When my twin brother and I were very young, we found some candy in our parent’s bedroom.  There wasn’t a lot of it, but what was there, we ate.  Unfortunately, we got caught.  Our mom walked in on our little candy-snacking.  Even more unfortunately, the candy turned out not to be candy.  To everyone’s shock, my brother and I had just gorged on my mother’s birth control pills.  She called the doctor and we were rushed to the hospital.  Mom was terrified that we might have just poisoned ourselves.  Thankfully, everything eventually worked out.  But it was a toxic scare.  And, since that incident, I have been unable to get pregnant.

What almost happened to my brother and me happens frequently in the U. S.  According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, every day in the United States, nearly 90 people die as a result of unintentional poisoning.[1]  Another 2,000 are treated in emergency departments each day for unintentional poisoning.

Most of us realize that there are toxic poisons that threaten our lives.  Our medicine cabinets contain them.  Our kitchen cabinets conceal them.  And these toxins threaten our lives.

There are spiritual toxins as well.  That, in fact, is a theme in the book of James.  James is authored by James, the brother of Jesus.  It is addressed to a group of Christians who are suffering trials.  The letter was one of the earliest written in the New Testament.  It focuses on practical wisdom for daily living.  And one of its themes is “pure religion.”

In Jas. 1:27  James writes about “religion that is pure and undefiled.”  In some ways, the entire letter fleshes out that one verse.  James finds that there are toxic poisons threatening the spiritual lives of his readers.  James’ readers face the threat of a religion that is defiled and not pure.  This series will explore some of these toxins that make our religion defiled and not pure.  We’ll explore the toxins James highlights in the first half of James as we lead up to our Special Contribution for World and Urban Missions on April 29.  We’ll return to this series later this fall.

In Jas. 2:14-26 James identifies one of the most deadly toxins that makes our religion defiled not pure: ¹⁴ What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? ¹⁵  If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, ¹⁶  and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? ¹⁷ So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.  ¹⁸ But someone will say, “You have faith and I have works.” Show me your faith apart from your works, and I will show you my faith by my works. ¹⁹  You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe—and shudder! ²⁰ Do you want to be shown, you foolish person, that faith apart from works is useless? ²¹  Was not Abraham our father justified by works when he offered up his son Isaac on the altar?²² You see that faith was active along with his works, and faith was completed by his works; ²³ and the Scripture was fulfilled that says, “Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness”—and he was called a friend of God. ²⁴ You see that a person is justified by works and not by faith alone. ²⁵ And in the same way was not also Rahab the prostitute justified by works when she received the messengers and sent them out by another way? ²⁶ For as the body apart from the spirit is dead, so also faith apart from works is dead. (James 2:14-16 ESV).

James distills our spiritual life down to two ingredients.  He calls them “faith” and “works.”  We could call them “orthodoxy” and “orthopraxy.”  We could call them “doctrine” and “deeds.”  When your spiritual life is boiled down to its essence, this is what remains—doctrine-what you believe; and deeds-how you live.

And James makes this diagnosis: A spiritual life consisting only of the right doctrine is deadly.  James finds that some Christians have the right doctrine.  James even quotes the Shema in vs. 19, the great statement in the Old Testament which served as the foundation for the Jewish faith and the Christian faith: “God is one.”  Yet even though James’ readers have this correct doctrine, they do not have correct deeds.  And the result is toxic.  James writes in vs. 26 that it leaves them “dead.”

James explores how this toxicity affects us vertically and horizontally.  Vertically, a doctrine-only life poisons our relationship with God.  James writes that when it comes to our relationship with God, faith without works is “useless.”  He writes that doctrine without deeds cannot “save” us.   When James writes in vs. 22 that faith is completed by works, the word “completed” means “matured” or “perfected.”  Just like healthy baby matures into an adult, so a healthy faith will mature into works.  The right doctrine will eventually manifest itself in the right deeds.  If it doesn’t, something’s gone wrong.  And that’s what God’s looking for.  James says that if we have a doctrine-only life that never grows in to deeds it’s deadly in terms of your relationship with God.

But it’s also deadly in terms of our relationships with others.  Horizontally, a doctrine-only life poisons our relationships with people.  Notice the illustration James provides: ¹⁵  If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, ¹⁶  and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? ¹⁷ So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.  James is asking, “What are you going to do when confronted by people who have needs?  If your doctrine-only faith does not mature into a deed-also-faith you’ll end up hurting those people.  People in need will end up dying because your doctrine-only faith doesn’t lead you to provide for them.   It’s deadly not only to your relationship with God but also to your relationship with others.

But when doctrine and deeds come together, amazing things happen.  James tells two stories.  First, James tells of Abraham—the father of the Jewish faith.  And though he had some less-than-stellar-moments, there came a time when Abraham’s doctrine expressed itself in the most amazing of deeds.  He came to realize that in order to do what God wanted, it was going to cost him his son Isaac.  He was going to have to sacrifice his son to follow God.  And what few fathers could do, Abraham did.  His faith acted.  And he made the greatest sacrifice a father can make.

Second, James tells of Rahab—Rahab the prostitute.  She worshiped a pagan god and was involved in ungodly living.  But when she heard the story of the God of Israel, she believed.  And she not only believed.  She acted on that belief.  She risked her life to hide Israelite spies who had come to her city.  And that made possible Israel’s first steps into the Promised Land.

This is the kind of healthy and vibrant life James calls us to.  A life in which doctrine gives birth to deeds.  A life of doctrine + deeds does tremendous good in the world.

Many of you have become aware of something that happened to Jab Mesa who runs the Melanesian Bible College in Papua New Guinea.  Highland has supported Jab and his ministry for decades.  As Jab was driving through a town recently, a young boy dashed into the road.  Though Jab tried to stop, he could not.  His car hit the boy and the boy died.  In that culture, when things like this happen, the driver is supposed to leave immediately and head to the police station.  Why?  To save his life.  Because it is not uncommon for those who witness an accident like this to riot and injure the driver.  Even though the accident was not Jab’s fault, it was likely that a mob was about to form and become violent.  So, Jab headed off.  But as he looked through his rear view mirror he could see the mother of the boy weeping and holding her dead son.  And he had to make a decision.  Was his religion going to be about doctrine only?  Or was it also going to be about deeds?  Jab is one of the most orthodox Christians I know.  He understand the teaching of the Bible and has taught the Bible at the Melanesian Bible College for years.  Few know doctrine like Jab Mesa.  But in that split second, Jab had to make a decision.  Would his religion be about doctrine only?  Or would it also be about deeds—even if those deeds were costly.  He made his decision quickly.  And Jab turned his car around.  Knowing he might be killed by a gathering mob, Jab returned to the scene of the accident.  He knew there was no way, as a follower of Jesus, that he could just ignore this tragedy.  He got out of his car and wept with the mother, expressed his heartfelt remorse, and tried to help the mother with her son.  His deeds caught everyone off guard.  It was extremely rare to see a man in this situation do something like this.  Once things finally settled down Jab headed to the police station and reported everything that had happened.  It is also customary in that culture for the family of a victim to make financial demands of someone who kills a family member—regardless of fault.  These demands can run as high as $50,000 U. S. dollars.  Jab is a school teacher in a tribal country.  He makes very little money.  A normal financial demand could have ruined him and his ministry.  But because of the compassion that Jab showed at the accident site and the love he continued to show the family through this process, the family asked for only about $11,000.  Those familiar with the culture said it was a remarkably low demand.  Jab met the family at the police station to deliver part of the money. He then promised that he would bring the rest of the money within a week.  He simply didn’t have that kind of cash.  He would raise it and bring it next week.  And at that promise, a family friend of the victim said this: “That man standing there is a man of God.  He is the voice behind the Sunday Sermons aired on the Local Radio…Now you see the face behind the sermons.  I trust him and his family and church of Christ family.  They will keep their word!”  Jab’s reputation as a man of good deeds and not just good doctrine enabled this family to trust that Jab would bring the rest of the money.  And then, in an almost unparalleled move, the family of the child who was killed visited Jab later in the week.  They brought food and gifts to show their deep respect for him.  The way he had acted toward them was so counter-cultural that they wanted to show their own love for him.  It was a stunning example of how, when deeds are combined with doctrine, amazing things happen.

HopeWorks is a ministry that puts faith into action.  HopeWorks is one way in which Christians across the city can move from of a toxic doctrine-only life into a life in which doctrine expresses itself in deeds which bless people.  Ron Wade is the Executive Director of HopeWorks and he’s joining me here today to help us see just what happens when doctrine and deeds come together on behalf of those in need…

Supporting HopeWorks is one way in which you can put your faith into action.  On April 29 you’ll have the chance to do just that.  We need to raise $129,000 on April 29 to fund the 20 world and urban missions which Highland partners with.  These ministries, like HopeWorks, put faith into action.  And as a result they do a tremendous good in the world.  You can put your faith into action by giving generously on that day.

