24 November 2019
2 Samuel 12:1-15; Hebrews 5:12-6:3; John
4:7-15
The mission of every Arkansas United Methodist Church
is to “create vital congregations that make disciples of Jesus Christ,
who make disciples equipped and sent to transform lives, communities, and the
world”.
I would add that before this mission can be fulfilled,
the Church may be in need of transformation; to go from being social or civic
clubs for like-minded people to becoming the True and Everlasting Body of
Christ. For this to be, the Church must be filled with “vitality” and
zeal for not only making disciples but for becoming disciples
ourselves, equipped and sent forth to the Church’s sole mission.
Over the years, however, the depth of what it means to
be transformed has become muddled, even to the point of being confused
with conversion or salvation. Rarely is
it understood as a process of “going on to
perfection”; disavowing old practices and developing and supporting new
and more holy habits through the spiritual discipline of the means of grace –
including accountability.
Transformation has either been forgotten altogether or
has been reduced, at least in the individual mind, to a single event rather
than being understood as a constant evolution, a metamorphosis of mind, heart,
and soul; metamorphosis to be understood as a “change of the form or
nature of a person into a completely different one, by natural or supernatural
means” (dictionary.com) – but NOT by magic.
This is to say, our concept of “getting saved” as the
end and the point of evangelism is only the means to a greater end, the
beginning of a greater Journey. Sanctification is a key characteristic of
Wesleyan Methodism; that we are “going on to perfection” with
accountability, with the help and support of fellow disciples. If we are
not “growing on the vine” (John 15:5), we are dying – and
taking everyone we love with us.
I began thinking about King David, his tryst with
Bathsheba, and the fallout that impacted all Israel. The Scriptures refer
to David as “a man after The Lord’s heart”, but what we probably
notice more often in David’s life – apart from his standing against Goliath -
are his scandals. We rarely notice these are the things we struggle with
ourselves – especially when we get a little too full of ourselves.
We want to be intimately connected to The Lord, but
there are too many compelling distractions and concepts of “cheap grace” that
pull us away. Yet what we do not often see in David’s life is the depth
of sin and its social implications when we do pull away and lose our sense of
self in The Lord.
After Bathsheba, and David ordering her husband’s
death to hide the scandal of her pregnancy, we find what some see as a very
cruel God who took the life of an innocent child as David’s punishment. Though
David’s sin was “put away” after his confession, we still see
David’s entire life condemned to that of war and “trouble against
[him] from within [his] own house” (2 Sam 12:10, 11). Not
because of a vindictive God but because of his sin which put destruction into
motion.
What we do not seem to notice or concern ourselves
with – especially in our own sins – is that, by the very destructive nature of
sin, someone else will always suffer with us, if not because of
us. Just as there can be no such thing as “private faith” in “going
on to perfection”, there can be no such thing as “private sin” – just
as The Lord spoke to David: “You did it in secret, but I will do
this thing before all Israel …”
The point of King David’s story may not be exclusively
about Divine Wrath more than it is about what happens to us and those around us
when we pull away from our very Source of Life, forget who we really are, who
we were created and called to be, and go our own way. In many ways, I do
try to go it alone just as I see many of you stuck in that same lifeless
rut. When I do allow myself to fall into that rut, I can feel the
emptiness and hear the silence that comes from within that
void. You would think I would have learned by now, but that’s not always
how it works for those of a more stubborn nature.
It is written in the Letter to the Colossians, “the
wrongdoer will be paid back for whatever wrong has been done, without
partiality”, {that is, whether we call ourselves “saved” or
not} 3:25). So even though there is a price to be paid for my
failures, there is still hope; there is still redemption. The Lord cannot
defy His own merciful nature by punishing us strictly for being human, frail as
we often are.
But that’s the kicker, isn’t it? The transformed
life is about being aware of our base human nature, learning from our failures
and our sins, and rising above it all rather than settling in it, surrendering
to it, and expecting Jesus to come along for the ride. That is when He
ceases to be our Shepherd and Teacher and becomes a lifeless dashboard icon or
a good-luck charm.
Even though we do fail, the whole concept of Grace is
to remind us that as long as we strive for “perfection” (Hebrews
6:1), there is always temptation, but there is always Mercy, there is
always redemption found in our confession in acknowledging our sins. It
does not mean our sins are overlooked or covered in perpetuity by Jesus’ death
because there will be fallout. It means we are loved enough that we
must learn our lessons, sometimes the hard way – and often, more than once.
Our lives are not – and must never be – defined by any
single moment. Whether it is a moment of failure or a moment of spiritual
clarity, “going on to perfection” pulls us forward from
those moments. Sometimes it can even be – and maybe should always be -
that our moments of failure become moments of spiritual
clarity – like for King David or the woman at the well – but only if there are
those who care enough about us to call us on our failures. These moments
of failure to clarity cannot happen without accountability from within
The Word and our fellow disciples.
We don’t often or easily see our failures unless we
are called on them. We don’t have to be beat over the head with our sins,
but we do need to be called on those sins and know by the Word that, while we
will be accountable, there is still mercy and redemption after confession.
We need not be defined by our failures; we need to know which way to
go from those failures.
David’s life is an interesting one. When he
stood against Goliath, we heard his indignation for the man who would dare
curse his God. He always meant well, and what was within his heart was
pleasing enough for the God of Israel to have him anointed king. What is
most interesting, however, is not strictly the tension between David’s
righteousness and his humanness.
It is that when the prophet Nathan called him on his
sin through a parable, David was outraged over the circumstances of the parable
– as he was with Goliath, and as we often are when we see the sins of others -
but David did not see himself and his actions in the parable. Nor can we
see our own failures when we are alone – or – when we concern ourselves with
the sins of others rather than concern ourselves with the Eternal Word.
The transformed life is a challenging one.
Though David was anointed as king, he still had to reach for it to fulfill the
life he was called and anointed into. It is no less so for us; for though
we may not be kings or queens, we are of no lesser value in the truly
transformed community or in the eyes of the merciful God who redeemed us and
called us to become the Body of Christ in the world today. The Church has
been entrusted with the Living Water. We must not waste a single
drop. Amen.
