Living in the Spirit with Self Control

Galatians 5:16-26
1 Corinthians 9:24-27
August 13, 2023
William G. Carter

Live by the Spirit, I say, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. For what the flesh desires is opposed to the Spirit, and what the Spirit desires is opposed to the flesh; for these are opposed to each other, to prevent you from doing what you want. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not subject to the law. Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God. By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, competing against one another, envying one another.

The summer’s sermon series was prompted by a comment from a friend from California. Jim Kitchens is his name. He spoke at a meeting of Lackawanna Presbytery and said what most of us already know. The religious landscape in America is changing dramatically. Across the land, church attendance has dropped. Sanctuaries are shutting down. Energy is diminished. Good Christian folk are wringing their hands.

Then Jim said, “I suppose if anybody wants to turn this around, they ought to do what they can to grow the fruit of the Holy Spirit.” Zing – he got my attention! So this summer, we’ve worked through the list: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and – for today – self-control. It’s quite the list. And as you’ve offered helpful feedback along the way, you’ve agreed. We would all benefit from more love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, and gentleness. 

These are genuine Christian virtues. They reflect the mind of Christ. They reveal the character of God. They grow as the Holy Spirit works in our individual lives as well as our churches.

Today, the fruit of the week, the final week, is self-control. It’s different from the previous eight, if only because self-control is a human quality. It is a mortal attribute. I suppose a case could be made for God showing restraint, but that’s not the same thing as self-control.

Same thing can be said of Jesus. There’s an episode in the Gospel of Luke that doesn’t go so well. Jesus had decided to make his way to Jerusalem for the last time. As he goes through Samaria, he sends an advance team to prepare the way. The Samaritans refuse to welcome them. That’s a major Middle Eastern faux pas – to deny hospitality. James and John are incensed. “Lord, how about if we call down some fire to burn away these Samaritans?”

Jesus stops in his tracks, glares at them, and says essentially, “Knock it off.” I think that’s the sanitized version that makes it into the Bible. Like his Father in heaven, Jesus shows restraint – because James and John have no self-control.

Self-control is a term with a moral inference. It’s a learned behavior to keep us out of sin. It does not come naturally. If you remember from eight weeks ago, the natural human behavior is what the apostle Paul refers to as “the works of the flesh.” He has a nasty list of what the untamed human animal is prone to do.

• There are the sins of the body: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, and drunkenness.
• There are the sins of turning away from God: idolatry (worshiping the wrong thing) and sorcery (looking elsewhere for divine help).
• There are the sins of the soul: jealousy, anger, and envy.
• Most of the list consists of the sins that rip the social fabric: enmities, strife, quarrels, dissentions, factions, carousing, and what Paul calls “things like these.”  

And there’s one thing, one thing only, to keep all of us in check. Guess what? “Self-control.”

The Mediterranean world of Paul placed a high value on self-control. Plato, Aristotle, and all the big philosophical superstars thought of self-control as a virtue. Often out of reach, yet something to aspire toward, something to admire when you could see it.

In his commentary on Galatians, William Barclay states the “secular Greek uses (the phrase) of the virtue of an Emperor who never lets his private interests influence the government of his people. It is the virtue (he says) which makes a man so master of himself that he is fit to be the servant of others.”[1] Wow – imagine that! How refreshing! Imagine what level of chaos would ensue if an emperor lacked self-control and served only himself!

Paul speaks of self-control as an alternative. It’s another way of being, an alternative way of living. And it can be misunderstood. Especially if you read the King James Bible. In the King James version, the final fruit of the Spirit is listed as “temperance.” Temperance is a word that sets off all kinds of bells and sirens.

One of our church members grew up in a new church development just outside of Kansas City. The founding pastor refused to touch a drop of alcohol. Rev. Meneilly didn’t stop there. Every year he preached an annual “temperance sermon.” Not sure how a temperance sermon would have flown in Lackawanna County, but he would stand in Prairie Village, Kansas, to lecture the congregation on the evils of drink.

I would venture a guess that he told tales of people destroyed by drinking, which would be a good warning. He probably described what an addiction could do to a family, and how it tends to reoccur in the following generations. Yet he was rather selective about what he said about the Bible – no mention of Jesus pouring out the wine at the Last Supper, no allusion to St. Paul declaring “a little wine is good for the stomach.”[2] No, the prevailing message was simple: just say no. Always say no. Don’t even put yourself in a place of temptation.

