I’m watching you, Lord.

My eyes are fixed on your hands.

The way a child looks to the hands of her father.

The way an athlete looks to the hands of his coach.

The way a patient looks to the hands of her doctor.

I’m watching you, Lord.

My eyes are fixed on your hands.

May they bring the mercy I so desperately need.

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Lord, this conflict makes me cry.

This war makes we weep.

This battle has become too great a burden.

Too quickly did the powerful move from words to war!

Too quickly did tongues send soldiers to serve!

Bring this war to an end.

Send a ceasefire.

Let there be peace on earth.

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I’m hungry, Lord.

Starving for your statutes.

Drooling for your decrees.

I can’t wait any longer.

My soul craves your Scripture more than my lungs long for air.

So pile my plate with your Word.

Tie a bib around my neck, put a fork in my hand and step back–this is going to be messy.

I’m going to dig in like a dying man.

I’m not going to stop until I lick the plate clean.

And then I ‘ll ask for seconds.

Nothing fulfills me like your Word, Lord.

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Lord, I was suffering.  I was no longer singing.

There was no hymn in my heart.  There were no lyrics on my lips.

I was mad because I was mistreated.  Those mean people made off with the music of my life.

But now, Lord, your counsel brings comfort.  Your word brings hope.

Because of you, I am no longer suffering. I am once again singing.

Your word has put the beat back in my heart and the soul back in my song.

I’m tapping my toes and humming a hymn.

Your word has become the music of my life.

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Marjorie Thompson proposes that genuine confession can be contrasted with counterfeit confession in two primary ways: [i]

The problem with counterfeit confession is that it leads to one of two destructive fruits: anxiety or pride.  The more our attention is drawn only toward our failures, the more easily we fall into anxiety.  We begin to fret because we seem so unworthy of God’s love.  We start to despair because we see how flawed we truly are.

Counterfeit confession can also lead to pride.  We may actually become conceited because of our confession.  That is, we may grow proud at the way we’ve learned to be honest with God “(Look at me God.  I admit my flaws frequently.  I’m not like that Pharisee who could only admit the flaws of others!”).  We may also become proud, in a strange way, of our sin.  It can become a kind of badge of honor (“No one struggles with this as much as I do.  No one has such a burden of sin like mine!”).  Pride or anxiety is the result of counterfeit confession.

True confession, however, never bears these two deadly fruits.  Its focus is on God rather than on us.  It meditates much more on the Father than on our faults.  It contemplates God’s favor rather than just our fiascos.  And as a result, true confession bears the fruit of genuine humility that neither lifts us too high nor drops us too low.  In true confession we receive an accurate portrait of who we are.  But we also receive a correct image of who God is.

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What is the best way to stay pure in an impure world?

What is the best way to attend to the interior in a world focused on the exterior?

Your Word is the way.

Your Word washes away my past impurities.

It keeps me future impurities.

Your Word gets bone-deep.

It transforms my heart and mind.

Because your word purifies me within and without I will walk its way today.

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On Sunday morning’s we are exploring seven statements from Jesus, about Jesus which are recorded in John’s Gospel.  They all begin with the words “I am.”  We call them the “I Am” statements.  The series is called “Slice” because we so often just want a slice of Jesus with the rest of our life.  But in these “I Am” statements, Jesus shows us what it would be like to have all of Jesus; to let Jesus truly be our life.  This morning’s “I am” statement comes from John 8 and John 9.  Jesus claims to be “the light of the world.”  What does this mean?  What kind of light is Jesus?  What does his light enable us to see?

Two lights played significant roles in my life when I was young: a night light and a black light.  As you know, these are two different types of lights.  A black light exposes something bad and a night light uncovers something good. As a young child, I had a night light.  Like many young children, I was afraid of the dark.  I could imagine creatures with tentacles under my bed, monsters with fangs in the corner of the room, and goblins with long fingernails hiding near the window.  But the warm and soft glow of the nightlight uncovered the fact that all was well.  The night light revealed that there were no monsters.  There was only my safe room.  Night lights comfort.  Night lights relieve.  They show that the bad thing we thought was there isn’t.  Night lights uncover something good.

By contrast, black lights expose something bad.  There are all kinds of ugly stains that are invisible in normal light that become visible in black light.  We think there’s nothing bad, but then the black light exposes something really nasty.  Stephen Kingsley writes this: “In our family carpet cleaning business we offered a special service for removing pet urine odors. To show potential customers their need for the service, I would darken the room and then turn on a powerful black light. The black light caused urine crystals to glow brightly.  To the horror of the homeowner every drop and dribble could be seen, not only on the carpet, but usually on walls, drapes, furniture, and even on lamp shades. One homeowner begged me to shut off the light: ‘I can’t bear to see anymore. I don’t care what it costs. Please clean it up!’ Another woman said, ‘I’ll never be comfortable in my home again.’  The offense was there all the time, but it was invisible until the right light exposed it.”[1]

Black lights expose something bad.  Night lights can uncover something good.  These two lights help us make sense of this morning’s text.

