Under the Surface

The Sermon Study Guide is here.

Psalm 139:13-14; 1 Samuel 16:1-13

September 29, 2013 • Portage First UMC

VIDEO INTRO

Michelle was eight years old when she first began to believe she was fat. She was sitting between two friends at a school assembly and noticed that her legs were bigger than both of her friends’ legs. From that moment on, she kept hiding her legs, hoping no one would notice, and she struggled with her body image, constantly worried about what others thought of the way she looked. When she was a freshmen in college, she contracted mononucleosis, which killed her appetite and made her tired most of the time. During the six weeks she battled the disease, she barely ate anything. She knew she was losing weight, but she had no idea how much until she went to the doctor’s office, where the nurse gasped as she weighed Michelle. She had lost twenty pounds in six weeks. That gave Michelle an idea. If she could lose 3.5 pounds a week without working out, how much could she lose if she started working out again? So she did. She aimed toward “the perfect weight,” which she never really defined, except that it was something less than her current weight of 118 pounds. Six weeks after that doctor’s visit, she was down to 105 pounds.

And how did people react? Everyone complimented her. People at church would ask, “What’s your secret?” Girls would give her jealous stares when she passed them on the street, and guys started paying more attention to her than they ever had. She loved the attention, and yet at just over 100 pounds, she still felt fat. She started eating smaller meals, skipping some meals, and taking appetite suppressants and fat burning medicines. Then she began competing in beauty pageants, and despite people fussing over how thin she was, all she could see when she looked in the mirror was a chunky stomach. At this point, she was down to 89 pounds. She would go to church, hold the communion bread in her mouth and then sneak out to spit it out into the toilet. She put it this way: “I couldn’t even bring myself to sacrifice ten calories to remember the fact that [Jesus] suffered a horrible death and sacrificed himself so I could spend eternity with him.”

She began training for a marathon, and in the first part of April 2005, she went thirteen straight days without eating a single meal. During a run that was part of her training, her vision suddenly began to blur. She tripped and fell to the ground. All 84 pounds of her hit the pavement and it felt, she said, like every brittle bone in her body cracked all at once. She could no longer deny it, nor could she hide it from others. She had a problem. She was worshipping at the altar of beauty, the altar of appearance—an altar that, like the money we talked about last week, is set up in every corner of our culture today. Michelle knew couldn’t get out of that lifestyle without serious help from her friends, her family and God (cf. Wilson, Empty Promises, pgs. 133-136).

Unfortunately, Michelle’s story is not an unusual one. Four out of ten individuals in our country have either personally experienced an eating disorder or know someone who has. It’s estimated that ten million women face a daily struggle with an eating disorder, but what has typically been thought of as a woman’s issue is now a growing concern for men as well. Today, somewhere around one million men struggle with this issue—a number that is growing. The numbers are even higher for those in organized sports: 42% of female athletes demonstrate behaviors that are connected with eating disorders. They may not be there yet, but without intervention many if not most of them will develop a full-blown problem with food. Even if we’re not struggling with an eating disorder, many of us are still aiming at a better body image, a more perfect sense of self. That’s evidenced by the fact that on any given day, 25% of American men and 45% of American women report being on a diet. Even more staggering is the fact that 46% of 9-11 year olds report being “very often on a diet.” Now, some dieting is good. Most all of us get told by our doctors we could stand to lose a few pounds. It’s when we become focused on a particular body image, a way of appearing or a certain type of beauty, that we stray into the area of idolatry. It’s easy to find ourselves worshipping at the altar of beauty and appearance.

This morning, we’re continuing our series on “Empty Promises,” exploring those things that attempt to take God’s place in our lives. We call them “idols,” which for many of us probably bring up images in our minds of little carved statues. But today’s idols are much more subtle and yet more overt than those ancient statues would have been. For instance, so far, we’ve talked about things like achievement, affirmation and money as idols, and we’ve looked at the promises such things make to bring us fulfillment, attention, or meaning in our lives. But those things never can fulfill those promises. They can never quite live up to the supposed potential. Only God can, and yet for many of us, these things take the place of God in our lives. We might not say that they are more important, but we demonstrate it with our lives. We show what is important with the amount of time and resources we dedicate to them. The same is true of beauty or appearance. In today’s world, beauty has become a highly valued quality—or, we could even say, commodity, because beauty is used to market everything. Products are sold by young, beautiful and seemingly happy people. They are sold using a generous amount of sexuality, a quality which usually has nothing to do with the product being sold. Does that hair shampoo really make you sexy? Will buying that brand of fruit juice make you more desirable? That’s what the advertisers would have you believe. Children are made fun of at school if they don’t have the “right” brand names on their clothing. And political campaigns seek to polish a successful media image rather than to convince you of their stance on the issues (Birch, “The First and Second Books of Samuel,” New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. II, pg. 1100). Those who study such things point to the election of 1960 as the turning point, because that was the first “mass media election.” John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon both appeared on television, debating in that sort of forum for the first time. Kennedy was tanned and photogenic. Nixon looked pale and had a noticeable 5 o’clock shadow. Voters took more quickly to Kennedy because his campaign understood the power of the media and knew how to use it. That’s continued up to today, only now it’s less about debates and more about who shows up on late night talk shows and on Twitter. Image matters. Appearance is critical. Pick up any magazine, watch any commercial, visit almost any website and you’ll hear the same message: beauty is in. Our culture worships at its altar. And, we’re told, if you worship at it, too, people will love you. They will listen to you. They will admire and even desire you. It’s a tempting idol, which is why it has taken over so much of our culture.

But it’s nothing new. Even in ancient times, beauty or appearance was highly desirable. Granted, the appearance they looked for was not what we look for. In fact, in many ancient cultures, people who were overweight were considered the most beautiful, and do you know why? Because they were obviously wealthy and had leisure time to be able to eat and eat well! They didn’t have to work—so we even get a connection even in ancient times (and still today) between the idol of beauty and the idol of money. But, regardless of the particulars, appearance was important, especially when it came to choosing a leader, a king, so let’s look at a story from the Old Testament, from 1 Samuel, and see how this played out in the life of two men who would be king: Saul and David.

