I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I can be a dangerous person to invite to a
dinner party. Why? I love to talk about the two things everyone
says you shouldn’t, religion and politics.
Take politics.
Now, I was kind-of excited about the Super Bowl. I enjoyed watching the game. Still, if you had asked me a few weeks ago,
what was happening in the playoffs, I wouldn’t have had a clue. But if you had asked me about the Iowa Caucus
or the New Hampshire Primary, forget about it.
I would have talked your ear off.
I love political play-off season.
Can Bernie, the Vermont Socialist, defeat Hillary? Will Trump defy the odds and be the
nominee? And if not, Trump, who? Will it be Cruz, Rubio, Bush, Kasich? Who knows?
It’s exciting, at least, to me.
Even if you haven’t been following the political
play-offs, one thing is becoming clear. Folks
are carrying a lot of anger to the polls this year. They’re not all upset about the same things,
but whatever it is, they’re really, really angry about it. Strangely enough, that may actually be good
news.
But whatever you think about anger in politics, it’s
definitely good news when it comes to God. Thank goodness, God is angry. That’s some of the best news you could ever
hear. Why? In the words, we’re about to read, God shows
us. Let’s listen and hear what God has
to say.
As strange as it sounds, hearing that God is angry
is great news. Why? Because: without God’s anger you can’t have
God’s love. But before we see how anger
and love go together, let’s ask. What made
God so angry to begin with?
One word, a somewhat strange word here, gives us the
answer. All through this passage, Paul
is declaring this incredible news. God
has now brought about a right relationship with us (that’s what righteousness
means), a right relationship that had never ever happened before. But how did God do this? Here is where it
gets weird. Paul tells us. God redeemed us. Do you get what this means? Paul is telling us that God bought us
back.
That’s what the word redeem means. It means a purchase. In the Bible, it goes back to rules and
regulations in Leviticus related to indebtedness. In ancient times, you couldn’t declare
bankruptcy. If you got into serious
debt, your creditors didn’t just take your land. They took you. You literally became their slave until you
or your descendants worked off the debt.
But the legal code in Leviticus gave an out. One of your kinsman could redeem you. They could buy you back. It wasn’t easy. They had to pay the debt in full. And it had to be voluntary. They had to do it out of love not
obligation. And basically, Paul is
saying that’s how God brought about the right relationship. God bought us back. In Jesus, God became our kinsman redeemer.
But then who owned us? Who enslaved us? Basically, Paul tells us we usually have many
masters. First of all, our own guilt
and shame own us. People don’t like to
hear these two words. But let’s be
honest, don’t we all feel them? Don’t
you sense, no matter how good you are, that somehow it’s not enough? Don’t you feel the gap between the person
you want to be and the person you really are?
And doesn’t that bother you?
That’s why so many folks become workaholics or get captured by anxiety
and stress? That’s why everyone works
so hard at impression management? You
know, those moments when you act like everything is fine, when it isn’t at all.
Everyone knows. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.
And this guilt, this sense of inadequacy carries power. It drives people to find relief in all the
wrong places. So they get obsessed with
excelling at work or with how much money they have or don’t have. They try to find relief in relationships or
popularity. “He loves me so I must be
ok” “They think I’m fine so I must
be.” Or maybe they look to a substance
or even religion to get relief. In the
end, we human beings don’t simply have one master, we likely have many.
And let’s be real about what a slave master does. Slave masters have no boundaries. They can do
anything to the people they own,
and they do And what owns us does
exactly that. Against their power, we
have no boundaries. And under their
power, we do awful things not simply to ourselves but to those around us. Our slavery wounds us. It wounds everything.
And this slavery and the way it wounds us and others,
that makes God angry. And God has to do something to satisfy that
anger. In fact, that’s literally what
Paul tells us God does. When he says
that God put Jesus forward as a sacrifice of atonement, he uses a word,
hilasterion. And that word doesn’t
simply mean a sacrifice. It means a
sacrifice specifically done to satisfy the wrath of God.
And that can sound scary, but is it? Think
about it. If you’re angry, it means you
care. Whenever I’ve talked to marriage
counselors, they say. If a couple comes
in angry, it’s a sign of hope. It means
they care. But if they come in with no
emotions whatsoever, that counselor knows.
That couple likely has no hope.