And you can put your faith into action today by participating in Go MAD.  Sunday School classes, Reach Groups and other groups are headed out today to bless the MidSouth through deeds.  That’s what Go MAD is all about.  It’s about us being a community of people concerned not only with doctrine but also with deeds.

My mouth is filled with your praise, Lord.

All day I declare your splendor.

Why?

Because you are my refuge.

You are my rock.

Upon you I’ve relied since birth.

My tongue tells of your deeds, Lord.

All day I declare your saving acts.

Why?

Because no one does what you do.

You see me through my troubles.

You rescue me from the pits and pains of life.

That’s why today my mouth is full of praise.

[image]

O God, when my heart shivers with fear, I remember:

You are a rock – stable and secure.

You are a tower – unmovable and unassailable.

You are a light- guiding and guarding.

No matter where I am, even at the ends of the earth, you are my rock, my tower and my light.

That’s why I long for you.

That’s why I always will.

[image]

Lord, we thought we perceived your plan.

We believed we knew your purpose.

But you’ve altered that plan.

You’ve adjusted that purpose.

And now, we’re off course.

Now, we’re off the map.

Be with us, Lord, as we step into the unknown.

Help us, Lord, to trust in your person though we do not know your plan.

[image]

Things are too tense, O God.

So stressful, O God!

I want to escape.

Sprint.

Flee.

I long to fly to a distant desert, some remote refuge.

So, I will fly to you.

I will cast my cares on you.

And there they will remain.

[image]

 A life without you God

is like a tree without roots.

Trusting in possessions and power

is like trusting in a dry and dusty creek.

 But a life with you God

is like a tree with deep roots.

Trusting in your constant and steady love

is like trusting in a cold and steady stream.

[images]

A Pew Research study found that nearly half of us have “Googled” our name.[1] This refers to typing your name in the Google Internet search engine to find out if there is any mention of you on the Internet.  Nearly half of us have Googled our name.  Why?  I think it’s because we want to find out if we have any notoriety.  We want to know how popular we are.  We want to know how many people might know our name.

It’s why we clip out newspaper articles that may mention us by name.  It’s why some are so excited about having X number of “friends” on Facebook or X number of “followers” on Twitter.  It’s one reason why I was so excited when, in 1998, my first book was published.  My name was on a book that you might find at a local bookstore!  We want to be known.  We want some notoriety behind our name.

But many of us have probably had times when people didn’t know our name.  Times when we felt like a no-name.  Sometimes we seem to have no popularity, no name. Shortly after my first book came out Jerry Rushford at Pepperdine University in Malibu, California invited me to teach a class on the book at the Pepperdine Bible Lectures.  Wow! I thought.  I have arrived!  I am a known author and I’ll be speaking at the Pepperdine Bible Lectures.  I flew to Los Angeles and got picked up by the Pepperdine vans and was driven to the campus of Pepperdine University.  I attended the opening keynote which was packed and I watched long lines of people waiting speak to the preacher afterwards.  I attended classes in large rooms filled with people eager to listen to the teachers.  All of these preachers and teachers had names I and everyone else knew very well.  These were the celebrities of Churches of Christ.  And I was among their number.  I was on the same program as they were.  Finally, the day arrived for my class.  With great anticipation I entered the room assigned for me.  I expected to see wall-to-wall crowds.  After all, I was an author.  My name was in the lectureship brochure.  But when I entered the room, there were four people present.  Four people had come to listen to my lecture.  Four.  And after fifteen minutes of my lecture, one of them left.  I never felt more like a nobody than I did that day.  I had no popularity.  I was a no-name.

This morning we meet someone who literally has no name.  Her story comes in a series of books in the Bible which are filled with names.  Her story is tucked away in a book called 2 Kings.  The books of 1 Kings and 2 Kings are in the Old Testament.  They are the 11^th and 12^th books in the Bible.  They are part 1 and part 2 of a story.  It’s the story of the kings who ruled over God’s people from the time of Solomon—king David’s son, to end of the nation of Israel.  The story of these kings spans a time period of almost 400 years.  And the books are filled with names, especially the names of kings.  There’s Solomon, Jeroboam, Rehoboam, Abijam, Asa, Nadab, Baasha, Zimri, Omri and a host of other names.  These were people who were well-known.  Some were famous.  Others were infamous.  And within the context of this long story of well-known named kings comes a story about a young woman with no name.

Her story is told in 2 Kings 5.  This chapter is filled with a cast of characters:

• There’s Elisha.  He’s one of the most famous men in the Bible.  He possessed great power from God to do great miracles.  He’s kind of like the Bible’s version of a Star Wars Jedi-knight.  Everyone knows Elisha.
• Then there’s Gehazi.  He’s Elisha’s servant.  He’s well-known not because of his fame but because of his infamy.  He’s the bad guy in this story.
• And then there’s Naaman.  Here’s how he is described: 1 Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Syria, was a great man with his master and in high favor, because by him the LORD had given victory to Syria. He was a mighty man of valor (2 Kgs 5:1-2 ESV).  I’ll point out four things about Naaman.
• First, he is the called “commander of the army of the king of Syria.”  The Syrians, also known as the Aramaeans, occupied territory to the northeast of Israel. ^[2] [PP Map] We are told that recently God has given Syria victory over Israel.  Naaman doesn’t know that God was responsible for this.  Neither does Syria’s king.  As far as they are concerned, Naaman gets all the credit.  He’s led the army to defeat Isreal.
• Second, Naaman is called “a great man.”  This could mean that he had a lot of wealth.  But it more generally means that he was a person of high status.^[3] Everyone knew who Naaman  was.  Just like many Americans knew of “Stormin’ Norman” or General Norman Schwarzkopf after his success in the Persian Gulf War in 1991, everyone knew Naaman.
• Third, he is called a person of “high favor.”  This phrase literally refers to his face.  His face was well-known.  He was recognizable.^[4]
• Fourth, he is called a “mighty man of valor.”  The basic meaning of this phrase is “strong” or “powerful.”  It can be used of physical strength, or material strength, or strength of character.^[5] Naaman was a powerful and influential man in his time—one of the most powerful and influential.  In this story, he’s the person with the biggest name.

Finally, we come to one more person: 2Now the Syrians on one of their raids had carried off a little girl from the land of Israel, and she worked in the service of Naaman’s wife. (2 Kgs 5:2 ESV)  I’ll point out three things about this young woman.  First, just like so many of us, this young woman has no popularity, no name. She’s just called “little girl.”  In the original language, this phrase means small or unimportant.^[6] She is the least important person in the story.  She’s so unimportant she’s not even named.  When famous Naaman led his troops to attack Israel, they did what was common in that day.  They took people and property from the losers for their own purposes.  Someone, perhaps Naaman, abducted this little girl.  She was ripped from the arms of her mother and father and dragged to another country.  Perhaps she never saw her family, her friends, or her home again.  Her story makes me think of Elizabeth Smart, the Salt Lake fourteen-year-old who was abducted for nine months before being rescued.  It’s a tragic story.  But the ironic thing is that at least we know Elizabeth Smart’s name.  She’s visited the White House.  She’s been on TV.  She’s been the focus of books and magazines.  But we don’t even know this girl’s name.  She’s a nobody.  She has no popularity, no name.

Second, like many of us, she has no power. Her owner, Naaman, has a problem: 1 Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Syria, was a great man with his master and in high favor, because by him the LORD had given victory to Syria. He was a mighty man of valor, but he was a leper (2 Kgs 5:1-2 ESV).  The word “leper” does not refer to the debilitating and disfiguring skin disease we associate with the word leprosy. That type of skin disease wasn’t known until much later.^[7] This word just refers to some kind of infectious skin disease.  Naaman probably had patches of skin that would swell, or he had scabs that would flake away and turn light or dark. ^[8] It was still a very serious condition.  And it was virtually impossible to heal.  That’s why when Naaman shows up in the palace of the king of Israel with a letter from the king of Syria asking for the king of Israel to heal Naaman, the king of Israel panics: 7And when the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes and said, “Am I God, to kill and to make alive, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Only consider, and see how he is seeking a quarrel with me.” (2 Kgs 5:7 ESV).  The king of Israel is saying that curing this skin disease would take as much divine power as raising the dead.^[9] Only God could do this.  Naaman has a very serious condition.  And surprisingly, the little girl with no name who’s been abducted and forced into labor wants to do something about it.  The challenge, however, is that she has no power.  She has no resources.  She cannot take him in her car and drive him to a doctor.  She cannot call a specialist to look at him.  She does know someone who can help.  She knows that Elisha has the divine power to heal Naaman.  But she cannot drag Naaman to Elisha or Elisha to Naaman.  This no-name girl has no power.  All she can do is wish out loud: 3She said to her mistress, “Would that my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.” (2 Kings 5:4 ESV).