Saul was the first king of Israel, chosen after the people basically rejected God as their king because they wanted to be like everyone else (1 Samuel 8:4-9). And so, Saul was chosen, and from all accounts, he was exactly what people wanted in a king—or at least in the appearance of a king. He was “as handsome a young man as could be found anywhere in Israel, and he was a head taller than anyone else” (1 Samuel 9:2). He was impressive to look at, but he had serious character flaws which become apparent not long after he is chosen and anointed as king. In fact, after Saul blatantly disobeys God’s command after a battle, God rejects Saul as king and sets out to look for another candidate.

That’s where we come into the story today as we read from 1 Samuel 16. Samuel, the prophet, is upset. He’s discouraged because things have gone so badly with Saul, and the future looks rather bleak for the nation. But God tells Samuel to stop brooding and go anoint a new king. “I am sending you to Jesse of Bethlehem,” God says. “I have chosen one of his sons to be king” (16:1). Now, wouldn’t it have been easier if God had just told Samuel straight out which son he had chosen? Jesse has eight sons. Couldn’t God had given Samuel some sort of clue? Apparently not, as this whole exercise is presented as a matter of “seeing.” Where our translations read “chosen,” God literally says, “I have seen for myself a king.” I’ve picked him out. I’ve noticed him. So it becomes a matter of trust for Samuel, and a chance for him to see people the way God sees them (Birch 1097).

Samuel, however, is nervous. He knows if he goes to anoint a new king while the old king is still alive, he could lose his life. It would be treason to do such a thing (Birch 1098)! So God tells him to tell everyone he’s come to make a sacrifice. Now, some accuse God of lying here, but actually wherever the prophet went, sacrifices were usually offered. So Samuel is not told to lie so much as withhold the whole truth. Only tell part of it until you get there. So he goes to Bethlehem (a town, by the way, of little importance in those days, a nothing town), and when he arrives, the people are afraid. The arrival of a prophet is usually bad news (Goldingay, 1 & 2 Samuel for Everyone, pg. 79)! “Do you come in peace?” they ask (16:4), and Samuel assures them that he does. Then he invites the people to come with him to Jesse’s house, and there he finds seven sons. The oldest is named Eliab, and he is tall and strong and good looking. Samuel notices him right away and thinks he must be the one God has chosen. Obviously, he’s the oldest, and he has the “look” of a king. Samuel “saw” Eliab, the text says, but he didn’t really “see” him. God responds immediately with a rebuke: “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (16:7). Samuel gets a quick lesson in seeing the world the way God sees it. He was “looking” but not “seeing” (Birch 1098). Outward appearance matters little. What matters is the state and the “appearance” of the heart.

This same sort of event happens with all seven of the sons who are there. Apparently, it takes that many times for Samuel to be able to both hear the voice of God and to be able to see people the way God sees them. But when the seven have passed and there is still no king, Samuel begins to wonder. “Are these all the sons you have?” (16:11). You can almost hear the reluctance in Jesse’s voice, almost as if he’s saying, “These are the only ones that count.” Well, he says, there’s one more son. He’s not much. In fact, since he’s the youngest, he’s out tending the sheep. He’ll never be more than a shepherd boy, so I didn’t bother calling him in. This boy is the youngest in a family that didn’t have much of a reputation anyway. His great-grandmother was a Moabite, a foreigner, named Ruth. His great-grandfather, Boaz, had an ancestor, Tamar, who was famously almost executed for adultery. This family is not the stuff of royalty, and being the youngest of the family, this boy basically had no hope. He wouldn’t ever be much more than a shepherd (cf. Birch 1100). But Samuel is determined, so he asks for them to send for the youngest. Go get him. We won’t sit down until he gets back here. Now, shepherds could sometimes be quite a distance away from home. I wonder what they talked about in the time it took for someone to go get the boy. “So, how’s the weather been?” “Well, you know, dry and dusty.” Long silence. “So, not much rain?” “Nope.” I mean, imagine the uncomfortable silence, the wondering, on this day that had started with anticipation and excitement and has turned to a long period of waiting while “the boy” comes in.

Eventually, he arrives, and God says, “This is the one. Anoint him” (16:12). Now, the author does tell us that this boy was “glowing with health” and was handsome as well. But that’s not why God chooses him. He’s the last person most people would have chosen, and while his kingship will reveal that he has character flaws at least as great as Saul’s, this boy has a different heart. It’s the heart that matters. God looks on the heart, we are told. The heart has to do with the will and the character of a person, and David’s heart was unwaveringly focused on God (Birch 1099; Goldingay 79). David is the man after God’s own heart, and as future events will show, even when he messes up and when he sins, he turns immediately back to God. He doesn’t try to justify himself; he simply repents. That’s his heart, and that’s what makes the difference. It’s what’s under the surface—it’s David’s heart—that makes him the object of God’s attention and eventually will turn him into the greatest king Israel ever knew.

What made the difference between the hearts of David and his brothers? Could it have anything to do with all the time he spent by himself out in the wilderness with the sheep? There, he had learned to rely on God’s protection, provision and approval above everything else. It seems he used the time in the wilderness, in the quiet and desolation of the desert, to develop his spiritual life. His heart beat with God’s heart, and that made him, imperfect though he may have been, the perfect king for Israel. Not his appearance. Not his stature. Not even his great gifts in administration. It was his heart that made the difference. If only we would learn to put that sort of stock into people’s hearts today. If only we would seek to see people the way God sees them. If only we would invest the sort of energy into our spiritual lives that we do into being noticed, into worshipping at the altar of appearance. Rather than listening to the still, small voice of the Spirit of God, many of us continue to listen to two primary lies our culture tells us. First, “being beautiful will get me what I want” (Wilson 129). In the short term, that promise is true. In the short term. We’ve all seen instances where appearance mattered, where it made a difference in who got the job or the attention. We even obediently tune into the various awards shows on television and watch as the beautiful people parade around in ridiculously expensive clothes and hosts comment on how they look. But that lie is only true in the short term. Beauty fades. Appearance changes. Diet and exercise and hair coloring and plastic surgery can only delay the inevitable for a time. If only for purely physical reasons, the idol of appearance lets everyone down in the end.

Believing this lie can even be destructive. Just think about the story we began with this morning, the story of Michelle. Her pursuit of a certain look (undefined, but a sense that she’d know it when she arrived at it) nearly killed her, as it has so many people, so many “beautiful” people. Or what about the story that was in the news not that long ago about the mother from San Francisco who injected her eight-year-old daughter with Botox to minimize her “wrinkles”? The girl was competing in beauty pageants—at eight years old—and when people were upset, the mother’s response was that “everyone’s doing it” (Wilson 136). We increasingly live in a world where people will do most anything and sacrifice even their children in order to appear a certain way, to get what they want. All that matters is what’s on the surface.

