Change the script!

I’ve been an English teacher for over almost 30 years now in Japan. And if there’s one conversation I hope to never hear again, it’s, “How are you?” “I’m fine, thank you. And you?” I mean that conversation is only slightly better than, “What’s this?” “This is a pen.”

So I was really happy this year when one of the teachers I work with tried to change the script at least a little bit. I was doing English interview tests with the students. And the teacher had actually introduced two new phrases to her students. “How’s it going?” and “How are you doing?”

But when it came time for the interview, I asked many students, “How’s it going?” And they just froze. “How’s…it…going?” “Yes, how’s it going?” “How’s…it…going.” “Okay, how are you doing?” “How… are you…doing?”

It was like they’d never heard those phrases in their lives. I guess changing the script can be pretty traumatic for some students. But changing the script can actually be a good thing. In this case, it can actually make you sound more like a human instead of a robot. “I’m fine, thank you, and you.”

Well, the same is true in our Christian lives. And for some of us, we really need to learn to change the script we use. If there’s one phrase I'd be happy to never hear from a Christian again, it’s this: “I have to do better.”

“I’m not reading my Bible enough. I have to do better.” “I’m not praying enough. I have to do better.” “I messed up again. I have to do better.”

Now don’t get me wrong. All of us in a sense “have to do better.” None of us are perfect. All of us have areas where we need to grow. But the problem with “I have to do better” is that for many Christians, (not all, but many), those words often hide an underlying attitude. What’s that attitude? “I’m not good enough as a Christian. I have to perform better to be accepted by God.”

And so instead of living by grace, instead of joy being the motivating factor in their lives, many Christians live by guilt.

I know some Christians who are so wracked with guilt. They go on and on about how they’ve messed up their lives because of their decisions. And I get no sense at all that they understand God’s acceptance and forgiveness in their lives. Instead, they seem to think God is angry with them, that he’s somehow punishing them for their mistakes.

Others I know may not feel guilt to that level, but they’re constantly saying, “I have to do better.” They always seem depressed that they are somehow not measuring up as a Christian.

Is that you? Have you ever felt that way?

Truth be told, I have. For years, I wondered if I was even a Christian. I can’t tell you how many times I prayed to “receive Jesus as my Savior.” There were many reasons I felt that way. One was I didn’t “feel like a Christian,” whatever that means. I suppose I meant I didn’t feel that joy a Christian should have. I didn’t feel close to God.

But along with that, I didn’t think I was a very good Christian. I was ashamed of my faith, and wouldn’t tell my friends I was a Christian. There were sins I was struggling with. My times of Bible reading and prayer were very off and on. And because of all this, I had doubts.

Do you relate with any of this? How do we get beyond those feelings of guilt and doubt? How do we change the script and start living the way that God wants us to, in freedom and joy? That’s what we want to talk about today. Take a look at Mark 14.

Just to give some background, we are now looking at the final night of Jesus’ life before he was crucified. One of his disciples, Judas, had just made arrangements with Jesus’ enemies to hand him over to them and was now looking for his opportunity to do so. I’m not sure, but I think he ended up acting more quickly than he had originally intended.

It was the time of the Passover feast. And as we saw a few weeks ago, it was the season when the Jews celebrated God delivering his people from slavery in Egypt. So Jesus told two of his disciples to make dinner preparations for that night. And once everything was ready, he and his disciples gathered together to celebrate the Passover.

I really wonder what the atmosphere was like that night. Were the disciples just acting as usual, enjoying the Passover meal without a care in the world? Or did they pick up on the heaviness that Jesus felt that night, knowing that he was about to die. Whatever the case, the room quickly became somber when Jesus started speaking. Take a look at verse 18.

While they were reclining and eating, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me—one who is eating with me.” (18)

That’s a good way to destroy a festive spirit, don’t you think? And the disciples’ reaction is very understandable. Verse 19.

They began to be distressed and to say to him one by one, “Surely not I?”

He said to them, “It is one of the Twelve—the one who is dipping bread in the bowl with me. For the Son of Man will go just as it is written about him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for him if he had not been born.” (19-21)

Imagine this scene for a minute. On one hand, each disciple is saying, “Surely, not I?” It’s unthinkable to them that they could do such a thing. And yet, at the same time, Jesus didn’t give them a timeline. He didn’t say, “One of you will betray me tonight.” He simply said, “One of you will betray me.” And so there’s probably a seed of doubt in each man’s heart. “Could Jesus be talking about me? Does he see the doubts I’ve had at times? Does he remember all the times I’ve failed? Does he something in my character that I’m blind to? Surely he couldn’t be talking about me? Could he?” I wonder. If I had been there, would I have been thinking the same thing? Would you?

But all Jesus says at this point, is “It’s one of you.” Why did Jesus feel the need to say that? Was he showing Judas that he knew and was trying to push him into immediate action? Or was this some kind of final warning to Judas? “You still have a chance to turn from your course of action. I have to die, but you don’t have to be the one that betrays me.”