Good advice, but if it were only that simple. The fact is a hard position on that kind of temperance has led to hypocrisy. A friend in Tennessee tells me about the Jack Daniels Baptists. Ever hear about the Jack Daniels Baptists? Those are the Baptists who don’t recognize one another in the liquor store. There are plenty of jokes like that, and stories, too. We’ll save them for coffee hour.

The better translation of Paul’s word is not “temperance” but “self-control.” Self-control is a matter of discipline, not merely a matter of abstinence. If you raise your kids in a dry household, it might go well until they go off to college. And then, without Mom or Dad hovering over them, they have that burst of complete freedom – and the animal impulses take over. What will save them is more than merely saying no (which is very difficult to do, especially in the pressure exerted by their peers. What will save them is self-control.

Paul uses this word in the brief passage we heard from 1 Corinthians. He describes the Christian life as an athletic event. It’s running a race. Nobody competing in a race simply starts running. They train. They start modestly, build up muscles and stamina. They work at improving their time. They challenge themselves by running against others. “It’s not an aimless pursuit,” says the apostle. There’s intention. There’s a goal. There’s a quest for continuing improvement.   

As he says, “Athletes exercise self-control in all things.” They watch what they eat. They monitor their weight. They focus on building the appropriate muscles to help them through the appropriate challenges. And he’s talking not only about sports. He is referring to the moral life, the Christian life, the Christ-like life. No one becomes an expert in anything without working at it.

It’s true in sports. It’s true in the arts. My ears are still ringing from the glorious music from Friday night’s concert by The King’s Brass. It was superb. If you missed it, you could listen to the concert recording on our church’s YouTube channel, which you can access through our church’s website. 

[View the concert by clicking here: https://www.youtube.com/live/OMe3Vog7ijs?feature=share&t=723]

That concert began at 7:00 p.m. The band arrived at 2:00 to set up and do a sound check. Our arts team prepared a meal for them at 4:30. So what did they do between 2:30 and 4:30, and between 5:00 and 6:45? Every one of them practiced. There was music in every conceivable corner of this building. Lip trills, scales, working through difficult passages, working through possible mistakes. Those guys have been on the road for ten weeks, playing six or seven concerts a week, traveling together, playing together – and they still practice, practice, practice?

Of course. We can’t become good if we don’t work at it. It’s true in music, it’s true in sports, it’s true in the moral life. That’s what Paul is saying about self-discipline. It’s an ongoing process. We must keep at it.

We were reflecting on temperance and alcohol a few minutes before. Every single morning of the week, our conference room is the home for a group of people who are learning to live without addiction. My friends in that community say it is a daily discipline. Every single day, they are paying attention to their souls. They are listening to what Paul calls out “passions and desires.”

And they know they will only win the race if they surrender. That’s the key verb for the recovery community. Stop faking it. Give up the vanity of appearances. Hand over all our creaturely impulses. Let Jesus crucify those burdens on his cross – and welcome the Risen Christ to live in us. Surrender is the essence of self-control. Every single day. And it opens within us - and among us - the love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, and gentleness of God.

So we conclude where we began. Each day we begin again. We welcome the Holy Spirit to work within us.

When I began to prepare for this sermon series, I came across a prayer offered daily by a British scholar by the name of John Stott. He was one of the great teachers of the Bible, and I had the privilege to sit at his feet years ago. Those who knew him personally remarked on his consistent Christ-like personality. Never in a hurry, never prone to fits, but Christ-like.

And then, it was revealed that he began each day by praying this prayer:

Heavenly Father, I pray that this day I may live in your presence and please you more and more.

Lord Jesus, I pray that this day I may take up my cross and follow you.

Holy Spirit, I pray that this day you will fill me with yourself and cause your fruit to ripen in my life: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.[3] 

If we pray a prayer like that, it will most certainly be answered. May it be so.

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

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[1] William Barclay, Letters to the Galatians and Ephesians (Philadelphia: Westminster Press) p. 57.

[2] 1 Timothy 5:23

[3] Christopher J, H. Wright, Cultivating the Fruit of the Spirit: Growing in Christlikeness (Downers Grove: IVP Books, 2017) p. 13.