Finally, this little girl has no perspective.  She has no popularity, no name.  She has no power.  And just like many of us, she has no perspective.  The author of 2 Kings lets us know in vs. 1 that this is really a story about God.  He tells us that God is the one who gave Naaman victory.  God’s at work in this story.  But this little girl has no sense of this larger picture.  She’s just wishing aloud.  She has no idea what God might do with her wish.  She has no perspective.

But here’s the real perspective.  It turns out that God’s not just at work in the war in this story.  And he’s not just at work healing Naaman, as we’ll see in a moment.  God’s actually got something much larger going on here.  God’s goal in this story is to get Naaman, one of the most powerful and influential pagans of the day, to become a worshiper of God.  This is one of the only places in 1^st and 2^nd Kings where we watch a non-Israelite become a worshiper of God.^[10] As part of his ongoing quest to lead people everywhere and everyplace into a relationship with him, God wants to lead Naaman, one of the most well known and most highly regarded celebrities, to become a God-worshipper.  It’d be like God turning Lady Gaga or Edward Cullen into devout followers of God.  The impact on others would be tremendous.

Watch then, how God does this.  The little girl with no name, the nobody in this story who has no power and no perspective, wishes aloud: Would that my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy. Her wish becomes the turning point in the story.  Her wish leads Naaman to become a worshipper of God.  The wife tells Naaman about this wish.  Naaman then tells the king of Syria.  The king sends Naaman with gifts and a letter to the king of Israel.  The king of Israel nearly faints with fear when he reads the letter because he knows there is no way to heal this skin disease.  Elisha eventually hears about it and sends word for Naaman to come to Elisha’s house.  When Naaman arrives, Elisha sends a messenger to Naaman: “Go and wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored, and you shall be clean.” (2 Kings 5:10 ESV).  Naaman blows his top because he’s a big shot and he expected Elisha himself to come out and do some big production to heal him.  But Naaman’s wise servants counsel him to follow the Elisha’s message.  Naaman does.  His skin condition is healed.  And most importantly–Naaman credits the God of Israel.  He confesses, “Behold, I know that there is no God in all the earth but in Israel (2 Kings 5:15 ESV). Then he swears, from now on your servant will not offer burnt offering or sacrifice to any god but the LORD (2 Kings 5:17 ESV). And Naaman takes two loads of earth from Israel, probably to use in building a small altar back in Syria where he will worship the Lord (2 Kings 5:17). ^[11] In our terms, Naaman goes back to Syria and plants a church.  One of the most celebrated and well known pagans of the day goes back home and establishes a place of worship devoted to the one true God.

That’s what God’s doing in this story.  God’s leading a cultural icon and a major power player to become a worshiper of the one true God.  And how did God do it?  He didn’t do it through the powerful people.  He didn’t do it through the people with great insight and heavenly perspective.  He didn’t use the popular people, the ones with big names.  Not even Elisha really plays an important role in this story.  He just sends a servant to tell Naaman to bath in the river.   Instead, God uses this no name little girl to accomplish this amazing feat.  Her wish sets in motion the events that lead to Naaman’s conversion.  God uses the nobody to lead this celebrity to become a follower of God.  Through this no-name person, God does something amazing.

And here’s the real point: God uses those with no popularity—no name and those with no power or perspective to accomplish his purposes in the world. God does his greatest work through everyday people doing the little they can do.  We might think that it’s only the Presidents and Governors and CEO’s and celebrities who get things done in this world.  It’s not.  Not in God’s world.  It’s the children, the teenagers, the college student, the single man or woman, the mother of two, the father of four, the secretary, the janitor, the cashier, and the intern.  It’s the little girl abducted from her home turned into a slave and given no name.  It’s regular people just doing the little they can who become the hero’s in God’s story.

And over forty years ago, it was a group of sanitation workers.  Highland’s Herbert Parson was a nineteen year old Memphis sanitation worker in 1968 when he joined over one thousand of his coworkers in a strike protesting low pay, poor working conditions and safety issues.  In that time in Memphis, sanitation workers were treated like dogs.  They were called buzzards.  They were nobodies.  But in February 1968, Herbert and others made a stand.  They marched in the streets.  They confronted City Hall.  Joined by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. they endured beatings, fire hoses, and mace.  These were people with no popularity, no name.  They had no power in society.  And they had no perspective—they could have never imagined what might have happened through their efforts.  But their stand became a turning point in civil rights history.  These marches of a group of buzzards inspired a movement that helped end an era of national injustice.  The Memphis sanitation workers like Herbert were so influential that they were recently inducted into the U. S. Labor Hall of Fame and personally welcomed by the President of the United States into the White House.  God did some of the greatest civil rights work through this group of nobodies.  Here’s Herbert sharing the story: [VIDEO]

It’s the people with no names.  It’s the people with no power.  It’s the people who might not even have the perspective to imagine what God might do through their little efforts.  Those are the ones whom God uses to accomplish his purposes in the world.  What might God do through you this week?

^[2] Wood, D. R. W., & Marshall, I. H. (1996). New Bible dictionary (3rd ed.) (65). Leicester, England; Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press.

^[3] Swanson, J. (1997). Dictionary of Biblical Languages with Semantic Domains : Hebrew (Old Testament) (electronic ed.). Oak Harbor: Logos Research Systems, Inc.

^[4] Brown, F., Driver, S. R., & Briggs, C. A. (2000). Enhanced Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon (electronic ed.) (816). Oak Harbor, WA: Logos Research Systems.

^[5] Weber, C. P. (1999). 624 ????. In R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer, Jr. & B. K. Waltke (Eds.), Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament (R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer, Jr. & B. K. Waltke, Ed.) (electronic ed.) (271–272). Chicago: Moody Press.

^[6] Brown, F., Driver, S. R., & Briggs, C. A. (2000). Enhanced Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon (electronic ed.) (881). Oak Harbor, WA: Logos Research Systems.

^[7] Myers, A. C. (1987). The Eerdmans Bible dictionary (650). Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans.

^[8] Wiseman, D. J. (1993). Vol. 9: 1 and 2 Kings: An introduction and commentary. Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries (220). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

^[9] Crossway Bibles. (2008). The ESV Study Bible (653). Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles.

^[10] Wiseman, D. J. (1993). Vol. 9: 1 and 2 Kings: An introduction and commentary. Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries (219). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

^[11] Carson, D. A. (1994). New Bible commentary : 21st century edition (4th ed.) (2 Ki 5:1–27). Leicester, England; Downers Grove, Ill., USA: Inter-Varsity Press.

Psychologist Carl Pickhardt writes about fear and the future.[i] He says that before we turn 13 years old, the future is hardly even on our radar screen.  We rarely even think about the future.  From ages 13 to 15, however, we do start thinking about the future.  It suddenly shows up on our radar screen.  But it’s a small blip.  The present is still much more important to us than the future.  From ages 15-18 we really begin to think about the future.  And what we think about the future is that it will be fun.  We think about all the neat things we’ll get to do in the future: drive, graduate from high school, date, move away from home, etc.  But beginning at age 18, the future starts to concern us.  The weight and responsibility of the future looms ahead and we start getting anxious.

I’m not certain that Pickhardt is completely correct.  I’ve known people younger than age 18 who have had great anxiety about the future.  But in general, I think he is right.  There are times in life when we rarely think about the future.  Then we move into a stage when the future does come to mind, but our thoughts of it are mostly positive.  Finally, we reach a point in life when the future scares us.  We get anxious about the future.

For many of us, fear is the primary emotion we feel when we think about tomorrow.  We face the future with fear.  We are afraid of what might happen.  We are anxious about the responsibilities.  The unknown concerns us.  We often face the future with fear.

It is possible that young Timothy felt something similar.  In 1 and 2 Timothy we find Paul, Timothy’s longtime mentor, in his final days.  He writes in 2 Tim. 4 that the time of his departure is near and he is ready to receive his heavenly crown.  For years Paul and Timothy have been together.  There’s rarely been a step in ministry or life when Timothy didn’t have Paul to say, “Here’s what you should do; Here’s where you should go; Here’s how to handle this.”  But now Paul is about to die.  Timothy is about to experience a post-Paul future.  And it is possible that he is afraid.  After all, Paul has to remind Timothy in 2 Timothy 1: “7for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.”  It is possible that Timothy has been wrestling with a spirit of fear as he considers a future without Paul.

Perhaps with this in mind, Paul laces his second letter to Timothy with words of confidence and hope.  For example, he writes in chapter 1:12 “But I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed, and I am convinced that he is able to guard until that Day what has been entrusted to me.” Paul believed strongly in a future that was held firmly in the hands of Jesus.

