We live in a
culture of more. If you’ve that before it was likely connected
to our culture’s materialism. How we
always want more of this, more of that.
And that’s a fair critique. But I
actually mean something else. I mean
that we live in a culture that demands more.
That demands more of you. That
wants more from you.
Back in 2000,
while I was in high school, a movie came out called “Dude, Where’s My
Car?” High-art film this movie was
not. The basic premise is that a couple
of best friends, Jesse and Chester, wake up one morning to discover their car
is missing and they go looking for it.
That’s really all you need to know.
Anyway, in one
scene a friend of theirs takes them through the drive-thru at a Chinese
restaurant. After Jesse places each
portion of their order, the drive-thru lady says, “and then?” This goes on for a while, until they’re
done. But the lady won’t relent, saying
“and then?” Jesse gets more and more
frustrated as the lady gets more and more threatening and obnoxious with her
“and theeeeeeeeeen?” After a couple
minutes of this Jesse snaps and destroys the drive-thru box.
It’s a silly
moment in a silly movie, but it’s an idea we can identify with. Every time we do something, someone is there
to say, “and then?” Every time you
finish a project, your boss is there to say, “and then?” You pick the kids up from school. And
then…it’s time for dance or soccer practice.
And then…you have to pick up dinner.
And then…it’s time to pick the kids up again. And then…it’s time to help with
homework. And then…laundry. And then…yardwork. And then…bills need to be paid. And then…they need to be paid again. And then…the sink needs to be fixed. And then…taxes are due. And then…different taxes are due. And then…it’s somebody’s birthday and you need
to get a card and a gift. And
then…you’ve got a checkup at the doctor’s office. And then, and then, and then,
and then, and then.
It’s just one
thing after another. You deal with it as
well as you can, but eventually it just gets to be too much. You reach your breaking point. You hear that “and then” that makes you want
to take a hammer to cell phone, or pound your head against your desk, or just
give up and cry. Because you can’t do
any more. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.
You’re exhausted. You need a
break. A vacation. A weekend.
Even a day free from all
different things that need your attention and your efforts and your time.
And theeeeeeen….
Throughout
Scripture, we see the value that God places on rest. Of ceasing work. Of putting everything down, and simply
receiving and recognizing His awesome goodness.
It was so important to him, in fact, that he modeled it himself. After six days of creation, his work was
done. Everything was complete, and it
was good. So on the seventh day, he
rested. He didn’t need to rest. He’s God.
He didn’t need to establish a
seventh day of the week. There was no
such thing as a week until he defined it.
We’d have never known any different.
He didn’t need to do it, but he did.
Not for his sake, but for ours.
So that we might have rest.
In the book of
Leviticus, God even takes the day of Sabbath rest and extends it to a
year. In Leviticus 25, God tells Israel
to work six years tilling and planting and pruning and harvesting. Six years of work, to be followed by a year
that they did nothing. No sowing. No reaping.
Leave the land alone, and whatever it produced on its own that year was
to be their food. Not just for Israel,
but for their servants, their animals, and the strangers who lived in their
land. God established a year of rest, so
that they might recognize God’s gracious hand at work.
In sending his one
and only Son, God established for us an even greater rest. Not rest from slavery, not rest from the
hands of a cruel pharaoh or boss. Not
rest from working the land. No, he sent
his Son to give us rest from Satan. He
sent Jesus to free us from the burden of the law. To set us free from constant, never-ending
striving after approval from God. Jesus
came so that we might have rest.
Amazing thing
about us people, though. We have this
strong, stubborn inclination to resist it.
Not reject it outright, mind you, but to not leave well enough alone.
For generations
Israel cried out for deliverance from Egypt.
But as we heard in our Old Testament reading today, when God sent Moses
to them to declare what he was going to do, they didn’t hear it. They were too caught up in their work, too
focused on everything that was expected of them by pharaoh to respond to Moses’
message. Then, within a matter of weeks
of being freed from their slaver, having seen the plagues in Egypt, having
passed through the Red Sea on dry ground…they complained. Moaned and talked about wanting to go back to
Egypt, back to being slaves.
It was different
for the early Christians, but not necessarily any better. They heard the gospel preached by Paul, the
message of grace he proclaimed, and they soaked it up. They liked grace. They liked it a lot. They had great faith in grace. They just didn’t have great faith in grace
alone. They wanted to add to the work of
Christ.