Two stories about light are narrated in John 8 and John 9.  Twice, once in each chapter, Jesus talks about light.  Near the beginning of John 8, Jesus says this: “I am the light of the world.  Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (Jn. 8:12 ESV).  And near the beginning of John 9 Jesus says something similar: “As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” (Jn. 9:5 ESV).  The statement in John 9 comes at the beginning of a story about a blind man whom Jesus heals.  Jesus’ saying “I am the light” seems to introduce that story.  Last year we listened to that story during another series.  We won’t focus on it this morning.  The similar statement in John 8 comes at the end of a different story.  Jesus’ saying “I am the light” seems to conclude that story.  That story in John 8 will be our focus this morning.

Both the story in John 8 and the story in John 9 are stories about lights.  Both stories involve a conflict between Jesus and the leaders of religion. Jesus has one kind of light.  And the leaders of religion have another kind of light.  This creates conflict.

Let’s read the story in John 8 which Jesus’ statement “I am the light” is attached to:¹ but Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. ² Early in the morning he came again to the temple. All the people came to him, and he sat down and taught them. ³ The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery, and placing her in the midst ⁴ they said to him, “Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. ⁵ Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” (Jn. 8:1-5 ESV).

2T.4

A brief word about our story: your Bible, like mine, may indicate that this story is not considered to be part of the Gospel which John wrote.  We do not possess the actual document John wrote.  But we have early copies.  And those early copies do not have this story.  This story, however, is very important.  Later copies of John’s Gospel have it.  And most scholars believe that this event actually happened.

A group called “the scribes and the Pharisees” show up early in the morning in the courts of the temple.  They’ve brought with them a woman whom John says, “had been caught in adultery.”  She’s not just been accused of adultery, like some political candidate might be.  She’s doesn’t just have a history of adultery, like some prostitute might.  She’s been “caught” in adultery.  This means she’s been caught “in the act.”  Moments or seconds ago these leaders of religion yanked her out of bed where she was sleeping with a man she was not married to.  She’s not just shoplifted.  She’s not just been caught speeding.  She’s been caught breaking either her or the man’s wedding vows.

And while such behavior might be commonplace today, it was severely condemned in Jesus’ day.  In fact, as the leaders of religion point out, in the Old Testament law “Moses commanded us to stone such women.”  This was a crime worthy of death.  Actually, the Old Testament law required both the man and the woman to be put to death (Lev. 20:10; Deut. 22:22).  But the leaders of religion have conveniently left the man back in bed.  They just want the woman.  And though they clearly have impure motives, their reading of the law is correct.  Regarding the woman, her crime is worthy of death.  She should be stoned to death.

Let’s imagine that this story is a story about light.  After all, one verse after this story ends we hear Jesus say, “I am the light of the world.”  Let’s imagine that this story is a story about light.  Let’s imagine that the leaders of religion have one kind of light and Jesus has a different kind of light.  What kind of light are the leaders of religion carrying?  I’ll make this suggestion: Religion often carries a black light to expose our evil. There’s only one concern in the hearts and minds of these religious leaders: expose the woman’s evil.  Reveal her misdeed.  After all, they make the woman stand, as John puts it, “in the midst.”  They make her stand right there in the middle.  Visible to all.  And they don’t give her name.  Even if they know it, they don’t use it.  They just call her “This woman.”  They want to portray her as a monster.  They want to picture her as inhumane.  These leaders of religion drag the woman into the middle of this crowd and turn on their brightest black light so that the stain of her sin is visible to everyone around.

And too often that’s true with religion today.  Today many people still assume that religion has no warm and comforting light to offer.  It’s only light is like a black light which illuminates the sin and evil of the world around us.  Scot McKnight writes about Van Gogh:[2] He says that if you follow van Gogh’s life, you find a gradual increase of the color yellow in his paintings.  For van Gogh, the color yellow indicated the hope and warmth of the love of God.  The more yellow you found in a painting the more optimistic Van Gogh was about the world being filled with this warm and comforting light of God’s love.  But in a particularly depressed state, according to McKnight, van Gogh pained “The Starry Night.”  The painting features a yellow sun and yellow swirling stars.  Van Gogh was saying that in nature we can see the light of God’s love.  In addition, in the houses of the nearby village we see glimpses of yellow light.  God’s love is filling those houses.  But notice the church building which sits near the center of the painting.  It’s the one item in the painting with no yellow at all.  It was van Gogh’s way of saying that religion offers no warm and comforting light at all.  The only light it offers is one which accentuates the darkness and depression of the world.   Religion carries only a black light to expose our evil.

