Dr. J. Lawrence Cuthill

May 30, 2010

Winter Park Presbyterian Church

During the heat of the space race in the 1960’s, NASA decided it needed a ballpoint pen to write in the zero-gravity confines of its space capsules. After considerable research and development, the Astronaut Pen was developed at a cost of about $1 million. The pen worked and also enjoyed some modest success as a novelty item back here on Earth. The Soviet Union, faced with the same problem, used a pencil…

Moral of the story … throwing money at the problem doesn’t necessarily guarantee the best solution. To extrapolate for the purpose of the sermon’s theme: trying harder is not always productive. Let’s get started and see if you agree.

The passage begins, “Therefore,” … a word one should always look at to see what it’s there for. Typically, the word signifies a conclusion based on a foregoing argument. The argument is not far to find, – “since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God.”

It behooves us not to assume that everyone understands what it means to be justified by faith … or that it is a concept understood and incorporated into a lifestyle, world view of the average Christian.

David Kinnaman released a study from the Barna Group that found that “most people believed spiritual growth consists of trying hard to follow the rules of the bible.” In a best seller So You Don’t Want to Go to Church Anymore, one thesis is people simply aren’t getting the right message. If the message is “try harder to measure up and please God,” then no wonder churches are in decline, and people fall away, frustrated or simply disinterested. The transformation spoken of in the Scripture seems pretty rare or distant – unattainable, and people become discouraged as they undertake spiritual disciplines and see little progress. In John Ortberg’s words, “People think they are supposed to bridge the gap between who I am – right now, and the person God wants me to become … by trying harder.” In fact, this new life is not something we can produce. We know it involves faith, and in typical fashion set ourselves to the task of trying to have more faith. By that understanding, faith is turned into something we work to have and thus puts us back into the same old syndrome of trying harder. Faith becomes a work. Faith and our Christianity becomes a self improvement program which leads to frustration and is no more God’s plan than self-salvation. It’s pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps. If that were true, then God’s plan is no more than a Jesus who is the model, the example that says “this is what I want you to be like.” Get with it. Do it. Try harder!

Is faith something you can will yourself to have? Can you generate it within yourself? Even with good intentions and admirable, extra-ordinary effort? What usually results – at best, is a very decent human being, law abiding, well-intentioned, but not at peace, not free to embrace and enjoy God and others and all of creation with a profound and abiding sense of gratitude and trust. Faith is a gift, a response; it is the work of the Holy Spirit. The stimulus … what precedes faith, is grace; this amazing grace we sing about and long at some deep level to have. Unconditional, unearned and “unearnable.” Grace that very often comes to us as a surprise, and touches a major responsive chord in our soul. It often causes a person to be staggered by the realization that it is the very thing one has most needed. It is not awarded on the basis of merit.

You may be further surprised to learn that faith, which sees us through, the faith without which we cannot enter/receive the salvation we so need, is not only something we cannot do … there are a number of passages that say it is the faith of Jesus Christ that pulls us into belief, that establishes us as redeemed members of the Kingdom of God. “Therefore we have peace with God, the love we sought.” Therefore, what is incumbent upon us is not to strive to have enough faith, but to let ourselves be loved. But be forewarned, it will make of you a conduit of that love, for love begets love, peace begets peace; joy and gratitude are contagious, generative. The danger is in our humanity; we put all that in boxes, doctrinal boxes, legalistic restrictions, fear reasserts itself, and we relapse into a “baptized” tendency to be in the right church among the right, like-minded people. In other words, we take this grace and put our stamp on it, we reduce God to our size, instead of letting grace expand us, shape us, take us where it will as new creatures. How difficult it is to let ourselves be loved and trust it to have its way.

I’ve just finished a book entitled Abide With Me, by Margaret Strout. The main character is the Reverend Tyler Caskey, an idealistic young minister who takes his first call in a New England congregation. Fresh out of seminary, he is tall and young and good-looking. He is saturated with high-minded theology and ethics, and is well-spoken, cutting a fine figure in the pulpit. But when his world begins to crumble; when his beautiful wife – who never shared his convictions and did not fit in with that conservative, reserved crowd – dies; when his 5 year old daughter withdraws into a non-communicative grief; his leadership is called into question. Rumors circulate, and his unresolved grief is reflected in his sermons, which become dry and formulaic. One day, he stands to preach and nothing comes out except a choking “I am sorry.” Tears flow but no words. There is a gasp in the congregation as he raises his head to speak, to regain his composure – but it won’t come, and in that moment, a congregation is transformed from a “gossipy, critical crowd” to a caring community. His most severe critic gets up and takes him by the arm to walk him to his study; the organist, in a moment of inspiration, begins to play “Abide With Me.”

Tyler Caskey has touched them more deeply by his vulnerability, his sadness, than did any of his polished sermons. The congregation rose and became vessels of God’s grace. They embraced and cared for him. Tyler felt the only thing to do was resign, and retreated to the home of his mentor, a retired seminary professor, Dr. Atwood. He said, “I think I showed them I wasn’t up to the job.” Dr. Atwood replied, “Your congregation has given you love. And it’s your job to receive it.” “Yes,” said a weary and worn Tyler. It was Tyler Caskey’s rebirth, his making.

For many of us, there needs to be a distinct change in our thinking, our orientation. It’s not enough to be saved by grace. We must live by grace! Does Jesus’ sacrificial love get us in the door, and then say “You have to do it on your own. Here’s a map (Bible), now you make it on your own.” To use the image of rebirth, it’s equivalent to giving birth and then saying, “I’ve done my part. Take it – do it yourself from here on in.” The key, if we have lapsed or subjected ourselves to such thinking, is no less than repentance. Let the Spirit of God flow like a river of living water. Repentance is a word that needs reclaiming from the purveyors of packaged spirituality – the caricatures of angry pulpit pounders who seek to lash us into the kingdom. They forget Romans 2:4, “…it is the kindness of God that leads us to repentance.”

A few weeks ago at our Committee Night Worship Service, I shared an experience from another Presbyterian pastor in the first person. With apologies to those who’ve already heard it:

“I was traveling with my wife on obscure back roads in a part of the country I had never been to before, so when I got a rental car, the man at the counter recommended a GPS unit. My immediate response was, ‘No, I’m not going to pay for that. I can find where I’m going without that.’ But when I went out to the parking lot, I could not find the stall my car was in. I had to go back to the counter and tell the man I got lost before I found my car. I decided to get the GPS.”

“There was a voice coming out of that box. You don’t even have to look at a screen or follow a map. Someone talks to you. It is a British voice, because people who talk with a British accent always sound smarter. You’re just inclined to do what they say. And it was a woman’s voice, because … same thing.”

“You get the box. You can hear the lady’s voice. But that doesn’t mean you trust her. If you trust her, you do what she says, ‘Turn left,’ you turn left, even if in your heart you think ‘Oh, I think I need to turn right.’ ”

“At one point while we were driving, I was quite sure my GPS-companion was wrong when she said to go left. I did not go left; I went right because I knew she was wrong. Then, in a fascinating response, she said, ‘Recalculating route. When safe to do so, execute a U-turn.’ I knew she was wrong … so I unplugged her. (That’s the beauty of that little box. You can unplug her!) And I got lost as a goose, which my wife enjoyed immensely. So we plugged that lady back in, and you know what she said? ‘I told you so, you little pompous idiot. You think I’m going to help you now? You dissed me. There is no way. You can just find your way home by yourself!’ No, she didn’t say those things. She said, ‘Recalculating route. When safe to do so, execute a U-turn.’ That’s grace.”

God will say to anybody, “Here is the way home. Execute a U-turn.” As soon as you’re ready to listen, as soon as you’re ready to surrender, that’s called REPENTANCE. He’ll say, “I’ll bring you home.” That is GRACE.

Okay, if you want to get home by yourself you can try … hard, harder. But it makes much better sense to live in the flow of the Spirit; to take our stand with the One who stands with us.

Given his own experience, Paul hastens to add that there is suffering, but it is never without purpose – or grace, never unproductive, for in his words, “suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope … and hope does not disappoint … for God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit.”

AMEN