Living in the Spirit with Gentleness

Matthew 11:28-30
John 7:53-8:11

August 6, 2023

William G. Carter

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

We are making our way through the apostle Paul’s list of Christian character traits. What does it look like when God is at work in our lives? How do we walk in the power of the Holy Spirit? Where is the evidence that we are becoming more like Christ and less like our natural animal instincts? Today, the fruit of the Spirit is gentleness. Gentleness.

It’s an open question whether gentleness comes naturally to any of us. Some people seem gentle, at least on the surface. Yet if they feel the least bit intimidated, anxious, or suspicious, something else can bubble up. The most timid of kittens will strike out with claws bared. The most mild-mannered of grandparents might explode with harsh words. Even the quiet, peaceful pastor is capable of blowing the horn in traffic. Other things, too.

Gentleness does not come naturally for many of us. Especially if we are not yet full of love, joy, peace, patience, or generosity. If there is any gentleness in our souls, it must be God working in us.

Consider how we were raised. I was raised under the shadow of a mushroom cloud, with memories of “duck and cover” drills to prove it. 78 years ago today, Mr. Oppenheimer’s device exploded in public for the very first time. Pretty soon, there was a race to ensure Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD for short). Any sane person knows retaliation is a form of madness, especially as a preventative strategy. It’s simply difficult to get anybody to think that way.

Some of us are acquainted with punishment as an incentive to steer away from bad behavior. Maybe we were raised that way: if you get in trouble, you’ll get a licking. There’s some of that in the Bible. “Spare the rod, spare the child,” in the 23^rd chapter of Proverbs. “If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off so you don’t get thrown into hell.” Matthew 5:30. It’s harsh, it’s meant to scare us into good behavior.

Pastorally, can I simply say this? It doesn’t work. Bad behavior persists all around us. The threat of punishment merely provokes some people to promise retaliation. Mutually Assured Destruction. In the words falsely attributed to Mahatma Gandhi, “An eye for an eye will leave the whole world blind.”

And so, the alternative is gentleness. It’s a heartwarming alternative. It’s a strange alternative.

Like the story we heard about Jesus, who one day was caught in the middle of a dispute. A crowd caught a woman in the act of adultery (for our kids, we call it adultery because it’s something adults do). The mob literally pulled her out of bed. Doesn’t mention who she was with. Apparently, they let him slip away.

As she cowers in the village square, the mob throws Bible verses at Jesus. “Jesus, Moses commanded us to purge the evil among us by throwing stones at the sinner. Don’t you agree?” They are thinking punishment, capital punishment. That’s how they propose to clean up the town.

And what do we know about Jesus? He is not willing to lightly dismiss the scriptures. He knows what it written there. Yet he has no interest in taking part in a mob’s rampage. So he slows it down. He writes in the dust. He takes his time. He writes a little more. The mob grows impatient. So, he writes some more.

The scholar Ken Bailey reminds us[1] the setting of this story is the day after a festival, which means it’s the Sabbath. It’s a sin to write letters on paper during the Sabbath, but not considered a sin write in the dust. So Jesus indicates silently there is a difference between the harsh letter of the Law – and the practical expression of the Law as a love of God and neighbor. He chooses a third way between rock-hard literalism and letting the matter go.

 Then in his deep wisdom, he says, “Let the one without sin cast the first stone.” There’s stone silence. And then the thud-thud-thud as the accusers drop their rocks and shuffle away. “Lady,” he says, “where are your accusers?” Pause. “Neither do I accuse you. Go your way, and don’t fall into sin anymore.”

You know what that is? Gentleness. Perfect gentleness. He’s not soft on sin. He’s not excited about punishment. His gentleness is primary concerned with restoring her soul. This is the testimony about Gospel Gentleness. It’s concerned about the person, and not merely with the rules.

Paul says this is what develops in us as we live in the power of the Holy Spirit. Gentleness grows. He ought to know. One of the popular caricatures of the apostle Paul is that he was ornery and fierce. But if you read his correspondence, a far richer perspective of his character is revealed.

To the Galatian church, with whom he was most upset, he writes, “My friends (he called those arrogant enemies his “friends”), if anyone is detected in a transgression, you who have received the Spirit should restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness. Take care that you yourselves are not tempted.”[2] Gentleness is the word.