In Acts 15, we see
the church gathered together because some were making circumcision a
requirement. Elsewhere we see that some
were requiring adherence to the old eating restrictions. Jesus did a lot, but you have a part to play,
too. Those who were being brought to
faith were being asked, “and then?” And
then what? What are you going to do?
Max Lucado refers
to these people as grace-a-lots. They
believe in grace an awful lot. Jesus
paddles most of the time. But every so
often, he needs our help. So we give
it. We do our part. We chip in where and when we can to help get
the job done.
Maybe you’ve heard
or seen the bumper sticker phrase, “Jesus is my copilot.” That’s maybe a way to understand the view of
the grace-a-lot. But it’s also
completely wrong. It gives ourselves way too much credit, and robs Jesus of
what he did. Takes away from what he
fully accomplished entirely on his own.
At best to say Jesus is my
co-pilot says that if Jesus needs me to step in and be in control for a while,
I can. At its worst it says that I’m in
control of things, but Jesus is there if I need him. Jesus is a fall-back plan. A sidekick.
The Robin to our Batman.
Yet it’s hard idea
to completely banish from our minds. We’re
creatures who love to collect tokens
of recognition. In high school, we had
helmet stickers in football. You wanted
to earn as many of those stickers as possible.
As an underclassmen who wasn’t going to earn any on the field, you’d
bust your tail every week in practice to get that weekly effort sticker. Boy scouts and girl scouts work at learning
all kinds of things they’ll likely never use again to accumulate merit
badges. Video games even grant dozens of
achievements for doing various things as you play them. You don’t even earn anything by attaining
these achievements. It’s just a way to
compare yourself to other people.
We’re so used to
this kind of thing elsewhere in life that we can’t help but apply it to God as
well. The grace-a-lot that lurks within
each of us loves to do things we
think will earn us little merit badges or achievement tokens from God. The problem is, when we start attributing
some level of merit to what we accomplish, what we achieve, what we do…how much
is enough? How many spiritual merit
badges bump us up to the next level? How
many volunteer hours earn me a nicer room in the Father’s house? How many prayers bump me up the
prayer-priority list? How many acts of
service earn me a special prize?
How good is good
enough? Well, there’s no scoreboard, so
all we can do…is do. Do more. Be in more bible studies. Do better.
Be a more faithful disciple.
Do. Be. It’s all about me. And it’s never, ever enough. Not because the line keeps moving, but
because we’ve never done a thing to move off it to begin with.
As Paul
incredulously asked the Galatians, “ Are you
so foolish? After beginning by means of the Spirit, are you now trying to
finish by means of the flesh? For all
who rely on the works of the law are under a curse, as it is written: ‘Cursed
is everyone who does not continue to do everything written in the Book of the
Law.’” Under the law, we were
cursed. We were in need of rescue. We were stuck in a pit we could never hope to
climb out of on our own.
God
provided the answer. He had the plan,
and he did the work. When we were weak,
when we were desperate and without hope, when we were heavy-laden, God sent his
Son to us. And then…his Son, our Lord
Jesus, took our sins upon himself. And
then…he died on a cross so that we might be forgiven. And then…he rose again so that we might have
life. And then…he continues to lavish
his grace on us through baptism, through absolution, through the real presence
of His Son’s body and blood in, with, and under the bread and wine of Holy
Communion. By his grace, through his
grace, God gives us rest.
Why
is it so hard for us to accept?
Even
now you might be asking, “What about faith?
Grace saves us, but we still have to believe, don’t we?” The problem is, when we look at it like that,
we’re still trying to play a part. We’re
making faith a work that we do that saves us.
Jesus saves us, then, but only if we allow
him to save us. That’s not how it
works. Before we believed, before we had
faith, he saved us. Even the faith that
clings to that promise, that finds rest in grace, is a gift of God, by sending
the Holy Spirit to work in our hearts.
We don’t come to faith, faith comes to us.
Just
let go. Take a deep breath, rest your
mind. Find rest for your soul. Let go, take a step back, and let God be
God. Let grace be enough. Know that you are nothing, your works are
nothing, and be ok with it. God’s not trying
to trick you. There’s no fine
print. He’s not testing you, not waiting
for you to do anything. He already loves you. His Son already died for you. Grace is yours. Salvation is yours. Lay out in the light of the Son, and soak up
his grace. You can rest now. There is no more “and then.” Amen.
