Living the Way

Colossians 3:12-17

Rev. Monte Marshall

 

So let’s recap this past month:  Over the last four Sundays we were in the season of Advent.  Our theme was Preparing the Way:  Three Simple Practices.  The three simple practices were:  Do no harm.  Do good.  Stay in love with God.  Daily devotional guides were prepared and distributed around the themes.  Small groups in our church studied the themes.  Our purpose was to prepare the way for the Christ to be born anew in us at Christmas so that we might all experience a new burst of transformation and growth. 

So now, the season of Advent has come and gone, our Christmas Eve celebration of the birth of Christ is in the past.  Christmas Day is behind us.  And we’re counting down the twelve days that mark the Christmas season.  So after all of this effort, I’m thinking to myself:  So what?  What difference has any of this made?  Has anything changed?

These kinds of questions may well have been asked by the Gentile Christians in the church at Colossae, although not in the context of Advent and Christmas as we are doing this morning.  The questions for them would have arisen out of circumstances in which the church, in the words of one scholar, was threatened by “various expressions of social and religious intimidation.”[1]   Under this kind of pressure, the followers of Jesus in Colossae were wondering what the coming of Christ actually meant for their lives. 

 This morning’s text provides encouragement to the church at Colossae and to us as we ponder the questions.  The text proclaims that the coming of Christ makes possible a profound transformation in human life.  The transformation occurs in Christ—and through Christ—as we learn to live in the way of Christ. 

And undergirding these transformative possibilities is God’s grace.  The text makes clear that change is possible for us because God chooses us instead of rejecting us.  And God names us—not vile and despised—but holy and beloved.  God’s grace is the like the fabric from which new garments are sown that clothe our lives with new possibilities for living. 

Transformation occurs when we respond to God’s grace by metaphorically changing our clothes:  We put off our old garments of lust, greed, hate, abusive speech and divisiveness, and then clothe ourselves “with heartfelt compassion, with kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”  Transformation occurs when we bear with one another and forgive one another, in the same way that God has forgiven us.  And above else, transformation occurs when we “put on love, which binds the rest together and makes them perfect [or complete, or mature].”

Transformation occurs when the peace of Christ reigns in our hearts and in the church.  Transformation occurs when we’re dedicated to thankfulness.  Transformation occurs when we let the Word of Christ dwell within us.  Transformation occurs when we help one another become the people God has called us to be in Christ.  Transformation occurs when our hearts sing Spirit songs, and our every word and deed honors the name of Jesus, our Savior. 

To live transformed lives like this, is to live in the way of Jesus the Christ.  In fact, all that we do day-in and day-out, Sunday to Sunday, season to season, within these four walls and beyond, is directed toward this end:  Our transformation in Christ.  And as we are transformed—the world is transformed!

And yet, transformation is hard to come by; at least it was for a man named Hank.  Pastor John Ortberg writes that “Hank…was a cranky guy.  He did not smile easily, and when he did, the smile often had a cruel edge to it, coming at someone’s expense.  He had a knack for discovering islands of bad news in oceans of happiness.  He would always find a cloud where others saw a silver lining.

“Hank rarely affirmed anyone.  He operated on the assumption that if you compliment someone, it might lead to a swelled head, so he worked to make sure everyone stayed humble.  His was a ministry of cranial downsizing.

“His native tongue was complaint.  He carried judgment and disapproval the way a prisoner carried a ball and chain.  Although he went to church his whole life, he was never unshackled.

“A [leader] in the church asked him one day, ‘Hank, are you happy?’

“Hank paused to reflect, then replied without smiling, ‘Yeah.’”

“Well, tell your face,’ the [church leader] said.  But so far as anybody knows, Hank’s face did not find out about it.

Occasionally, Hank’s joylessness produced unintended joy for others…. but more often it produced sadness.  His children did not know him.  His son had a wonderful story about how he met his wife at a dance, but he never told his father because Hank did not approve of dancing.

