Community Church Sermons

Third Sunday of Advent, Year C - December 17, 2000

"Good News For Snake Bite Victims!"

Luke 3:7-18

I'm not sure if it's intended to be tongue-in-cheek humor, but today's Scripture passage from Luke 3 IS kind of humorous. It starts out with John the Baptist calling the people who come to be baptized in the Jordan River "you brood of vipers". John then threatens that an unseen axe is poised and ready to chop down their family tree. And after that, John talks about God separating the wheat from the chaff - the chaff being burned up in an unquenchable fire - and suggesting that these people awaiting baptism are much more chaff than they are wheat. Egads!

And then Luke, the gospel-writer, throws in this little zinger in verse 18, "So, with many other exhortations, John proclaimed the GOOD NEWS to the people."

GOOD news? I beg your pardon, but telling people they are the children of snakes, and branches of a rotten family tree, and headed straight for the fiery furnace hardly seems to be GOOD news to me!

When I was a child, I walked on pins and needles during the Christmas season. My friend Dennis Astrella and I always got worried at that time of year because we knew the song, "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town" was written with us in mind: "He's makin' a list, and checkin' it twice, gonna find out who's naughty or nice…"

That naughty part worried us. A lot. Our visits with Santa Claus in the department store were always tense because, when Santa asked us if we had been good little boys, and we lied and said "yes", we could look into Santa's eyes and knew that he knew the truth. Probably didn't say anything because he didn't want to make a scene.

But, even so, what's the worst you can get from Santa Claus for being an evil child? A lump of coal in your stocking. And besides, on every Christmas morning of my childhood, my reluctant trek down the stairs to meet my well-deserved punishment was always made suddenly joyful by the sight of beautifully wrapped presents under the tree, some of which actually had my name on the tags. You see, even though Santa knew my name was on the naughty list, that jolly old soul just didn't have the heart to carry out the judgment!

But this John the Baptist guy - brood of vipers, bad family tree, wheat and chaff, unquenchable fire - seems so - so - so - anti-the-goodness-of-Christmas!

And yet, Luke calls it the Good News!

Now, how can this be?

John is announcing the coming of the Messiah - the One sent to bring salvation to every man, woman and child on the planet - the One sent to set us free from our sins - the One sent to show us the way to the most beautiful life there can be for humankind. John is announcing the coming of Jesus.

And John, Luke tells us, is preparing the way. In other words, his words and ministry are intended to get us ready so that the gift of the Messiah will actually be able to transform our lives and bring us true salvation. But the claim of John in the Gospel of Luke is that there is something that stands in the way. Something that prevents us from being ready for the healing touch of Jesus.

Now, it's important to note that John is not speaking here to people society might identify as those most in need of salvation. There is no mention here of prostitutes, or thieves, or serial killers, or people from Michigan. No, Luke tells us these are people who've come out to the Jordan to be baptized.

These are people whose hearts are responsive to God - people who want to be faithful - people who place high value on their relationship with God. These are religious people. People like you and me.

You see, we are the ones to whom John is speaking when he uses the terms - brood of vipers, rotten family heritage, more chaff than wheat, unquenchable fire.

There is something standing in the way - something keeping us from the transformation of our lives.

I wonder if you enjoy - as much as I do - the television antics of Steve Irwin. You may better know him as the Australian bloke known as The Crocodile Hunter. This is the fellow in the shorts. The one who sticks his face into the mouth of a giant crocodile and asks for a kiss. The one who dives into a pond full of poisonous reptiles, grabs one by the tail and exclaims, "Isn't she beautiful!"

Well, my favorite Steve Irwin piece is the Federal Express television commercial where he's in the outback, handling the most poisonous snake in the world. All of a sudden, the snake strikes and bites Steve on the arm. And Steve Irwin says a poisonous bite like this out in the outback would be fatal if an antidote wasn't available. And, thank goodness, he says with a smile, Federal Express is delivering the antivenom, and it will be there momentarily because, you know, you use FedEx when it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight. And then a helper runs up and whispers in Steve Irwin's ear. Turns out that they did not send the package by Federal Express, and - with a gasping "Crimey!" - the Crocodile Hunter swoons, and falls to the ground, poisoned.

And that’s the problem John is pointing out. You and I have been snake-bit. A poisonous venom has come into our lives. It runs through our veins, making its way into all we think and do. This poisonous venom cripples our own lives, and through us, it poisons others. It perpetuates itself in everything we touch, including our religious and social institutions. Oh, like the people by the Jordan that day, we can claim to be children of Abraham, or for that matter of John Wesley, or Calvin or Luther or of the Pope, but John warns us that even our religious family roots are infected by this poison. And God is about to lay an axe to these roots, causing the whole poisonous religious tree of our lives to topple.

We are people whose lives have been poisoned by bad religion. That's what it means to be a viper's brood.