Whatever the case, can you imagine what was running through Judas’ mind when Jesus said, “One of you will betray me?” His heart must have started racing. “What does Jesus know?” The interesting thing is that it seems that he was sitting right next to Jesus, on Jesus’ left. In those days, the Passover meal was eaten while reclining, as you see in the picture, not like Da Vinci painted it. On Jesus’ right, John apparently was reclining next to him with his head next to Jesus’ breast (John 13:23).But Jesus’ head was probably right at Judas’ breast. Which is why Judas could whisper softly, “It’s not me, is it?” and the other disciples wouldn’t be able to hear Jesus’ answer. Judas’ heart must have stopped when according to Matthew’s gospel, Jesus told him, “Yes, it’s you.” (Matthew 26:25)

And as soon as Judas heard those words, he must have been thinking about getting out of there as fast as possible, an opportunity that Jesus would give him later according to John’s gospel. But in the meantime, the meal continued. Verse 22.

As they were eating, he took bread, blessed and broke it, gave it to them, and said, “Take it; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks, he gave it to them, and they all drank from it. He said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many. Truly I tell you, I will no longer drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new , in the kingdom of God.”

After singing a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives. (22-26)

There were a lot of things that must have shocked the disciples during this meal. First Jesus announced that one of them would betray him. And then in the meal itself, he broke a longtime tradition. God had instructed the Jews to tell their children the meaning of the Passover whenever they ate the Passover meal (Exodus 12:26-27). And so it became tradition during the meal to explain the story of their deliverance found in Exodus. And when the bread was passed out, the father or host of the feast would take the bread, break it, and say, “This is the bread of affliction that our ancestors ate in Egypt.” But Jesus changed the script. He took the bread, broke it, and said, “Take it. This is my body.”

What were the disciples thinking when he said this? It’s so easy for us to look back as Christians, and say, “Oh yes, of course. Jesus is taking about offering his body on the cross to die so that we can have eternal life.” Actually, the disciples should have been able to realize that too, since Jesus had talked about this before. We saw this in our Soul Food series back in November. If you missed it, please watch it on Youtube. But as it was, the disciples had no clue what Jesus was talking about. “This is Jesus’ body? What does that mean?”

And then Jesus shocked them further. He gave them a cup of wine to drink. There were four cups that were drunk during the Passover, and this one was probably the third, called the Cup of Redemption. The word “redemption” has the idea of buying back something that once belonged to you but is now possessed by another. In this case, the Israelites were God’s people, but had become Egypt’s slaves. And God sent nine plagues to convince Pharaoh to let his people go. Nine times Pharaoh refused. And so God sent a final plague, killing the firstborn son of everyone in Egypt. But the angel of death passed over every Israelite house that had the blood of a lamb on its doorframe. And as a result of that final plague, Pharaoh finally let the people go free. That’s what the Cup of Redemption represented: the blood of the lamb that bought God’s people back.

But after Jesus had handed out the cup to his disciples and they drank it, he again changed the script. “Do you know what you just drank? Do you know what that Cup of Redemption really is? That’s my blood of the covenant, poured out for the forgiveness of many (Matthew 26:28).

I don’t know if Jesus’ words and their meaning really sunk in to the disciples’ hearts that night. But as they looked back, they had to think about the first covenant God had made with the Israelites after they had been freed from Egypt. You can read it in Exodus 24 when you go home. God had given the people his law. And the people made a promise, “We will keep all these laws you have given us.” And after they made that promise, Moses sprinkled the blood of bulls on them and said this,

“This is the blood of the covenant that the Lord has made with you concerning all these words.” (Exodus 24:8)

Now over a thousand years later, Jesus held the cup and said, “This is my blood which establishes a new covenant between you and God.” But why was that necessary? Why did there have to be a new covenant in Jesus’ blood? Why wasn’t the old covenant good enough? The writer of Hebrews tells us the reason.

For if that first covenant had been faultless, there would have been no occasion for a second one. But finding fault with his people, he says:

See, the days are coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah-- (Hebrews 8:7-8)

The problem with the old covenant is us. We can make all the vows in the world to obey God, just as the Israelites did. But we are all weak. We all fail. And if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit that. It was that weakness that had all the disciples doubting themselves when Jesus said one of them would betray him. “Jesus couldn’t be talking about me, could he? I wouldn’t betray him, would I? But…am I really that strong? Am I really that faithful?”

The Israelites weren’t. Time and again they failed God. And not just that generation that originally made the promises. Generation after generation failed to keep the vows they made to follow God. And so finally, God said, “Enough! We need a new covenant. Not a covenant based on your faithfulness, because none of you are faithful. I’m going to make a covenant based on my faithfulness. On my grace. On what I do.”

