Eyes Open, Socks Washed

An old story tells of a little boy who misheard the lyrics of Nathum Tate’s classic carol, While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks.  The boy was heard singing, “While shepherds washed their socks at night and hung them all around….”

The little boy’s innocent mistake makes the story funny, so does the notion of shepherds wearing socks.  According to fashion designer Ramsaa B, socks were known long before the first Christmas.  In the eighth-century BC, socks made of animal skins were often worn by actors in Greek comedies (some of us still get laughs with our socks).  Yet shepherds in New Testament times wore sandals without socks; they were into cool footwear long before Birkenstock. 

Corny as the little boy’s story may be, it suggests an important point.  Just like sheep need to be watched, socks need to be washed.

Had the shepherds been washing their socks, nothing would have been wrong.  The duties of everyday life are duties.  They must be done.  Only the super rich or the super famous might wear a pair of socks once and then throw them away.  Dolly Parton claims she never wears the same clothes twice but I hope that’s not true of Bill Gates.  Though I’m certain Bill doesn’t wash his own socks.

Be you rich or poor, famous or unknown, if you wear them your socks will need to be washed.

Like sheep need to be watched. 

The shepherds did a monotonous, sometimes thankless job that had to be done.

One night, while doing that job, they witnessed God at work in a wondrous way.  Our jobs may be monotonous, repetitive, unremarkable, even thankless but the shepherds experience reminds us we may witness God at work even in a most unlikely venue.

Seventeenth century Carmelite monk Brother Lawrence is famous for addressing God as, “Lord of pots and pans and things…” Lawrence who was not a gifted theologian had been assigned to the monastery kitchen.  Yet, in that noisy place of ceaseless labor, he enjoyed the presence of God.  That enabled him to pray for God to allow him to minister to others by “getting meals and washing up the plates.” At the same time, as he stood over the steaming, soapy water he had opportunity to witness God’s grace at work in the lives of others laboring in the kitchen and in his own life.

Because the shepherds were on those hills, doing their unglamorous work, they had an opportunity to see God fulfill ancient promises and initiate a work that would change the future.

In your workplace, be it a factory, an office, a classroom, a store, or a kitchen, you have the same opportunity.  You may see God keep his promises to comfort the grieving, encourage the fearful, strengthen the weak, and forgive the penitent.  And you may see the one who has been touched by God take the first steps toward a new future. But, like the shepherds, you have to stay awake, keeping your eyes open, your ears attuned to a heavenly voice saying, “Behold.”

The shepherds were taken by surprise. They weren’t expecting to see “a vast, heavenly army.” (Luke 2:13 NET) But now, because of Christmas, we can embark on each day knowing we might see God at work somewhere. We won’t see a baby in a manger but we might see a life changed by that Babe.

That Flaming Flower

That Flaming Flower

I took two years of high school Spanish, did some online courses to review, and lived over a dozen years in a community with a fifty percent Hispanic population.  Still, fluency in the language evades me.  I can do a pretty good job ordering in a Mexican restaurant, if the server speaks English.

I do recall some stories from my classes.  Like the story of the South American country having trouble introducing traffic lights because the people refused to obey a machine. (Apparently, many of those drivers moved to Ohio.)

I remember reading how in one country a gentleman allows a woman to walk on the street side of the sidewalk.  The custom developed differently here so the woman might not be splashed with mud thrown up by passing vehicles.  Those men in the Spanish speaking country walked next to the houses because servants often threw the contents of chamber pots out the windows—without first looking.

It was in a Spanish class I first heard the story of the Poinsettia.

                                                                                                                                                                 

In sixteenth-century Mexico, according to the story, a little girl named Pepita was too poor to present a gift at the church during its celebration of Christmas.  An angel appeared her and told her to pick some weeds and present them. As she carried the weeds to the front of the church she was weeping with shame.  Her tears fell on some of the weeds’ broad green leaves.  Those leaves suddenly turned bright crimson.  Pepita’s weeds became the most beautiful flowers at the altar.