Earlier this year I attended a seminar led, in part, by a friend named Steve Joiner.  Joiner is a minister and runs the Institute for Conflict Resolution at Lipscomb University.  He shared the story of a time when he was flying somewhere and was assigned a middle seat in the airplane.  Through conversation, he learned that the two men on either side of him were a gay couple headed to a gay and lesbian function.  They asked Steve what he did.  He leveled with them: “I’m a fundamentalist minister.”  One of them laughed and said, “No, really.  What do you do?”  Joiner said again, “I’m a fundamentalist minister.”  Both gay men said, “You can’t be!”  “Why?” Joiner asked.  “Because you haven’t told us yet that we are going to hell!”  Most people expect religious people to carry black lights and to immediately expose and draw attention to the evil that’s in their lives.  Because that’s what religion does.

One of the most recent and gut-wrenching examples of this comes from a film entitled “The Stoning of Soroya M.”^[3] The move is a true story, based on a non-fiction book by the same name.  It takes place in an Iranian village in the late 1980s.  The movie tells the true story of a woman falsely accused of adultery.  The fundamentalist religious leaders in the village have her put to death by stoning. ^[4] The film was made to draw attention to the cruel way that religion was operating in Iran in the 1980’s.  It is a troubling illustration of the way religious people carry only a black light and use it to expose the evil in others.  That is the light we see in the hands of the religious leaders in John 8.

But notice how Jesus concludes the story.  In John 8:12 Jesus says, “I am the light of the world.  Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”  What kind of light is Jesus talking about?  What does Jesus illuminate?

Will Davis Jr. wrote a book entitled Ten Things Jesus Never Said.[5] One of the ten things Davis suggests Jesus never said is this: “You’re too far gone to be saved.”  Davis puts it this way: “Is there ever a point where we get too sinful for God?  If we hit new moral lows or set records in the sin department, isn’t there a line we cross where we simply move beyond God’s reach?… After all, in the world God created, there are clearly points of no return.  If someone commits a heinous crime, they can go to jail or, in some cases, even forfeit their life for what they did.  For some extremely poor decisions, there’s only justice and consequences.  Wouldn’t it be the same with God?  Why shouldn’t we expect that God, who is fair and just, would determine that there are just certain things he won’t pardon?…Is there a point where we’re simply too sinful for God to save?” Isn’t that ultimately the question raised by the leaders of religion?  This woman is too sinful to save.  This woman’s mistakes have exceeded God’s mercy.  The just and fair thing to do is to stone her.  We’ve got to make an example of her.  The community needs to see what happens to people who break families.  Jesus, what do you say?

But notice how Jesus addresses this: ⁶This they said to test him,  that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. ⁷ And as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.”⁸ And once more he bent down and wrote on the ground. ⁹ But when they heard it, they went away one by one, beginning with the older ones, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. ¹⁰ Jesus stood up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” ¹¹ She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more.” (Jn. 8:6-11 ESV).  If the leaders of religion want to play around with a black light, Jesus can play that game.  He strips the black light from their hands, removes its harsh glow on the woman, and turns its light on them.  He says, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.”  All they can see now is their own sin.  The oldest and wisest are the first to see the ugly stains on their own hearts.  But eventually, the entire group leaves.

But the black light is not Jesus’ light of choice.  He only uses it here as a defensive weapon.  His preferred light is different.  It turns out that Jesus carries a night light to uncover God’s compassion.  When Jesus finishes this story by saying, “I am the light of the world,” he’s not saying that he’s come to shed light on our sin.  He’s saying, that he’s come to shed light on our God.  This story is the ultimate illustration of this.  Sinners like this woman, like us, fear God like a child fears the dark.  We can imagine all kinds of things going on in the dark recesses of God’s mind.  In fact, when we are at our worst, we tend to imagine the worst about God.  We presume he’s going to be a monster because of the evil in our lives.  But Jesus has come to shed light on God’s compassion.  He’s come to help us see that even in our mistakes, God offers mercy.

Skye Jethani relates a story about holding a series of meetings with college-aged students.[6] On one night the students wanted to discuss how they were struggling with the same sins over and over.  And as they failed day after day, the students agreed on one fundamental thing: God was extremely disappointed with them.  Often through tears, students shared stories about how they believed God must be disappointed with them.  After listening to their stories, Jethani asked, “How many of you were raised in a Christian home?” They all raised their hands. “How many of you grew up in a Bible-centered church?” All hands stayed up. Shaking his head in disbelief, Jethani said, “You’ve all spent eighteen or twenty years in the church. You’ve been taught the Bible from the time you could crawl, and you attend Christian colleges, but not one of you gave the right answer. Not one of you said that in the midst of your sin God still loves you.”