Paul makes less explicit, but more colorful affirmations elsewhere in 2 Timothy.  Listen to these three passages and notice what is underlined:

⁸Remember Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, the offspring of David, as preached in my gospel, ⁹ for which I am suffering, bound with chains as a criminal. But the word of God is not bound!  ¹⁰Therefore I endure everything for the sake of the elect, that they also may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus with eternal glory. ¹¹The saying is trustworthy, for: If we have died with him, we will also live with him; ¹² if we endure, we will also reign with him; if we deny him, he also will deny us; ¹³ if we are faithless, he remains faithful—for he cannot deny himself. (2 Tim. 2:8-13 ESV)

¹ I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by his appearing and his kingdom: ²preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching. ³ For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, ⁴and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths. ⁵As for you, always be sober-minded, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry.  ⁶For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. ⁷ I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. ⁸Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing. (2 Tim. 4:1-8 ESV)

¹⁶At my first defense no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me. May it not be charged against them! ¹⁷But the Lord stood by me and strengthened me, so that through me the message might be fully proclaimed and all the Gentiles might hear it. So I was rescued from the lion’s mouth. ¹⁸The Lord will rescue me from every evil deed and bring me safely into his heavenly kingdom. To him be the glory forever and ever. Amen. (2 Tim. 4:16-18 ESV)

We may face the future with fear.  But Paul faces his future with faith.  We could use the word “hope.”  We could use the word “confidence.”  Whatever we call it, it is the opposite of fear.  Paul has no reservations about the future.  He is full of faith, hope, and confidence.  From these texts we hear four reasons why.

First, Paul writes something like this: I live the kind of life that will always be rewarded. Paul writes with conviction that even though he may die, he will one day live with Jesus.  In fact, he believes Jesus will award him a crown of righteousness.  The point is that even though Paul lives in a culture which does not applaud his belief system and which punishes his faith, the life he’s lived will nonetheless be rewarded in the future.

There are certain things about the Christian faith that are never going to be popular.  Right now the traditional Christian teaching about the lordship of Jesus is not popular.  It’s not popular to believe that Jesus is the only way to the Father.  Right now the traditional Christian teaching about homosexuality is not popular.  It’s not popular to believe that God created us to experience only heterosexual relationships.  And as we look into the future, these teachings may only get less popular.  There may be more critique of the Christian faith in the future.  Our culture may never reward the Christian faith.  But that does not matter.  Because the Christian life is the kind of life that will one day be rewarded.  It does not matter who punishes us for this life now.  The only thing that matters is that Jesus will reward this life in the future.  That allowed Paul to face the future with faith, hope, and confidence.

Second, Paul says something like this: I am served by a court that will always serve justice. Paul was unjustly imprisoned.  Paul was about to be unjustly executed.  Yet we do not see Paul writing about that.  As Paul looks to the future, he writes about how justice will be served.  He describes Jesus as the judge of the living and the dead.  He calls the Lord the righteous judge.  Paul knows there is a higher court than the Roman court.  There is a better judge than the Roman judge.  Ultimately, in the future, Paul knows that justice will be served.  All the wrong done to him, God will undo.  Everything wrong Jesus will make right.

On September 11, 2001 terrorists connected to Osama bin Laden high jacked four planes which resulted in the deaths of nearly 3,000 people at the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and a field in Pennsylvania.  President Bush declared war on global terrorism and invaded Afghanistan to capture bin Laden.  Bin Laden funded and helped plan scores of additional attacks including a suicide bombing at a nightclub in Bali in 2002, the bombing of commuter trains in Madrid in 2004, and suicide bombs in the mass transit system of London in 2005.  The manhunt continued year after year.  Finally, on May 1 a U. S. Special Operations team descended on bin Laden’s headquarters in Pakistan and killed him.  When President Obama addressed the nation in the moments after the attack, he said this: On nights like this one, we can say to those families who have lost loves ones to Al Quaida’s terror, justice has been done. Hundreds of thousands of people celebrated that night.  Why?  Because justice had been done.  We no longer had to face a future with Osama bin Laden in it.  Justice, so long in coming, finally had been served.

Paul believed in a future that would be filled with similar justice.  Every manhunt would finally be successful.  What had gone unpunished in the present would not go unpunished in the future.  Because the Lord is the judge of the living and the dead.  He is the righteous judge.  And thus as Paul faced the future, he had no fear.  He faced it with faith, hope, and confidence.

Third, Paul says something like this: I live in a kingdom over which the Lord will always reign.  Paul knew that he lived in the kingdom of Rome.  That kingdom had put him in jail.  Yet Paul knew he also lived in another kingdom, a more powerful kingdom—the kingdom of God.  And his final letter focuses on that kingdom.  Paul writes of reigning with God.  He charges Timothy by the kingdom of God.  He trusts that Jesus will bring him safely into the heavenly kingdom.  As Paul faces his final days, one thing on his mind is kingdom.  He believes that he lives in a kingdom over which the Lord will always reign.  It doesn’t matter what the Romans do.  The future is secure because God’s kingship is secure.

A few weeks ago I was at the gym where I exercise.  I was lifting weights and I noticed a man and a woman talking.  The woman was an employee and she was sitting at the desk in the weightlifting area.  The man was a member whom I’ve noticed before.  He has a habit of standing around and talking.  He’s always dressed in exercise gear.  But I’ve never seen him actually exercise.  He just stands around and talks.  This particular day he was holding the woman at the desk hostage with his conversation.  She couldn’t leave the desk and he knew it.  So he proceeded to subject her to a monologue.  He was talking about the future of our country.  I was working out nearby and could hear him.  For a full thirty-minute period he groaned and moaned about the future of our country.  He called the government fascist.  He compared our elected leaders to Hitler.  He ticked off policy after policy that was unconstitutional.  He listed court decision after court decision that was unjust.  Then, near the end of his monologue he brought faith into the discussion.  He talked about how the only king in the world today is King Jesus, but the elected leaders of our country are acting like they are the kings.  “What’s needed,” he said, “is a revolution.”  And by that he meant riots, protests, and people taking to the streets.  He meant that America needs what many Arab cities and nations have been experiencing this year.  He meant a real revolution.  He kept going on and on about how our country only had a few years left and our children’s future was frightening and we needed to overthrow our government.  I found it remarkable that he believed in Jesus, yet when he thought of the future, all he could think about was frightful things.

What a contrast that is from another man who believed in Jesus as king.  As Paul faced a nation so godless and leaders so self-interested that they would execute him, he had no fear, no moaning, and no groaning.  He essentially told Timothy I live in a kingdom over which the Lord will always reign.  That gave him hope, faith, and confidence regarding the future.

Finally, Paul writes something like this: I follow a Lord who will always be present. Paul charges Timothy in the presence of God and Christ.  He writes about the time when no one stood by him, except Jesus.  Jesus was present with him.  And Paul believed Jesus would continue to be present with him in the future.  That gave him hope, faith, and confidence.

Gerald May writes about speaking in Bosnia in 1994.[ii] He was addressing people who had lost homes, possessions, and entire families.  He writes this: As they told us their stories through tears of grief, I sensed deep hope in them.  Through interpreters I asked if it were true.  “Yes, hope,” they smiled.  I asked if it was hope for peace.  “No, things have gone too far for that.”  I asked if they hoped the United Nations or the United States would intervene in some positive way.  “No, it’s too late for that.”  I asked them, “Then, what is it you are hoping for?”  They were silent.  They could not think of a thing to hope for, yet there it was—undeniable hope shining in them.  I asked one last question, “How can you hope, when there’s nothing to hope for?”  The answer was, “Bog,” the Serbo-Croatian word for God. Sometimes there is nothing to hope for when it comes to the future.  But there is always someone to hope in—God.  When there is nothing left to hope for there is someone to hope in—a God who is present with us.  A God who will never leave.

All of these images allow us to face the future not with fear but with faith, hope, and confidence.

And why is this so important?  Because this approach to the future is critical to having the kind of faith that makes a difference.  For a final time we return to the National Study of Youth and Religion.[iii] One of the things it found was a very small group of teenagers who say faith is important and that it makes a difference in their lives.[iv] Researchers found that one in twelve (8%) of American teenagers are “highly devoted.”[v]

They investigated this group and found four things that set these teens apart.  In her book Almost Christian Kenda Creasy Dean writes about them.  They can be summarized in four words: creed, calling, community, and confidence.  We’ve looked at creed, calling, and community.  This morning, we explore confidence.

Researchers found that highly devoted teenagers “countered the hopelessness and cynicism of their peers with a confidence that the world (and their lives in particular) are ‘going somewhere’ good.”[vi] They had confidence and hope “because God controls the outcome.”  Kenda Dean writes, “When a Steelers fan knows that her team has already won the Super Bowl, she can watch reruns of bungled plays without anxiety.”[vii] What allowed these teens to have a highly devoted faith is that they were able to face the future not with fear, but with faith, hope, and confidence.