America’s first minister to Mexico, Joel Roberts Poinsett, brought the flowers and the legend back to the US in 1825.  Consequently, here we know the plant (used as medicine by the Aztecs) as the Poinsettia.  In Mexico they are known as Flor de Noche Buena (the Christmas Eve Flower).  Many plants are cultivated in Egypt, where they are known as “bent de consul” or “the consul’s daughter,” referring to Poinsett.  I guess no one thought of Flor de Pepita.

Although known to Americans for nearly a century, the Poinsettias’ popularity dates from the early twentieth century.  An additional boost came from the marketing strategy of Paul Ecke, Jr.  He sent free plants to TV stations across the nation so they could be displayed on air from Thanksgiving to Christmas.  He even appeared on The Tonight Show and Bob Hope Christmas specials to publicize the plants. At one time, the Ecke family’s business produced seventy percent of the Poinsettias sold in the US. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poinsettia)

Of course, Poinsettias are associated with Christmas in America.  They appear in stores around Thanksgiving and shoppers buy them as gifts, centerpieces, and to add a little color to their homes during the bleak winter.  Artificial Poinsettias are used for door wreaths and other decorations.  Christmas wrap and cards often use Poinsettias.

You might imagine no one having any negative feelings about this colorful plant, especially in light of the touching legend associated with it.  You would be wrong. 

Let’s go back a few decades, before some of you were born. 

Go back with me to 1980, the year I accepted my first pastorate, in the tiny village of Dawn, Texas.  I had preached at this little church as a favor to a friend and, to my surprise, machinations went into motion and almost before I knew what was happening I had been called as the pastor.

My family and I moved into the parsonage in the early spring and I began fumbling my way as the pastor of a church filled with farmers and ranchers.  Having grown up in the greater St. Louis area, I had a lot to learn about a new culture.  Factory workers I understood but farmers were another matter.  Fortunately, my mentor (a pastor who had started his career in a similar village) had given me a good piece of advice. “Don’t make any major changes during your first year.” I resolved to follow that counsel. He also told me never to talk to reporters; I never have—principally because reporters have never talked to me.

One Sunday a few weeks before my first Christmas in Dawn, Roger and Beryl, an older couple, approached me following the service.  Beryl said, “We’ll be bringing the Poinsettia next week.” I must have looked a little puzzled because she added, “We give one every year in memory of our daughter.”  Their daughter, a young wife and mother in her late twenties, had died suddenly about a decade before. Every Christmas since her death they had given the church a large Poinsettia.  I could see no reason why the tradition shouldn’t continue so I told them that would be fine.

A few weeks before my second Christmas at the church two women approached me.  “Pastor Jim,” they said, “several of us would like to give Poinsettias in memory of family we’ve lost.” Again, I could see no reason why they shouldn’t so I said that would be great.  The next Sunday a note appeared in the bulletin inviting any family wanting to participate to bring a Poinsettia to the church the first Sunday in December.

Roger and Beryl confronted me after the benediction.  Beryl, the church organist, may have cut the postlude short.

“This isn’t right,” Roger fumed, “our Poinsettia will be lost among all the others.”

“No, I don’t think so,” I said.  “Your Poinsettia is always so large, it will stand out.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Roger said, “we’re not giving one this year or ever again.”

And so they stopped giving their Poinsettia, refusing to grant others a right they had claimed as their own.

Beryl continued to play the organ and I believe she eventually got over her disappointment.  Roger nurtured his bitterness.  The incident fueled his continual complaining about fellow church members, complaints directed especially at the deacons whose wives had approached me about allowing others to give Poinsettias.  I visited the Dawn church several years after coming to Ohio.  Roger cornered me and without asking about my family or me began a tirade against one of those deacons.  A little bolder than I had been while living in Dawn, I walked away saying, “Roger, you need to take that up with your pastor.”

So, you will understand if my first response upon seeing a flaming Poinsettia isn’t unalloyed aesthetic delight.

In time I realized Roger’s behavior was part of his character.  If it hadn’t been the Poinsettia issue, something else would have triggered his animus.  He was allergic to onions; he once told me those who brought dishes containing onions to church suppers were trying to kill him.  His self-centeredness was matched by an inflated view of himself.  He believed he was smarter than anyone else.  Wiser than anyone else.  More spiritual than anyone else.  And, when ill, he was sicker than anyone else.  So, of course, his grief ran deeper than that of anyone else.

Many, if not most, people who lose a close loved one become more compassionate toward others who have experienced loss.  Not Roger.  Allowing others to add a flower to the memorial took the spotlight off him.  He couldn’t have that.

Looking back, I realize Beryl must have sometimes shunted her own pain aside so nothing would detract from Roger’s expression of grief.

But I digress; let’s get back to those Poinsettias.  I’ve never mounted an anti-Poinsettia campaign; you’re the first I’ve mentioned my feelings to.  I’ve never failed to see their beauty but when I look at them it isn’t long before I recall Roger’s anger. I recall anxiously realizing I had alienated an important church member, recall wondering if others would ask how I could be so insensitive to the feelings of a “charter member.”  In time, I knew I had overblown the significance of Roger’s anger—something a fledgling pastor might easily do.

More important, my feelings about the plants—feelings becoming more positive each year—remind me to be careful about assumptions.  What thrills us may chill another.  You may look forward to caroling at the nursing home.  Someone else may skip the trip but be ashamed to tell you they do so because it brings back memories of a parent languishing in such a facility.  We shouldn’t judge.

My experience didn’t cripple my ministry at Dawn.  I stayed there for another decade.  Every Christmas the chancel blazed with Poinsettias.  Some families gave a plant every year; some, just the Christmas following the loss of a loved one.  Some of the Poinsettias were lush plants purchased at a florist; some were purchased at the local Food King.  Some families never participated; all had the opportunity.  Roger and Beryl kept their promise (threat) and never again gave a Poinsettia, though I suspect Beryl sometimes wished she had the courage to defy Roger.

Christmas—that time for singing of peace and goodwill—can be a time of great tension.  Maybe it’s significant Poinsettias do not tolerate temperatures below 45°F; they are just a bit fragile, like some people’s feelings this season.  Then, too, if you are going to trim dead and dying leaves off a Poinsettia, you should wear gloves because the sap can irritate skin.  Just like some people are really irritating this time of year.

I try to keep in mind those farmer-deacons who were the objects of Roger’s vitriol.  They never answered in kind, always remained cordial, never attempted to undermine his status in the church, and always reminded me “that’s just the way he is and there’s nothing you can do about it.” 

If someone is bugging you, irritating you, driving you bonkers this season, I wish I could give you better advice than those deacons gave me.  But this is not the script for a Hallmark movie: chances are you won’t be joining your family, your friends, and your crazy-maker around the fireplace, everyone smiling and filled with goodwill.  Strangely, acknowledging there is nothing you can do about someone’s attitude and behavior frees you to focus on keeping yourself emotionally and spiritually healthy. And frees you to focus on those who get what the Season is all about.

By the way, December 12^th is National Poinsettia Day.   I get it.

Lottie The Example

Southern Baptist churches across the nation are preparing for an annual event: The Lottie Moon Christmas Offering for International Missions.

This appeal provides nearly half the denomination’s financial support for international (formerly, “foreign”) mission outreach.  Every Christmas, churches big and small set goals and urge members to give monies to supplement Cooperative Program funds used to maintain nearly 4,000 missionaries around the world.

Because of this, Charlotte (“Lottie”) Diggs Moon has become the most famous Southern Baptist missionary in history.  Here’s her story as it is usually told.

Lottie’s Story

Lottie was born in 1840 on her family’s tobacco plantation in Virginia; she had four sisters and two brothers.  Her parents were stalwart Baptists.