And that leads us to a second lie, one that probably more of us believe, whether we admit it or not: how I look is who I am. We learn this early on in life. I’ve shared the story before about a friend of mine who used to sing in a youth choir, and when she would sing, she would just smile from ear to ear. One day, after they sang, she asked her father, who is not a cruel man, how they did, and he said, “You know, you shouldn’t smile so much up there. You need to focus more on your singing.” And you know what? She stopped smiling—not only in choir. That single comment impacted her more, I’m sure, than her father intended. She heard that she wasn’t valuable because of the way she looked in that moment. Pastor Pete Wilson tells about John, a successful businessman, who one night at dinner with his grown daughters and their families was sharing about the weight he had recently lost by counting calories when suddenly his oldest daughter broke down in tears. Once he got her calmed down, he asked what was wrong. “Dad,” she said, “one day when I was twelve years old, you told me that I was looking a little chubby. Your remark has haunted me for the past twenty-two years. Hardly a day has gone by, and certainly never a week, that I don’t think about those words you spoke to me. I know you weren’t trying to hurt me, but it’s had a huge negative impact on my life” (Wilson 137). I’ve heard from many others who have heard a comment from a parent or a person in authority every day in their life. “You look good that way,” or, more often, “You need to...lose weight...not wear that...do this or that…” And those comments stick. Remember what I said a couple of weeks about affirmation and approval? We hang onto negative comments much more easily than we do positive ones. And children especially do that, to the point that it’s easy to believe how we look is who we are.

So we post pictures on Facebook or we show photos in our wallets. And what are the comments we get? “You’re beautiful.” “They’re so cute.” “They’ve gotten so big.” We focus on the appearance, and we neglect matters of the heart. But God is focused on the heart, on what kind of person we’re becoming, what character is developing within us. And God, who created us, loves us just because we are. The psalmist praised God for that fact: “You [God] created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well” (Psalm 139:13-14). If God’s works are wonderful, and we are God’s work, then we are wonderful. It’s that simple. Doesn’t matter what we look like. Neil Anderson says, “Most people spend a lifetime trying to become what they already are.”  Here’s the reality: you are already loved. You are already accepted. You are already valued. You are already lovely. Your outward appearance will not heal your inner brokenness. Who you are is not how you look. You can’t control what others think about you with your outward appearance, no matter what you do. The call to us, instead, is to develop character that reflects the image of Christ to our world. What’s under the surface is what will last and what ultimately matters.

Children and grandchildren especially need to hear that they are loved—not only by you, but by God as well. They need to know they are valuable in God’s sight, just because they are. And they need to know that they are worth more than just their appearance. There’s a marvelous scene in the film Mr. Holland’s Opus that shows what that can look like. Mr. Holland, a music teacher, has a son who is deaf, and he is initially angry that he can’t share his love of music with his son. While his wife learns sign language, Mr. Holland himself resists, which causes struggle and stress in the family. As his story progresses, though, Mr. Holland comes to a realization of what’s really important. Let’s watch.

VIDEO: Mr. Holland’s Opus: “Beautiful Boy”

The solution to the idol of appearance is to open our hearts and allow God to wash over us with his love. We have to embrace that truth with more than just our heads. God wants to transform our hearts. There are few things more beautiful than a person who is fully following Jesus, someone who accepts himself or herself as a person created and loved by God. That’s a person of true beauty.

There is a marvelous children’s story many of you know that really sums up the message this morning. It’s the story of a velveteen rabbit that was a gift on Christmas morning to a little boy. In fact, the rabbit was the best gift in the stocking that morning. But in the days that followed, he wasn’t always played with. There were so many presents, so many new toys, and the other toys in the nursery sometimes bragged about the attention they received. They made the rabbit feel insignificant and commonplace and ugly.

But also in the nursery was a Skin Horse, who had lived there longer than any other toy. And one day, the Rabbit turned to the Skin Horse for advice. Here’s how the story goes from there: “What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?” “Real isn't how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit. “Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.” “Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?” “It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

“The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart” (16:7). Let’s pray.

Bottomless Pit

The Sermon Study Guide is here.

Genesis 29:16-30; John 4:19-30

September 15, 2013 • Portage First UMC

VIDEO INTRO

It’s the same thing every morning in our house. The alarm goes off, I get up to get the kids off to school, then I lay back down for a few moments before I have to really get moving. And that, for some reason, is the cue for Hershey, our dog, to jump on the bed and demand to be petted. And Hershey is not passive, waiting for you to realize you have a responsibility here. No, Hershey is needy. She’s insistent. She will take her cold, wet nose, put it under my hand, and push up so that my hand ends up on her head, just in the right position to pet her. I tell her she’s the most needy dog I’ve ever had. She’s always wanting attention, always wanting to be noticed, always needing to be affirmed. And about the time I tell her that, I realize she’s not that different from many of us. We, too, like to have affirmation and approval. We like to have our work and even our very presence noticed. There’s nothing wrong with affirmation or approval by themselves. We deserve to be noticed for a job well done. An “atta boy” or “atta girl” at the right time can boost both morale and productivity. But there are times, situations and people for whom affirmation and approval become more than just a nice thing to have. They become a need, and we become like that pet that always wants to be stroked, always wants to be acknowledged. If we’re not careful, the need for approval can become an idol in our lives.

This morning, we’re continuing our series called “Empty Promises,” looking at the idols that make promises to us, promises to bring us fulfillment or “the good life” or whatever it is we might want. Idols are those things that pretend to provide what only God can provide. In the Old Testament, the idols the people wrestled with were little statues, false gods. And idols today are still false gods, but they don’t look so much like little statues anymore. Instead, idols are anything we put ahead of God in our lives, anything we wholeheartedly pursue with our energy, our passion and our resources. As Pastor Deb shared last week, sometimes they look like success and achievement. And other times, our idols look like things that promise to bring us affirmation and approval.