And what God did was send his Son to pay the price for all our sins and failures. We don’t approach God on the basis of anything we’ve done. We approach him on the basis of what Jesus did for us on the cross. That’s our confidence in approaching him. Not our goodness. But his. Not our faithfulness to him. But his faithfulness to us. That’s something the disciples didn’t understand yet.

What’s really ironic is that not long after the disciples struggled with doubts about their own faithfulness to Jesus, they soon turned around and made all these promises to be faithful to him. Look at verses 27-31.

Then Jesus said to them, “All of you will fall away, because it is written:

I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered. But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you to Galilee.”

Peter told him, “Even if everyone falls away, I will not.”

“Truly I tell you,” Jesus said to him, “today, this very night, before the rooster crows twice, you will deny me three times.”

But he kept insisting, “If I have to die with you, I will never deny you.” And they all said the same thing.

You have to love Peter. Always full of confidence and so quick to speak. But he like the rest of the disciples would not be able to keep his promises. And the thing was, Jesus knew it. He knew their love for him. But he also knew their weakness. He knew they would not be able to keep their promises. And that’s what makes his promise to them so incredible. He said, “You will all abandon me. But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you to Galilee. And I will be waiting for you.” And that’s what Jesus did. Though his disciples were unfaithful to their promises to him, he was faithful to his promises to them, meeting them in Galilee after his resurrection. And not only meeting them, but welcoming them.

So what do we get from all of this? Are any of you like me when I was a young Christian? You’re never quite sure of God’s love and acceptance of you. You’re not sure because you see your sins, weaknesses, and failings. Maybe in the past, you’ve made promises to God. “I’ll read my Bible and pray every day. I’m going to overcome this sin or that sin my life. I’m going to do better as a Christian this year.” But like the disciples, like the Israelites, you find yourself breaking your promises again and again, and again.

You try your best to be a “good Christian,” and maybe for a while, you actually think you’re doing well. But then something happens, your sins and failings are exposed, and you suddenly realize you aren’t as good as you thought you were. And so now you’re hearing words of condemnation ringing in your head, “You’re not good enough. You’re no good.” And you think that God is the one telling you that. And because of all this, instead of living in freedom and joy as God intends, you’re always living with feelings of guilt. That’s not how God wants you to live.

I think about Peter after Jesus’ resurrection. He’d had perhaps two or three weeks to think about his relationship with Jesus and where he stood with him. After all, he had once boldly claimed, “Even if everyone else abandons you, I never will. I will even die for you.” But when the pressure was on and he had to make a choice, he’d ended up denying Jesus three times.

But while Peter was no doubt still pondering these things, Jesus took him aside one day to talk to him. What did he say to Peter? What would you have said to Peter? I don’t know about you, but somewhere in that conversation, I would have probably said something like, “Peter, I’m really disappointed in you. You really let me down. You made all these promises of faithfulness, and yet you denied me three times.”

But when you look at John chapter 21, Jesus said none of that. Instead he simply said, “Peter, do you love me? Yes? Good. Then follow me.”

And that’s Jesus’ message to us who love him when we fail him. His message isn’t, “I’m disappointed in you. You really let me down.” His message is simply, “Do you love me? Yes? Good. Follow me.”

Jesus isn’t looking for us to somehow make up for our mistakes. He already has paid for every sin we’ve ever done on the cross. He isn’t looking for promises of faithfulness or perfect love from us. All he desires is a heart that loves him, imperfect though that love may now be, and a heart that desires to follow him.

That lesson is what flipped the script for me and given me the joy I can honestly say I have as a Christian. It’s funny. Sometimes in my plant group, I’ll express some of my failings and regrets. And someone will mistake my confessions of failure for self-condemnation. So they say “Hey, don’t beat yourself up so much about it.” But much as I appreciate their concern, 99.9% of the time, that’s not what I’m doing. See, I can freely talk about my sins and my failings. I can feel sorry for them. I can be honest about my struggles to change. But I don’t doubt for a second God accepts me. Why not? Because I know Jesus has already paid for my sins. He doesn’t accept me because of my goodness or faithfulness as a Christian. He accepts me because of his goodness and his faithfulness toward me. And in his faithfulness and goodness, he says, “Do you love me? Yes? Then follow me.”

That’s the joy I have as a Christian. That’s what keeps me going in my pursuit of Christ. That’s what fuels my desire to continue growing to be like him. And that’s the joy I want for you. That’s the joy God wants for you.

So let’s get rid of the script that says, “I have to do better.” Let’s embrace a new script. A script that says, “Yes, I see my weaknesses. Yes, I see my failures. Yes, I see where I need to grow. But Jesus knows I love him. So I’m going to just keep following him, taking one more step forward with him each day.

As we close, let Jesus’ words to Peter be his words to you. Let them penetrate your heart today.

“Do you love me? I’m not asking if you love you me perfectly. I’m just asking, ‘Do you love me?’ Yes? Good. Then follow me.”