The Moon girls were bright and their parents provided the best education available.  Defying tradition, Lottie’s older sister Orianna earned a medical degree.  In 1861, Lottie received the master’s degree, one of the first women in the South to do so; she would eventually become fluent in seven languages besides English. While at college, Lottie was converted during a campus revival led by John Broadus, founder of Southern Seminary and author of a popular textbook on preaching. 

Following college, Lottie taught at female academies and helped start one in Georgia.  She received a marriage proposal from Crawford Toy, a teacher at Southern Seminary who would eventually be dismissed from his position for teaching “modernist” views of the Bible.  Lottie, so the story goes, turned him down because of his beliefs.  Though Toy reputedly said he would join her to do mission work in Japan, Lottie believed his views would be an impediment to her commitment.  She would reminisce, “God had first claim on my life, and since the two conflicted, there could be no question about the result.”

Lottie labored in China nearly forty years, from 1873 to 1912.  At 4’3”, Lottie was one western missionary who did not tower over the Chinese.  Known as “the cookie lady,” she taught Bible stories to the children who came to her for the treats.  At the same time, Lottie regularly wrote Baptist women back home urging them to support the work of missions.  A regular Christmas offering for missions was one of the suggestions she made in these letters.

Lottie died on Christmas Eve 1912 onboard a ship in Kobe Harbor Japan.  Her failing health had prompted fellow missionaries to try to send her back to the US. It’s widely believed she had unintentionally destroyed her health by giving her food away to Chinese neighbors experiencing famine.

Now, here’s something you may not know.

Lottie’s Secret (one we might have guessed)

Lottie Moon’s father owned fifty-two slaves, the greatest number owned by any planter in Albemarie County, Virginia.  Following his death, the slaves became her mother’s property. 

This certainly means Lottie enjoyed meals prepared by slaves, wore clothing washed and mended by slaves, had her bed made by slaves, and had her college education paid for by the sweat of slaves in the tobacco fields.  Though not converted until she went to college, she first heard the gospel in a church where those slaves could not join her family in celebrating the Lord’s Supper and likely could not sit wherever they wished in the sanctuary.  That church was part of the Southern Baptist Convention, a denomination formed in 1845 over the issue of whether slave owners could be missionaries (most Baptists in northern states insisted they should not be appointed).

After receiving her degree, Lottie helped her mother keep the plantation going during the Civil War while the non-slave men were fighting.  (Meanwhile, Orianna was serving with the Confederate Army as a doctor!)  Though exposure to the larger world would change her opinion, Lottie once believed slavery was a legitimate and even Biblical institution.

Heroes Revisited

I know I have written about flawed heroes in some recent posts; I will address the matter this one final time.  We know the most heroic of heroes have flaws.  Bruce Wayne (aka Batman) has trust issues; Bruce Banner (aka Hulk) has anger issues.  Santa Claus obviously overeats.

On one hand, we have long shown a degree tolerance toward our heroes.  We continue to praise and quote Christians who may have held notions we no longer accept.  Polycarp is still extolled as an example of courageous faith, even if he probably would have insisted the sun revolves around the earth. We sing Fanny Crosby’s hymns though she might have believed frogs cause warts. If these heroes held notions common to their time, we have been forgiving.  But, on the other hand, we’ve begun to draw a line about our bygone heroes holding attitudes that, while universal in their day, are condemned in ours.  We want heroes who were ahead of their time regarding certain social issues.  We want them free of racism, sexism, and any hint of homophobia.

Look at the portrayal of two popular fictional clergy/detectives.  In their respective TV Series, both Sidney Chambers and Father Brown take “the heart wants what it wants” view of homosexuality. Very modern were these clergymen ministering in the decade or so after the Second World War.  (The first Father Brown story appeared in 1911 so his series is considerably updated.) In his present-day BBC incarnation, Father Brown (played by Mark Williams) even seems to believe nature-religions are just alternative avenues to God; G. K. Chesterton, the good priest’s creator and author of the still-published Orthodoxy, would likely be so outraged he would spit out his cigar.