“Hank could not effectively love his wife or his children or people outside his family.  He was easily irritated.  He had little use for the poor, and a casual contempt for those whose accents or skin pigment differed from his own.  Whatever capacity he once might have had for joy or wonder or gratitude atrophied.  He critiqued and judged and complained, and his soul got a little smaller each year.”[2]

When it comes to Hank, I find myself wondering:  How many Advent seasons had he lived through?  How many Christmas Eve worship services had he attended?  How many sermons had he heard?  How many Sunday School classes and Bible studies had he attended?  How many times had he read through the Bible? 

Well, apparently, whatever the numbers were, they were not enough to affect the kind of transformation envisioned by this morning’s text.  His resistance to change was obviously intense.  I suspect that somewhere in the deep places of his soul, there was pain, or hurt, or fear, or anger that kept him stuck.  Even if he had yearned for change, he apparently couldn’t bring himself to turn his “no” to change, into a life-transforming “yes.” 

Come to think of it, this kind of resistance to change is not just a Hank issue—it’s also a Monte issue because there’s resistance to the transforming way of Christ in my own soul.    Perhaps resistance is an issue for you as well.

And here’s the deal:  When we persist in our resistance to transformation, damage is done.  Hank certainly did some damage to his family and to other relationship.  But the damage can be even more widespread.  One preacher asks: “Who knows how much damage has been done by Christians?  Priests abusing children committed to their care; pastors committing adultery with their parishioners; church officials pocketing money they pilfered from the offering plate; and angry demonstrators waving placards that blaspheme a God of love by claiming that God hates.  And what of the damage we do to our hearts and minds when we are driven by greed more than gratitude, by pride more than humility, by competition more than mutuality, by selfishness more than service?”[3]

But this is not the end of the story.  There’s still good news to proclaim.  Thankfully, the transformation envisioned by this morning’s text is possible, even after a lifetime of resistance.  All it takes is cooperation with the way of Christ, instead of resistance.  Transformation is possible even if baby steps are all we can manage to move us forward in the way of Christ.  I know it can happen, because I’ve experienced it myself and I’ve seen it happen in others.

For example, during the season of Advent in 1997, I met a man named Bob.  We met on a Walk to Emmaus weekend, which is a 72-hour, short course in Christianity. After spending a weekend together in this rather intense spiritual experience, I came to see that Bob was working through some really tough issues in his life, although I didn’t know exactly what the issues were. 

Several years later, Bob and I had a chance to visit.  It was then that Bob told me his story.  He admitted to me that he had always had trouble expressing his feelings.  He held his emotions under tight control.  When he was tempted to let his emotions go, he turned to alcohol to dull the feelings.

When we met in 1997, Bob was on his third marriage.  He had several children but he had never been able to express his feelings even to them.  They had grown up without Bob ever telling them that he loved them.

It was on a Saturday afternoon during that Walk to Emmaus s several years before, that Bob did some Advent work to prepare for the coming of Christ.  He asked God to deliver him from his emotional bondage. 

That Saturday night, Bob experienced Christmas a little early.  The Christ came to him and set him free.  After everyone had gone to bed, Bob made his way to the meeting room.  He sat alone with pencil and paper and wrote letters to his family telling them how much he loved them.  He delivered the letters either in person or through the mail over the next week.

It wasn’t long before Bob received a letter in reply from his son.  The letter was full of bitterness and anger.  Later, the son contacted Bob again and said that they had to meet.  The meeting began with some skepticism from Bob’s son, but during the course of the conversation, Bob told his son face to face, for the very first time in his son’s life, that he loved him.  The two embraced and there was, in that moment, peace.  By the way, as Bob told me this story, tears rolled down his cheeks and he expressed to me how incredibly grateful he was to God for the transformation that had taken place in his life. 

So now, the season of Advent has come and gone, our Christmas Eve celebration of the birth of Christ is in the past.  Christmas Day is behind us.  And we’re counting down the twelve days that mark the Christmas season.  So what?  What difference has any of this made?  Has anything changed?

Well, we’ve heard from Hank, and we’ve heard from Bob.  But now, the questions are ours to answer.  And the opportunity to embrace transformation is once again on the table. 

But no matter how we respond, the letter to the church at Colossae keeps hope alive because it keeps the vision ever before us of transformed human life made possible in Christ—and through Christ—as we clothe ourselves in the garments of grace while learning to live in the way of Christ.  May it be so for us.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.