If anyone knew about the pursuit of affirmation and approval, it’s Jacob in the Old Testament book of Genesis. His name means “heel holder” or “supplanter.” He got that name because he was born holding onto his twin brother’s heel. Their mother, Rebekah, had a difficult pregnancy, because even in the womb, it seemed these two were fighting each other (Genesis 25). And when they were born, Jacob came out second, but he kept trying to be the first-born. In fact, when they were older, Jacob tricked his brother out of both his birthright and his blessing (Genesis 25, 27). That might not sound like a lot to you and me, but it was basically stealing his brother’s inheritance, using trickery to try to get ahead. Being second was never satisfactory to Jacob. Today, he would be one of those people who would step on anyone he had to in order to get ahead in business. He’d do whatever it takes. Being “second” was not good enough; he wanted the affirmation and approval that came in that culture with being first. He was his mother’s favorite, but he wanted approval from his father as well, even if he had to resort to deceit to get it.

So, the time comes, as it seems to always come to those who live to deceive, when Jacob pushes things too far and his brother Esau vows to kill him once their father is dead (Genesis 27:41). So Rebekah, the mother, helps Jacob escape and sends him to live at her brother Laban’s house, far away. Once he arrives in Laban’s territory, Jacob meets a lovely young woman named Rachel and he falls in love with her almost immediately. She “had a lovely figure and was beautiful,” and she’s Laban’s daughter. Jacob sees the hand of God working here; we always seem to see God’s hand working when there’s something we really, really want. And Jacob wants Rachel, so he agrees to work for Laban for seven years in order to marry her. Now, this sounds like he is buying his wife, but it was well understood in that culture that there were always economic implications to marriage. (There still are!) Substantial gifts were expected to be exchanged at the time of a marriage, and since Jacob has nothing to give, he enters into what was known as “bride service,” working for her family for a specified amount of time (Goldingay, Genesis for Everyone, Part Two, pg. 93). Even so, with that tradition in place, scholars agree that this is an unusually high price for a bride. Some sources indicate it may be as much as four times higher than the normal expectation (Wilson, Empty Promises, pg. 53; Ross, “Genesis,” Cornerstone Biblical Commentary, Vol. 1, pg. 174). And yet, to Jacob, it went by so quickly—it seemed just like a few days—because he loved Rachel so much. Or he loved the idea of Rachel. Maybe, if he had the beautiful wife, the successful career, all the stuff, the best camel to ride on, maybe then he would find the affirmation and approval he had sought for so long. So he worked the seven years, and then it came time for the marriage.

On Day 1 of year 8, Jacob goes to Laban, and he’s fairly blunt about what he wants: “Give me my wife. My time is completed, and I want to make love to her” (29:21). How does a father respond to that sort of demand? What Jacob doesn’t know, or doesn’t acknowledge, is that his deceitful tendencies are genetic. His uncle Laban has those tendencies, too. So Laban hosts the wedding, which in those days amounted to a week-long feast, and at some point, the brides are switched. Jacob takes his bride into the wedding tent, and when morning comes, it isn’t Rachel sharing his bed, but Leah. Leah the homely one. Leah the one with weak eyes. Leah the unloved. Leah the older. In the morning, it wasn’t Rachel but Leah. And Jacob has a fit. He confronts his uncle, who tells him that it’s their tradition that the older sister is married first. Hmmm, let’s see, who else tried to take the place of an older sibling? Jacob the deceiver has met his match in his uncle Laban (Ross 174). So he grudgingly finishes the wedding week with Leah, then marries Rachel and celebrates her wedding week. Jacob marries two women within seven days and then works fourteen years for the two of them (Ross 174).

And yet, if you read the rest of Jacob’s story, he’s still always pursuing something that is just out of reach. Jacob is always trying to prove himself, perhaps trying to outlive and outlast his name, “The Deceiver.” And that attitude, that mindset, invades his whole family. Genesis 30 tells the story of what I call “The Baby War.” Leah can have children, Rachel can’t, and then Rachel can and then Jacob has babies with their maidservants—everyone is trying to win his approval and affection. Leah even buys him one night to try to have another child. And Jacob, well, he’s always trying to outdo Laban. He’s cunning and tricky and sly and he grows his flocks to try to better than or at least to gain approval from his father-in-law. Later in the story, he is about to meet the brother who once threatened to kill him and he send gifts ahead, to prove how rich he is, or to buy Esau’s favor. Jacob is never satisfied. He’s always looking for approval and affirmation. He’s always worshipping at that idol, and it seems that every morning, no matter who is laying next to him, metaphorically it’s “always Leah and never Rachel.” He never seems to quite get what he always has longed for.

That’s because seeking affirmation and approval is a bottomless pit. No matter how much you get, you always want and need more. I know. This is an idol I struggle with, and I bet I’m not alone in this room this morning. And I’m not like some people who fault their parents. Mine were always encouraging and affirming. Maybe it’s part of being a firstborn, or being raised in this achievement-driven society like Pastor Deb talked about last week. But somewhere along the way I became an affirmation junkie. And when you are addicted to approval, you hear things differently. You can hear one hundred compliments along with one unkind criticism, and you know what keeps you up at night? The one unkind comment. I’m not telling you this to make you feel sorry for me. I’m telling you I know what it’s like to worship at this idol. I know what it’s like to be Jacob. Seeking constant approval is a bottomless pit; you never quite get to where you want to be. Instead, worshipping the idol of approval leads to three other things.

First of all, when we worship at the altar of approval, we end up with a life of mediocrity. When we seek constant approval, we end up following the crowd rather than following Jesus. It’s hard to make a difference when you’re constantly worrying about what other people might say, or who you might upset, or what might be misperceived. The crowd will always demand conformity. The crowd will always push back against someone who dares to go in a different direction until that one is made to fall back in line, to live a mediocre life. Remember, unkind criticism is the worst thing an approval addict can receive. “If you depend on other people approving and supporting everything you say or do, you will end up doing and saying nothing” (Wilson 57). Instead of following the crowd, Jesus calls us to follow him into all sorts of situations where we can love God, love others and offer him to the world around us. Just think about his situation in our Gospel lesson from John 4 this morning. Jesus is sitting at a well in Samaria, talking to a woman. The disciples have gone off to find food, but Jesus stayed behind. John says Jesus was “tired” from the journey, so he’s resting when this woman comes up to draw water. We’ve looked at this story before, so perhaps you remember Jesus is breaking all sorts of taboos just by being there. He shouldn’t be speaking with a woman, and even more than that, he shouldn’t be seen with a Samaritan. Add to that is the fact that this woman is five-times divorced and is living with a man who doesn’t love her enough to marry her. This woman has more than three strikes against her. Every cultural rule said Jesus, a teacher, a holy man, should have nothing to do with her. In fact, John says when the disciples come back from getting food in town, they are “surprised” he is speaking with her. The word there can also mean “admired.” There’s a mixture of shock and also admiration, that Jesus was willing to cross lines, to go against the crowd, to speak to this woman. In fact, it’s my contention when John says Jesus “had” to go through Samaria (4:4), that this woman was the reason. He came to reach her. Jesus rejected a life of mediocrity and instead lived a life of faith-filled risk because he didn’t chain himself to what the crowd thought.