Especially when we struggle with sin again and again, we imagine the worst.  We think God is so disappointed in us.  But Jesus did not come to confirm those fears.  Rather he came to relieve them.  With his light Jesus does not seek to expose our evil as much as he seeks to uncover God’s compassion.  Jesus shines his light on God so that we can finally see that even in the midst of our sin, God still loves us.

We see this comforting light at work in the final dialogue: “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” “No one, Lord.” “Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more.”  It’s not your sin that Jesus came to highlight.  It’s God’s grace.  That’s the light Jesus came to bear.  That’s the torch Jesus came to carry.  He came to shine away your worst fears about God.

Some of you this morning have been dying under the glare of the black light of religion.  Either some religious person has been holding it over you.  Or you yourself have been holding it over you.  And all you can see is the evil in your life.  All you can think about is that sin, that mistake, that stupid thing you said or did which you never should have said or did.  And it’s eating you up inside.  But Jesus has come to relieve you.  As the light of the world, he’s come to show you something besides your sin.  He’s come to show you a God who loves you deeply in spite of that sin.  And though religious people and even you want to stone you and condemn you, Jesus does not.  He wants to surround you with love and grace and mercy and forgiveness.  If you’ll let him, Jesus can be the light of your life.

And that light is the only light that can truly lead us away from our sin.  We might think that the religious light is the only light that will drive us from sin.  But this is not the case.  It’s only when we truly see the love and grace of God that we are drawn away from sin to something far better.  Tim Keller tells this story:[7] The acclaimed foreign film Three Seasons is a series of vignettes about life in postwar Vietnam. One of the stories is about Hai, a cyclo driver (a bicycle rickshaw), and Lan, a beautiful prostitute…Hai is in love with Lan …. Lan lives in grinding poverty and longs to live in the beautiful world where she works, but in which she never spends the night. She hopes that the money she makes by prostitution will be her means of escape, but instead the work brutalizes and enslaves her.  Then Hai enters a cyclo race and wins the top prize. With the money he brings Lan to the hotel. He pays for the night and pays her fee. Then, to everyone’s shock, he tells her he just wants to watch her fall asleep. Instead of using his power and wealth to have sex with her, he spends it to purchase a place for her for one night in a normal world… Lan finds such grace deeply troubling at first, thinking that Han has done this to control her. When it becomes apparent that he is using his power to serve rather than use her, it begins to transform her, making it impossible to return to a life of prostitution.

This is what happened to the woman caught in adultery.  The leaders of religion shined their light on the ugliness of her sin.  But Jesus shined his light on the beauty of God’s love.  And when it became apparent to her that Jesus was using his power to serve her rather than use her, it began to transform her.  It made it impossible to return to a life of adultery.  She went and she sinned no more.

[2] Scot McKnight, The Jesus Creed (Paraclete Press, 2004), 65-66.

[3] http://www.thestoning.com/flash.php#/story/

[4] http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052970204119704574235830111853594.html#articleTabs%3Darticle

[5] Will Davis Jr. Ten Things Jesus Never Said,33.

[6] Skye Jethani, With (Thomas H. Nelson, 2011), 80-82.

[7] Timothy Keller, The Prodigal God (Riverhead Books, 2008), 96-98.

My God, do something about my enemy!

He attacks me for no reason.

He treats me with disregard.

May the curses he shouts at me boomerang back to him.

May the blessings he withholds from me be withheld from him.

May his days be little and his disgrace large.

I’d like to pray better, God.

I wish I could wish my enemy love and joy.

But I can’t.  Not today.

This is the only prayer I’ve got.

Save me from my enemy, my God.

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Lord, I have listened to the stories of your legendary deeds:

Some wandered in wastelands lost and lonely.  They sought you and you saved them.

Some despaired in darkness imprisoned and isolated.  They sought you and you saved them.

Some sailed the sea and were stranded in its storms.  They sought you and you saved them.

Some subsisted in sin conceited and contemptible.  Eventually they sought you and you saved them.

Like those in your Book, at times I am lost, imprisoned, stranded or contemptible.

Like those in your Book, may you save me when I seek you.

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Lord, my heart was filled with wrong.

Now you are filled with wrath.

You are angry with me.

Frustrated.

Disappointed.

How I mourn and long to mend our marred relationship!

I eat ashes for food.

I consume tears for drink.

Yet even in my failure, I have faith in our future.

For your compassion is even greater than your wrath.

Your love is even hotter than your anger.

Mercy, Lord.

Have mercy.

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