But this is how we want our heroes, made over in our image or our image of our image. One wonders if a new version of Mickey Spillane’s hardboiled detective Mike Hammer would be a non-smoker who has many gay friends and who never uses the word “broad” unless he is quoting pastoral poetry (“I long to leave these mean streets for a ‘broad, verdant valley.’”).   A parboiled detective, in other words.

But real heroes aren’t perfect.  Martin Luther who would face the emperor and declare, “Here I stand;” endorsed the massacre of peasants attempting to win their freedom.  George Whitefield who helped lay the foundations of modern evangelicalism, thanked God his orphanage had become prosperous enough to buy a few slaves.  Lottie Moon who would became a world-changing missionary, drew upon an education paid for by the sweat and blood of slaves.

Our heroes are flawed because we are flawed. Solomon, Israel’s king so famed for his wisdom, forgot to be wise when dealing with women—we’re told he had a thousand wives and concubines.  Government excess didn’t start in Washington. But a younger Solomon once wisely asked God to be merciful toward his people when they sinned.  He prayed this because he knew “there is no one who does not sin.” (I Kings 8:46)

Asking our heroes to be without sin is asking the impossible. Our most praiseworthy heroes have done those things they ought not to have done and left undone those things they ought to have done. That description of sin, borrowed from the venerable language of The Book of Common Prayer, allows none of us to escape the charge of sinner. As fallen men and women we may pursue the good but, in the end, must acknowledge we have failed to reach the goal. Our selfishness, pride, and obsessions impede our pursuit. Far too many passionate pastors, evangelists, and missionaries, men and women who have won thousands to Christ, have been guilty of neglecting their families.  Not because they don’t love their families but because they believe God can’t get along without them—even for the duration of a soccer game.

Talking about sin is difficult in our day. What a contrast from days gone by when Roman Catholics regularly said, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned” and many Protestants knew the first sign on “the Roman Road” was: “…all have sinned….” But our perspective has changed. As Bill Maher, not exactly a friend of evangelical Christians, once said, “Everything that used to be a sin is now a disease.” Even the famed seven deadly sins no longer betray our spiritual rebellion but point to neuroses spawned by our modern society or to a more enlightened understanding of human personality. Those once guilty of “lust” are now suffering from sexual addiction. “Gluttony” reflects an eating disorder.  “Pride” no longer points to the assumption we can get along without God; it marks a healthy self-esteem.  If we feel “envy” because someone has more than we have, we complain their unfair advantage, thus justifying both our “sloth” and our “wrath.”  We condemn greedy corporations while we accrue crippling credit card debt, not because we have succumbed to “greed” or materialism but because we suffer from “oniomania” or “compulsive shopping disorder.”

Have I overstated the case? Sure. But it is hard to deny we have often redefined “sin” as actions and attitudes we (and our society) condemn; actions others commit, attitudes others hold. But most of us—in our most honest and introspective moment—suspect this is wishful thinking.

Who can really deny the capacity of human beings to justify evil? Richard Weikart, professor of history at California State University, comments on how Nazi Germany used science to justify their actions.

Darwinism by itself did not produce the Holocaust, but without Darwinism... neither Hitler nor his Nazi followers would have had the necessary scientific underpinnings to convince themselves and their collaborators that one of the world’s greatest atrocities was really morally praiseworthy. 

Darwin’s Origin of Species changed the world.  I’ve read a brief biography of the scientist but I’m hardly a specialist on either Darwin or his theory.  Yet, while I cannot accept all the implications of his theory, neither do I believe he would endorse his research being used to justify the atrocity of the holocaust.  But in Nazi Germany scientists, professors, and politicians did.

