Community Church Sermons

The Third Sunday After Pentecost – June 9, 2002

"Signs of Salvation”

Philippians 2:12-18

Dr. Stephen K. Nash, Associate Pastor

 

 

"There is no God to save us, we must safe ourselves."  So declares the Second Humanist Manifesto from the last Century.  Many of us who consider ourselves Christian humanists would disagree with that plank of the Humanist platform. We do believe that salvation is of God.  The essence of all religion is a sense of our ultimate dependence upon the Divine.  But there is another side to that affirmation of faith.  Salvation does involve human effort as well. 

 

Please don't misunderstand.  Being loved and accepted eternally by God has absolutely nothing to do with human effort.  It is simply God's nature.  Salvation in that sense is solely of grace.

 

But I'm not using the term salvation here in the somewhat limited sense of "having one's sins forgiven so one can go heaven when they die."  As important as that dimension our faith may be, it can actually make a mockery of the rich notion of salvation in the Bible to limit our understanding of salvation to that.

 

I've sort of been on a mission during the last ten or fifteen years of my ministry.  And that is to prompt people of faith to consider that the primary image for understanding our relationship with God is not the legal one that we've so often made it.  That way of seeing it is implied in the evangelical question, "are you saved?."  As if salvation were some kind of legal transaction.  While the Bible, Saint Paul in particular, can use legal metaphors to describe our relationship with God, they are just that—metaphors.  We are not in a legal relationship with God.  We are in a deeply personal relationship, and the most powerful images for salvation focus on that dimension. 

 

Salvation means the healing of the wounds of existence.  It means liberation from bondage, it means a return home from exile, a reconciliation where estrangement once existed, it means enlightenment, it means experiencing God, as well as accepting our acceptance by God. 

 

And in these very present and worldly dimensions of salvation, what we do is extremely important.

 

In today's text from Philippians, I think we can see a few indicators, signs of salvation that is a process.  Paul’ says it is a reality that we must “continue to work out” our salvation.  And that suggests the first of those signs of salvation, which we’ll call "making progress."  If we understand the definition of salvation in the biblical sense as human wholeness, how can we participant in that kind of salvation if there is no growth--no change?  

 

Christian discipleship is a pilgrimage toward God.  It is a journey that involves growth and change and development.  Growth and development are characteristic of any healthy organism, no less our human soul.  We can't stand in the same place.

 

I've cited before a Princeton Study on faith development that came out a few years ago, which listed, among other things, three behaviors that characterize typical people who are growing spiritually.   One was reading significant religious/spiritual/theological literature.  Second, regular involvement with some type of small group. And third, involvement with social and lifestyle issues.   I would summarize that by saying that, as rule, spiritually growing people are intellectually curious and they live the life of faith in close communion with others, and they are engaged with the real world. 

 

One good barometer of whether or not you are growing is to examine your beliefs, attitudes, perspectives, and ask yourself if they have changed at all in recent years.  Now, certain bedrock, core convictions will likely never change, for we all need a place to stand. But is every single piece of your faith and opinion exactly as it was five years go?  If so, that is probably not a sign of a strong faith, but a timid or stagnant one. 

 

I really respect people who have the humility and integrity to acknowledge that the way they've looked at something may be inadequate, and adopt new ways of seeing.  It's a rare quality in both politics and religious faith, but there is no growth without openness and a learning spirit.  And to find that combination of conviction and openness, a spirit that embraces both the changing and the changeless, is a powerful quality. 

 

Thomas Edison said, "I do not know one millionth of one percent about anything."  Albert Schweitzer once said that our highest knowledge is to know that we are surrounded by a Mystery."  Great minds are humble minds that realize that the more we know the more we realize we don't know. 

 

We're too often stubbornly like the farmer who was approached by a young country agricultural agent who tried to convince him of the value of scientific methods in the production of crops.  Exasperated, the old farmer said, "See here, young feller, don’t you come around here telling me how to farm.  I done wore out three farms already."

 

An awareness of our human limitation demands that we learn, and what we can learn has no limits!  It's essential to growth, even spiritual growth. Life can take many things away from us, but we can always learn.  Growth is only out of reach for those who are intellectually lazy.

 

There is a second sign of salvation alluded to in today's text. What Saint Paul refers to as "fear and trembling.”   That expression has nothing to do with the anxiety that a person might have in facing eternal judgment.  This isn't referring to the fear of terror or alarm of a slave cringing before his taskmaster.  It is not  fear and trembling at the prospect of punishment.  Only our preconceived stereotypes of what it means to be in relationship to God would cause us to read it that way.