To the church in Thessalonica, still immature in the faith, he writes, “We could have made demands on you as apostles of Christ, but we were gentle, like a nurse tenderly caring for her own children.”[3] Gentle.

To the church in Philippi, whom he loved deeply, he writes, “Let your gentleness be known to everyone.”[4] He knows the church of God must be publicly known for its gentleness. The world needs to see gentleness in us.

To the church in Corinth, tangled up in immorality and conflict, he writes, “What would you prefer? Am I to come to you with a stick, or with love in a spirit of gentleness?”[5] I’m sure they preferred the gentleness.

But then he had to write a second time to the Corinthians to get their attention, so he writes, “I myself, Paul, appeal to you by the meekness and gentleness of Christ.”[6] Ah, yes, the great reminder of all – that our behavior must imitate the behavior of Jesus, that all our thinking and doing reflects the mind of Christ. It’s the alternative to the dog-eat-dog world that we live in.

And it’s the invitation to root our souls in the soul of Jesus. For it is Christ says to us, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”

I can’t think of a better invitation to his table. Here is where we are welcomed, no matter where we have wandered. Here is where we are encouraged, no matter if the world tries to trample us down. Here is where we are forgiven and restored, renewed to keep living and loving for the next few miles of our journey.

Above all, here is where we are taught by Christ how to treat one another – with the same gentleness that he wants to show to you and me.

 

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

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[1] Kenneth J. Bailey, “The woman is not for stoning,” Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2009) 227-238.

[2] Galatians 6:1

[3][3] 1 Thessalonians 2:7

[4] Philippians 4:5

[5] 1 Corinthians 4:21

[6] 2 Corinthians 10:1

Living in the Spirit with Faithfulness

Galatians 2:15-21
Hebrews 11:1-16
July 30, 2023
William G. Carter

We ourselves are Jews by birth and not Gentile sinners; yet we know that a person is justified not by the works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ. And we have come to believe in Christ Jesus, so that we might be justified by faith in Christ, and not by doing the works of the law, because no one will be justified by the works of the law. But if, in our effort to be justified in Christ, we ourselves have been found to be sinners, is Christ then a servant of sin? Certainly not! But if I build up again the very things that I once tore down, then I demonstrate that I am a transgressor. For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing.

My faith was formed in a Presbyterian congregation. If you had not read the sign on the street corner, you could probably discern it’s a Presbyterian building. There’s a pulpit right in the middle, signifying the centrality of scripture and the preaching of the Word. There’s no communion railing, inviting all to have direct access to the Lord’s Table. High above the organ pipes, there’s an inscription from the 100^th Psalm: “Enter His Gates With Thanksgiving” – a most Presbyterian sentiment; John Calvin used to say gratitude is the highest Christian virtue, even higher than love. If ever there was a Presbyterian building, it’s that building.

But here is the most curious aspect to that sanctuary. On the walls around the room, there are several plaques. It’s been a while since I’ve been back, so I’m not sure how many. There must be eight or ten large plaques. As I recall, some are bronze and a few in marble.

Each plaque has a name or two. I don’t know most of the names. To the best of my memory, there was one man’s name, with the notice that he been a church leader, and then two dates separated by a dash.

Other churches memorialize the church members who gave their lives in the service of the country. It notes the war, the name, possibly the year they were lost. Yet the plaques in my home church are markers of longevity. A long-time Sunday School teacher is remembered. Over here, two elders. I guess if you survive four hundred Session meetings, somebody puts your name on the wall.

In the back corner, a marble plaque marks the two people that I remember. The Rev. Edgar Frank and his wife Helena served the church when I was a child. I remember his quiet voice, speaking complete and grammatically correct sentences. Some say he phoned all the church members for their birthdays; don’t know what else he had time to do. What’s stunning to me now is the span of his service: thirty-seven years. What pastor in his or her right mind serves the same church for thirty-seven years? 

Yet one thing I know. When I grew up sitting in our family pew, I had a sense that I was surrounded by people who had been faithful to God for a very long time.

As we move this summer through the apostle Paul’s listing of the nine qualities of the Spirit-filled life, it’s inevitable to spend some time reflecting on faithfulness. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, and generosity are exemplary character traits. The trick is to keep them going, to live a faithful life over a long stretch of time. That’s the characteristic that gets your name upon the wall.

