| Twist and Shout: Part 1 |
May 21, 2000 |
Feeling frumpy?
Dumpy?
Waiting for the real goods of life to find you?
Killing time?
Remember your first science project?
Or more precisely, what is the first science project you remember?
Often, one of the first science projects children undertake is to
watch a plain little caterpillar spin a cocoon about itself until it
is completely shrouded within a chrysalis.
The wonder of transformation is made real to the children when, days
later, an entirely different creature -- a beautiful butterfly --
emerges from the apparently lifeless shell.
As children, we immediately focus on the delicate creature that
emerges so mysteriously from the cocoon.
With the actual process inside the cocoon unseen, there is a lot of
romance about the cocoon.
A creepy, crawly caterpillar is magically transformed into a
radiant, soaring butterfly.
Sounds wonderful, doesn't it?
Forget it.
For the caterpillar, there was nothing "wonderful"
about it.
A caterpillar doesn't just grow into a butterfly.
A caterpillar must undergo molting and metamorphosis --
the dramatic silence of the pupa in which the insect's morphology is
entirely rearranged.
How ironic that in today's vernacular, that word
"cocoon" has come to mean exactly the opposite of
what it means to a caterpillar.
A cocoon isn't safe.
A cocoon is where a caterpillar risks it all --
where it enters total chaos, where it undergoes total rebuilding,
where it dies to one way of locomotion and life and is born to a new
way of living.
A cocoon is where a caterpillar allows itself to disintegrate into a
blob of gelatinous liquid without structure or identity so that it
can emerge with sharpened sensory perceptions and breathtaking
beauty.
Only in taking the risk of entering that inert pupa can the
caterpillar go from dormancy to potency, from ugliness to
beauty.
This is the reason why the butterfly is an authentic symbol of
resurrection!
Not because it's cute.
But because it risks dying to be born to new life.
Who gave the church of Jesus Christ a safety-first, risk-free
commission?
Who authorized the church of Jesus Christ to be a church of wimps?
There is no such thing as a risk-free life.
"Safety first" is fatal to holiness.
Cocoons are self-contained packets of risk.
If that frumpy, dumpy little caterpillar didn't take the ultimate
risk of re-creation,
something which can be experienced only in the cocoon,
he would never be able to break out as a butterfly.
The way to the safety of a transformed life is found in risk.
So where am I going with this?
There is a scene in The Sixth Sense where Cole (Haley Joel
Osment) whispers to Malcolm (Bruce Willis),
"I want to tell you my secret now."
It takes half the movie for Cole to get to the point where he
feels secure and safe enough with Malcolm to confide in him.
But once he shares his secret, his journey toward healing begins.
We all have our secrets.
Thoughts, memories, feelings, or actions that we keep to ourselves.
Maybe we think if people knew them, they wouldn't like us or love
us anymore.
Maybe we feel too guilty or embarrassed or ashamed.
Whatever our reasons, we've chosen to carry our secrets alone.
Carrying secrets can be a lonely, defeating, and even dangerous
lifestyle.
But with confession comes freedom.
Whoever created yourconfessions.com -
a website for people to enter their anonymous confessions -
must have known as much!
There is something liberating about no longer carrying a secret
alone.
Henri Nouwen wrote,
"One of the most important things we can do with our secrets
is to share them in a safe place, with people we trust."
Those are the keys: a safe place and trust.
Wherever it is that you have that, or you can find it -
be it with a therapist, a minister, a friend, the internet, or God
alone --
I think it will be good for your soul to unload heavy secrets you've
been carrying around.
Read Psalm 51.
Last week I told you I was inundated with questions around the
fifth commandment...
that is "honor your father and mother"...
mainly the questions were,
How can I honor them if they were not honorable?
This week I've had a few questions come...
around the issue of...
I'm the one who's not been honorable...
how can I find peace?
And so today I want to answer that question...
finding peace is a life-long journey...
it comes and goes, nobody has it all the time.
But if we can get a grasp on the tools for finding inner
peace,
then we can go back to the beginning,
start over and try again.
Today I want to talk about God's forgiveness for us when we are
not honorable..
I think we're pretty good at berating ourselves, torturing
ourselves,
I think we're even ok at getting over what we've done,
not remembering what we've done...
but these are not forgiveness and they are not God's forgiveness.
Let me read you two letters...
one is an e-mail,
the other a hand-written letter..
The first one is from a young woman...
an honors student, life-long church-going, young woman...
"I have no peace because I am guilty.
I don't know what I'm guilty of, just a feeling of being unworthy,
like I don't measure up,
I have a hole in my soul.
I need to hear God say, "I love you, I have always loved
you, I always will love you... even though there's not a
lot there to love."
How can I hear this voice?
The second letter is from a 78 year old man.
I know him as I did the memorial service for his brother a few
months ago.
I believe he is from Phoenix, but chose me, who he only knows by
acquaintance, to share this letter with....
"I'm dying with cancer and soon to meet my maker.
On the surface I appear brave, I'm a respected family man, haven't
missed church in years, not even when I'm sick.
But I have a dark secret which I've carried for 50 years..
I sexually molested my only daughter when she was a child.
It only happened once but I've never spoken of it before.
To make matters worse she was killed in an accident at the age of 16
and my secret was buried with her.