The Apostle John puts it rather clearly in his first epistle, chapter 4:  'God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them. Love has been perfected among us in this: that we may have boldness on the Day of Judgment.  There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear, for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached maturity in love." That’s because God's judgments are always ultimately redemptive, not punitive.

 

Sometimes we do speak of "the fear of God," but not fear in the sense of terror.   It is instead an absolute awe and reverence in the presence of the Divine.  The fear and trembling Paul speaks of here is that kind of awe, and it comes from two things:  First a sense of our own creatureliness, our own powerlessness to deal with certain aspects of our lives.   That is to say, it is not the fear and trembling that drives us to try to hide from God. 

 

Fear and anxiety always are negative in their affect, driving us away from that which we fear.  They are not effective motivators.  They breed weak, unhealthy lives of faith.  The fear of which Paul speaks here is, rather, the fear and trembling which drives us to seek God, which draws us closer to God.

 

But this fear and trembling also comes from the desire not to grieve or disappoint God.  When we really love a person, we aren't afraid of what that person may do to us; we're afraid of what we may do to him or her.  The fear of love is not the fear that we'll be punished by the other, but that we may wound the heart of the other.   There is no place for a legalistic fear in our relationship with the God who is perfect love.  Who works tirelessly to save us in spite of our resistance.

 

A pilgrim sat in a shaded place and meditated as the waters of a broad river lapped against the shoreline.  Near the water's edge he noticed a scorpion that had fallen into the water from a Banyan tree. It tried again and again to climb out onto the roots of the tree, but each time it reached a safe place another wave would wash it back into the water.  The pilgrim, who reverenced all of life, went to the scorpion intending to save it.  He reached down to lift it from the water, but the scorpion stung him.  Drawing back his hand he thought, "perhaps if I lift it more gently." But again the scorpion stung him.  Then he reasoned, "Perhaps if I lift it out quickly."  The scorpion stung him a third time.  A cynical man watching this, laughed at the pilgrim and asked, "Why do you try to help a thing which only wants to hurt you?"  It's an old, old question.  Why would God want to love and accept those who only resist God?  The pilgrim answered, "It is the scorpion's nature to sting.  It is my nature to save."

 

There is a third sign of the process of salvation.  That is peace and tranquility.  The Christian, Paul says, will do all things without murmuring or grumbling.  The word Paul uses for murmuring or grumbling is one of the interesting words in the Greek text that sounds like what it means:  gogguzzo!  It's the word that is used in the Old Testament of the murmurings of the Hebrew pilgrims in their desert journey when they grumbled against Moses.  There's no constructive note of patience or graciousness or love to characterize it. It's simply an antagonistic disposition that refuses to be pleased.

 

Jesus spoke of that attitude in a parable when he compared many of his day to grumpy children at play who couldn't be satisfied.  He said that his generation was like children at play, one group calling out to the other: "We piped for you and you wouldn't dance, we sang a dirge and you wouldn’t mourn."   That was Jesus' analysis of the fact that many in his time thought John the Baptist was too harsh, and the same people thought Jesus was too much of a partygoer and wine-drinker.  Which only demonstrated that they saw it as their duty in life to be negative.

 

In some parts of Central America hot springs and cold springs are found side by side, and because of the convenience of this natural phenomenon the women often bring their laundry and boil their clothes in the hot springs and then rinse them with the cold ones.  A tourist, who was watching this procedure commented to his friend and guide:  "I imagine that they think old Mother Nature is pretty generous to supply such ample, clean hot and cold water here side by side for their free use."  The guide replied,  "No, there is much grumbling because she supplies no soap."

 

I had a dream recently, and I was caught off guard by it.  Marty is one of the most positive, gracious people that I know, so the role he played in my dream was totally out of character . . . I think.  In my dream Bob, Marty, and I all contracted food poisoning at a church fellowship dinner.  Oh yea.  The casserole we enjoyed was delicious, but deadly!  

 

We were together at the pearly gates, standing in line when Saint Peter came up and announced that he had a pressing matter to attend to and he would be with us after awhile.  He was gone a long time, but finally came back and called me first and asked if I hand minded waiting.

 

I said, "No, I've been looking forward to this a long time.  I love God and can't wait to meet Jesus.  I don't mind at all."  Saint Peter then said, "Well, I have one more question.  How do you spell 'God'?"  I said, "Capital G-o-d."  Saint Peter said, "Go right on in."

 

He then went out and summoned the friendliest man in Tellico Village, Bob Puckett, and asked, "Did you mind waiting?"  Bob said, "O, no, I've been a Christian for . . . well, let's just say its been a long, long time, and I'll spend eternity here. I didn't mind at all."  So Saint Peter said, "Just one more thing. How do you spell 'God'?"  Bob said "G-o-d.  No, wait, I mean capital G."  Saint Peter said that was good and sent him into heaven.