In our politics, whatever people are angry about at
least it means that they care. They want
this nation to be better, their lives to be better, and they believe their
elected officials can help make it so. And that is far better than having citizens
who don’t care at all.
You see. The
strongest enemy of love is not anger. It’s indifference. In reality, anger is often love’s greatest
ally. Where does the word anger come
from? It comes from a Norse word forgrief, a sense of loss. Think about it.
It makes sense. We feel the
energy of anger when we sense loss, when we feel the gap between things as they
are and the way things should be. And
that energy drives us to act. It’s what
is behind our work with Bold Justice which we’ll celebrate next week. When we see people and families tormented by
mental illness, and no one offering the help they desperately need, we
care. When we hear that some vulnerable
senior has to lie in their own waste for days in a fly by night nursing home,
we feel anger. Why? We care.
And God cares.
God loves. And because God loves,
God gets angry. God sees the losses that
our slavery brings about, how it devastates us, and how it devastates everything. But God doesn’t simply see the loss, he feels
it. Our slavery devastates God, how we
brutalize ourselves and one another, and how we look to everywhere else but God
for comfort and deliverance. God feels that
pain in ways we could not imagine.
But still, why does the anger lead to a sacrifice? Why does God have to bleed, have to pay. Well,
let’s think about it. If you want to deal
with a wrong done to you, you have two choices.
You can deliver payback. You
hurt me. Well, buddy, I’m going to hurt
you right back. And in the moment, it
might even feel good. But in the end, it’s devastating. You
become a harder, more brutal person. But
more than that, you generate a cycle of retribution that can continue for
generations. Vengeance only leads to
more vengeance and more vengeance, a world consumed by bitterness and violence. Payback doesn’t overcome evil, it just
creates more evil. Or you can make a
different choice, you can forgive. But
if you forgive, someone still pays. You
pay. You bear the loss. You carry the weight of the wrong. But only forgiveness offers a way out. Only forgiveness gives an opportunity for change,
for the wrong-doer to see the light.
Only forgiveness protects your heart from bitterness and evil. Only forgiveness stops evil from winning.
Think about it with your kids. At some point, children always hurt their
parents, and I’m not talking accidentally hurt. Every kid at some point will say something
to their parents that they know will hurt.
It may be the simple, “I hate you!”
And even if as a parent, you know it’s a temper tantrum, it still
hurts. But what do you do? Do you deliver pay-back? Do you go, “Well, I hate you too!” Is that the right answer? No, I don’t think so. You take the hit. In fact, the more graciously you take the
hit, the more powerful the opportunity for change becomes. If you respond, “I’m sorry you feel that
way, but I love you very much.” That
has power. But make no mistake, it still
costs you.
When a wrong is done to us, we only have two
options. They suffer or we suffer. You
can’t wish away wrong. Somebody has to
pay, us or them. Now if you know that’s
how it works in an individual life, how can it be any different for God? God can no more wish away our wrongs than we
can. Somebody has to pay. And when we look at Jesus bleeding on the
cross, we see who did. We see God
taking the hit for us.
But still, it’s so bloody. And here’s the reason. Because what God did on the cross isn’t a
nice fairy tale. It’s real. It happened. The creator of the universe entered into
this messy and messed up world, and he bled for you. But his blood only touches the surface of
the sacrifice he made.
God knew. The
only way to bring us home was to become a slave like us, to put himself utterly
at evil’s mercy. And in that cross, in
Jesus, God did that. God entered into
the heart of evil. And God said. Here
take me. Let these people go. God became the ransom that set you
free. He took the brokenness that was
yours so that you can be healed. He
absorbed the ugliness of your guilt, your shame, so that he might restore your
beauty. He turned away from love and
life, so that he might love you forever. He became utterly alone and abandoned so you
would never be abandoned ever.
And his anger led him there. His
anger led him to act, to absorb the pain, to take the loss, to become the
ransom that brought you home. You
don’t want a God, who acts as if wrong can be papered over, swept under the
rug. That’s a God who doesn’t
care. It’s like a parent who thinks it’s
no big deal if their kids are dodging cars on Hollywood Boulevard. Who wants a parent like that. No you
want a parent who will run into traffic to save you, and be angry as they do
it. Why?
That’s a parent who cares, who loves his kids. And that’s the One who bled for you, a God
who infinitely cares for you. And it was
his love-driven anger that rescued you, that led him to redeem you with his
very blood.
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