Randy Spellings and his family have been at Highland for several years.  He is an active member of the military and has served multiple tours in Afghanistan.  As you can imagine, these tours created numerous challenges for him and his family.  Yet Randy did not face the unknown with fear.  With each tour, he faced the future with faith.  We recently asked him to tell us about it.  Here’s his story.

There are two ways to face your future: fear or faith.  How you face it makes all the difference in the world.  If you want a faith that that really matters, learn to face the future with faith, hope, and confidence.

We want to close with a time of silent prayer.  As you think about the future, what are you scared of or anxious about?  Lift that up in prayer to God silently.  Then we’ll stand and sing.

[ii] Gerald May, The Dark Night of the Soul (HarperOne, 2004), 192-193.

[iii] Kenda Creasy Dean Almost Christian (Oxford, 2010), Kindle edition: 317.

[iv] Dean, 371.

[v] Dean, 374.

[vi] Dean, 1321.

[vii] Dean, 1321.

During the French Revolution people were being executed every day. Three men were waiting for their death sentences to be carried out.[1] The first one was a priest. As he was brought to the guillotine, he was asked, “Do you have any last words?”  The priest said, “I believe God is going to save me.” He put his head underneath the blade, the blade came down, but then it stopped two inches from his neck. The executioner said, “This is a miracle,” and they let him go. The next man came up. Like the first, he was a priest. The executioner asked him, “Do you have any last words?” The second priest replied, “I believe God is going to save me.”  He put his head underneath the blade.  The blade came down, but then it stopped two inches from his neck.  They said, “This is a miracle,” and they let him go. The third man came up. He was a skeptic. He was a doubter.  The executioner asked him, “Do you have any last words?” Looking at the guillotine, he said, “Well, I think I see your problem.  There’s something jammed in the gear mechanism.”

Sometimes there’s something in us that just doesn’t believe.  Even when believing might save our life, sometimes we remain the skeptic and the doubter.  For three Sunday mornings at Highland we are exploring the struggle to believe.  In his book Faith and Doubt, John Ortberg confesses that three things often cause him to question God:[2]

1) The flawed product of Christianity—if Christianity can only produce flawed, faithless, and fearful people, is it really a worthwhile religion?

2) The lack of proof—sometimes there seems to be no tangible proof that God exists, that Jesus rose from the dead, or that faith is worth our effort.

3) The pain in life—suffering, tragedy, and disappointments often lead us to wonder if God is really there.  Doubts often arise because the pain of life is too great, the proof of faith is too little, or the people of faith are too flawed.

We’ve been exploring these three sources of doubt as they occur in three chapters of the Bible—John 19-21.  Two weeks ago we looked at the people in these three chapters and how their flaws, fearfulness, and faithlessness could lead an onlooker to have doubts about Christianity.  Last Sunday we walked with Thomas as he wrestled with the issue of proof.  This morning we spend our time with Mary.  Of the three sources of doubt, Mary’s is probably the worst.  It’s probably the source most of us connect with.  Mary struggled with the doubt that comes from pain.

Mary was called Magdalene because she was from Magdala, a city on the shore of the Sea of Galilee.^[3] Luke tells us that Jesus cast seven demons out of Mary and that she was one of several women funding his ministry through their own financial resources.

Let’s walk with Mary on Easter morning: 1 Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark, and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb. 2So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” 3 So Peter went out with the other disciple, and they were going toward the tomb. 4Both of them were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. 5And stooping to look in, he saw the linen cloths lying there, but he did not go in. 6Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen cloths lying there, 7and the face cloth, which had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen cloths but folded up in a place by itself. 8Then the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; 9for as yet they did not understand the Scripture, that he must rise from the dead. 10Then the disciples went back to their homes.  11But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb, and as she wept she stooped to look into the tomb. (John 20:1-11 ESV)

Mary is one of the first to visit Jesus’ tomb.  Seeing the large stone pushed away from the entrance, Mary fears the worst.  She bolts back to where John and Peter are staying and cries out, They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him. Mary sees the empty tomb.  This morning, Christians around the world remember that scene, and they cheer.  Because the image of the empty tomb is the ultimate source of faith for Christians.  But for Mary, that same symbol was a source of despair.  Seeing the empty tomb, Mary can only fear the very worst: They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.

Mary follows Peter and John back to the tomb.  John reaches the tomb first and looks in.  Peter arrives and does more than look.  He enters the tomb.  Then John joins him inside.  Both of them see the cloths which had been wrapped around Jesus.  And the text says that when John saw this, he believed.  John sees the empty tomb with the grave clothes and he believes.  But not Mary.  She can only despair.  John tells us that Mary stands outside the tomb weeping.

Let’s continue: 12And she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had lain, one at the head and one at the feet. 13They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” (John 20:12-13 ESV).  Two angels are sitting on the bench where Jesus’ body had been.  The presence of angels testifies to the fact that the disappearance of Jesus’ body was been caused by divine, not human, action.^[4] I don’t know about you, but if I saw two angels, I’d think God was up to something.  If I saw two angels, I’d start feeling hopeful.  But not Mary.  Mary sees these two angels.  But she still fears the worst.  For the second time we are told that Mary weeps.  And for the second time Mary moans: They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.

Let’s keep following Mary: 14Having said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing, but she did not know that it was Jesus. 15Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” (John 20:14-15 ESV)  First, God gives Mary a glimpse of the empty tomb.  Response?  Tears and fears.  Then, God gives Mary a glimpse of the angels.  Response?  Tears and fears.  Now, God puts Jesus himself in front of Mary.  This is the same Jesus who cast seven demons out of Mary.  This is the same Jesus whom Mary has financially supported.  God puts the resurrected Jesus in front of Mary.  Later in John, when God puts the resurrected Jesus in front of Thomas, the doubting Thomas becomes the believing Thomas.  In the book of Acts, the resurrected Jesus appears to a skeptic named Saul.  And the response?  Saul became a convert and the greatest preacher of Jesus in history.  God puts the resurrected Jesus right in front of Mary. The response?  Tears and fears.  For a third time we are told that Mary is weeping.  And for a third time Mary refers to someone taking the body of Jesus. Mary sees the empty tomb, she sees the angels, and she sees the resurrected Jesus.  To anyone else, these sights should have produced faith.  But for Mary they produced only tears and fears.

Why?  Here’s what I think: Mary’s spirituality is characterized by fearfulness and faithlessness because she lives in the pain of the first and second days. When I refer to the first and second days, I’m referring to Friday and Saturday.  Mary’s still living with the pain of Friday and Saturday.  She cannot get past the pain of that first day of Jesus’ death, the Friday he died on a cross.  And she cannot get past the pain of that second day of Jesus’ death, that Saturday when he was no longer with her.  That pain becomes the filter through which she sees everything.  Things that ought to bring joy and faith—an empty tomb, two angels, and the resurrected Jesus—bring only tears and fears.  Mary cannot see past the pain of the first and second days.

That is often the case for us.  Our spirituality may be characterized by fearfulness and faithlessness because we live in the pain of the first and second days.  We live in a world of first and second days.  We live in a world of tragedy and pain and disappointment.  We live in a world of Fridays and Saturdays.  Earthquakes.  Tsunamis.  Nuclear disasters.  And that’s just what can happen in one day.

This pain becomes a filter through we see everything.  Dostoyevsky, who was a believer, wrote that the “death of a single infant calls into question the existence of God.”[5] Just one death, just one tragedy, can color everything grey.  The pain of living in a world of the first and second days can fill us with fear and drain us of faith.  The pain of living in a world of Fridays and Saturdays can fill us with tears and fears.

Elie Wiesel tells of his first night in a concentration camp.  He saw a wagonload of babies unloaded and thrown into a ditch.  He wrote, “Never shall I forget … the first night in camp, which has turned my life into one long night, seven times cursed and seven times sealed…. Never shall I forget those moments that murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust. Never shall I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself. Never.”[6]

The pain of first and second days murder our God and our souls and turn our dreams to dust.  They become the filter through which view everything.  And no matter how hopeful other things appear to be—an open tomb, two angels, even Jesus himself—we can’t seem to move beyond the pain.

But thankfully, something finally reached through Mary: 16Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned and said to him in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means Teacher). 17Jesus said to her, “Do not cling to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” 18Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”—and that he had said these things to her. (John 20:16-18 ESV).  The resurrected Jesus has already spoken to Mary.  She didn’t recognize him.  But now he speaks her name: “Mary.”  There’s something about being called by your name.  There’s something that catches our attention when someone singles us out by name, isn’t there?

Take a moment, turn to the person next to you, and do two things.  First, ask that person what his/her first name is, if you don’t know it.  Second, say to that person, “Bob, Jesus calls you by name.”

