Melanie said, “Elliana, Jesus will always love you no matter what.” We both did the exact same thing. You know why I think we both did that? It’s not because we’re great parents. Finally, it’s because we’ve both tasted the death our various self-justification projects have brought us. We’ve tried them. Sometimes we still do and they always leave us worse off than before. Our every wrinkle. Our every grey hair proves it. Only one justification doesn’t lead to death: Jesus.

So what if the star student and the National Merit Scholar gets a B+? So what? He still has an A+ in Christ Jesus. So what if the super mom messed up on that one occasion? So what? She’s still washed in the blood of the Lamb. So what if the savvy businessman gets his business empire wiped out? He still has the riches of eternity with the Lord. So what if the PGA golfer loses his ability to play on the tour? So what? He still is one of God’s own. So what if the people in your office don’t really like you? God likes you. So what if people don’t think your sermons are all that great? God thinks you’re so thought provoking he’s going to make you his conversation partner for the next million or so years. So what if something in this life is taken from you? Jesus will never be taken from you. Do you see it? What if we all built our life on that? What if everybody in here thought that that’s what made us special? What if we all became Spirit-led justification junkies who were constantly taking their hits off a justification that big, that lasting, that perfect, and that divine.

I want the people in this church to trust that justification. I want you to believe you matter because God’s Son died for you. I want you to believe you’re holy because Jesus carried your sin in his body. I want you to believe you get to draw breaths forever because God wants you around in eternity. I want you to believe you will take up space in heaven because God can’t stand to miss out on your goodness. I want you to believe you have all that from Jesus. Because then the law won’t condemn you. It can’t. It already condemned Jesus. And nothing else ever will either. Not the lady who gives you a nasty look. Not the B+ in that literature class. Not the parenting you’re finding out isn’t that great. Not the life you wished you had done so differently. Not the tax man. Not that abortion you had earlier in life. Not that marriage that you wish you had made last. Not your conscience. Not sin. Not death itself. There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. There’s only life. Because Christ Jesus gave you his life. That’s why you matter. That’s why you’re valued. That’s why you’re great. And that’s why his justification will finally set you free. The Spirit promises. Amen.