Faith's Confession

I have a confession to make. I’m not even sure if Susan knows about this one… Do I have your attention?

When I was a young pastor, but old enough to know better, my wife and I had an argument. I know it’s hard to imagine: a young, married couple with two kids and hardly any money, having an argument. But there you have it. We did. I’m not proud of it, but with too university assignments to read and papers to writes, and sermons and Bible studies to write and lead as well, and frankly, lots of frustrating church Council meetings that left me riding my stationary bike for an hour afterwards just to work off the frustration, I was on my last nerve. Sadly, some trivial thing at home was more than I could handle.

I snapped, and stormed out of the house, got in the car, and drove off, this time working off my frustration, not on a bike, but in a car. I know; what could go wrong?

Well, wrong it went. I got two blocks from home and ran a red light. An officer saw it, pulled me, and gave me a ticket—one of three I have received in the past 50 years. If you must know, the others were for speeding and failure to yield. Wow; your pastor and driving…

Now, in that small town, one went before the mayor for such infractions. He had me come to his house, as I recall, it was two or three houses down from the church that I was serving. We sat in his living room, and he asked me to tell him about the incident. I did, and told him I was completely in the wrong, and deserved the ticket. I asked him what the fine was going to be, because we sure couldn’t afford to pay a fine back in the day and I feared my violation would set our yoiung family back further in debt than ever.

Instead of answering my question, he asked me if I thought I could keep my temper under control in the future. Of course, I told him that I could, and that I would. Then he told me what he knew I already knew, saying that our town didn’t need its pastors running red lights, let alone them probably speeding and being reckless. And we sure didn’t need Rev. Ryman’s name ending up in the paper.

Ashamed, I could only agree with him that we did not need that.

Then he took the ticket and tore it up. Right in front of me. And that was that. It’s been almost 40 years, and this is the first time I can recall that the matter has ever come up again. So far as the law was concerned, I was forgiven. In legal terms, I had been justified before the court. This is what I want to talk to you about this morning: being justified under the law. But first, let us pray.

Loving Father, though it gives away the rest of my sermon in this brief prayer, we thank you that you have forgiven us our sins, and justified us before the Judge of all creation, and that you have done so, not because we deserve it but because you love us. Open our hearts now to understand your Word, so that we might act like your beloved children, for Christ’s sake. Amen

Grace and peace to you, from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen

I was a young man when I was that jerk in Lakeview, Ohio. I am fast outdistancing more than twice my age back then, but I am still a young man… Well, in terms of Abram in our Old Testament lesson today, I am a young man. Abram was half again as old as I am now. God help Susan, and for that matter, other motorists, if I live to be so old.

Abraham was 99 years old when God appeared to him to make his covenant with him. In preface to the covenant, God says in our Old Testament lesson this morning, “I am God Almighty; walk before me, and be blameless, that I may make my covenant between me and you.”[1] Those were the terms of the covenant. One, I am God, so what I say goes. Period. Two, walk before me and be blameless. Frankly, I don’t know what’s harder to deal with: the Almighty God part, or the part where sinners are supposed to be blameless.

Nonetheless, those are the terms and they apply to us down through the ages. The covenant is between God and Abraham, and Abraham’s offspring throughout the generations of humankind. It is an everlasting covenant.[2] Before you object that you are not a child of Abraham, let the biblical record show that you are. Paul assures us “that it is those of faith who are the sons of Abraham.”[3]

The terms of the covenant apply to those who are the offspring of Abraham, even through faith. We are to walk before the Almighty God—and be blameless—even if we are driving cars though small, Ohio towns.

So, what happens to the covenant when we break our end of the bargain? Does God throw down the tablets like Moses did, breaking them and calling off the covenant? Or does he forgive us so that he may continue keeping his side of the covenant in spite of sinners like us? Of course, he does the latter, but is he just to do so?

In our “Brief Service of Confession and Absolution,” we quote John who writes, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”[4] We understand, at some level, that God remains faithful even when we are faithless.[5] But do we appreciate how God is just in his doing so.

For example, some of you might think the mayor of Lakeview, Ohio, back in the 80s, should have thrown the book at that jerk of a pastor. You might be right. You could even go so far as to say that it was unjust for him to have let him off. After all, I’m fairly sure that he didn’t let others go when they ran that stop light.

If you are one who would say that the mayor was unfair to single out some punk pastor and forgive him for his transgression, then where does that leave you who must stand before the Almighty God and judge of sinners? If you confess Christ Jesus as Savior and Lord, and repent of your sins, God is faithful and just to forgive you. Does that make him unfair when he does? After all, there are a lot of other sinners in the world whom he does not forgive. What makes you so special, that you get forgiven and others do not?

