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On this past August 5th, 33 men were working in a mine in Chile, 4.5 miles inside the mine and 2300 feet below ground when
there was a cave-in that put miles of dirt between them and any hope of getting out. They had two days-worth of food with them,
which, of course, would only do them any good if they survived. Rescuers immediately started drilling a little hole toward a safety
shelter they hoped the men had found. But it was going to take time. One week went by. Rescuers hadn’t gotten anywhere near
them. 10 days, still nothing. Two weeks, no signs of life. No miners had ever survived on their own this long after an accident. On
the 17th day, they finally reached the shelter and discovered a note that said, “The 33 of us in the shelter are well.” And they were. All
the men were alive. They made the two days-worth of food last by limiting each person to two spoonfuls of tuna, one sip of milk, a
bite of a cracker and a morsel of a peach every other day. In a situation where typically few, if any, survive, the families were given a
pleasant surprise.
According to Jesus, the opposite is going to happen on the day that he returns. Many people will be surprised, but not in a
pleasant way. We started school this week and, this past Thursday, I had my first Catechism class with our 8th graders. As I did last
year, I gave the kids a first day ‘pop quiz’ on heaven and hell, and whether or not they think they’re real and which one they think will
be their eventual home. On the question that asked, “Will God let you into heaven when you die,” almost all of the 25 kids said
“Yes.” A few said “I don’t know.” No one said “No.” For the next question, however, when I asked them why they thought so, only
7 of the 25 gave the correct answer. That’s roughly 30%. I told them that’s why we study the bible so much at Garden Homes.
In today’s section from the bible, Jesus was traveling from town to town telling people exactly what it takes to get into
heaven. Apparently, one man really started paying attention. Maybe it after hearing what Jesus told us last week – that you should
expect some in your family to turn on you when you follow him. Maybe it was after he heard Jesus tell a rich man to sell everything
he had and give it to the poor to prepare himself for God’s kingdom. Maybe he was listening when Jesus said that God really does
expect you to be perfect if you really want God to be pleased with what you’re doing. Maybe it was when someone ran up to Jesus
saying, “Lord, I’ll follow you as soon as I say goodbye to my family” and heard Jesus respond, “I tell you the truth, you’re not fit for
service in God’s kingdom.” Regardless, something clicked inside him; something that made him realize that following Jesus isn’t as
easy as people like to imagine, and following him all the way to heaven may not be as much of a slam dunk as he was expecting.
“Only a few people are going to be saved, aren’t they?” he asked Jesus. Jesus didn’t disagree with him.
There are two reasons you might ask that question. Either you think you’re one of the few who are going to be saved, or
you’re afraid you’re one of the many who won’t. And I guess I wouldn’t believe you if you told me you’ve never been afraid that you
won’t. 30% is also about the same percentage of Christians who are in church every weekend, but not even that guarantees you a
place in God’s kingdom. In Jesus’ day, the Pharisees were in God’s house more than anyone, and Jesus typically was most critical of
them because they refused to ask themselves some very basic questions, like: Does God really love what you’re doing? Just how far
do you think God’s grace goes? What about the sin you’ve sworn off a thousand times but you always still do? How far do you think
you can walk away from him before he just gives up on and forgets about you?
Tiger and Elin Woods finalized their divorce this week. Elin gave what she called her “first and last” interview about the
whole thing in the latest People magazine. In the interview, when she was asked if she had any idea Tiger was cheating, she said, “I
never suspected it. I felt so stupid … how could I not have known?” Today Jesus wants to prevent us from saying something similar
when he comes to take “the few” home.
(22) Then Jesus went through the towns and villages, teaching as he made his way to Jerusalem. (23) Someone asked
him, “Lord, are only a few people going to be saved?” He said to them, (24) “Make every effort to enter through the narrow
door, because many, I tell you, will try to enter and will not be able to. (25) Once the owner of the house gets up and closes the
door, you will stand outside knocking and pleading, ‘Sir, open the door for us.’ But he will answer, ‘I don’t know you or
where you come from.’