We don’t know the name of the preacher who gives us the Letter to the Hebrews. She didn’t sign the letter. But we know something of what she was dealing with. Her church was tired. They were worn out. They had put in their time, in fruitful and unfruitful seasons, and they were ready to give up.

The preacher says, “You can’t give up. It’s too early for that. Faithfulness sees the far-off horizon what we can’t yet see. We aren’t making this up but viewing what we know about God’s future.”

Then the preacher turns to point to the plaques upon the wall. “Look at Abel, who made the acceptable sacrifice, and Enoch; all we know about him is that he pleased God. Then there’s Noah, who hadn’t yet seen a rain cloud before he trusted God to start building a big boat. And Abraham, who had no idea where he was going, but God said, ‘Trust me and I will lead the way.’”

The list goes on: Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, and bless her warm and generous heart, Rahab. Each one of them trusted the God we cannot see. They endured for the sake of promises that remained just out of sight. They didn’t stop. They kept going.

“And with people like these, who are now cheering us on in our journey, we can’t stop. We must keep going. This is a long-distance marathon, not a 440 sprint. God is the One who initiated the race. God is the One who called us to start running. And God is the One who sent Jesus to run the race before us. Thanks to Jesus, because of Jesus, we keep running.”

Leave it to the preacher to speak of Jesus. That’s what preachers do. And if we’re going to talk about faithfulness, about God-inspired faithfulness, we must speak of Jesus. For the preacher of the letter of Hebrews, as for the apostle Paul who writes to the Galatians, it’s all about the faithfulness of Jesus. Jesus is full of faith.

Now, maybe you’re saying, “Wait a minute.” What do you mean Jesus is full of faith? Aren’t we supposed to be the ones who have faith in Jesus? Aren’t we called to trust him no matter what? Well, sure. Of course.

Today we heard that second scripture text from the Galatian letter. It is a tightly compressed paragraph. It is a theological jewel, a sparkling and dense diamond worth the riches of the Gospel. Paul says some revolutionary truth: if we want to be right with God, if we want to be justified, it’s not going to come through anything that we do or say.

There are the Ten Commandments. The commandments are good. They teach us how to live. However, nobody can keep the Ten Commandments. It doesn’t matter how perfect you think you are; you’re not perfect.

There are the teachings of scripture, the moral instructions in how to treat one another kindly, how to live graciously, how to give generously, how to lift one another up. Yet when you pull out of the parking lot this morning, somebody may cut you off (accidentally or purposefully), and all your Good Christian Emotions are going to fly out the window.

We can’t make it by ourselves. That is the blessing of being poor in spirit. We don’t have the ability to achieve our way into the good graces of God. We can be honest about that – because there’s a way forward, and it’s quite literally the good graces of God. God says, “You are forgiven. Nothing you can do to earn that. It’s a gift.”

But God, isn’t there something we should do? God says, “Sure, but that comes later. What comes first is forgiveness, mercy, grace.” But God… And God says, “Listen, I sent my Son to your planet and people like you killed him. So in response, I forgive you. My kind of righteousness is to raise him from the dead, so he can keep teaching you, and nudging you, and releasing you from the slavery of your own incompetence.”

Whew! This is Galatians. It’s a big book. Heavy book. So heavy that it set old Martin Luther back on his heels. Luther went to the monastery to make himself acceptable to God. It didn’t work. The deeper he plunged into the depths of his soul, the more anguished he became – until he started reading the Bible. Especially the letter to the Galatians. Commenting on today’s text, he wrote,

If I could perform any work acceptable to God and deserving of grace …, why should I stand in need of the grace of God and the suffering and death of Christ? Christ would be of no benefit to me. Christ’s mercy would be of no use to me. … With Paul we absolutely deny the possibility of self-merit.[1]

Or to put as simply as possible, we can’t win over God when God is already on our side. Trusting this essential truth is the definition of faith. Grace is invisible; can’t see it, can’t taste it, most of us can’t entirely hear it. Yet we can trust what we cannot see. We can step forward into the promises that are still ahead of us. This is the essence of faith. It is the faith that saves our souls, the faith that reconciles our brokenness, the faith that invites the cleaning, liberating presence of Jesus Christ into our lives. His Spirit in our flesh.