It’s a fair question. Just like that angry, young pastor deserved for the book to be thrown at him, you do too. You deserve the full wrath of God. All of us do. And by all of us, I mean the whole human race, past, present, and future—sinners down to the last one. We don’t deserve pardon, nor to be justified, justification in its legal sense meaning to be considered right when we are dead wrong. Just like the mayor made me right with the law when I was wrong; God makes us right, or righteous, when we are anything but.

But why does he do this? Is it simply because he loves us? Well, it starts there but he loves the whole world, and we have already established that lots of those loved ones aren’t righteous. They receive no pardon.

So, let me reintroduce you to another sinner, and I guess, a jerk of biblical proportions. His name is Peter, and if anyone ever deserved the book to be thrown at him, it was the outspoken and quick-tongued apostle from Bethsaida and Capernaum. This is the guy who said he didn’t even know Jesus when Jesus was himself before a governor, not a mayor…when Jesus was to receive the judgment of crucifixion, not a traffic fine. When Jesus’ life was on the line, Peter was speeding through traffic lights trying to distance himself from his doomed rabbi. Yet, Peter was forgiven. Why?

Despite his transgression, his unfaithfulness to Jesus, Christ is faithful to him. Still, it begs the question, “Why?” Why would Christ Jesus be faithful to a jerk like Peter—or for that matter, a jerk like me? And is he right or just to do so?

In order to answer that question, I must remind us of something else about Simon Peter and his mouth. And I’d like to put it into our time frame. When Jesus and his disciples were heading up to Caesarea Philippi, he asked them, “Who do people say that I am?” They answered, Some say you’re just a man, but a good teacher about morals. Others say you’re a rabble-rouser and a trouble-maker. Some whole religions, like Hindus, believe you’re just one of many gods in the religious pantheon. Another group thinks you’re magic to be summoned, a sort of good luck charm for those who want a prosperous life on this side of heaven. Then there are those who say you’re a prophet of biblical nature. Still others claim you don’t even exist.

At this point, Jesus looks them in the eyes, and asks, “But who do you say that I am?” Seemingly without missing a beat, Peter confesses that Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, the long-awaited, anointed one of God. This is faith’s good confession. It may only be made through faith supplied to us by God’s grace. All other statements of who Jesus truly is, and are on Satan’s side, not God’s.

The Bible teaches us that we are saved by grace through faith. This isn’t something that we do but is the gift of God.[6] It is a gift to the undeserving but loved. That is why God sent his Son to be model, yes, but also redeemer and savior, light and salvation, way, truth, and life. Faith’s confession insists there is no other way to glory, to eternal life, to the loving Father of us all.

Some will insist that there are many paths up the mountain. Oh, and I would agree with them; but they do not all lead to the Father, because Jesus alone is the way to him. Furthermore, some of the paths up the mountain lead to a precipice, to the abyss, to death, and hell itself. Only Christ is the life. Some of the paths lead to a lovely setting, though it is not the mountaintop but instead a mirage. Christ alone is the truth. All this, faith confesses.

In fact, we are liberated to confess our sin only because we confess Christ. Why else would we bother? How else than through faith in God’s one way to himself, could we ever expect our confession might be good for anything? But because faith confesses the Redeemer, it may turn with trust to the Lord, both fearing and loving him.

Only faith can believe the good news, the best news, that sinners are forgiven, jerks are loved, and the unrighteous are justified before the Almighty God even though they do not deserve it. This is faith’s confession.

And so, I have another confession to make. Susan has heard this one. I acknowledge that I am a sinner, sometimes one who is operating at a level of exceptional jerkiness, otherwise known as pride. I have tried to do better over these nearly 45 years of marriage. But I’m really no better at all of this than I was back in the 80s. I am still a sinner.

However, I also confess that I am at peace with God because I have been reconciled to him through no personal excellence or worth. I have been wholly justified, redeemed, and righted by the death of his Son. The justifying blood of the Anointed One’s death has made me right with God, and by his life alone, I have been given salvation.

Is this your confession? Then we are brethren through faith by God’s grace. We are family, bonded in blood not our own.

Glory!

[1] (Genesis 17:1 ESV)

[2] (Genesis 17:7)

[3] (Galatians 3:7 ESV)

[4] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), 1 Jn 1:9.

[5] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), 2 Ti 2:13.

[6] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Eph 2:8.