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Even those of us with incredibly sophisticated theology and decades of belonging to a Christian community, want to know in the end – how do we pass the test? What are the requirements? Who gets an “A” in heaven? Can we earn extra credit for those times we missed the assignment altogether? Will I pass the course if I showed up at least half the time? Since I study a couple of biblical texts about every week and try to come up with relevant topics to bring to your attention before the final exam, I think these two texts are a perfect pair to consider – especially as they are translated in “The Message.” Both of these texts are about the dangers of not getting our relationship with God right. In the Noah story, those who don’t, miss the boat literally. In Jesus’ teaching in Matthew, those who do have not learned their lessons in class miss the boat figuratively. But studying for the test is only that – study. &nbs p; Then, the rest of the week happened. A pastor’s life. The congregation’s life. Real life. A flood of events transpires each and every week – not just to me, but to each of us. What have we done to prepare for that? Writing a sermon each week is just a small part of my life, listening to it is just a small part of yours. The hard deadline at times makes it feel like a class assignment, and I’m sure that sitting in the pews when the ushers start counting sometimes feels like attendance is being taken. Jesus has some harsh words though for the teachers’ pets out there. He says that in the Final J udgment thousands may strut up to him demanding a better grade. They say, “Master, we preached the Message, we bashed the demons, our God-sponsored projects have everyone talking.” But Jesus knows us better at times than we know ourselves. He says to us, “You missed the boat. All you did was use me to make yourselves important. You don’t impress me one bit.” Then he expels them from heaven. This is a big “Yikes” moment for me. Jesus will know if we’ve been real or phony. It’s not only what we do in our Christian lives, but what’s in our heart when we do those things. He goes on to use an analogy to prove his point: “These words I speak to you are not incidental additions to your life, home owner improvements in your standard of living. They are foundational words, words to build a life on. If you work these words into your life, you are like a smart carpenter who builds his house on solid rock. Rain poured down, the river flooded, a tornado hit – but nothing moved that house. It was fixed to the rock. But if you just use my words in Bible studies and don’t work them into your life, you are like a stupid carpenter who builds his house on the sandy beach. "When a storm rolled in and the waves came up, it collapsed like a house of cards.” (Matt. 7:24-27, The Message) When Jesus talks about requirements for the test, it’s serious business that requires our full attention. In the beginning, Genesis, when the standards for the test weren’t quite available for print yet, God simply grows tired of all the misbehaving. Evil grows rampant in the world, but God likes Noah, so Noah is spared when God decides to flood everyone else out of existence. In both cases, God seems to be a pretty hard grader. It looks as though God demands not only our obedience, but a high standard in that obedience. This is where I begin to get nervous as a teacher of The Message myself. It would be very easy to slip into what I like to call “Santa Claus Theology” at this point. He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake. But the test is more nuanced than that. Jesus is actually not so keen on goodness for goodness’ sake. He’s sure that in the end there are those who are convinced they’ve done everything right who will be sorely disappointed, and there are those many, many times over that he gives sinners a great big break. The crowds already noticed that he wasn’t like the other religious teachers. Jesus never demanded lock ste p adherence to a certain set of rules, but he is clear, crystal clear, that the life of following God will not always be easy. Earlier in this passage, Jesus says, “Don’t look for shortcuts to God. The market is flooded with surefire, easygoing formulas for a successful life that can be practiced in your spare time. Don’t fall for that stuff, even though crowds of people do. The way to life – to God – is vigorous and requires total attention.” But I also wonder, who has time for that? We like our crib notes. We like getting in a little religion when we can, but for most of us, it is a sidebar, “home improvements to our standard of living” so to speak. Jesus says that won’t cut it. If that’s what following God is to you, you’ve missed the boat already. You’re house is not built on a solid foundation; it will be destroyed when wave after wave of real life comes at you. In these texts, water is not life-giving, it’s destructive. The power of water will crush those who have not been faithful. But God is both judge and redeemer. God brings the flood but promises the rainbow. God sends Jesus as the great teacher who will bring along all of us who are awfully slow learners. Jesus talks about working his words into our lives, and living the gospel rather than just talking about it – but that seems rather cryptic when what we really want to know what the requirements are to pass the final. Do we need just a minimum, or like he says, will it require our vigor and total attention? Some would say that’s the whole point of following any religion – to either get to heaven or spare ourselves from hell, but Jesus seems also to be talking about the kind of life we’ll have right here and right now. He seems less concerned about the Final Judgment than he is about what is good, and honest, and true in our ongoing relationships. Over the centuries, Christians of all persuasions have tried to articulate the meaning of multiple scriptural texts when it comes to what is required of a good and faithful human life. In just a few minutes, we’ll recite the answer as it comes from the Heidelburg Catechism. Heidelburg frames the question thusly: What is your only comfort in life and in death? Instead of asking, “How do we get our rewards points on this card?” this language is the language of belonging. “[My comfort is] That I belong – body and soul, in life and in death – not to myself but to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.” That’s the ticket, isn’t it? Certainly more than what we say, probably more than what we do, what’s in our being and our belonging makes a difference to God. We can’t earn that. We can’t study for that. The only way there is to live it – daily – and with our total attention. To find this blessedness and comfort – the Catechism gives us a few more hints. First – know the gravity of your sinfulness. In our age, this seems old and outdated, but it’s still holds true as far as I can tell. Somehow it helps to know just how often we miss the boat. Why is that? Well, secondly, we need to know so that we’ll be sure that it is grace that frees us from the consequences of that sin. It’s God’s doing; it’s God’s mercy that includes us. T hen finally, we can live a life of gratitude, of thankfulness for all we owe to God for this wonderful gift of life. The most I can do to prepare you for the final judgment is to give you some tips and pointers along the way. It looking like the Book of Order may eventually go back to the language of calling my role that of “teaching elder” which would be just fine by me. But the truth is, I can’t live it for you. And this test is more comprehensive than any other. Live the words of Jesus Christ. Love God, love your neighbor, love yourself. Build your home on solid ground and be humble about what you do. Forgive when it’s time to forgive. Challenge when it’s time to challenge. And remember, God is merciful. Amen. |