Sermon for Sunday, June 7 - Trinity Sunday, Communion Sunday
Scripture: Isaiah 6:1-8
I like mornings. Mornings just feel so fresh and new and peaceful, and it seems like you start again with a “clean slate.” When you wake up in the morning, yesterday officially becomes a memory. It doesn’t matter what you said or did yesterday, because it’s gone and you can’t change it. The page has turned, and today is a blank page just waiting to be filled.
Wayne Albertson, my pastor in college, used to start all conversations with the phrase, “Welcome to the day.” It didn’t matter what time of day it was, he was ready to welcome you to the day. “Welcome to the day” – what an inviting phrase. It was a subtle reminder that every day begins anew. Every day is a fresh start, a “re-do” called out from the kickball field in the schoolyard. Every day is a clean slate waiting to be written on, a blank page waiting to be filled. Every day invites us to new opportunities, new possibilities, new challenges. Each day is a new day, a day that the Lord has made, a day for us to shed our old mistakes and start over.
We’d all be foolish to say we’ve gone through a day without messing something up. A few weeks ago, I had one of those days where I was just a model citizen, a model Christian, a model husband, and so on. I was just being as loving and caring as someone could be. I was helping out friends, family, and even a stranger or two along the way. I’ll tell you, I took that new day and made the most of it. I filled that blank page with all sorts of good deeds. But by dinnertime, I’d begun to notice how awesome I was being. And a thought crept into my head: “Man, I’m such a good person. I’m just doing everything right today. God must be so proud of me right now!”
And just like that, my perfect day was ruined by my ego. Just like that, all the humility I’d displayed all day was completely cancelled out by my sin of pride. Just like that, my perfect day was over. No matter how awesome, how loving we are in a particular day, we’re going to mess up at some point. Sin is going to reign over us sooner or later – it’s not a question of if sin enters our lives, but when.
Isaiah was a sinner, just like us – and just like everyone else. “Woe is me!” he cried. “I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips.” As he says this, he is standing in the temple, in the presence of the Lord. Isaiah is overcome with the sight of flowing robes and seraphs, the sound of heavenly praises, the smell of holy smoke, and the feeling of God’s power whipping through the doorways. Surely the presence of the Lord surrounds him – which is exactly what Isaiah has come for. Isaiah has come to the temple, approaching the throne of God, and lo and behold, God has filled the place with the sights and sounds and smells of His presence!
But Isaiah didn’t initially come to the temple to confess his sin. He didn’t come expecting to cry out, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips!” He wasn’t lost – he knew exactly where he was. But encountering God at the temple convinced him of his need to repent. It was a moment of conviction. This temple experience reminded him that he’s not “all that and a bag of chips.” It caused a moment of self-reflection, where Isaiah recognizes he is unclean – he is a sinner, just like everyone else.
We often fool ourselves into believing that we are not sinners. Or, even if we admit we’re sinners, the sins we commit are just little mistakes on the way – not like the sins of those “other” people. Isn’t it interesting how the sins we’re guilty of always turn out to be just minor hiccups, and the sins that we never personally commit are the ones that are always the most awful? It’s just another way of building ourselves up. “I’m not a sinner,” we say. Or, “Yeah, I’m a sinner, but I’m not as bad as those sinners over there – they’re way worse sinners than I am.” Maybe we say this instead: “I’m a sinner, but so is everyone else, so what’s the big deal?” And have you heard this one: “I was a sinner, but God redeemed me, so now I’m all set. No need for any more redemption here.”
Whatever tactic we use, we like to rationalize and reason our way out of our continual need to receive God’s grace. We continually convince ourselves that we’re “not that bad,” that “we generally believe in God and follow God, so it’s alright.” We’re God’s chosen ones, the once-lost but now-saved, and we are worthy of the God’s favor.
Or, alternatively, we sink into total despair. “No matter what I do, I’m a sinner in the eyes of God.” Or, “There’s nothing I can do to receive God’s grace.” Maybe you’ve heard or even used this one: “I don’t deserve God’s love. I don’t deserve God’s grace.” Again, we rationalize our way out of letting God love us, because “what’s the use? We’re just going to screw up again anyway!”
Both these arguments are common as we approach the Lord’s Table for Holy Communion. Either we say, “Hey, I earned it. I deserve to receive God’s grace. I’m worthy of partaking of the bread and cup.” Or, we lament, “Woe is me! I am unclean! I don’t deserve this! I shouldn’t receive this!” It is a central paradox of Communion – the question, “Who is worthy to receive?”