Was this simply corporate sin, an impersonal bureaucracy carrying out this crime against humanity?  A bureaucracy may have sketched the blueprint but individuals put it into action. In the postwar trials the plea of “just following orders” carried little weight. Each guard in the concentration camps helped make the policy work and, of course, some guards went beyond their stated duty to be especially cruel to their hapless victims. Some of the cruelest were women guards charged with looking after women prisoners.

Our institutions do evil because they are made up of creative sinners.

John Newton, author of Amazing Grace, spent years as a sailor and ship’s master. In his autobiography, Newton recalled how he took pride in creating new curses. At the risk of engaging in stereotype, most sailors swore, cursed, and blasphemed; Newton used his poetic gifts to outdo his shipmates.

Because of sin, our creativity can be corrupted.  FaceBook and other social media venues were created so scattered families could keep in touch, old friends could reconnect, and new friendships could be made. But the technology has allowed stalkers to prey on the innocent, hustlers to cheat the unwary, and bullies to torment the fragile.

Reinhold Niebuhr, one of the twentieth-century America’s most respected theologians, once said, “original sin is the only empirically verifiable doctrine of the Christian faith.” More simply, beyond reasonable doubt we are all sinners.  Every one of us.

The Exception

In 1887, Lottie Moon wrote an article urging the Baptist women in her home state of Virginia to begin a Christmas offering to support foreign missions. (Lottie proposed the offering but it was not named for her until 1918, six years after her death.)  In the article, she defended choosing the Christmas season for the offering.

Need it be said why the week before Christmas is chosen? Is it not the festive season, when families exchange gifts in memory of The Gift laid on the altar of the world for the redemption of the human race, the most appropriate time to consecrate a portion from abounding riches and scant poverty to send forth the good tidings of great joy into all the earth.

Of course, “… the Gift laid on the altar of the world…” was Jesus.  Lottie had left home and comfort, friends and family, safety and security to tell the Chinese about him.  Why?

Because Jesus was the one exception, the one who could provide “for the redemption of the human race.”

Every Christmas Christians in large churches and small heard the familiar story.  Joseph was be told the Baby born would be called “Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”  The shepherds would hear the angel declare:   “I bring you good news that will bring great joy to all people.  The Savior—yes, the Messiah, the Lord—has been born today in Bethlehem, the city of David!”

Only days after his birth, Joseph and Mary would present Jesus in the temple, according to custom.  There, Simeon, a venerable man who had dedicated himself to prayer for the nation, would see the Child and praise God, declaring:

I have seen your salvation,

which you have prepared for all people.

He is a light to reveal God to the nations,
                and he is the glory of your people Israel!

Years later, a community of Samaritans would have an encounter with Jesus and recognize what his closest disciples had not yet seen.  These outcasts would say, “We know he is the Savior of the world.”

How could Jesus fulfill his role as Savior of the world? How could he accomplish the personal mission statement he made in Mark’s gospel—“… the Son of Man … to give his life as a ransom for many.”?  He could do so because he alone did not carry the taint of sin.

Both implicitly and explicitly, the New Testament presents Jesus as sinless.

IMPLICIT EVIDENCE

àAt the Annunciation, Gabriel said to Mary, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; and for that reason the holy Child shall be called the Son of God.” The words imply the child will be “holy” from birth.  While the word might imply the child would lead a life dedicated to God, it could also look foreword to his living a life of sinless perfection. In their comment on Luke 1:35 found in The Global Study Bible, Wayne Grudem and Thomas Schreiner explain the significance of the virginal conception: “He [Jesus] did not inherit a sinful nature from Adam.” His exceptional conception anticipated an exceptional life.  Like the newly created Adam, Jesus came into the world without sin; unlike Adam who faced temptation and failed, Jesus faced fierce temptation and came away victorious.

Though not every scholar agrees, it seems reasonable Luke wrote his two-volume work, Luke-Acts, prior to Paul’s death.  Many scholars believe the Gospel was written in the late 50s or early 60s. Luke claims to have meticulously researched the life of Jesus, suggesting he spoke with “eyewitnesses” and others who had examined Jesus’ life. This prompts N. T. Wright to describe Luke as

… an educated and cultured man, the first real historian to write about Jesus.
His book places Jesus not only at the heart of the Jewish world of the first century, but at the heart of the Roman world into which the Christian gospel exploded.