Now, when the people heard this message, they asked John, "What should we do?" And this is the question that is asked of each of us in this Advent season. What should WE do to make ourselves ready for the One who is coming?

And here's what John says. If you have two coats, give one away to someone who has none. If you have food, share it with anyone who is hungry. Treat people justly. Don't abuse your power by profiting at others' expense. Don't intimidate people, or spread rumors about them, or accuse them falsely. Don't spend your life griping about others.

In other words, what John is telling us, is that the only way to open your life to the coming of the Savior is to step outside of yourself and start living for others! The way to open the door for Jesus' coming into your own life is by practicing neighbor-love in others' lives!

You know, over the course of the years, I've come to realize that my life is poisoned by all sorts of bad religion. Some of it is religion I’ve picked up on my own. Some of it is religion I’ve inherited from others. It is religion that, in the long run, has not really worked very well. For a time, the main focus of my religion was on how to get Marty Singley to heaven. And over time, I’ve discovered that the more attention I’ve paid to that purpose, the more easily I’ve discarded other people and stood in judgment over them. It sort of became a religion of me and Jesus against the world. And it didn't make for good relationships. You can only play the holier-than-thou game for so long before people see it for the poison it is, and start throwing up every time you come around. This is why some people say they don't even want to go to heaven if they have to spend eternity with the Christians they know! You see, religion that's focused on getting you into heaven is religion that ultimately poisons how you treat others, and consequently, it poisons other peoples' ability to connect with God.

Along with that venomous kind of religion, another favorite of mine has been religion focused on getting heaven into me! Once, I was trying to find a parking space in downtown Boston. If you've ever been to Boston, you know that's not an easy chore. I could have parked in a garage, but that would cost a lot of money. So I circled the block, looking for an empty space. I began to pray. "Lord, I really need a parking space." And lo and behold, just as I came around the corner, a little red Volkswagen pulled away from the curb ahead of me, and I pulled right in. "Thank you, Jesus!" I bubbled, as I parked the car and locked it. Then, I crossed over to the other side of the street to avoid the man laying under newspapers on the bench next to my car. As I sped off to my appointment, I thought to myself how good God is to bless me so.

It wasn't until years later that I began to see glimpses of great hypocrisy in this kind of self-serving faith. You know, I have prayed many more prayers for parking spaces in big cities than I have ever prayed for homeless men sleeping on park benches. I have more often prayed for God to protect me while driving through a bad neighborhood than I have ever prayed for the children who live and play in those very same neighborhoods. My own needs and those of the people closest to me have overwhelmed my practice of prayer, to the point that if God one day asks me for whom I prayed the most, I will have to honestly answer, "For myself and my own interests." And there is no doubt in my heart that, on that day - standing among the poor, and the hungry, and the oppressed, and the dispossessed of the world - I will be utterly ashamed.

I am a snake-bite victim. Poisonous religion runs through my veins. But there is an antidote.

Stepping outside of yourself. Practicing the art of loving the least of Jesus' brothers and sisters.

And why does this prepare the way for Jesus? Because it softens your heart. Because it gives you a perspective on others you've never had before. Because it reminds you every day of how much you need a Savior, and how much the world needs Jesus.

Edwin Markham once expressed this thought in a poem called, "How The Great Guest Came."

"A old cobbler named Conrad had a dream that the Lord was coming to visit him. So he washed the walls of his small shop and his shelves until they shined. He decorated the shop with holly and fir. He put milk and honey on the table to offer to his special guest. Then he sat down and waited.

As he was waiting, Conrad saw a poor barefoot beggar walking in the rain outside his door. He felt sorry for the man and invited him in, and gave him a pair of shoes. The clean floor was now dirty from the rain and the mud.

Just as he was about to clean it up, Conrad noticed an old lady outside who was bent over, carrying a heavy load of firewood. He invited her in to sit and rest. He shared some food with her and then walked home with her, helping to carry the wood.

When Conrad returned to his shop, he thought of all that needed to be done to prepare for the Lord's visit. He began to clean again and hoped he had time to find more food. But just then, a knock at the door. He answered hurriedly. It was a small child crying, lost and cold. He picked up the child, dried the tears, gave her something to drink, and walked her to her home down the street and around the corner.

Conrad hurried back to the shop. He was too tired now to clean or to find more food, but still, he waited. Evening came, and Conrad began to wonder if the Lord had forgot.

Then he heard a soft voice break the silence in the shop. It said, 'Lift up your heart, for I kept my word. Three times I came to your friendly door, Three times my shadow was on your floor. I was the beggar with bruised feet; I was the woman you gave to eat, I was the lost child on that homeless street.'

Conrad smiled to himself, put his feet up on the table, and settled back in his chair to pray and talk with his Saviour so fair. "

In stepping outside of ourselves and practicing the art of neighbor-love, poisonous religion is neutralized, the door is opened, and Jesus comes to us.

May Jesus come to you this Advent!