Do you know that the 33 men are still trapped in the mine? They have to be very careful about drilling the escape tunnel so
they don’t cause another cave in. And the tunnel they drill will have to be so small that the men have been ordered to keep their waist
size under 35 inches so that they can fit through it. The average American man has a waistline of almost 40 inches. The average
American woman’s waistline is 37 inches. The rescue team has been able to send food to them, but the 33 men can’t go hog-wild in
eating it. They know they have to keep rationing and exercising. What they don’t know is that it will take roughly 4 months to drill
the escape tunnel. The rescue team has ordered their families not to send them any notes saying how long the rescue will take
because, they figure, if they knew they had to ration their food and exercise in a tiny room 2300 feet below the ground surrounded by
32 other exercising men who hadn’t showered for four agonizing months, they might get a bit discouraged.
We normally try to stay away from as much agony as we possibly can, which is why so many will miss the narrow door to
heaven. In verse 24, when Jesus said, “Make every effort to enter through the narrow door,” the verb translated “make every effort”
comes from a Greek word from which we get one of our English words. I bet you can guess which one. The Greek word is
agonizomai. The English word is agonize. “Agonize to enter through the narrow door,” Jesus was saying. The many who don’t “will
try to enter,” Jesus said, “but won’t be able to.”
Jesus isn’t telling you to be a macisist and go looking for pain like the Scarecrow was looking for a brain. He isn’t telling
you that you can never enjoy a beautiful sunset, a new baby in your arms, a nice relaxing afternoon watching the Packer or Bear game.
He’s not telling you that you can’t have a hobby or enjoy time away with your family. He’s telling you something that is so obvious
and yet so often forgotten by so many Christians.
This isn’t heaven. And, no matter how much you go to church, how much you pray, how nice you are, how many self-help
books you read, how much time you spend with a counselor, or how much money you give away, it never will be. But rather than
accept that and focus all our strength on getting through the narrow gate to heaven, we work really hard trying to make this place as
heavenly as we possibly can, getting really frustrated and depressed if life doesn’t run as smoothly as we planned, as if anyone who is
really godly even can live at peace in a world ruled by a devil always working very hard to bring the whole thing crashing down to his
kingdom.
I was reading a book by a Christian counselor, and he wrote about one time a man came into his office, sat down and said, “I
want to feel better quick.” The counselor paused for a moment and said, “I suggest you get a case of your favorite alcohol, find some
cooperative women, and go to the Bahamas for a month.” “Are you a Christian?” the guy asked. “Why do you ask?” he replied.
“Well, your advice doesn’t seem very biblical.” “Well, it’s the best way I can help you fulfill your request. If you really want to feel
good right away, then I don’t recommend following Christ.”
There is a rest and a peace that is available on this side of heaven. In Micah chapter 2, God’s people found their resting
place, where they were taken away from everything that caused them so much pain. It just happened to be a place God called “defiled
… ruined … beyond all remedy,” where the most popular prophets were the ones who promised the people more beer and wine.
And some of you are thinking, “That’s not me. That’s not where I find my peace.” And maybe you’re right. Maybe your
flesh finds its quick bursts of joy in always trying to prove you’re right, or in belittling your wife, boiling over in anger, complaining
about how everyone’s got it out for you, in being impatient, unkind, envious, boastful, proud, rude, angry or jealous. Our flesh feels
most comfortable in everything God hates. And you know it. But we all hate to admit it. We are very good at pretending that we are
much better than we know ourselves to be. And when we see reality, rather than face the agonizingly painful truth, we avoid it. We
count our blessings, cut the lawn, eat some chocolate, consult a counselor, join the church choir, fight with our spouse, turn on the TV,
feel self-pity – anything to get away from thinking about the real reason you refuse to let anyone get too close, or why you’re so quick
to change the topic when a friend gets critical, or why you look for opportunities to modestly share something about yourself that
makes you look pretty good, or you pretend to be more spiritual than you really are.
We are really very good at being full of ourselves, which is why so many will never fit through the narrow door. It hurts to
admit that you have a long way to go, that you know things about yourself that no one would guess; thoughts, fantasies, things you do
in private, secrets you’re ashamed to ever think of. So you don’t. Your solution is to work hard to never, ever, even in your own
mind, bring them up, to never empty yourself of the miles of dirt piled up inside of us. But that solution creates one very agonizing
problem.