 

Saint Peter went back out and invited Marty in and asked him if he had minded waiting.  And Marty replied, "As a matter of fact, I did mind.  I've had to stand in line all my life, when I went to school, when I went to the movies, goodness knows how many hours at Wal-Mart where I pass the time in line playing peek-a-boo with kids in other aisles.  And what can I say about those endless lines at Best Buy.  Why don't they have more checkout clerks, I give them enough business.  And the ultimate insult . . . I even had to stand in line to get the scoop of casserole at that church dinner that sent me here prematurely.  So yes, I guess I do mind having to wait in line to get into heaven, after all I've done for the church." 

 

Saint Peter said,  "Well, that's understandable and it's alright to feel that way.  And it won't be held against you, but there is just one more question.  How do you spell Czechoslovakia'?"

 

A fourth sign of salvation is purity.  Paul isn't describing anyone I know when he talks about Christian's being "blameless and innocent." What Paul means by the expression in verse fifteen is not abstract perfection . . . but integrity and genuineness.  The word translated "innocent" is used of wine or milk that is pure and not mixed with water.  It is used of metal that has no alloy in it.  When used of people, it means sincerity.  What you see is what you get.  Perhaps integrity is a good synonym for the notion of purity as it's used in the New Testament.  We are growing in salvation to the extent that we are growing in genuineness and authenticity, and losing our hypocrisies--the inner and the outer person becomes integrated and whole.

 

But there is a final sign of salvation that is highlighted by Paul here in this text, and that is the sign of influence.  In verse fifteen he expresses the logical conclusion of growth in salvation by saying that as we are characterized by these attitudes and behaviors, we will shine like stars in the world.

 

At age twelve, Robert Louis Stevenson was looking out into the dark from his upstairs window watching a man lighting street lamps.  Stevenson's governess came into the room and asked what he was doing.  Ever the poet, even at that young age, he replied,  "I'm watching a man cut holes in the darkness."  That's a marvelous picture of what our task should be as sharers of god's light--people who are busy cutting holes in the darkness of our world.  Paul's words come as a challegne to transform society.  As light dispels darkness, so we are called to challenge the darkness of evil, of ignorance, of superstition, of apathy, of hatred, of division, of racism, of sexism, of ugly divisions of all sorts.  That means we are always looking outward, not just inward. Seeking ways and means of engaging our world.

 

Marian Preminger was born in Hungary in 1913, raised in a castle with her aristocratic family, surrounded with maids, tutors, governesses, butlers, and chauffeurs.  Her grandmother, who lived with them, insisted that whenever they traveled, they take their own linen, for she believed it was beneath their dignity to sleep between sheets used by common people.

 

While attending school in Vienna, Marian met a handsome young Viennese doctor.  They fell in love, eloped and married when she was only eighteen. The marriage lasted only one year, and she returned to Vienna to begin her life as an actress.

 

While auditioning for a play, she met the brilliant young German director, Otto Priminger.  They fell in love and married and went to America soon after that, where he began his career as a movie director.   Marian was caught up in the glamour, and soon developed a rather wild and destructive lifestyle.  When Preminger discovered it, he divorced her.

 

Marian returned to Europe to live the life of a socialite in Paris.  In 1948 she learned through the newspaper that Albert Schweitzer, the brilliant physician, musician, and biblical scholar, the man she had read about as a little girl, was making one of his periodic visits to Europe and was staying in Gunsbach.  She phoned his secretary and was given an appointment to see Dr. Schweitzer the next day. When Marian arrived in Gunsbach she discovered he was in the village church playing the organ. She listened and turned pages of music for him.  After a visit he invited her to have dinner at his house.  By the end of the day she knew she had discovered what she had been looking for all her life.  She was with him every day thereafter during his visit, and when he returned to Africa he invited her to come to Lambarene and work in his mission hospital.

 

Marian did--and found herself. There in Labarene, the girl who was born in a castle and raised like a princess, who was accustomed to being waited on with all the luxuries of a spoiled life, became a servant.  She changed bandages, bathed babies, fed lepers . . . and became free.  Marian wrote her autobiography and called it "All I Ever Wanted was Everything."  She couldn't get everything that would satisfy and give meaning until she could give everything.  When she died in 1979, the New York Times carried her obituary, which included this statement from her: "Albert Schweitzer said there are two classes of people in the world--the helpers and the non-helpers.  I have tried to be a helper."

 

"Therefore my beloved . . .  work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is god who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.  Do all things without murmuring and arguing, so that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, in which you shine like stars in the world.  Amen.