This is a lot to take in. Of course it is. It is as close to the center of the Gospel as we get. Paul shouts it out: “We know we are not justified by the works of the law, but by faith in Jesus Christ.” Galatians, chapter 2. Those are the very words that ignited the Protestant Reformation. It is the Word from God that keeps the fires burning.

And to push it one step deeper, there is ever more Good News. The text has a built-in ambiguity to it. Maybe you saw the two Bible footnotes when I read the text. “We are justified by faith in Jesus Christ.” The text reads that way. It also can be translated, “We are justified by the faith of Jesus Christ.” It is Christ’s faithfulness that saves, and we trust that. He died for us. He was raised for us. He rules over us. He dwells within us, for Jesus is faithful. He’s a whole lot more faithful than we are. This is the blessed Good News.  

There’s a lot here, and there should be. This is what the Sabbath is for, to ponder the Mystery of God at work in our lives. We hear God’s announcement that we are acceptable even in our unacceptability. And it’s just enough Light to keep moving. Just enough mercy to step into another week. That’s what faith is all about. And we keep on, one week after another, and one day, perhaps to our surprise, God inscribes our name on the wall,

One of the treasures on my bookshelf is a book of verse from my beloved professor Dick Armstrong. With deep insight and pastoral good sense, one of his poems is titled “Roller Coaster Ride.” Give it a listen: 

Faith is a roller coaster ride for clergy, clerks, or clowns.

The best disciples, old and new, have had their ups and downs.

The psalmist and the prophets had their moments of despair,

And even Jesus, on the cross, had doubts that God was there.

 

When faith is riding on the ridge, it shows in word and deed,

For mountains move if faith is but a grain or mustard seed.

It’s not that we make miracles by willing to believe.

Faith’s not a work but God’s free gift that we by grace receive.

 

That thought should keep us humble when we’re feeling strong and tall.

The higher up the heights we climb, the father we can fall!

As autumn leads to winter’s snows, and nighttime follows day,

Faith does not always sail the crest nor on the summit stay,

But sometimes plummets down the steeps with such breathtaking speed,

That roller coaster riders should this warning bear and heed.

 

Yet when the coaster car is at the bottom of the slope,

The peaks of faith loom large and give new impetus to hope.

Then we recall those moments when our faith in God was sure,

Confirmed by truth, sustained by love, we find we can endure

The ups and downs of faith. Indeed, we now can even say

Without the lows there’d be no highs, without the night no day.

 

The ride is always risky, even scary, we’ll agree,

But if we stay inside the car of faith, we’re safe. You see,

The roller coaster Maker is the one who takes the toll.

The car won’t ever leave the tracks if God is in control.

 

So re the roller coaster ride I’ll take my own advice

And hand on tight until the end, no matter what the price.

For when the ride is over and the ups and downs are through,

I hope to be with God – and all the other riders, too!

 

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved. 

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[1] Martin Luther, Commentary on Galatians 2:16, available online at https://ccel.org/ccel/luther/galatians/galatians.v.html

 

Living in the Spirit with Generosity

2 Corinthians 9:6-15
July 23, 2023
William G. Carter

The point is this: the one who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and the one who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. Each of you must give as you have made up your mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance, so that by always having enough of everything, you may share abundantly in every good work. As it is written, “He scatters abroad, he gives to the poor; his righteousness endures forever.” He who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed for sowing and increase the harvest of your righteousness. You will be enriched in every way for your great generosity, which will produce thanksgiving to God through us; for the rendering of this ministry not only supplies the needs of the saints but also overflows with many thanksgivings to God. Through the testing of this ministry you glorify God by your obedience to the confession of the gospel of Christ and by the generosity of your sharing with them and with all others, while they long for you and pray for you because of the surpassing grace of God that he has given you. Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!

Let’s see if you can remember the theme verse from the fifth chapter of the letter to the Galatians: “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity…” Oops, did you catch that? Each week, we’ve been singing “goodness” but our version of the text reads “generosity.”

“Goodness” is the way the Greek noun has been translated in many of the English Bibles. The King James says “goodness.” So does the New International Version, the New English Bible, the New King James, the New American Standard, among others. And goodness? It’s good, really good. We could use a lot more goodness.