God help me.
I have felt relieved at times because my sin was covered up.
But now the fact that no one on earth knows is not important because
God knows.
I know I'm going to hell.
I deserve it.
But I still hope for mercy.
If I could only reach out and see my daughter one more time, maybe
on the other side as I am judged, to tell her how sorry I
am."
I read those because somewhere in between...
we all fit...
maybe we've all been shamed like this young woman...
shamed from without...
that's false guilt.
Or maybe our guilt is very real like the man with cancer...
we haven't measured up to what we were created to be...
and that's true guilt.
How do we feel the forgiveness of God?
That question has been in the shadows of my life since I was a
boy.
Guilt can make us heavy, weigh us down and make us do all
kinds of weird things.
David, in his prayer, models for us a process of how guilt is
dealt with and how we feel God's forgiveness.
I want to use four words out of that prayer...
and today, we'll get through the first two...
Contrition...
people who feel forgiveness are people who feel badly enough for
what they've done to ask for mercy.
We won't ask for mercy unless we accept the pain that comes with
our own self-destruction...
David is filled with remorse in his prayer...
My sin is ever before me...
I must have been conceived in sin, born in sin, raised in sin,
taught to sin...
for wherever I turn the gravity of what I've done is pressing on my
soul.
In the movie, The Devil's Advocate, Keanu Reeves plays an
attorney who takes a job in a big-time law firm.
The lead lawyer in the firm is none other than the Devil
himself...played by Al Pacino.
Toward the end Keanu realizes that he is working for the devil
and begins to make accusations and blame for what has happened.
Al Pacino's devil turns the accusations back on him and points out
that his own choices led to what happened.
In a moment of realization Keanu begins to feel bad for what he has
done, becomes filled with remorse...
The devil changes his demeanor, becomes comforter and says to him,
"Don't feel so bad."
Lets him off the hook.
And thus Keanu's character isn't drawn to ask God for mercy.
We have this picture of the devil as being evil incarnate,
recognizable because of the violence and the pain around him.
Our question is,
"Who is bad enough to be the Devil?".
I think a better question would be,
"Who is good enough to be the Devil?"
Who helps us to not take seriously the effect of what we've
done?
Who comforts us when we begin to feel guilty?
Who strokes our vanity (self-love) until we believe that we are so
valuable to God that we are inherently forgiven?
Contrition -- to feel badly enough to ask God for mercy.
The second word is candor.
Forgiveness is experienced by people who are brave enough to
define the exact nature of what's wrong with them.
This is a computer geek word.
You can fix all the software problems you want,
but if there's a problem in the hardware you're just treating
symptoms that will recur.
David didn't say, "I committed a dumb
error."
Didn't say, "It was bad PR..."
He didn't even say, "God forgive me for committing
adultery."
Didn't say, "God forgive me for committing murder."
What he did say, "God I have sinned against you and you
only..."
He went to the cause of his problem, not the symptom.
He didn't deal with all these results.
He dealt with his own inner spiritual failing which was he had
decided to separate from the God who made him.
We're created for relationship with God.
We're created for right relationships with each other.
And we are not ourselves when we are out of relationship with God.
David knew that.
He knew he couldn't do anything to undo the adultery and the murder.
The only thing he could do something about was his broken
relationship with God.
So he asked God for that...
Lofton Hudson wrote a book quite a few years ago entitled,
"Grace Is Not a Blue Eyed Blond."
He has a chapter on sin...
says Jesus never sat down and said,
"This is what sin is..."
Jesus gave us little cameos, little short movies in which we can
see sin in action...
He told about a farmer who became wealthy on a bumper crop year
and who said,
"Now I'll sit back and do nothing for the rest of my life
but eat, drink and be merry..."
He talked about a man who went up to the temple to pray and
said,
"O God, how grateful I am that I am so righteous...
thank you for giving me this righteousness...
and not making me like these other people...these
dirtbags!"
He told about a boy who said to his father,
"Look, Dad, you're living too long...and I want my stuff
right now...I want out of here!
don't care who I'm hurting, what effect my actions have...
me, my, mine, I want, give me...go."
And out of those stories and others that Jesus tells, there are
three monster sins that emerge that we all have that serve as kind
of a base for what we do...
One is ingratitude...
a denial of our indebtedness to God...
we think what we have is deserved and we worked hard for it and it's
ours and we keep it and clutch it because God obviously wants us to
have it because we've been so good.
Ingratitude.
The second one is unpotentiality....
the refusal to grow, to blossom, to unfold...
Failure to put into practice the spiritual gifts God has given us
because we're too stuck succeeding in the physical world.
And he said, even underlying these two is the third, the real
problem...
he calls it closedness,
to be closed to God...
it is to not let God into every area of our lives because we're
afraid of losing our lives instead of gaining our lives.
And so we let God into some places and we call on God when
we need or want her around...
but in other places in our life, we keep God out...
and Hudson says that, at base, is what effects us all.
I think this is where I'll end for today...
I know it's kind of on the down side...
to be led to contrition,
feeling bad enough to go to God for mercy...
and to candor...
to begin to be honest and deep enough to go to the source of what is
really wrong...
without being given an out.
How about this...
work on these for the next week...
contrition and candor...
and maybe what I say next week will be even more relevant.
|