(Quoted http://spu.edu/depts/uc/response/new/2013-spring/bible-theology/jesus-according-to-luke.asp. Accessed 25 November 2017)

Luke, of course, might have omitted anything negative about Jesus’ character but such was his commitment to tell the story faithfully that he did not hesitate to record the foibles and failings of some who would be the early church’s most respected leaders.  Though Luke does not explicitly describe Jesus as “sinless,” his obvious reverence for Jesus suggests he believed Jesus to have been a man of singular character.

àJohn the Baptist called people from all walks of life to be baptized to demonstrate their repentance and intention to live changed lives; he issued this challenge to the despised—tax-collectors and soldiers—and to those considered the most religious—Pharisees and Sadducees, especially warning this latter group against assuming their status exempted them from any need for forgiveness (Mt. 1:7-10).  Yet when Jesus came for baptism, John initially refused, saying, “I need to be baptized by you.” (Vs. 14)  So far as we know, John said this to no one else.  John may have hesitated to baptize Jesus because his spiritual intuition told him Jesus did not need to repent; but keep this in mind: John and Jesus were relatives. We’ve sometimes said they were “cousins” but that word has a narrower meaning today than it had in the past; we simply know their mothers were related.  

Elizabeth and Mary were pregnant at the same time and they met at least once to discuss the remarkable situation they faced.  Thus, Jesus and John were almost the same age; we might conjecture they had seen each other from time to time while growing up.  We might further conjecture that John had long recognized Jesus lived differently than any other person he knew; he knew he failed to live without sinning but Jesus never failed to live up to the demands of the law.  Much of what I have just written is conjecture but we should not miss the significance of John’s initial hesitancy to baptize Jesus. He clearly believed Jesus did not need to repent.

àJesus once put this question to some of his critics: “Who among you can prove that I am guilty of sin?” (John 8:46)  A challenge I certainly wouldn’t throw out to my critics.  Jesus’ critics responded with name-calling and an attempt at character assassination; they said, “ . . . you are a Samaritan and demon-possessed.” They did not offer evidence of his committing sin.  Jesus ended the debate with the remarkable assertion:  “Truly, I tell all of you emphatically, before there was an Abraham, I AM!” (8:58 ISV) His critics rightly recognized this as a claim to deity.  Unable to produce evidence of any other sin, they gleefully charged him with blasphemy—a charge that could be sustained only if Jesus’ claim were untrue.  So John offers additional implicit evidence of Jesus’ sinlessness.

EXPLICIT EVIDENCE

àIn 2 Corinthians 5:21, Paul says, “For our sake [God] made him (Jesus) to be sin who knew no sin.” Second Corinthians was probably written about AD 55. The former Pharisee and persecutor of the church was converted about 35/36 and had spent his early post-conversion years learning more about Jesus and his teachings, often through those who knew Jesus during his earthly ministry. The two decades between his conversion and his letter had provided amble opportunity to find evidence proving any claim of Jesus being sinless was overstated.  He found no such evidence.

àPeter, who probably knew the human Jesus as well as anyone who ever lived, said of him, “He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth.” (1 Peter 2:22)  Peter saying “no deceit was found in his mouth” is suggestive; Peter, after all, had the painful memory of using his mouth to deny knowing Jesus.  In his earliest sermons recorded in Acts, Peter referred to Jesus as “the Holy One” and as “the Holy and Righteous One.” Some translations say he was describing Jesus as “Blameless.”