The second thing approval addicts face is exhaustion. It’s tiring to have to seek everyone’s approval all the time. It will consume your life; ask any politician as they constantly have to make decisions based not necessarily on what is best for the people but on what will get them re-elected. It’s easy to pick on politicians, but most of us do the same thing. What do I need to do in order to keep everyone happy—whether that is in my family, my job, or even in my church? Thom Rainer, a Southern Baptist who writes wise analyses for the church, posted a blog a little while back about asking the leadership council of his church, twelve men, how he as a pastor should be spending his time. What should be his priorities? The results came back as follows: each week, they expected him to spend 14 hours in prayer at the church, 18 hours in sermon preparation, 10 hours in evangelism, 10 more hours in counseling, 15 hours at the hospitals and in homes visiting, 18 hours doing administration, 5 hours with community involvement, 5 hours in church meetings (and let me tell you, that’s a low estimate!), 4 hours leading worship, and 10 hours doing “other.” I don’t know if you did the math, but that’s 114 hours a week. 19 hours a day, six days a week, just to meet the minimum expectations of one group of people. That exhausts me just reading it. Your boss may have similar expectations, maybe not as clearly spelled out, maybe more unstated, but similar nonetheless. When we’re constantly seeking the approval of everyone, we will wear ourselves out.

John Wesley did. In the early years of his ministry, when he came as a missionary to the colony of Georgia, Wesley exhausted himself trying to gain the approval of the colonists, and yet he failed time and again. In fact, in one of the conversations he records, a man came to him and said this: “I like nothing that you do. Indeed, there is neither man nor woman in the town who abides a word you say, and so you may preach long enough, but nobody will come to hear you.” That’s a great encouragement, huh? Things haven’t changed much, because I’ve known pastors in my time who have literally worked themselves to death, and do you know what we do in that case? We applaud them. In one case I remember a few years ago, it was said it was so wonderful that he gave everything he had for the church. But what more could he have given if he had taken care of himself? How many more people could have been reached for Jesus? I’m talking about pastors because that’s the world I know. But I also know this same idea is present in other areas of life. Exhaustion reigns when we seek the bottomless pit of approval. In just a few weeks, we’re going to be launching Congregational Care Ministry. You can find out more about it, if you missed our Town Hall Meetings, at the Connection Center, but the idea is this: Pastor Deb and I cannot adequately care for everyone in this church. That’s a simple reality, and we have to risk approval deficit to be able to say that. But if we invest in you, then together we can care better for everyone around us. So everyone who is interested is invited to the training on Friday and Saturday, October 4-5, and then once you’ve been through that, we’ll talk about what role you might serve in. The idea is we serve together to avoid the exhaustion that comes when individually we are worshipping at the altar of approval.

Third, approval addiction opens us up for rejection—repeatedly. When we seek approval and affirmation, we’ve essentially handed control of our heart and lives to others. And you know what? Others will fail us. Not always because they intend to, but because we’re all human. Unmet expectations, words spoken thoughtlessly, disappointment, rejection, betrayal—all of these things can become the center of our life if we live only for approval. Others will fail us because, like us, they are sinners. We all trip and fall. We all make mistakes. Not one of us in this room is perfect. So when our self-image or even our faith is dependent on someone else, on another human being, we are bound for heartbreak.

Come back with me to the well in Samaria, where Jesus is speaking with this woman who undoubtedly had approval issues. She’s gone from man to man looking for acceptance and love, and every time, she’s been rejected. We don’t know why; we don’t know the circumstances. But she’s given up on finding affirmation and instead has settled for a safe place to live. If you were to look into her eyes, I imagine you would see someone who is essentially dead inside. Jesus points out she’s been looking for approval in the wrong places. She’s tied her worth to someone else, to a man, to a community that even rejected her. Most scholars say she was probably coming alone to the well at noon because she wasn’t welcome when the other women came to draw water. She expected to be alone here. And when Jesus gets too personal, she keeps deflecting the conversation. She keeps trying to talk about religious topics, and Jesus lovingly keeps bringing the conversation right back to her. It’s not about religion, he essentially tells her. It’s not about location. It’s not about ritual. It’s about a relationship. It’s about being accepted by God for who you are. In Jesus, she begins to see a glimpse of a God who just might love her for her. In fact, she leaves her water jar behind, runs back into the city which had rejected her, and tells them about Jesus. “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?” (4:29). She led “many Samaritans” out to see Jesus, and they came to believe in him as the savior just like she did. He even stayed with them for two days (4:39-42)—unheard of for a Jewish rabbi to stay with enemy Samaritans for any length of time! And yet, because of that conversation, this woman and many others learned to find affirmation and approval only from God, and to stop depending on others for what only God can give.

Do you constantly worry about what others might think of you? Do you not do certain things because you think someone might not approve? Do you replay criticisms over and over again in your head, long after the situation has passed? Do you believe you have to have someone in your life—a significant other—in order to be valuable and happy? Do you get anxious when you think that other person, that significant person, might be upset with you (Wilson 55)? Those are some questions that can tell us whether or not approval is an idol in our lives. What do honest answers to those questions tell you about you? Are you fighting your way to the bottom of a bottomless pit?

I’ve already admitted to you I’m an affirmation junkie. We all grow up in a culture that divides people, early on, between achievers and non-achievers, and we approve of the achievers and we frown upon those we determine have not risen to the level they should. Culture approves of and applauds those we deem to be a success. And so the desire for approval kicks in pretty early—at least it seems to have for me. I don’t ever remember not wanting to be the best, and so I sought to excel in whatever I did. And excellence is a good goal, but not if it means you want others to fail so that you can succeed. I would never have admitted that out loud, but that’s really what it came down to. I learned there’s a fine line between doing your best and having to be the best. Many of us are taught we have to be the best. And that mindset overflows into our relationship with God. We get the idea that we have to do certain things to make God happy and we don’t do other things so that he will continue to approve of us. I remember hearing a lot of sermons about what we should and shouldn’t do, but something I don’t remember hearing a lot about early in my life was grace. I may have been in seminary before I really began to understand what that word means. I had heard it, but I don’t know that I had ever understood it. Grace, to me, is getting what I don’t deserve. Grace means I am loved, affirmed and accepted by God, even if I don’t perform perfectly every single time. Grace is a gift. Grace is beautiful. Grace is life-giving.