Some will think this resonates with kindness, which was the fruit of the week for last Sunday. Kindness, goodness. Together, they remind me of Fred Rogers, the late Presbyterian minister who created the persona of Mister Rogers. It’s been fascinating that even though Fred Rogers died just over twenty years ago, he has made a comeback in recent years. He’s been the subject of two major documentaries, a full-length feature film, and several books. Maybe after the last half-dozen years of our national life, we want a hero who is not only kind but good.

And so, we remember. We remember the show when he had his feet in a wading pool and Officer Clemmons, the Black police officer, came by. Fred invited him to take off his shoes and stick his hot feet in the pool, which he did. He did that when some municipalities were refusing African Americans to step into public swimming pools. Goodness. Moral goodness.

Or his tender care to those with disabilities and differences, especially children. Maybe you saw the clip where he pulled up a chair along a young boy in a wheelchair. He spoke tenderly, asked him about the disability, and applauded what little Jeff was able to do. If you haven’t seen it, stop by and visit me. I’ll show you the video, and I will have tissues for both of us to wipe our eyes.[1] Goodness.

On the night when Fred Rogers was inducted into the Television Academy Hall of Fame, they asked him to make a speech. He brought tears to everybody’s eyes as he asked those present to remember the mentors who had shaped their lives and careers. Then he challenged the media business with these words:

“Life isn’t cheap. It’s the greatest mystery of any millennium. And television needs to do all it can to broadcast that, to show and tell what the good in life is all about. But how do we make goodness attractive? By doing whatever we can to bring courage to those whose lives move near our own. By treating our neighbor at least as well as we treat ourselves. And allowing that to inform everything that we produce.”[2]

Goodness. Aren’t we in favor of goodness? Don’t we hope and pray and work for more goodness? Of course we do. It would be enough to stop there. We could pray, “God give us goodness.”

Yet the Bible says, “generosity.” At least, the version in our pews. That’s the New Revised Standard Version, which continues to be revised. One of my friends has been on the translation committee. Now retired from the faculty of Gettysburg College, Dr. Buz Myers is a New Testament scholar. So I sent him a note to say, “Buz, is the word goodness or generosity? Why did the committee translate the word as generosity?”

And he wrote back and said, “I don’t know. I wasn’t in the room when they discussed Galatians 5:22. I was on the Old Testament subcommittee that day.”

But we discussed it back and forth. Paul uses an unusual Greek word: “agathosyne.” “Agatho” is the general word for good or goodness. The suffix “syne” suggests something held in common. So the word for Paul is a slightly untranslatable word that means “mutual goodness.” Or goodness that we share in common. Which is probably why “generosity” is the word that they chose.

We are talking about goodness directed toward others. It is a commitment to the common good, not merely the individual good. It is a giving of ourselves to improve the life of others. And so, the fruit of the Holy Spirit is that kind of generosity.

It’s the sort of thing Paul encourages in the Corinthian church, in the text that we heard this morning. There was a famine in the far-off city of Jerusalem. People were starving. So Paul passes the offering plate to help them out. None of the Corinthian Christians know those people in Jerusalem. It doesn’t matter. There is a genuine need. The apostle makes the invitation to join in the “gracious work” of sharing what they have with others.

This is a favorite section of Paul’s correspondence for me. Always gives me a chuckle! He is shaking their tree pretty hard in the hope that some apples will fall. Green apples if you will. Bright green apples. Expensive green apples. He plays the Corinthians off a rival church in Macedonia, saying in effect, “Those Macedonians amaze me! They have had such hardship – yet they are so generous. They were begging us to take part in this fund-raising campaign.”

“We said no, you have needs of your own. Take care of your own. But they said no, no, no, it’s a privilege to help somebody else. We have to do it. We are called to do it. And people of Corinth, their generosity has amazed us.”

 

“Now, our dear Corinthians: they have so little, yet they gave so much. And you have so much… We are sure that you want to be part of this generous undertaking.”

 

“Just remember. This is not an extortion (right, of course it isn’t). But I’ll tell you this: if you sow sparingly, you’ll reap sparingly, and if you sow bountifully, you’ll reap bountifully.”

