I’m just back from two days with clergy. Redeemed by the fact that spouses were invited this time. A little dose of reality, of humanity in our unique mix of religious sensibilities. This was our almost annual clergy retreat here in our Indiana Conference of the United Methodist Church, called “Life Together.” I’m on the planning team. I was given the responsibility of ordering worship. So, I did the smartest thing I could, I brought my band. Well, they aren’t my band, they are Southport UMC’s band. And they are good at what they do. So that was great. We also had a speaker who helped us think about our life together, our call, our covenant as United Methodists. It was good. Went well. Informative, fun, community and relationship strengthening. And I’m glad it’s over.
Sorry. Don’t mean to be an old grump necessarily. But one of the problems with retreats you lead is that they are a bundle of anxiety throughout. And I’m constantly reminded that you can’t please everyone. Some thought it was too loud, some thought it was too long, some thought it was out of touch, some thought it was irreverent. Sigh. We aren’t all the same, despite the fact that we want to be a community together. We don’t like the same things, the same patterns, the same emphases. But surely we can find some common ground, some meeting place, some grace that allows us to be together, to worship together, to live together. There always seems to be something in the way of that. Something that keeps us from entering in, from being present, from connecting. Maybe some were just having a bad day. Or maybe it was something more.
Paul thinks our problem, that which keeps us from being a true community, is more than just a “having a bad day” kind of thing. In fact he sees it as something much more fundamental than that. And much more ubiquitous than that. Much more... human than that.
Romans 7:14-25 For we know that the law is spiritual; but I am of the flesh, sold into slavery under sin. 15 I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. 16 Now if I do what I do not want, I agree that the law is good. 17 But in fact it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells within me. 18 For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. 19 For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. 20 Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells within me. 21 So I find it to be a law that when I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand. 22 For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, 23 but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. 24 Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? 25 Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, with my mind I am a slave to the law of God, but with my flesh I am a slave to the law of sin.
Good old Paul. He seems to be having a bad day to end all bad days. Or maybe even a bad life. Wretched man that I am! He seems to shout to the heavens. Nothing good dwells within me. Yeah, I’ve been there. I’ve had those moments when it seemed like all my choices were bad ones. When all my mistakes were big ones. When all my thoughts were broken ones. Yeah, I’ve been there with ya, Paul. So, buck up. Hang in there and it will get better. You just gotta hold on until the storm passes.
No, he replies, you aren’t listening. This isn’t a momentary weakness in your impenetrable armored will. This isn’t a didn’t get enough sleep last night, my biorhythms are out of wack, or the moon isn’t in the right phase for me right now kind of thing. This is you. This is the real you. This is the consequence of living in the world as it is right now instead of as it was originally designed. This is the result of sin running loose in the world.
Yeah, you say, I get that. I do bad stuff from time to time. I mess up, my bad. I make a goof, a boo boo, an open mouth insert foot moment in the conversation. I know that. I’ll do better, I really will. I can hoist myself up by my bootstraps, and try a little harder. Thanks for the reminder there Paul, woo, close call there. Thanks for the boost, thanks for the lift. Just, thanks.
No, says Paul, you still aren’t listening. I’m not talking about an exercise program. This isn’t about trying harder, digging deeper, climbing higher in your attempt to do good things, to embrace the good, to be good. This is about admitting that there is nothing good in you.
Whoa there, Paul. There might have been a time when that sort of approach would work. When you wanted to scare folks into the faith, when you wanted to shame them into responding to the altar call on your sawdust revival trail. But we’ve gotten a bit more sophisticated these days. We need goal setting and strategic plans. We need behavior modification and checks and balances. We need self-esteem raising and awareness training. We need the rules explained and defined, the boundaries clearly marked and the punishment delineated. We need self-help books: 5 days to be a better you, 6 minutes to tighter abs, 7 ways to total transformation.
What you need, says Paul, what you’ve always needed and will always need is a savior. Who will rescue me from this body of death? We need rescuing, he says. We can’t save ourselves. And while we know that intellectually, it is hard for us to claim this truth. It is hard for us to live into it every day. OK, we might accept the need one time for a rescue, or a hand up. But then we tend to live the rest of our lives with an “I got this Jesus, thanks anyway” attitude. We live in a world that tells us we can be anything we want to be. Which is both true and false at the same time. It is true that opportunities abound for many of us, maybe not all of us - that is the tragic inequality of the world in which we live.
Even so, even without that imbalance, the war within us means we can not consistently choose the good. We cannot will the right, live in the light. Sin, Paul says, is not an act or even a pattern of behavior that we choose or to which we succumb. It is instead a power and a presence that dwells within us. And as long as it is there, our efforts might be successful for a time, but they cannot last, will not last. One commentator likens Paul’s view of sin to the disease called shingles. It is a viral infection that continues to live in our bodies and every now and then it breaks out in the rash that causes so much pain. Even when the rash goes away, the virus is still there. Even when we don’t engage in sinful acts, Paul says, sin still dwells within us. And the war goes on. And no one is strong enough to win that battle on their own. They may hold out for a while, we may hold out for a while. We may want the good, and not want the evil, but, says Paul, but ...
Who will rescue me? That’s the real key to the passage. That question. It is a cry of faith. It follows the cry of despair, wretched man that I am. Wretched woman. Wretched creature. In a world without hope, that is the final cry. But praise be to God there is another cry to follow. Who will rescue me from this body of death? The Lord of life, that’s who.
The promise here is that this disease, this cancer that dwells within us can be replaced by the Christ who dwells within. We can be transformed from the inside out. It is sometimes instantaneous. But more often it is a lifetime of inviting the indwelling Christ to come and take up residence within us. Which I guess means that there is a struggle either way. Either we struggle against the sin that threatens our very existence in the world, that makes us ill equipped to live in community, to maintain relationships, to be content within our own hearts and we live that constant battle knowing that we will ultimately lose. Or we struggle against our own will that doesn’t want to be given over to a loving God who can remake us into what we really want to become. That struggle was described by the late songwriter Rich Mullins in the song Hold Me Jesus: Surrender don't come natural to me / I'd rather fight You for something / I don't really want / Than to take what You give that I need / And I've beat my head against so many walls / Now I'm falling down, I'm falling on my knees.
When we finally fall to our knees, when we finally surrender, we find a new strength, we find a new support network, we find a new possibility. We find the sun still shining even though the clouds have rolled in. We find hope instead of despair. We find joy instead of shame. We find goodness within as well as all around us. Thanks be to God, through Jesus Christ our Lord!
Shalom,
Derek
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