Jesus calls Mary by name.  How many times has Jesus called her by name?  Probably hundreds of times.  Perhaps as she hears her name again, all of those memories of all those times Jesus has called her by name come flooding back into her mind.  And suddenly she recognizes him.  Suddenly she breaks through the pain of the first and second day.

And apparently, she grabs on to him.  Jesus says, “Do not cling to me.”  Jesus was not rejecting her touch.  Prior to his death Jesus allowed Mary to anoint his feet with perfume. After his resurrection he encouraged Thomas to put his finger in the nail prints and his hand into the wound in his side. In Matthew when Jesus met Mary Magdalene and ‘the other Mary’, he did not discourage them when they ‘clasped his feet and worshipped him.’^[7] When Jesus tells Mary to stop clinging to him he’s not rejecting her touch.  He’s simply saying, “Mary, we’ve got work to do. ^[8] You’ve got to go and tell the others that I’m alive.  I’d love to stay here and cherish this moment.  But you’ve got to go and tell the others what you have seen and why you now believe.”  Mary goes from weeping to working.  She goes doubting to believing.

Mary turns 180 degrees.  She sees now that it’s not Friday.  It’s not Saturday.  It’s Sunday.  It’s no longer a time of pain.  It’s a time of promise.  It’s no longer time to fear.  It’s a time to cheer.  Mary’s spirituality is now characterized by faithfulness and fearlessness because she lives in the promise of the third day. 

John Ortberg writes about the three-day stories in the Bible.[9] There are many stories in Scripture that take place over three days.  Ortberg comments, “When a hero named Joseph was in prison, he said to Pharaoh’s cupbearer, “Within three days Pharaoh will lift up your head and restore you to your position” (Genesis 40:13). When Israel was trapped in slavery, Moses asked Pharaoh, “Let us take a three-day journey into the desert” (Exodus 5:3). When the Israelites arrive at Sinai, God said, “Go to the people and consecrate them today and tomorrow…. And be ready the third day, because on that day the LORD will come down on Mount Sinai in the sight of all the people” (Exodus 19:10–11). When Israel was afraid to go into the Promised Land, God said to Israel, “Be strong and courageous…. Three days from now you will cross the Jordan here to go in and take possession of the land the LORD your God is giving you for your own” (Joshua 1:6, 11). When Israel was threatened with genocide, Queen Esther said that she would fast for three days then go to the king to seek deliverance for her people…The third day was used so frequently in this way that it became kind of a technical expression meaning a time to wait for deliverance. “Right now, things are messed up. Right now, hope is being crushed. Right now, hearts are disappointed. But a better day is coming.” In the book of Hosea, the prophet says it like this: “Come, let us return to the LORD…. After two days, he will revive us; on the third day he will restore us, that we may live in his presence” (Hosea 6:1–2)…The third day is God’s day. The third day is the day when prisoners of Pharaoh get set free. The third day is the day when the people come to the mountains and the mountains shake and rivers are parted and people go into the Promised Land. The third day is the day when harem girls like Esther face down powerful kings. The third day is the day when prophets like Jonah are dropped off at seaside ports by giant fish. The third day is the day when idols like Dagon come tumbling down and God starts coming home to his people. The third day is the day stones are rolled away. The third day is the day a crucified carpenter came back to life. You never know what God is going to do, because God is “God of the third day.”

And when we realize this, it changes everything.  Our spirituality can be characterized by faithfulness and fearlessness because we live in the promise of the third day.  While we sometimes live in a world of the first and second days, we live with a God of the third-day.  God is a third-day God.  Say that out loud with me: God is a third-day God.  And because of this, we can believe.  The pain of the first and second days does not have to extinguish the flames of belief.  We can be filled with faith and drained of fear because we live with the comforting promise that God is a third-day God.

This doesn’t mean that the third-day always comes when we want it to come.  Sometimes we have to endure years of first and second days.  Sometimes the Fridays and Saturdays linger.  But eventually, that third day comes.  It always comes.  Because God is a third-day God.  Eventually God takes all those first and second days and turns them into third-days.

Sometimes that third-day comes just when we need it to.  Last fall Highland member Faye Adkins was diagnosed with cancer.  She had previously been diagnosed with cancer.  She beat that one.  But then it came back.  And Faye was catapulted back to a first and second kind of day.  Her life rewound to that first bout with cancer and the pain of its Fridays and Saturdays.  But in spite of her pain, Faye believed.  She didn’t fear.  She cheered.  Because she believed in a third-day God.  And within months, her third-day arrived.  On March 28, she was declared cancer free.  Here’s her story: [VIDEO of Faye] Faye was able to face her second bout with Fridays and Saturdays because she believed in the God of Sunday.  And that made all the difference in the world.

Two atheists were going door-to-door.  Like door-knocking Christians, the two atheists were trying to introduce people to their beliefs.  At one home, they rang the doorbell.  A man answered and opened the door.  The two atheists handed him a pamphlet.  The homeowner looked at it.  “This pamphlet is blank,” he said.  The two atheists explained, “Well, we’re atheists.” If there is no God, there is no story. There is nothing to write.[10] If the first and second day is all there is, there is no story.  The pamphlet is blank.  We may as well be atheists.  There’s nothing and no one to believe in.  But God is not a first and second day-God.  He’s a third-day God.  Ours is a God who is not content to leave the calendar on Friday or Saturday.  He’s the one who always turns it to Sunday.  And that’s a story that makes all the difference in the world.

Sermonette for Sunrise Service

Mary is one of the first to visit Jesus’ tomb that first resurrection Sunday.  Seeing the large stone pushed away from the entrance of Jesus’ tomb, Mary fears the worst.  She bolts back to where John and Peter are staying and cries out, They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him. Mary sees the empty tomb.  This morning, Christians around the world remember that scene, and they cheer.  Because the image of the empty tomb is the ultimate source of faith for Christians.  But not for Mary.  Seeing the empty tomb, Mary can only fear the very worst: They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.

Mary follows Peter and John back to the tomb.  John reaches the tomb first and looks in.  Peter arrives and does more than look.  He enters the tomb.  Then John joins him inside.  Both of them see the cloths which had been wrapped around Jesus.  And the text says that when John saw this, he believed.  John sees the empty tomb with the grave clothes and he believes.  But not Mary.  John tells us that Mary stands outside the tomb weeping.

Two angels are sitting on the bench where Jesus’ body had been.  The presence of angels at the tomb testifies to the fact that the disappearance of Jesus’ body was caused by divine, not human, action.^[11] If I suddenly saw two angels, I’d start feeling hopeful.  But not Mary.  Mary sees these two angels.  But she still fears the worst.  For the second time we are told that Mary is weeping.  And for the second time Mary moans: They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.

God gives Mary a glimpse of the empty tomb.  Response?  Tears and fears.  Then, God gives Mary a glimpse of the angels.  Response?  Tears and fears: Now, God puts Jesus himself right in front of Mary.  God puts the resurrected Jesus right in front of Mary. The response?  Tears and fears.  For a third time we are told that Mary is weeping.  And for a third time Mary refers to someone taking the body of Jesus. Mary sees the empty tomb, she sees the angels, and she sees the resurrected Jesus.  But all she gives are tears an d fears.

Why?  Here’s what I think: Mary’s spirituality is characterized by fearfulness and faithlessness because she lives in the pain of the first and second days. When I refer to the first and second days, I’m referring to Friday and Saturday.  Mary’s still living with the pain of Friday and Saturday.  She cannot get past the pain of that first day of Jesus’ death, the Friday he died on a cross.  Sshe cannot get past the pain of that second day of Jesus’ death, that Saturday in which he was no longer with her.  And that pain becomes the filter through which she sees everything.  Things that ought to bring joy and faith—an empty tomb, two angels, and the resurrected Jesus—do not.  Why?  Because Mary cannot see past the pain of the first and second days.

That is often the case for us.  In many ways, we live in a world of first and second days.  We live in a world of Fridays and Saturdays.  Earthquakes.  Tsunamis.  Nuclear disasters.  And that’s just what can happen in one day.

And this pain becomes a filter through which we see everything.  Dostoyevsky, who was a believer, wrote that the “death of a single infant calls into question the existence of God.”[12] Just one death, just one tragedy, can color everything else.

But something finally reaches through Mary’s pain.  The resurrected Jesus calls Mary by name.  There’s something about being called by your name.  There’s something that catches our attention when someone singles us out by name, isn’t there?  Jesus calls Mary by name.  How many times has Jesus called her by name?  Probably hundreds of times.  Perhaps as she hears her name yet again, all of those memories of all those times when Jesus called by name come flooding back into her mind.  And suddenly she recognizes him.  Suddenly she breaks through the pain of the first and second day.  She sees now that it’s not Friday.  It’s not Saturday.  It’s Sunday.  It’s no longer a time of pain.  It’s a time of promise.  Mary’s spirituality is now characterized by faithfulness and fearlessness because she lives in the promise of the third day.

