Romans 7:15-25a (CEB)
I don’t know what I’m doing,
because I don’t do what I want to do. Instead, I do the thing that I hate. But
if I’m doing the thing that I don’t want to do, I’m agreeing that the Law is
right. But now I’m not the one doing it anymore. Instead, it’s sin that lives
in me. I know that good doesn’t live in me—that is, in my body. The desire to
do good is inside of me, but I can’t do it. I don’t do the good that I want to
do, but I do the evil that I don’t want to do. But if I do the very thing that
I don’t want to do, then I’m not the one doing it anymore. Instead, it is sin
that lives in me that is doing it.
So I find that, as a rule, when I
want to do what is good, evil is right there with me. I gladly agree with the
Law on the inside, but I see a different law at work in my body. It wages a war
against the law of my mind and takes me prisoner with the law of sin that is in
my body. I’m a miserable human being. Who will deliver me from this dead
corpse? Thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord!
As we conclude our series on the cloud of witnesses that
surround us, I hope that over these last two months that you have thought about
your pantheon that surrounds and encourages you.
As many of you are aware, I was a history major in college
--- my area of study was 18th Century English history, and I wrote my senior
theses on John Wesley and his effects on the English working class movement.
While I would agree that history is not a lucrative field to
study, I appreciate that my education taught me how to think critically and the
experiences I had also forced me to deal with some of my hidden prejudices.
While the history department was huge, I became a member of
Phi Alpha Theta, the national honor society for history students and
professors. I became part of a small
group of students and faculty which gave me the opportunity to get to know them
in a unique way.
My history advisor was Michael.
Michael was one of the most unique professors I have ever
met.
He was this big, burly black man --- who if he wished, could
intimidate the heck out of anyone.
Michael loved to throw huge parties, and I often managed to
get an invite.
One night at his apartment, we somehow got into a discussion
about a class that he believed I needed to take.
It wasn't in my area of study ---
but he said it would be good for me and a friend of his is teaching it.
The class he wanted me to take was
on the history of the black experience in the United States.
About a week later, I ran into Michael in his office and he
asked me if I signed up for the class.
He
immediately started laughing at me as I was trying to stammer an excuse.
He
said: "What are you afraid of?"
And
then he added these words --- "Don't worry it will be 50/50"
by
that he meant 50% black and 50% white
On a cold January evening, I walked to DuSable hall for the
first class.
It was one of those classes that meet for 2 1/2 hours once a
week.
It started at 7 and would not be done until 9:30pm.
I have to
admit I was a little nervous
Here I was, this skinny little
white kid, walking into this class on a dark and dreary evening.
As I walked into the class I began to look around. It was in a larger lecture hall, and my
recollection is that there were close to 100 students in the room.
And all I saw
were black faces
faces
that made me feel like I was intruding
There was one other white student in the class
The other student also had been
talked into the class by Michael, but he had a very different story than I.
I grew up in Glenview Illinois, an
affluent northern suburb of Chicago
The
only people of color were stationed at the naval airbase
My
high school was 99% white
This other student, grew up in
Florida, in a predominately black neighborhood --- even though he was white ---
he was seen as an ally of the black community
I
was seen with suspicion.
I would try to keep my mouth shut
in discussions --- fortunately it was a lecture class and not a small
discussion group
But whenever there was a discussion
--- I became the object of frustration and rage that many of my fellow
classmates felt.
I
remember having people literally get into my face and yell at me.
I have never tried to become smaller
in my life
--- I was frightened at times
I never was accepted --- but I
learned a great deal about how the black community felt in the late 70's and
early 80's.
When I headed south to attend Duke it was a helpful lesson
And as I think about the cloud of witnesses that surround me
--- Michael always comes to mind.
He gave me a
gift that I can never repay
He left NIU a few years after I graduated and we lost touch
--- but I have never stopped being thankful for Michael putting me into a
situation in which I was forced to wrestle with my prejudices.
And while I have had to move beyond some of the lessons that
he helped teach me --- Michael stressed that one needs to learn to be
colorblind (which was a common goal back then) --- he opened my eyes to a whole
new world.
