Sermon 18th September 2016

Today, our Assistant Minister, Gill Taylor, preaches. From the reading from Psalm 51. 

Excuses, excuses…

Here are some (apparently) real life excuses given by people for not going to work:

 “I had a dream that I was fired, so I didn't want to get out of bed."

“I woke up in a good mood and didn't want to ruin it.”

“A fox stole my work shoe off my patio."

“I wasn't thinking straight and accidentally went to my old job."

“While rowing across the river to work, I got lost in the fog."

“My parrot had the flu and needed to be taken care of.”

“The plastic surgery on my eyes needed some "tweaking" to get it just right.”

“I had been at the casino all weekend and still had money left to play with on Monday morning.”

“I caught my uniform on fire by putting it in the microwave to dry.”

“My false teeth flew out of the window while I was driving to work.”

“Someone glued my doors and windows shut so I couldn’t leave the house.”

Really?!

Excuses, excuses!

If you’ve missed the last couple of weeks’ sermons, you won’t have heard that: in this series on the psalms this autumn, each preacher was asked to choose a psalm they’d like to focus on, from personal experience. I chose several, including this one Psalm 51, in which the author, David, King David, says “I’m sorry” at a very profound level, with much heartfelt grief. “I’m sorry.”

Why would I choose a psalm that focuses on “I’m sorry”? Aren’t the words “I’m sorry” words that we avoid, we wriggle out of, we hate to say, that stick in our gullet? Isn’t it humiliating, demeaning, degrading, embarrassing, to say “I’m sorry”, to admit that we’re wrong? Don’t we hate to own up to our mistakes and our failings? Don’t we go to great lengths to make excuses, to rationalise and justify them, or to cover them up, even from ourselves?

Yes, we do. We all do. I do!

BUT I know from personal experience, as many people do, what David means, what he speaks about, first in verse 8 of this psalm, and later in verse 12,  of the JOY and GLADNESS that come from having repented, having said “I’m sorry” to God.

The JOY of knowing we’re forgiven, of knowing we’re still accepted, still welcome, still LOVED – the whole psalm is set in the sure knowledge of God’s constant love. We read in verse 1: “Be merciful to me O God because of your constant love.”

The JOY of knowing we’re forgiven, of knowing we’re still loved – there’s nothing like it! Even in a human relationship, we experience this. When we pluck up our courage and apologise to someone we’ve hurt or wronged in some way – and they say “that’s OK”, “you’re forgiven” or similar words – PHEW!

So I chose this psalm to focus on, because of the joy and the relief, of knowing we’re forgiven and loved by God. Constantly. God’s constant love, his mercy, his forgiveness, his acceptance, really is the heart of the good news of the Christian faith. It’s not just good news, it’s great news, it’s the very best news!

BUT we can only appreciate and experience that good news, that great news, if we face up to the bad news first. If we are truly open and honest with ourselves and with God, and sometimes with other people, about our failings, our sin.

As they say, the word sin has the letter I in the middle, me in the middle, my life is All About Me. A lot of the time we live with ourselves at the centre of our lives instead of God, and all the ways that plays out is our sin, our wrong doing. And it’s crucial that we’re willing to recognise our sin, for what it is, and take responsibility for it fair and square, in all seriousness and severity.

Easier said than done! We’d much rather make excuses for ourselves, wouldn’t we?! And unlike the excuses we heard at the beginning of my sermon, we’re sometimes good at coming up with plausible excuses. We say

Everyone does it!

It wasn’t my fault, I was provoked!

It’s only natural, only human.

It’s not as bad as what other people do! I’m a good person, really. And so on.

We make excuses. Or we blame someone else, “It was their fault!” But often it’s not, not really.

You may have heard this illustration before: If I’m holding a cup of something, and you bump into me and it spills all over the place, it may be your fault that it has spilled, but I’m responsible for what was in the cup that has spilled. I’m responsible for whether it’s pure, clean water, or smelly, filthy gunk, that spilled out.

So if you wrong me and I react with anger and rudeness, I must take responsibility for the anger and hatred in my heart. It shouldn’t have been there in the first place, then it wouldn’t have spilt out.

If I get really het up and jealous that someone else is given something I’ve been wanting, be it something concrete or something like attention or appreciation,

my irritation and jealousy is not their fault, it’s mine.

I am responsible for my reaction.

We blame other people, and we make excuses. But often deep down we know we’re at fault, really.

Let’s look at the psalm again. In verse 3 we read, “I recognise my faults; I am always conscious of my sins.”