John Ortberg writes about the three-day stories in the Bible.[13] There are many stories in Scripture that take place over three days.  Ortberg comments, “The third day is God’s day. The third day is the day when prisoners of Pharaoh get set free. The third day is the day when the people come to the mountains and the mountains shake and rivers are parted and people go into the Promised Land. The third day is the day when harem girls like Esther face down powerful kings. The third day is the day when prophets like Jonah are dropped off at seaside ports by giant fish. The third day is the day when idols like Dagon come tumbling down and God starts coming home to his people. The third day is the day stones are rolled away. The third day is the day a crucified carpenter came back to life. You never know what God is going to do, because God is “God of the third day.”

While we sometimes live in a world of the first and second days, we live with a God of the third-day.  God is a third-day God.  Say that out loud with me: God is a third-day God.  And because of this, we can believe.  The pain of the first and second days does not have to extinguish the flames of belief.  We can be filled with faith and drained of fear because we live with the comforting promise that God is a third-day God

[2] John Ortberg, Faith and Doubt (Zondervan, 2008), Kindle edition, location 1528-1534.

^[3] Crossway Bibles. (2008). The ESV Study Bible (1967). Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles.

^[4] Kruse, C. G. (2003). Vol. 4: John: An introduction and commentary. Tyndale New Testament Commentaries (371). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

[5] Ortberg, Kindle:202.

[6] Ibid.

^[7] Kruse, C. G. (2003). Vol. 4: John: An introduction and commentary. Tyndale New Testament Commentaries (372–373). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

^[8] Kruse, C. G. (2003). Vol. 4: John: An introduction and commentary. Tyndale New Testament Commentaries (372–373). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

[9] Ortberg, Kindle: 1340.

[10] Ortberg, Kindle: 1740.

^[11] Kruse, C. G. (2003). Vol. 4: John: An introduction and commentary. Tyndale New Testament Commentaries (371). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

[12] Ortberg, Kindle:202.

[13] Ortberg, Kindle: 1340.

Several years ago I got into a Bible study with a non Christian named Lon.  Lon was a financial analyst who might spend hours at work tracking down one mistake on a financial report.  When he watched television, he carried that same attitude with him.  He always asked questions and looked for errors or mistakes.  And he applied this same skeptical approach to faith.  Often when we studied the Bible together, we’d only make it through two or three verses before Lon would ask several questions that take the rest of our time to answer.  And he was rarely satisfied with my answers.  He always took the skeptic’s approach and kept pressing and prodding.  After studying with me almost weekly for an entire year, Lon decided he did not want any more.  He really didn’t believe Scripture.  He didn’t want to become a Christian.  He had too many doubts and reservations.  Some non Christians have a lot of doubts.

And some Christians do as well.  A friend of mine started a church from the ground up and helps coach other church-planters.  He’s one of the most intelligent and godly people I know.  Yet he has confessed that he is, in his own words, a congenital doubter.  All his Christian life he’s had doubts, questions, concerns, and issues with the Christian faith that just won’t go away.  Belief has never come easy for him.  It’s never been simple.

New Testament Scholar D. A. Carson has spent a lifetime talking to people about faith and doubt.  He writes that our spiritual doubts can have many causes.[1]

• For some, doubt is grounded in ignorance.  They simply haven’t learned enough to fuel any faith or what they have learned, in error, keeps faith from growing.
• For others, doubt is grounded in a moral quandary.  That is, their doubts have more to do with some moral or ethical quandary than any real intellectual challenge.  For example, Lynn Anderson, in his book If I Really Believe, Why Do I Have These Doubts? tells of George.[2] George complained for years that he could not get over the intellectual barriers that stood in the way of a full-hearted faith in God.  But then George admitted, “I had latched on to the intellectual barriers because I feared some of my major advertising clients would dump me if they found out I was a believer.”  Some of us doubt because of the moral or ethical cost of believing.
• For others, doubt is a rite of passage.  It is a stage they must go through on their way to a more solid and mature faith.
• Further, sometimes doubt is generated not by one huge philosophical choice but by ten thousand small choices.  Small compromises or tiny intellectual choices along the way can eventually erode faith.
• Finally, doubt may be generated by crisis—the loss of a loved one, for instance, or the memory of abusive parents, or some other great suffering.

In this Sunday morning series we are exploring three sources of doubt.  Some of us doubt because of the people of faith.  We look around and see the flawed people of faith and think to ourselves, “If that’s what Christianity produces, I have serious doubts as to its legitimacy.”  We explored that source last Sunday.  Next Sunday, Easter Sunday, we’ll explore the issue of pain.  Sometimes the pain of life is too great and it leads us to doubt God’s existence.  But this morning we take up the issue of proof.  When it comes to Christianity we may doubt because of a lack of proof. We may have had faith early on but then lost it because there didn’t seem to be enough proof to sustain our faith.  We may have never had much faith because we couldn’t get enough proof to lead us to faith.

This is, in fact, one of the driving forces behind what is called “the new atheism” in America.  CNN reported on some of the major players in this new atheism.[3] They include Richard Dawkins, author of The God Delusion, Sam Harris, author of Letter to a Christian Nation, and Christopher Hitchens, author of God is Not Great: The Case Against Religion.  Dawkins reports, “We cannot, of course, disprove God, just as we can’t disprove Thor, fairies, leprechauns and the Flying Spaghetti Monster.  But, like those other fantasies that we can’t disprove, we can say that God is very, very improbable.”  Harris claims it is “too embarrassing” to believe in God.  The doubts of these new atheists are fed by the conviction that there simply isn’t enough proof to believe.

This morning’s text allows us to wrestle with this issue of proof.  This morning we focus on Thomas.  Here is how John describes the heart of Thomas’ struggle to believe: 24Now Thomas, one of the Twelve, called the Twin, was not with them when Jesus came. 25So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.” (John 20:24-25 ESV).  Perhaps there have been times when Thomas was full of faith.  But in this text, he is not.  In our text this morning we find Thomas at one of his low points.  Faith is gone.  Doubt is dominant: Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.

Thomas doubts in spite of the proof of the tomb. Peter, John, and Mary must have shared with Thomas what they had found at the tomb.  The stone which blocked entrance to the tomb had been taken away.  The linen clothes which covered the body of Jesus were there, as was the cloth used to cover Jesus’ face.  Two angels were seen by Mary.  The resurrected Jesus spoke directly to Mary.  Peter, John, and Mary tell Thomas all of this.  But not even this proof from the tomb is enough for Thomas.

Not only that, but Thomas doubts in spite of the proof of the room.  One that same day, Sunday, when Thomas and the others must have heard the reports about the tomb, something dramatic takes place in a locked room: 19 On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked where the disciples were for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” 20When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord. (John 20:19-20 ESV).  We are told in the next verse that Thomas is not present at this gathering.  We must assume that at least the other ten disciples are present (the twelve minus Thomas and Judas).  Jesus appears before them and shows them his hands and his side—the very thing Thomas says he needs in order to believe.  And those present in the room are convinced.  John reports, “the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord.”  According to verse 25, these disciples then tell Thomas what happened.  They present the proof from the room.  But Thomas remains unmoved.  “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.” Thomas doubts in spite of the proof of the tomb and the room.

Why?  We’re not told for sure.  But we can speculate.  In John 10, Jesus and the Twelve are in the wilderness near the Jordan River.  Word comes to them from Bethany, a village close to Jerusalem, that a good friend named Lazarus has died.  To return to the vicinity of Jerusalem and tend to this death would be dangerous.  The last time Jesus and the disciples were there, they were almost killed.  Still, Jesus decides to make the trip to Bethany.  As they head out, John reports, So Thomas, called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” (Jn. 11:16 ESV)  Thomas has a certain perspective.  He sees what’s happing—the hostility from the Jewish leaders, the talk from Jesus in John 10 about how he will lay down his life for the sheep—and he’s reached a conclusion.  Thomas knows without a doubt how this story’s going to end.  It’s clear to him that this tale is going to be a tragedy.  Jesus is going to die.  There’s no way around it.  And that’s going to be the end of it.  Thomas has no hope-filled belief that when Jesus dies he’ll come back.  No.  Jesus is going to die.  And the story will end.  So Thomas seems to say, “Well, let’s get this over with.  If we head to Bethany, the Jewish leaders from Jerusalem will be there.  They’ll kill Jesus.  They’ll kill us too.  We may as well all go and die right now.  Because once Jesus is dead there’s no reason to live.”

