Romans
8:12-17
Trinity
Sunday
May
31, 2015
William G. Carter
So then, brothers and
sisters, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh— for if you live according to the
flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the
body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of
God. For you did not receive a
spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of
adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it
is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of
God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ - if,
in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.
Today is Trinity Sunday. It is a day when
we talk about God. What is God like? How do we describe the Lord whom we have
not seen?
Isaiah describes his vision. In the
temple, he is stunned to see God on a throne, surrounded by heavenly creatures.
They are singing the hymn, “Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty,” and it scares
him to death. Who is he to see the holy God? He feels unworthy because God is
so great and so pure. But then one of the heavenly angels puts a hot burning
coal on his unclean lips, and burns the sin away. God is holy, we are not, but
God bridges the distance with mercy and forgiveness.
The psalm is one loud blast of thunder
after another. God thunders over the roar of the sea. God thunders in the storm
that snaps thick trees as if they are toothpicks. God governs the world with
awesome power, so when we see nature shaking, when we hear the thunder, it is a
sign of God’s power. Except that God is much greater than any thunder,
lightning, or storm. And this is the God who gives strength to his people, who
blesses his people with peace.
If
you know anything about the letter to the Romans, you might expect a bit of
holiness and thunder. In the beginning of this very thick letter, Paul says God
is holy and righteous. We are not. “None of us have any excuse,” he says (2:1),
not when we stand before a holy, holy, holy God. You can almost hear the
thunder in the beginning of the book.
Yet
while we might quiver in fear and inadequacy, here is what God does: God steps
over all our impurities, and, in the death of Jesus, takes all the sins away. “God
shows his love for us, that while we
were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (5:8). It’s the same script as Isaiah’s vision,
only larger, wider, greater, even more fantastic.
If
we welcome this grace, we don’t have to be slaves to our own passions any more.
We don’t have to be enslaved by anything or anybody, he says. Oh no, because we’ve
been adopted. That’s the word he uses. That’s the way he describes the
love of God that claims us. We have been adopted.
Now
that’s a remarkable word, an unexpected word. Paul is writing to a mixed house of
Jews and Gentiles. I’m sure his words cut both ways. To the Gentiles, it was
good news – they are included in the promises of God. Thanks to the
faithfulness of Jesus, thanks to their faith in him, the Gentiles are adopted. They
are included. They will inherit all the riches of God, just like their Jewish brothers
and sisters. It’s good news.
Well,
how about the Jews? Keeping covenant, living by the Torah, hoping for the
Messiah – do they have to share the blessings of heaven with those newcomers?
Didn’t all the centuries of faithfulness count for something? And now, at the
eleventh hour, the non-Jewish people are included too?
When
I was eight years old, my parents announced I was getting a little brother. I
didn’t think I needed a little brother. I already had a sister and that was
enough. But we were getting a little brother. He was going to be adopted. I
didn’t know what that mean, but it didn’t seem fair. Why should I have to share
my toys with him? I was eight years older; by the time he would be old enough
to be interesting, I would be halfway out the door.
And
then we went to get him, just a tiny little peanut. My parents held him, they
let me hold him, and maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. I looked at him
and he smiled at me; later they told me it was only a gas bubble, but no
matter. Ever since I discovered there was enough love for all of us. There was
even enough love for another sister to be adopted three years later. The family
was bigger than I wanted it to be, and that was fine.
Now,
Paul is a Jew. In the next chapter, chapter nine, he will go on for a while
about God’s love for his people Israel. Yes, they were loved first, and that
love cannot be canceled, he said. Those of us who were not born Jews – and presumably
that’s most of us – we were included later. And the truth of the matter is,
this whole business of being “the children of God” is a metaphor anyway. It’s a
way of talking about how we belong to our Creator. Push the metaphor to its
extreme, and we are a blended family of a Single Parent in heaven. God wants us
all, and the word for that claim on our lives is adoption. All of God’s
children are adopted children.
It
has always been that way. Six months
ago, we heard John the Baptist, out in the desert sands, announcing how the
Messiah will come. Everybody went to hear him. Even the religious people went
to hear him, and he gave them a hard time about it. John yelled at them, “Don’t
you holy rollers presume for a minute that you get in the kingdom automatically.
Don’t you dare say, ‘We have Abraham for our father,’ as if that gives you an
advantage. God can raise up children from the stones in this desert.” (Matt.
3:7-10).
Do
you know what I think that means? I think it means that in the kingdom of God, it
doesn’t matter who your earthly parents are. God welcomes us one person at a
time, one generation at a time. It has nothing to do with position or privilege. Nobody gets into the kingdom
because Momma used to sing in the choir or Daddy was the head usher. Nobody
gets into the kingdom because Grandpa was a generous giver or Grandma commanded
the Women’s Association. No, it’s one generation at a time, with these people right
here, who discover that God loves them, that God wants them, that God invites
them to live generous and holy lives.
So
I call this sermon, “God Has No Grandchildren.” I believe that to be true. God
has no grandchildren, only children, and every single one of them is adopted.
It happens at the baptismal font, when we announce that the household of God
has just gotten larger. There is enough love for one more, and then some. Every
one is wanted. Every one is loved. Every one is called and commissioned to live
the life of Christ in a broken world.
Elders
of the church, this is the message of your ministry. These are the people of
your flock, the sheep of God’s hand. They are here because something in them
wishes to know that they matter. They are here because they are hungry for the
grace of the Gospel. Some may be here out of habit, others out of curiosity,
others because we serve a good cup of coffee. So elders, welcome them to the
household of God, provide a good worship service for them, give them Christian
Education that they would grow in their knowledge and love of God, and
challenge them to hear God’s invitation to serve this corner of the world and
beyond.
Deacons
of the church, this is the message of your ministry. These are the people of
your flock, the sheep of God’s hand. Look into their faces: they are strong and
they are fragile. Every one of them has known pain and difficulty at one point
or another, but most of them dress up for church and don’t let it show. What
they really want is to know that they are loved. So learn their names. Get to
know them. Take each one seriously. Serve them when they are strong, hold them
when they are vulnerable. In all things, help them to stand in their full
dignity as children of God, and never let anybody put them down. They are God’s
adopted children.
This
is a day for talking about God. God is
holy, but never aloof. God comes to the likes of us to say, “You are precious and you are mine.” In
that relationship, we begin the journey that will change our lives, enlarge our hearts, and change the world. And we take our place among the great
company of witnesses that love and serve the Lord.
(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.