Even coming out of seminary, I still pretty much had a head knowledge of what grace is. My heart still struggled to accept it. But in the last twenty years, I have learned to experience and receive grace in many different ways. In the first church I served, I thought I knew everything. I had a Master’s Degree, for heaven’s sake! And, you know, you come out of seminary with an overinflated ego. Any church is going to be lucky to have you! Of course, I was appointed to be a youth pastor, and the only department that I had taken no classes from in seminary was youth ministry. But that didn’t stop me. I forged ahead, and I made mistakes. I made lots of mistakes. The first year at Senior High Camp was incredibly hard (did I mention I had never been to camp, either? My first experience of senior high camp was as a pastor). And I look back on the sermons I preached in that church—Lord, have mercy. Talk about grace! And yet that congregation loved me, and encouraged me, and helped me become a better pastor. Grace.

Then we had Christopher. And four and a half years later, Rachel. And I learned grace all over again. Because we made and continue to make mistakes. I still think babies ought to come with owner’s manuals! And yet these two babies, now grown young people, loved me just because I am their father. We have our moments, and I still don’t get everything right. I figure by the time you’re old enough to somewhat get parenting right, your kids are out on their own. I’ve heard that grandchildren are the reward you get! But grace—it’s all grace. Love without strings. Acceptance just because you are. Grace.

But I will tell you that the person who has supremely shown me grace is my beautiful wife, Cathy. In just over twenty-four years of marriage, she has shown me grace upon grace and has continually encouraged me even when it’s been so very difficult. As every married couple knows, there are good times and bad. There are days of ease and days of struggle, and no one ever promised it would be easy. We get the idea that it should be, but it’s not. In many ways, Cathy and I are very different people, and for both of us, there are days when it would just be easier to quit. But you don’t. You keep on working on it, you work at making it work. There are times I know I’m difficult to live with, but every time, each and every time, I experience grace from Cathy. She is honestly one of the most authentically Christian people I know. I’m a better person because she’s in my life. That’s grace. And it’s hard to accept, because I want affirmation, approval. I want to think I do everything right, and when I don’t, it’s easy to beat up on myself. I worship the idol of approval, but grace is so much better. Grace is something we don’t earn. Grace is a gift. And Cathy constantly reminds me to settle back and let grace wash over me. The answer to worshipping of the idol of approval is to embrace grace.

Let me tell you how that works on a much bigger scale. God created you. God loved you before you before. And God is not sitting in heaven constantly pointing his finger down at you, making a list of everything you have done wrong. Oh, to be sure, there are things we do that are not what God wants. The Bible calls that sin. The Bible calls that idolatry, worshipping something other than God. But rather than pointing fingers, God made a way for us to be set free from all those things that get in the way of having a relationship with him. His son, Jesus, came to give his life so that we could be forgiven. I don’t have time or ability to explain to you exactly how all that works. I just know that it does. I know that when I gave my life to Jesus in fifth grade, he forgave me of all my sins, and he continues to do so. When others disapprove, when others hand out condemnation, Jesus offers grace. Jesus offers forgiveness. Jesus offers us what we don’t deserve but what we still get anyway. We are loved and accepted and welcomed into Jesus’ family. That doesn’t mean we don’t have to change. I’ve said it many times before: Jesus loves you enough to take you the way you are, and he loves you too much to leave you that way. That’s grace, and it’s the solution to the bottomless pit of approval addiction.

I wonder if Jacob ever learned that. We don’t get much of a sense that he ever really got away from his craving for approval and affirmation. In the end, he treats his sons with the same sort of favoritism that caused his own struggles. But I hope, somewhere along the way, Jacob got a glimpse of grace, of what it means to really let God love you. Even if he didn’t, you can. You can be free from the addiction to affirmation. All it takes is a simple prayer and a willingness to embrace grace. So, let’s pray.

The Ant Trap

The Sermon Study Guide is here.

Romans 6:1-10

September 1, 2013 • Portage First UMC

VIDEO INTRO

Quick show of hands: how many of you move the furniture in your homes around every once in a while? How many of you still have the furniture in the same place you put it when you moved into your home? For those of you who move yours around, how often do you do it? My parents were ones who moved the furniture around every couple of months or so. Now, the rooms in our home weren’t huge, so there were really only two or three ways it would all fit together. But we never knew when we came home from school when the room might be completely different than it had been when we had left that morning. And that made it especially difficult to sneak downstairs at night for a midnight snack. The knees sometimes took a beating when we would run into something that hadn’t been there the day before! When we would ask why they moved the furniture around, we’d usually get an explanation like, “Well, we just wanted something different.” (You know, now that I think about it, they don’t move stuff around now that Doug and I aren’t home anymore. Maybe it was just to keep us on our toes!)

We live in a restless culture, one that isn’t very often satisfied with what they have—materially, physically, spiritually, whatever area of life you can name. We’re restless, often moving on to the next thing (spouse, friend, job, church) just as easily as we move around the furniture in our homes. We think if we alter this part of our life or move this around, or exchange this for that…if we just make a few changes (nothing too hard, of course), life will be better. But it’s not, because at a base level, nothing’s really changed. It’s the same “furniture,” just in a different place. The problem is not the furniture of our lives. It’s deeper than that. The problem has to do with who we are and, more importantly, whose we are.

For the next few weeks, our sermon series is going to center around the topic of “Empty Promises,” and we’re going to be focusing on those things in our lives that we put in the place of God. We’re going to be talking about idolatry, about the things we worship. Now, when we hear the word “idolatry,” we might think of a little statue, those idols that the Old Testament talks about. And those were things that Old Testament preachers, the ones we call the prophets, were constantly concerned about. It was always a risk, always a challenge to get the Jewish people away from worshipping those little statues. Isaiah even points out to the people how ridiculous it is to take a piece of wood, cut it in half, make an idol out of half of it that you would bow down and worship, and use the other half to cook your food. And yet, that’s exactly what many people were doing. But not us, we say. We wouldn’t do anything that ridiculous. Thank goodness we don’t have idols anymore! Right? Or do we? Today’s idols are really much larger and much sneakier than those of Biblical times. They invade our lives in much more subtle ways. Idols are still very much present.

Maybe to understand that, we need to have a definition of idolatry. What, exactly, is an idol? Most of us, when we hear that word, think of Ryan Seacrest and American Idol, right? But an idol is really something much more powerful and consuming than a television reality competition. Sometimes we hear it put this way: an idol is anything that takes the place of God. But, in some ways, that’s too easy a definition, because often the idols actually occupy a higher place in our lives than God ever has. A bit closer to the point is this definition from Pastor Mike Slaughter, that an idol is “anything, or anyone, that receives the primary focus of my energy or resources, which should first belong to God” (Slaughter, shiny gods, pg. 17). In other words, an idol is what we worship first—and, make no mistake, we will worship something or someone. We human beings are wired to worship. We may worship another person, our intellect, our stuff, our patriotism, or something else, but we will worship. We’re wired to give allegiance to something, even if that “something” is ourselves. Some people today worship themselves. So let’s sum it up this way: idolatry, the worship of idols, happens when “I look to something that does not have God’s power to give me what only God has the power and authority to give.” In other words, it’s when try to fill that God-shaped space within us with something other than God (Wilson, Empty Promises, pgs. 3-5).

The problem with idolatry is that the idols in our lives make promises they can’t keep. They promise life, or popularity, or success, or simply feeling good about yourself—and yet nothing we worship in this world can completely satisfy the needs we have. Nothing we worship can ever hold up to the promise it makes. Over the next few weeks, we’re going to see how various idols in our world—probably some you come in contact with each and every day—make promises and fail to keep them, leaving us broken and empty. And yet, we remain convinced that they are the path to the good life. That’s why today we worship celebrities—hence, American Idol (cf. Wilson 23). It’s well named! We believe, whether we give voice to it or not, that they—the celebrities, our idols—have found the secret to everything good in life. If I could just be like—fill in the blank of your favorite celebrity. And yet, every time, because they are human, they let us down. Look at the furor that was raised this last week over the performance of one-time Disney kid Miley Cyrus at the VMAs. What was the outcry about? Miley didn’t do anything that other celebrities haven’t done before. But the outcry came from people who have looked up to her, who have put her on a pedestal in the past. And now, like so many before, her choices have caused people to realize the empty promises such worship always ends in. I’m not beating up on Miley; I just want us to see how the promises our idols make can never be fulfilled in the way we want. So, over the next few weeks, we’re going to be talking about idols like success and achievement, approval and affirmation, greed and money, beauty, and power. And if you don’t see yourself somewhere in this, you might want to check your pulse, because idols surround us and beckon to us each and every day.

And that’s why Paul warned the Roman church in the way he did. The letter to the Romans, many think, was something Paul wrote to explain what he believed and what he preached. He was hoping, we think, to use the city of Rome as a base from which to launch a new mission to Spain. He didn’t start the church in Rome; in fact, as far as we know, he had never been there. So he’s writing this letter to prepare them for his visit, his arrival. It’s an introductory letter of sorts. And so, in the beginning of the letter, in the chapters that lead up to this morning’s reading, Paul is talking a lot about the problem: sin, to put it bluntly. He’s talking about our rebellion against God. And, just as a small tangent, one of the controversies in the news lately has been about a song called “In Christ Alone,” a song we sing here. One denomination has refused to allow it into their hymnal because it talks about the “wrath” of God. You know what? So does Paul, in Romans and elsewhere. The problem is that when we hear the word “wrath,” we think of uncontrolled, even abusive, anger. But when the Biblical writers talk about wrath, particularly God’s wrath, they’re not picturing God hurling lightning bolts or zapping people because he’s emotionally out of control. “Wrath” really is a response to sin. It’s God’s righteous response to sin, to our rebellion, something, Paul points out, only Jesus could overcome. Jesus, by offering himself, paid the debt we owe because of our sin. And some people will say (have said), “Well, I didn’t ask him to.” No, you’re right, none of us did. But he paid our debt anyway. He made a way that things could be right between us and God. That’s what the songwriters mean when they say, “On that cross, as Jesus died, the wrath of God was satisfied.” That’s straight from Paul.

Because of that, then, Paul says sin has been taken care of for those who trust in Jesus. At the end of chapter 5, he puts it beautifully: “Where sin increased, grace increased all the more” (5:20). No matter how bad your sin or my sin, what Jesus did on the cross still pays our debt. You cannot sin so badly that God’s grace is overwhelmed. Where sin increased, grace abounded. And so, some said, if sinning brings in more of God’s grace, then we should sin more so we can get more grace. Right? That’s the thinking many people have; it’s summed up in the popular phrase, “It’s easier to get forgiveness than permission.” I’ve had people say to me, “I know this is a sin, but I’m go ahead and do it, because God has to forgive me, right? That’s God’s job.” And it is true; God will forgive. But what’s the nature of our repentance if we go into the situation knowing we’re breaking God’s law? “Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase?” Paul asks. And then, emphatically, he says, “By no means!” (6:1-2). Another translation says it even more forcefully: “Absolutely not! How can we die to a life where sin ruled over us and then invite sin back into our lives?” (The Voice New Testament, pg. 263). Good question, Paul. How, indeed?

Understanding what Paul is saying here really requires us to grasp two ideas, the first of which is his writing about baptism. For Paul, baptism is a symbol of death—death to an old, sinful life. He talks about being “buried” at the time of baptism. But it’s not just about death; baptism is also about resurrection, about new life. For Paul, baptism is the moment when a person passes from one life to the next, from a life of sin to a life in Christ. In fact, it’s not too much to say that Paul considered baptism the moment when someone changes from one kind of humanity to another (cf. Wright, Paul for Everyone: Romans, Part One, pg. 101). Today, we take baptism too lightly. We’ve turned what was once a revolutionary act into something tame, nice and obligatory. Baptism was and is meant to be life-changing. Now, this is not an argument for or against infant or childhood baptism. There is good evidence in both the New Testament and the life of the early church for such practices. What I am saying is that we need to take the vows we make seriously. Parents, when you bring your children for baptism, you are promising to raise them in the Christian faith, to help them draw closer to Jesus. You are promising that, from the moment they are baptized on, their life will not be like the world’s. You are promising to raise them in such a way that they want to pursue Jesus and the not the idols of the world. And we believe that happens best in community, which is why baptism is always connected to the local church. Same thing for adults. When you’re baptized, you’re promising to leave behind what Paul calls the “old self.” In fact, Paul says that, in baptism, the “old self” is crucified (6:6). You know what that means? It’s dead. The “old self” dies at baptism. It’s a brutal image, and it’s meant to be. No one survived a crucifixion, and those in Rome certainly knew that was true.