I was visiting with one of our shut-ins recently, and she was telling me about a family whose home she cleaned a long time
ago. They have two boys, both of whom are in their late 50s now. The one brother was visiting the other a few months ago and
suggested that he should see a doctor. He didn’t look bad, just not like his normal self. “Forget it,” his brother said. “I have never
gone to a doctor in my life, and so far that’s suited me just fine.” Well, the guy’s wife thought it would be a good idea too, so she
urged him until he reluctantly agreed to an appointment. The doctor found so much cancer, throughout his whole body, that had been
allowed to grow untouched and untreated for such a long period of time that he couldn’t even prescribe any medication. The man died
five days later.
It’s agonizing to hear you have cancer. Just like it’s agonizing to face what’s really going on inside your heart. But in
avoiding the agony, you’re not really avoiding the pain. You’re pushing it off to another day; the day when it’ll be too late to do
anything about it; the day the door is closed, when you’ll be able to see Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and every other person who wasn’t
afraid to walk the agonizingly narrow way; but you won’t be able to touch them because it will be the day when God looks at you,
pounding on the door, weeping and screaming, and says, “Get away from me, you evil person. I don’t know you.”
(26) Then you will say, ‘We ate and drank with you, and you taught in our streets.’ (27) But he will reply, ‘I don’t
know you or where you come from. Away from me, all you evildoers!’ (28) There will be weeping there, and gnashing of
teeth, when you see Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God, but you yourselves thrown out.
(29) People will come from east and west and north and south, and will take their places at the feast in the kingdom of God.
(30) Indeed there are those who are last who will be first, and first who will be last.”
Bob and Helen got married in 1952. They had three wonderful children. They did everything together and knew everything
about each other. In the 1970s, Helen was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. For the next twenty years, her medication covered her
symptoms well until the 1990s when wasn’t able to cook, clean, or do laundry anymore. Bob happily took those things over. Helen
fell asleep at the wheel one day and almost caused an accident. She began to have trouble grocery shopping. She would just stand in
the aisle and stare at the items on the shelves. Things were getting so bad that they sold their home in Florida and moved back home
to Minnesota, closer to the kids. The second night they were there, Bob was getting ready to climb into bed with his wife of almost 50
years when she looked at him and screamed “What are you doing here? I don’t know you.” Helen not only had Parkinson’s. She had
Alzheimer’s. Bob had to put a deadbolt on the door so she wouldn’t get out at night. She kept saying she wanted to go home … when
she already was. When he would help get her dressed, she would try to bite his arm and neck. In 1998, Bob put his wife in a nursing
home, which he said “was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. I felt like a complete failure. I cried like a baby the
whole time.”
Do you know that pain, the pain of not being recognized by the one person who knew everything about you and still
promised to always be there for you? Jesus does. The day his Father, with whom he was eternally joined in every way, with whom he
created the world and knew and ordained all the days meant for you before even one of them came to be; the day that Father saw his
only Son hanging on a cross, heard him crying for help in agonizing pain and, with his silence, said, “I don’t know that man. I don’t
even know where he came from.”
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” he begged to know, as death claimed his body and nails drained his blood,
the same body and blood many of you will receive in just a few minutes as a promise from God that he will never do the same thing to
any of us. “The punishment that brought us peace was upon him,” the bible says. He didn’t avoid the agony. He walked the very
narrow road all the way to it so that he could give everyone, whether they come from the east, west, north and south their own place at
the feast inside the narrow door to the kingdom of heaven.
“Confess your sins so that you may be healed,” it says in the book of James. Empty yourself of every heavy and dirty sin and
put them on the only shoulders strong enough to carry every burden to a cross where they are buried and never thought of again. “Are
only a few going to be saved?” the man asked; which is just another way of asking, “Am I going to be ok?” Your answer is found not
in how smoothly your life runs or in how well you cover up the sins you are most ashamed of, but only at an ugly cross, hanging an
innocent man in agonizing pain who once said, “I am the Gate, and I am Way. I tell you the truth, whoever hears my Word and
believes me … has crossed over from death to life.” Maybe it is a narrow bridge. Doesn’t matter. You’re safe.