 

And one more thing, don’t forget this: God loves a cheerful giver. That is, in Greek, a hilarious giver. A light-hearted giver. A giver with a liberal heart. God loves those kinds of givers.” (God probably loves the stingy givers, too, though, not as much. That’s not Paul speaking, that’s me. Just wanted to yank your chain.)

The greater point is that generosity is about joy. It’s the mutual goodness that creates more mutual goodness. If generosity frightens you, then don’t give – and you probably aren’t giving. But if want to create more goodness, more joy, more freedom in your soul, open your pockets to a world filled with need. That’s the sense, I think, of what Paul is trying to say.

Yesterday, after we laid one of our saints to rest, I had to leave immediately for another funeral. A graveside service for somebody I’ve never met. I was riding in the front seat of the hearse, which is always where you want to be. As we made our way through traffic on the highway, my companion told me a story just like a story that I told in my sermon last week.

He was in the drive-in lane at McDonald’s last week. If you’ve been there, you know it’s a double lane, able to take two orders simultaneously. He put in his order for a coffee and Egg McMuffin, then put the car in gear. The guy next to him placed his order, then tried to cut him off. My friend was clearly ahead in line, got flustered, then dug deep into his own soul to recover a Christian impulse. He pulls up to the window, pays for his order, then says, “Give me the bill for the guy behind me,” and pays his order too.

“You should have seen the look on his face,” he said. “It was priceless,” and then he started to laugh. Ahh yes, a cheerful giver. Chris said, “I think my payment for his breakfast totally destroyed his bad mood. Or at least confused him.” And we laughed.

Not long ago, the writer Mitch Albam spoke at an event at a college in the Midwest. The topic was generosity. He began with a confession:

I had honestly not been that charitable a person in the first part of my career, not because I was against it. I think I was just like many young people. I was very wrapped up in my own success and my own ambition. And then I got involved with an old professor of mine who was dying from Lou Gehrig's Disease named Morrie Schwartz. I visited with him every Tuesday.

Tuesdays with Morrie was Albam's most famous book. It came out in 1997. It's one of the best-selling memoirs of all time. Albam continued:

I noticed that when people would come in and visit with him, very quickly the conversation would change. They would come in trying to cheer him up because he was dying from this terminal illness. But within a couple of minutes, he would start asking them about their work, their love life, whatever, and an hour later they'd come out in tears and they'd say, “You know, I try to cheer him up, and next thing I know, I'm talking to him and he's asked me questions, and then he's really asking me questions, and I'm really there, and that's like I'm helping him, and I'm crying. I tried to cheer him up, he ended up cheering me up. He ended up comforting me. 

Mitch said, "I asked him, finally, after witnessing this so many times, I don't get it. You're the one who's dying. Why don't you just say, “Let's not talk about your problems, let's talk about my problems.” Morrie replied, “Mitch, why would I ever take from people like that? Taking makes me feel like I'm dying. Giving makes me feel like I'm living.”

Mitch says it's a profound little sentence. It also rhymes so it's easy to remember. Giving makes you feel like living. He says, “I have never forgotten that moment nor have I ever forgotten that sentiment.”[3]

Generosity is the circular movement that keeps the planet alive. Everything we have comes from God. We can receive it, but we never ultimately can cling to it. All the gifts of God come to us and then they move through us for the benefit of whoever is next in line.

This church building came as a gift from those born before us, so we touch it for a while, then pass it along to those who come next. The Gospel was spoken to us as a gift; we didn’t create it; it came as a gift. We welcome the Good News, then make sure others will hear it through us and after us. Generosity is one great big circle. It’s a circle of goodness, a circle of cheerfulness, hilarity, and joy.

And our generosity is but a reflection of the generosity of Jesus. Remember Jesus? Remember how all our character traits, all the fruit of the Holy Spirit, all of that is first modeled in Jesus. Remember that?

Paul says, “I remember that. I remember the generosity of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty, we might become rich.”[4] We live by the generosity of God, that others might live by our generosity.

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

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[1] Or you can watch it for yourself: https://youtu.be/UNUficgWE3U

[2] https://www.emmys.com/video/fred-rogers-hall-fame-induction-1999

[3] As recorded on Malcolm Gladwell’s podcast, “A Good Circle.” Available at https://youtu.be/Ca8-U9KCBns. Time: 7:36-9:17.

[4] 2 Corinthians 8:9 NRSV.