àThe anonymous author of Hebrews writes of Jesus, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin.”  Hebrews appears to have been written to Christians wavering in their commitment, fearful they had erred in abandoning the rites and rituals of Judaism.  The writer of Hebrews, taking an apologetic stance, presents Jesus as fulfilling and, thus, being superior to those rites and rituals.  He is a better high priest because, unlike other high priests, he did not need to offer a sacrifice for his own sins—since he had no sin.  The writer underscores both Jesus’ capacity for empathy since he faced temptation and had an unbroken record of victory over that temptation.

àWhether written by the Apostle John or a later leader (John the Elder) with the same name, 1 John 3:5 says, “But you know that Christ came to take our sins away. And there is no sin in him.”  If the letter was written by John the Elder—who appears to have been from Ephesus—the belief Jesus was sinless was accepted by Christians outside the Palestinian context. On the other hand, if the Apostle John wrote the letter (and I’m not yet convinced he didn’t) then two of Jesus’ closest disciples during his earthly ministry (Peter and John) and two of Jesus’ most prominent post-Easter disciples (Paul and the author of Hebrews) attested Jesus was without sin.

Nicholas Batzig reflects on what Jesus’ sinlessness must have looked like as he lived out his life on earth, the life between Christmas and the Ascension.

In a life that spanned three decades, our Lord never entertained a thought, never uttered a word, and never carried out an action that was defiled by impure motives. He always honored His Father in heaven, always honored His earthly father and mother, never lusted, never uttered a word in sinful anger, never gossiped about or slandered His neighbor. He never stole, never lied, and never coveted. In short, He submitted to every commandment of the law of God without wavering. He loved the Lord with all His heart, soul, mind and strength, and He loved His neighbor as Himself. (http://www.ligonier.org/blog/significance-sinlessness-jesus/ Accessed 25 November 2017.)

That doesn’t resemble my life; my guess is it doesn’t match yours. All of us are sinners.  Some of us hide it better than others but all of us are sinners.  Jesus was the one exception.

So What?

As sinners we are naturally alienated from God.  No effort on our part can break down the barrier sin places between God and us.

Only one without sin could resolve our problem.  Only one without sin could tear down the wall.  At Christmas God initiated Operation Reconciliation. 

The successful completion of the operation would demand One who was free from sin.  And it would demand a cross.  Christians still debate about how fully to explain what happened when Jesus died on the cross—that he was our Substitute is clear, however.  That trusting the crucified Jesus will nullify sin’s poison seems equally clear.  Jesus once drew an analogy between the bronze serpent Moses raised up in the desert and his crucifixion.  When the people of Israel looked upon the snake they would be healed from the snake bites threatening to kill them; when we trust Christ we will be saved from the sin killing us.  Here is the passage from John’s Gospel; it immediately precedes one of the best-loved verses in the Bible.

“And just as Moses in the desert lifted up the brass replica of a snake on a pole for all the people to see and be healed, so the Son of Man is ready to be lifted up [on the cross], so that those who truly believe in him will not perish but be given eternal life.”   For this is how much God loved the world—he gave his one and only, unique Son as a gift.  So now everyone who believes in him will never perish but experience everlasting life.

Jesus himself was God’s Christmas Gift to us—the perfect Gift, the sinless Gift.

Lottie, Again?

A pastor once quipped, that the time had come again for the Lottie Moon Offering and added, “I’m not sure when we will ever get her debt paid off.”  Certain Women’s Missionary Union members were not amused.

Lottie’s story deserves to be told.  She wasn’t the only nineteenth-century missionary to leave behind home, family, material comforts in order to bring the gospel to those who had never heard of Christ.  She was representative of many women missionaries—whose names are largely forgotten—who made similar sacrifices to sow the seeds of the gospel.

But apart from her example, there are several other examples we might take away from Lottie’s story.

--We can outgrow the erroneous thinking of our parents.

--We can escape the negative influences of our culture.

--We can overcome the boundaries set for us by those with limited vision.

But most important, as sinners we need to accept God’s Gift—Jesus.  Lottie accepted that Gift when she was a young woman attending a campus revival.  You can accept that Gift at a church, in your home, wherever you might be reading this.