Martin Luther King, Jr. needs no introduction to many of
you.
It was just a few years ago, on a cold and snowy January
Sunday morning when just a handful of you showed up for church.
Right before the first service, Matt and I decided rather
than trying to hold our normal worship services we would read selections from
Martin's: Letter From A Birmingham Jail.
It was a
powerful service
One
of the best I have ever been a part of
Many of you are familiar with that letter and his I Have a Dream speech.
While I grew up in lily white Glenview, my home was a place
where we discussed the issues of the day.
My father grew up in the south --- my great-grandparents
were slave owners.
My father moved north because of the racism in the south,
and then had to deal with the racism of the north.
Martin Luther
King was spoken of with kindness in our home
I remember in April of 1968 when Martin was murdered in
Memphis.
I think it was even more real
because my parents had attempted to go back south in the late 50's and had
started a church in Memphis.
It was a time of
sadness, loss, and fear.
I read Taylor Branch's Pulitzer Prize winning books about
the King years in America, Parting the
Waters, is a masterpiece
Just recently I was given a copy of David Garrows’s Bearing the Cross: Martin Luther King, Jr.,
And The Southern Christian Leadership Conference.
Not an easy book to read, but a powerful reminder of what
leadership is all about.
In 1955, during the Montgomery Bus Boycott, 25 year old
Martin Luther King, Jr. --- let me repeat that --- 25 year old Martin Luther
King, Jr., led a 385 day boycott in Montgomery Alabama.
During the midst of that boycott, Martin faced a crisis of
faith --- Garrow writes:
unable to be at peace with himself,
King feared he could take it no longer. It was the most important night of his
life, the one he always would think back to in future years when the pressures
again seemed to be too great.
“It was around midnight,” . . . “You
can have some strange experiences at midnight.” The threatening caller had
rattled him deeply. “Nigger, we are tired of you and your mess now. And if you
aren’t out of this town in three days, we’re going to blow your brains out, and
blow up your house.”
I sat there and thought about a
beautiful little daughter who had just been born.… She was the darling of my
life. I’d come in night after night and see that little gentle smile. And I sat
at that table thinking about that little girl and thinking about the fact that
she could be taken away from me any minute.
And I started thinking about a
dedicated, devoted and loyal wife, who was over there asleep. And she could be
taken from me, or I could be taken from her. And I got to the point that I
couldn’t take it any longer. I was weak.
Something said to me, you can’t call on Daddy now . . . You can’t even call on
Mama now. You’ve got to call on that something in that person that your Daddy
used to tell you about, that power that can make a way out of no way.
And I discovered then that
religion had to become real to me, and I had to know God for myself. And I
bowed down over that cup of coffee. I never will forget it … I prayed a prayer,
and I prayed out loud that night. I said, ‘Lord,
I’m down here trying to do what’s right. I think I’m right. I think the cause
that we represent is right. But Lord, I must confess that I’m weak now. I’m
faltering. I’m losing my courage.’
Then it happened:
And it seemed at that moment that
I could hear an inner voice saying to me, ‘Martin
Luther, stand up for righteousness. Stand up for justice. Stand up for
truth. And lo I will be with you, even
until the end of the world.’… I heard the voice of Jesus saying still to fight
on. He promised never to leave me, never to leave me alone. No never alone.
No never alone. He promised never to leave me, never to leave me alone.
I get chills as I read that again.
Haven't we all been there?
Ready to give up.
Ready to say, "I can't do this anymore."
I know I have
No-one has ever threatened my family
No-one has
ever bombed my house
But
I have felt anger and hatred over decisions I have been led to make
When we adopted our statement of inclusion --- I received
emails and letters --- some not very kind
When I confronted the town fathers in Munster, over their
decision to pump the water back into the little calumet river --- knowing it
would cause flooding in Gary --- I received threats and attacks
And like Martin, I sat, with my hands on my head saying ---
"what am I supposed to do Lord?"
And I too, heard the voice of Jesus ---
"stand up for righteousness.
Stand up for justice. Stand up for truth.
And lo I will be with you, even until the end of the world.’… I heard
the voice of Jesus saying still to fight on. He promised never to leave me,
never to leave me alone."
The greatest complement every given to me came from Rev.
Michelle Cobb, then my District Superintendent in the midst of the flooding
crisis in Northwest Indiana.
At a District meeting, she called me out --- much to the
glee and derision of my friends --- she praised me in a way that I am not
worthy of nor was at the time --- she compared me to Martin --- in my standing
up for the least, the lost and the last of the region during the recovery from
the floods.
It was a very humbling experience.
But I can't tell you how many times I wanted to quit, I was
tired, beat up, exhausted.
My family paid a price for those three years that only they
fully know.
But as I look back, I know that it was Michael and Martin
that paved the way that I could help lead LARRI (Lakeshore Area Regional
Recovery of Indiana) during that period and make a huge difference in the lives
of so many in Northwest Indiana.
Without them, cheering me on, encouraging me, I would have
walked away.
But what about Flip, Steve?
How in the world does Flip Wilson fit into this sermon?
Those of you who remember Flip Wilson know that he had a
famous saying: "The devil made me do it."
It was the implication, that I am not responsible for my
actions.
It also seems to reflect what Paul was saying to the Romans.
I don’t know what I’m doing,
because I don’t do what I want to do. Instead, I do the thing that I hate. . .
.The desire to do good is inside of me, but I can’t do it. I don’t do the good
that I want to do, but I do the evil that I don’t want to do. But if I do the
very thing that I don’t want to do, then I’m not the one doing it anymore.
Instead, it is sin that lives in me that is doing it.
Is Paul telling us that it is the Devil that makes us do the
evil that we do?
It sure
sounds that way.
I think we can hear this passage two ways.
First, we can say --- yep, there is nothing I can do about
it, and just move on, doing what we do. Accepting that sin is a part of life
and it is the responsibility of the devil.
Or we can dig deeper into what Paul is inviting us to.
For Paul, acknowledging that we are helpless is the first
step
Much like those who face addiction must
acknowledge that they are powerless to whatever addiction has hold over them
But we can't stop there.
It is this passage that really sets Methodists apart from
other protestant denominations.
John Wesley's understanding of Romans 7 comes from the
Church Fathers before Augustine, from Jacob Arminius position that Romans 7
describes the experience of a humanity before conversion.
Once converted, Wesley emphasized that we need to strive
towards Christian perfection and victory over sin --- which can only happen if
we allow the spirit to fill us with the grace of God.
For Wesley there is no place for spiritual laziness,
For procrastination
for
defeatism.
As followers of Christ, we are urged to seek perfection
Why? Because God is perfect (Matthew 5:48)
And to seek holiness
Because God
is holy (1 Peter 1:16)
YES, this is difficult
But for Wesley --- Romans 7 becomes the dividing line
Once we recognize our inability to overcome sin --- we can
ask for the Spirit --- we can allow God’s GRACE --- to help us move forward
For me, as I read Paul --- I am convicted that I have a
responsibility as a follower of Jesus to live a different way
I may not
always do it well
But until I make
it my focus --- I will wallow in sin.
On this 4th of July weekend, I can admit the failure of my
country to live up to the ideals that we established 244 years ago.
Those ideals are still the greatest example of democracy
ever put forth.
But we will never live up to those ideals, until we fully
embrace what was dreamed of so long ago.
There are those who are asking the
devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never
be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of
police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with
the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and
the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic
mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as
long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their
dignity by signs stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied
as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes
he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not
be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like
a mighty stream."
And so even though we face the
difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply
rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this
nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold
these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the
red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave
owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even
the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice,
sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of
freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little
children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the
color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
When we allow freedom ring, when we
let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every
city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black
men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able
to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at
last!
This past week, Mississippi retired their state flag --- a
flag that had on it a symbol of hate and oppression.
Maybe --- Just maybe --- together we can make the dream come
true.
Amen.
Let us tell God’s story to our nation and world.