Thomas has a certain perspective that colors the way he interprets everything else.  In Thomas’ mind, the undeniable fact is that Jesus will die and he will not come back.  Jesus’ death will not only be the end of Jesus, it will be the end of the Jesus-ministry and the Jesus-mission.  Thus when Mary, Peter, and John report to him what happened at the tomb, Thomas disbelieves.  And when the ten disciples report to him what happened in the room, he disbelieves.  Thomas doubts because his perspective overshadows the proof. He believes he already knows how this story goes.  And no amount of proof can change his mind.

Thomas’ story reminds me of another man named Antony—Antony Flew.  Thomas was a doubter because his perspective kept him from seeing the proof.  The same was true for Antony Flew.  For years, this British philosopher was one of the most infamous proponents of atheism.  One of his earliest writings about atheism, which he presented while a student at Oxford in the hearing of C. S. Lewis, became one of the most widely reproduced documents on atheism.  Antony had a certain perspective.  He knew how the world worked.  He knew that faith was a joke.  And no amount of proof would change his mind.

But in 2004 Antony Flew stunned the religious world by announcing that he was now a believer in God.  Eventually, he reported, the proof for the existence of God became overwhelming.  Eventually the proof overshadowed his perspective.  He wrote a book entitled There is a God in which he documented the kinds of proof that led him to reverse his disbelief.  In one place, Flew wrote, “I now believe that the universe was brought into existence by an infinite Intelligence. I believe that this universe’s intricate laws manifest what scientists have called the Mind of God. I believe that life and reproduction originate in a divine Source. Why do I believe this, given that I expounded and defended atheism for more than a half century? The short answer is this: this is the world picture, as I see it, that has emerged from modern science.”[4] In other words the proof of science finally overcome his former perspective.  In another place Flew wrote, “Although I was once sharply critical of the argument to design, I have since come to see that, when correctly formatted, this argument constitutes a persuasive case for the existence of God.”[5] Flew had dismissed evidence in the past.  But eventually he came upon evidence which he could not dismiss.  As far as he was concerned, the proof now overwhelmed his former perspective.

Flew was a long ways from accepting Christianity when he died last April.  But his is a remarkable story of a person who spent a lifetime doubting faith because of his own perspective and then being led to faith because of overwhelming proof.

This is what happened to Thomas: 26Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” 27Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe.” 28Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:26-28 ESV).  Thomas reviews the proof of the tomb and proof of the room for seven days.  From Sunday to Sunday God and Jesus allow Thomas to stew in his disbelief.  They leave him alone.  They let him wrestle with what others told him about regarding the tomb and the room.   But the following Sunday, however, they wait no more.  Jesus appears.  The proof is staring Thomas in the face.  He can no longer ignore it.

And suddenly Thomas believes because the proof overshadows his perspective. Thomas moves from “I will never believe” to “My Lord and my God!”  Thomas doesn’t merely exclaim, “Lord and God” but “my Lord and my God!”  This is a personal confession.  This is a personal faith.  Something deep within Thomas has changed.

Thomas’ confession here is the last of a series of confessions found in John’s Gospel. John the Baptist testified that Jesus was the Son of God (1:34).  Nathanael declared, ‘Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the King of Israel’ (1:49).  The Samaritans said, ‘we know this man really is the Savior of the world’ (4:42).  The man born blind confessed, ‘If this man were not from God he could do nothing,’ (9:33, 35–38).  Martha said, ‘I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who was to come into the world’ (11:27).  And the disciples confessed, ‘This makes us believe that you came from God’ (16:30).   Finally, we hear Thomas’ confession.  It is not only the last confession; it is the climactic confession of John’s Gospel.^[6] No other confession in John rivals this one.  The greatest confession of faith comes from one who once had some of the greatest struggles with doubt.  “My Lord and my God!”

At some point there is evidence enough to overcome our doubt.  At some point there is enough proof enough to move us from wondering to adoring, from saying “Are you there?” to “My Lord and my God!”  It might come through reading books like Lee Strobel’s The Case for Faith, The Case for Christ, or The Case for a Creator.  It might come through the testimony of a trusted and dear friend.  It might come through a religious experience while walking, hiking, or meditating.  Whatever the proof, Thomas gives hope to those of us who doubt because we don’t think there is enough proof.  For those who wrestle with this form of disbelief, there is evidence enough to overcome that perspective.  There is evidence enough to lead you to a deep and personal faith.  But we must be willing to seek it.  And we must be willing to accept it.

But that’s not the ultimate point of this story.  Because the story doesn’t end there.  It continues: 29Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” (John 20:29 ESV).  Jesus is thrilled at how this new proof has helped Thomas believe.  In a matter of seconds, this proof has enabled Thomas to shift from “I will never believe” to “My Lord and my God!”  But Jesus wants Thomas to know that that’s not the end.  There’s another step to be taken.

There is a certain kind of faith, Jesus says, which comes from seeing.  Thomas believed because he saw the proof.  But there is another kind of faith, Jesus says, which does not require seeing: Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed. Jesus is not saying that the faith that comes through seeing proof is inferior to the faith that doesn’t require seeing proof.  But he is saying that the former should grow into the other.  Jesus is saying that ultimately we may believe without requiring proof.

One ancient Jewish teacher wrote, “The proselyte is dearer to God than all the Israelites who stood by Mount Sinai.  For if all the Israelites had not seen the thunder and the flames and the lightnings and the quaking mountain and the sound of the trumpet they would not have accepted the law and taken upon themselves the kingdom of God.  Yet this man has seen none of all these things yet comes and gives himself to God and takes on himself the yoke of the kingdom of God.  Is there any who is dearer than this man?”[7] The ancient Jews understood the difference between a faith that is fueled primarily by proof and a faith is that fueled regardless of proof.  And they prized the latter.  They strove for the latter.  They longed to grow into a faith that did not require evidence as a lifeblood.

William Lane Craig in his book Reasonable Faith suggests that there is a difference between knowing something to be true and showing something to be true.[8] All Christians know that God exists.  But not all Christians can show that God exists. All Christians believe God exists.  But not all can articulate the intellectual arguments that show that God exists. Jesus invites us past what we can show to what we can know.

I think this is a helpful distinction.  Jesus is thrilled for us to move from doubt to faith through proof and evidence which can allow us to show something to be true.  But what Jesus ultimately desires for us is a faith that knows something to be true, with or without the empirical evidence.  For example, I can master all the arguments that show that God exists.  I can teach those arguments.  I can demonstrate that proof.  I can, with eloquence, show that God exists.  But that is a very different level of faith from my friend Randy Harris who has spent 40 days in silence at a monastery and experienced the presence of God and became intimate with God.  That is a very different level of faith from one of Highland’s saintly women like Ann King who has spent more time on her knees than most of us have spent on our feet and through personal experience knows God intimately.  It is truly one thing to be able to show that God exists.  It is another to really know that God exists.

Jesus is not saying there shouldn’t be a rationale basis for faith.  He’s not saying it’s wrong to seek evidence.  He’s suggesting instead that we seek more than just proof—we seek the one behind the proof.  He’s urging us to not be content with something we can only show.  He’s wanting us to seek after that which we can also intimately know.

Donald Miller, in his book Blue Like Jazz, writes this:[9] I like that scene in the movie Dead Poets Society in which Mr. Keating, an English instructor at an elite preparatory school, asks his students to rip out the “Introduction to Poetry” essay from their literature textbooks. The essayist had instructed students in a method of grading poems on a sliding scale, complete with the use of a grid, thus reducing art for the heart into arithmetic for the head. The students looked around at each other in confusion as their teacher dismissed the essay as rubbish and ordered them to rip these pages from their books. And at their teacher’s loud prodding, the students began to rip. Dr. Keating paced the aisle with a trash can and reminded the students that poetry is not algebra, not songs on American Bandstand that can be rated on a scale from 1 to 10, but rather pieces of art that plunge the depths of the heart to stir vigor in men and woo women.  Too much of our time is spent trying to chart God on a grid, and too little is spent allowing our hearts to feel awe. There are certain things we can understand with our minds.  There are additional things we can feel with our hearts.  We can chart the reasons for faith on a grid.  But there’s so much more to it than that.  Jesus offers a faith that is not just arithmetic for the head, but also art for the heart.

[2] Lynn Anderson, If I Really Believe, Why Do I Have These Doubts?, 103-104.

[3] http://articles.cnn.com/2006-11-08/world/atheism.feature_1_new-atheists-new-atheism-religion?_s=PM:WORLD.

[4] Antony Flew, There is a God, (Kindle:1087).

[5] Antony Flew, There is a God, 95.

^[6] Kruse, C. G. (2003). Vol. 4: John: An introduction and commentary. Tyndale New Testament Commentaries (379). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

[7] D. A. Carson The Gospel According to John (IVP, 1991), 660.

[8] William Lane Craig Reasonable Faith, 31-32.

[9] Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz (Nelson, 2003), 205.