Now, when a person is baptized, they might not feel dead. They might not feel any different than they did before the water hit their head. But it’s like what happens in a wedding. Two people come, and they are made one. Something has happened and life as they knew it is gone, in an instant. They may not feel any different, but a change has taken place that will shape every moment from then on. Promises have been made; promises can’t be unmade. They can be broken, or they can be kept. But they can’t be unmade. Your old life will not survive a wedding. You are changed, whether you feel it or not (cf. Wright 102). In the same way, Paul says, your old self should not be able to survive your baptism. If you’ve been baptized, you’ve promised and vowed not to go back to that old life. And therefore, Paul says, “anyone who has died has been set free from sin” (6:7). You don’t have to sin anymore, because you have died in baptism. What we do in baptism is more than just sprinkle water on your head. Baptism is the death of your old life and the beginning of your new life. Baptism is a promise to raise a child so that they will come to accept that new life for themselves. Baptism ought to change the world.

That new life, then, Paul describes as being “in Christ” (6:3). Sometimes we talk about having Jesus in our lives, or that Jesus is a friend who goes with us everywhere. Those are nice sentiments, but Paul has something much more radical in mind. You see, if Jesus is just someone who accompanies us as we go through life, then it’s as easy to ignore him as to pay attention to him. We won’t admit it, but that’s the way we sometimes treat those who are our friends. They ask us to do something, and we may or may not do it, depending on our feelings or how much energy we have that day, or any number of factors. That’s why Paul isn’t talking about us “inviting Jesus to live in our lives.” He says we have died and when we are raised again, we are “in Christ.” Not only are we inseparable from Jesus, but he is actually in control. We’re “in him.” He is our life (cf. Colossians 3:4). William Barclay put it this way: “We cannot live our physical life unless we are in the air and the air is in us; unless we are in Christ, and Christ is in us, we cannot live the life of God” (The Letter to the Romans, pg. 86). We are in Christ, and therefore, Paul says, we are called to live a Christlike life. N. T. Wright translates verse four this way: “Just as the Messiah was raised from the dead through the father’s glory, we too might behave with a new quality of life” (97). We can’t come to Jesus and live the same way we always have. The Christian life is not about moving the furniture around to just make things look different. The Christian life is about changing where you live! You are no longer “in sin,” Paul says, but “in Christ.”

Because of all this, then, our allegiance and our worship must be directed toward Jesus alone. As we grow more “in Christ,” the empty promises of the idols will become more and more evident. However, it’s very often true that the idols look so much more attractive than being “in Christ.” They promise instant payoffs, immediate gratification, and even some glorification of ourselves. They distract us; that’s why Pastor Mike Slaughter calls idols “shiny gods.” In our state of spiritual ADD, the shiny gods often capture our attention and our heart. And that’s why we’re going to be talking about them over the next few weeks, so that we can avoid being caught like ants in an ant trap.

You know the kind, I would imagine. It’s the sort of thing you can go down to Ace Hardware and buy when ants invade your home, as they often do in this sandy soil around here. They especially like to come into your house—in droves, mind you—when your child leaves food under the bed in their downstairs room. They really like to come in when the food is sweet and sticky. (Not that we know anything about such a situation, but I’ve heard stories!) So you go to clean said child’s room, and you find the food, covered with ants—what do you do? You can call an exterminator, or you can go down and ask Norm at Ace where the ant traps are. One option you might get there is a simple product that only asks you to squirt some gel on a small piece of cardboard and then place it where you’ve seen the ants. The gel contains something that attracts the ants; the ants eat the gel and then take it back to their nest to offer their friends. While the gel tastes good to the ants, it’s also poison for them to consume. This sort of ant trap will cause hundreds and hundreds of ants to line up in single file across the floor to get this gel. The little ones will climb on top of each other to get to this stuff, and they have no idea that their pursuit of this sweet, shiny substance will lead to their demise.

That’s a picture of how many Christians live in today’s culture. We line up by the thousands trying to pursue what we’ve been convinced and told is the “good life.” And while the very things we chase look good or feel good or taste good, so much of it is also poison to our souls (cf. Wilson 23-24). C. S. Lewis put it this way: “Most people, if they had really learned to look into their own hearts, would know that they do want, and want acutely, something that cannot be had in this world. There are all sorts of things in this world that offer to give it to you, but they never quite keep their promise” (Mere Christianity).

So, what is it that you worship? Here are some questions (they’re also printed on your sermon study guide this week) for us to ponder this week. The answers to these questions will begin to show us the idols in our lives. Here are the questions: What occupies my mind? What do I spend time daydreaming about? Who or what do I tend to be jealous of? What do I spend most of my time doing? And where does the majority of my money go (Wilson 21). If any of those questions make you even a bit uncomfortable, we’re on the right path—the path toward full life “in Christ.”

Jesus gave his life so that we could have life in him. That’s what we remember and celebrate every time we share in this bread and in this cup. I think it’s appropriate that both at the beginning of this series and at the end, we’ll be sharing in the sacrament of holy communion, because communion reminds us who we are. If baptism makes us who we are, recipients of a new life, then communion is the constant reminder of our baptism, of our promises to God and, even more, of God’s promises to us. And God’s promises will always be kept. The psalmist says, “The Lord is trustworthy in all he promises and faithful in all he does” (145:13), and Paul wrote, “No matter how many promises God has made, they are ‘Yes’ in Christ” (2 Corinthians 1:20). God will keep his promises; this bread and this cup remind us of that truth. And so, as we begin to confront our idols, the false and shiny gods that we worship in place of the one who loves us and who wants to save us, we come to his table. The bread is his body. The juice is his blood. The table reminds us of his love, offered to each and every person. Jesus promises new life to all who will receive him, for “the death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God” (6:10). May the same be said of us. So let’s come to his table as grateful people, and as people who long more and more to be “in Christ.”