Who is worthy to receive? This is a question that has surrounded this sacrament since its inception. Who is worthy to receive? No one. Who is worthy to receive? Everyone. Let me explain:
All of us are, by nature, sinful. All of us are people of unclean lips, just as Isaiah is. All of us are unworthy to receive such a holy, perfect, and pure sacrament. No one is worthy to receive the Lord’s Supper. Yet, in the same token, through the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, all are made worthy to receive God’s grace. Christ cleanses us, wipes our slate clean, breaks us from the bondage of sin, so that we may perfectly approach the table and receive such grace. So we are totally unworthy of receiving Communion, yet Christ has made us totally worthy. At the same time, we are completely worthy and completely unworthy. Talk about a holy mystery!
The liturgy we use to celebrate Communion is relatively unchanged from the liturgy used by Christians for the past 1700 years. And it is no coincidence that our liturgy begins with a very Isaiah-like confession, admitting our sinfulness. You will notice that our first prayer together is the prayer of confession and pardon. We confess our sins – “Woe are we, for we are people of unclean lips, living among people of unclean lips!” The first step of communion is recognizing that we are not worthy – a recognition brought about by encountering God at the temple. And the second step is confessing those sins. After confession, we are then able to approach God with the intention of being made clean.
And so we will move through this liturgy in just a few minutes, making a similar confession to that of Isaiah. We’ve come to encounter God in the temple. But that encounter has convicted us, calling us into self-examination of our sinful nature. And we will approach the table with the same lamenting cry as Isaiah: “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man [or woman] of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips!” We will admit our complete unworthiness to receive such a holy gift, the bread and cup.
“Forgive us,” we will pray. “Free us for joyful obedience, so we may more perfectly love you, O Lord.” Make us worthy through the suffering, death, and resurrection of your Son, Jesus Christ. Make us worthy to receive this holy gift. And then we will proclaim the refrain many of you have committed to memory: “In the name of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven!”
We’ll come to Christ’s table, kneeling as totally unworthy and totally worthy people, sinners that have been forgiven. We will, like Isaiah, be completely aware of the continual need for the cleansing of our souls, a cleansing that can come only from the God who sits on the highest throne. “Woe is me! I am lost, and I have somehow found my way to your temple and to your table!” This is why John Wesley believed in receiving communion as frequently as you can – because we are always sinners in need of God’s grace, and kneeling at the Lord’s Table reminds us of this truth.
Of course, this morning we will not be receiving a fiery coal from a heavenly being like Isaiah did. Instead, we will receive the bread and cup from the outstretched arms of Jesus Christ. And when these elements touch our lips, our guilt will depart and our sin will be blotted out. What a glorious and celebratory moment that is – the cleansing of our souls, the blotting out of sin, the departing of guilt – all wrapped up in the mystery we encounter at Christ’s table.
Communion is, among many things, a reminder of the love and forgiveness of God, offered in the form of Jesus Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit. Communion is a reminder of the cleansing work of the cross. Communion is an act of getting a fresh start – wiping the slate clean, turning the page, waking up to a new day, turning over a new leaf. However you want to say it, letting the bread and cup touch our lips blots out the past and flushes out the guilt. It frees us for a new day of joyful obedience and perfect love of God and neighbor.
We may approach the table, tired and weary from our days of sin and guilt. “Woe is me! I am lost!” But when we let the bread and cup touch our lips, we are welcomed to a new day. “Welcome to the day,” God says in this sacrament. Welcome to a new day where your guilt has departed and your sin has been blotted out. Whatever mistakes you’ve made, whatever transgressions you’ve committed, and no matter how lost you’ve become by wandering away from God, the gift of forgiveness awaits you. Welcome to the day – to your fresh start in Christ Jesus.
Isaiah came to the temple, and stumbled upon a meaningful encounter with God. He cried out for salvation, and it was given to him in a mysterious act. But the most amazing thing about Isaiah’s call narrative is what happened after he is cleansed of sin and guilt. Once his sin and guilt is cleared away, he suddenly becomes aware of the voice of God. It seems the Lord had already been talking to him, but not until his sin and guilt departed was he able to hear the voice of God. Sin and guilt was like waxy buildup in Isaiah’s ear, and the fiery coal acted as a Q-tip, opening up the pathway to hearing God’s call.
"Then I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” Isaiah has turned the page to a new day, and discovered that this new day is calling out to him. “Welcome to the day,” says the Lord. “Will you live this day for me? Will you be my servant today?”
Folks, when we celebrate communion and let sin and guilt depart from us, we then become freed for that joyful obedience we ask for. When we turn the page, we find the Lord calling out to us, asking us to take his message to the people of unclean lips. But we cannot hear this call unless we are first cleansed from sin and guilt. We cannot hear this call unless we let the bread and cup touch our lips, reminding us that we are forgiven and reconciled people, called to respond to our temple experience on this day. Isaiah, a sinner, was cleansed by the Lord, and responded by living the life that God called him to. All of us, sinners like Isaiah, are cleansed by the Lord, and our call this morning through the sacrament of Holy Communion is to live out a life that is acceptable and pleasing to God. We’ve been given the gift of a new day. What will we do with this precious gift? In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment