Pentecost 14 - Mark 7:14-23

John was on his way home.  He had gone out for a drive.  That was his therapy.  It was quiet and he could think.  And today was definitely a day that he needed to think.  He and his wife Emily had been in a fight.  Over nothing of any importance.  He wasn't even sure he could remember.  What he did remember was that he was mad.  Angry.  He couldn't talk to his wife without at best a sarcastic tone.  At worst it was a yell.  Their voices had been raised.  John decided he couldn't take it anymore.  He had to get out and get away so he did.  He got in his truck and went for a drive. 

He found driving helpful; It was quiet.  Repetitive.  Deliberate.  Therapeutic.  His body went through the required motions and his mind was free to wander.  As he drove his mind drifted away from the argument.  He found he had forgotten about what had started the fight.  It wasn't important really.  Instead he thought about Emily.  He thought about how much he loved her.  And it made him forget his anger.  John pointed his truck in the direction of home and began thinking about the things he would say to undo the unkind words he had spoken.

John parked his truck and walked in the door.  There was still tension in the air as Emily coldly glanced in his direction.  He couldn't blame her for being cold.  He had been cruel. 

"Em" he said.

"What."  He could hear the hurt in her voice.

"Em, I'm sorry." 

"Sorry?  For what?"

"You know." 

"No.  I don't." 

"I'm sorry for… you know… I'm sorry for what I said."

"What did you say?" 

Emily wasn't letting him off easy.  She didn't think she had to. He deserved to suffer for all the things he had said that hurt her so deeply.  But it frustrated John.  After all, here he was, ready to pour out his heart to her and she was keeping him at a distance.  Why couldn’t she appreciate the fact that he had come back?  Why couldn’t she give him a little credit and understanding?  He knew he probably didn't deserve it, but he hoped that at least the fact that he was there, that he was big enough to take the first step, that he was man enough to show up and take some responsibility, he was hoping that would be enough. 

But Emily was hurt.  Words after all cut deep.  They hurt.  Especially when they come from someone who should love you and protect you.  Emily was hurt.  The chill in her tone led to offense.  John felt the anger flowing back and soon enough, in spite of his best intentions, in spite of the fact that he had come home to apologize, the argument erupted again.  John and Emily fought.  They yelled.  They screamed.  They said things they would both regret and that they couldn't take back.  John found himself back in his truck, trying to decide what to do next, where to go after another round, another battle.  In spite of his best efforts to fix and repair what he had broken, he found that he had only made it worse.

The scenario just described was complete fiction, it was made up and the characters, John and Emily, represented no one in particular.  At the same time, it could have been any one of you.  Husband or wife, coworker or best friend.  People are people.  People disagree, have different opinions. And at times those disagreements develop into battles.  People say things they shouldn’t say when they find themselves in the heat of the moment and relationships and trust that had taken years to build can be destroyed in a matter of minutes.  It's never worth it, and you know it.  But still, in the heat and the anger of the moment you say things that you can never truly take back.

Dear Christians, you and I, we are sinners.  And sinners sin.  In spite of our best intentions.  In spite of our deepest convictions and priorities.  Political speech writers and candidates for office these days talk about the goodness of the American People and try their best to stir us up into a feeling of optimism and hope for the future and for ourselves.  They don’t talk about our wickedness and sin.  They don’t say, “The housing bubble burst because you were greedy and bought a house you couldn’t afford.”  They don’t say, “You have been irresponsible and wasteful with the gifts God has given to you.” Political speeches tell us that we are innocent and that we are victims of circumstance and victims of the other candidate.  They don’t tell us the truth.  Telling the truth about people won't ever get anyone elected.  Instead the tell us what we want to hear. And we are all hopelessly in love with ourselves and so we love to hear it.  It is as St Paul says, "The good that we want to do we don't do.  The evil that we don't want to do, that is what we keep on doing." (Romans 7:19)

We are the people that Jesus says we are - our hearts are filled with foolishness, adultery, greed, wickedness, and slander. 

The world denies it.  The world sugar coats it.  The world overlooks it.  But still it is there.  And you know it.  When you are alone with your thoughts, trying to understand what you have done and why you have done it, you know it to be true.  The heart is sinful above all things. (Jeremiah 17:9)

This is the point in any speech where we expect a turn.  Where we hope for a turn, a fix, a resolution.  We have failed, but we can do it.  You have sinned but you can make it better. The reality is that it gets worse before it gets better. 

Psalm 39 describes our predicament.  The Psalmist writes:

            I said, I will guard my ways,

            that I may not sin with my tongue;

            I will guard my mouth with a muzzle,

            so long as the wicked are in my presence.

            2 I was mute and silent;

            I held my peace to no avail,

            and my distress grew worse.

            3 My heart became hot within me.

            As I mused, the fire burned;

            then I spoke with my tongue:

Doesn't this perfectly describe our situation?  Plans to hold our tongue, plans to keep ourselves from sin, and in spite of our best intentions the cauldron of sin burns and boils within us.  We open our mouths to speak and the heat, the burning can be felt in the words that pour out of our mouths.  And so the Psalm continues:

            4 O Lord, make me know my end

            and what is the measure of my days;

            let me know how fleeting I am!

            5 Behold, you have made my days a few handbreadths,

            and my lifetime is as nothing before you.

            Surely all mankind stands as a mere breath!

When you come face to face with the sinner that lives in the darkest recesses of your being you come to see your end, you come to see the justice of your end, of your death and your demise.  There is pain in that realization.  It hurts to see your sin.  But God calls you to faith.  Faith that first begins to see the self, not as it wants to be seen, but as God sees it.  And through faith the Christian understands that the self, the Old Adam needs to die.  To be done away with and gotten rid of.  By faith, the Christian understands that when I die, when I am destroyed, it is then that God restores me and raises me and gives to me new life.    

“Do you not know,” says Paul, “that those of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus have been baptized into his death.  We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father we too may live a new life.” (Romans 6:3-4)

Through your death, through you coming to the knowledge of your end, your futility, your disability, you come to rely on Christ.  You let go of your self, your self-made righteousness, your self-justification and you cling to Jesus.  We become desperate for Jesus.  We cling to Jesus because there is no one else.

“Lord to whom shall we go?” Said Peter.  “You have the words of eternal life.”(John 6:68) 

For salvation is found in no one else.  There is no other name given under heaven by which we must be saved.  (Acts 4:12)

Sin drives us to the cross.  Fully understanding our sinfulness before God drives us to the only one who has the power to do anything about it.  It drives us to Jesus, the Son of God and the Son of Man who has the power to save us from our sin, who has given himself as the sacrifice, the propitiation, the substitute for God's wrath who has saved us and set us free.

The gospel sets us free and part of that freedom is freedom to be honest.  "I confess that I am a poor miserable sinner, that I have sinned against you in thought word and deed; by the things I have done and the things I have left undone.  I have not loved you with my whole heart.  I have not loved my neighbor as myself.  I am justly deserve your temporal and eternal punishment."  We can be honest about who we are because it is in that honesty that repentance is born.  And out of repentance comes faith.  And faith grabs hold of Jesus and his forgiveness.

Forgiveness is our only hope.  Forgiveness.

The forgiveness of Jesus drives us to our knees and then drives us to each other.

John found himself pondering his own sin.  He remembered something his pastor had preached in the sermon the week before and so grabbed his phone and dialed his pastor.  He wound up sitting down in a room across from his pastor.  In shame he admitted the things he had said and the things he had done and his pastor led him to confession.  Together they opened the hymnal and John read aloud.

"I, a poor miserable sinner plead guilty before God of all sins.  I have lived as if God did not matter and as if I mattered most..."

“What troubles  me particularly is that… “  And then John went in to the things that he said and did that so greatly hurt and offended his wife.

Reading the text from the service for private confession his pastor said, "God be merciful to you and strengthen your faith."

“Amen.” Said John.

“Do you believe that my forgiveness is God's forgiveness?”

“Yes.”

“Let it be for you as you believe.  In the stead and by the command of my Lord Jesus Christ I forgive you all of your sins in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.”

John found himself soon back behind the wheel of his truck.  Headed back home.  He walked through the door and saw Emily sitting by herself at the kitchen table.  Her eyes were stained with tears.  He sat down across from her and confessed his sin.  He poured out his grief at the things he said, the things he had done.  Emily was hurt.  She had every right to be.  But John didn't argue.  He didn't object.  He simply listened.  He listened and he confessed.  He acknowledged his sin and where he was wrong. 

“Emily,” he said, “would you please forgive me?” 

“I do.” she said.

Forgiveness isn't magic.  It doesn't make pain or grief go away.  But it does heal.  It does address the issue and the offenses we create.  It heals them by attaching them to Jesus.  To his love, to his forgiveness, to his cross, to the price he paid to cover our sin.  And with our sin covered by Jesus we are able to forgive and be forgiven.

Your sins are forgiven In the name of Jesus.

Amen.