I’m sure that for each of us, there are things we regret, things we are ashamed of, things we wish we’d never said or done. We’re aware of them alright. Probably some other people are aware of too, if only our nearest and dearest. We might even admit it to them, periodically apologise for our flaring temper, or controlling or critical behaviour, our selfish demands or addictions or whatever.

But as well as that lot there are things we don’t even admit to ourselves.

Last week Adrian helped us look at Psalm 19. It’s mostly about God’s glory, but also says this: “No one can see his own errors: deliver me, Lord, from hidden faults! Keep me safe, also, from wilful sins; don’t let them rule over me.”

There’s wilful sin, yes, but there’s also our hidden faults. The things we deceive even ourselves about. When misgivings or unease about them start to arise, we squash it back down fast, rationalising it in all sorts of clever ways.

David probably did this, before recognising his sin for what it was and writing this psalm. For him it was adultery with a woman called Bathsheba and the murder of her husband!

You may be familiar with the story:

One day King David was on the roof of his palace and he saw the beautiful Bathsheba taking a bath. He knew she was married to Uriah, who was away at war. David wanted Bathsheba, so he sent for her and slept with her. She became pregnant. David panicked, got Uriah back from war hoping he would sleep with his wife so it would look like the baby was his. But his plan didn’t work; Uriah didn’t sleep with Bathsheba, and in desperation David sent Uriah back to war and told the army commander to put Uriah in a place where he would be killed in battle. And that’s what happened. Uriah was killed.

We can imagine how David might have fooled himself into thinking that he had done nothing wrong. He might have thought:

“I have lots of concubines already, what’s one more woman?

I’m the king; I should be able to have any woman I want!

I tried to fix the problem, getting Uriah home from war, but he didn’t co operate; it’s his fault!

Then I had to get rid of Uriah, if I hadn’t there would have been a scandal, which would have been bad for me as king. And it’s not good for the people to lose confidence in their ruler, so really I did it for them.

And scandal would be very bad for the country! For everyone!”
And so on.

The ingenuity of the human heart knows no bounds when it comes to justifying our wrong behaviour. Sometimes we’re so effective at deceiving ourselves, we need someone else to point out the truth to us.

David was like that. God sent a prophet called Nathan, to confront David with his sin (although even then David could only hear it, in the form of a story, not directly; read 2 Samuel chapters 11 and 12 for a great read!)

In telling him a story, Nathan confronts David with what he has done, and only then does David sees it for what it really is – and is heartily and painfully sorry,

and writes this psalm 51 in response.

I can identify with that too – maybe you can? There have been times when someone else has bravely, kindly and graciously helped me see, where I’m going badly wrong. And the penny has dropped. Ouch ouch ouch! It is painful, but it leads to growth.

So, recognising, and taking responsibility, is the only way to experience the joy and gladness of forgiveness.

And it’s the only way to change, to grow! We can learn from our failings and our sin, as we learn from our mistakes.

Watching the Olympics and Paralympics has been exhilarating and inspirational for many. Hearing about the hours and hours, hundreds of hours, years, of slog, of hard work, often excruciating and pushing oneself beyond previous limits to success. How do they do it? One of the ways they continually improve their performance is by learning from their mistakes. Sports psychologists say it’s crucial to analyse every race or match, to see what can be learned for next time.

Dr Alan Goldberg, sports performance consultant, says this: “You can't get better, faster, stronger or more skilled in your sport without knowing your shortcomings. Remember, a chain is only as strong as its weakest link.  Every time that you fail, lose or mess up, you have an opportunity, because failures, mistakes and losses provide you with a valuable source of feedback. They tell you what you did wrong and what not to do next time. If you're smart enough to recognize it, failures will lift the level of your performance.”  

Michael Jordan, retired but he was one of the world’s great basketball players, says:

“I have missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I have lost almost 300 games. On 26 occasions I have been entrusted to take the game-winning shot, and I missed. I have failed over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.”

That’s how we need to be in our lives, really quick to spot what, how and WHY we’ve gone wrong, so that we can learn from it, so that we can see how to change.

For the past few years, I’ve found a tremendously useful tool for helping me understand my weaknesses and sin, their causes and cover ups, in the personality model called the Enneagram. It’s just a tool, but it has helped me see my underlying motivations for my actions and emotions in really enlightening and liberating ways.

So understanding our failings can be really helpful. It can be helpful, too, to see how our weaknesses, our sin, is often the flip side of our strengths. The other side of the same coin.

I wouldn’t be tempted to be overly controlling and bossy, if I weren’t also a good leader.

I wouldn’t be tempted to try to fix situations and people to make myself feel needed, if I weren’t naturally helpful and kind. And so on. Maybe you can think of one of your strengths, one of your gifts, that can be misused or over used, as a failing or weakness??

So, we need to recognise our failings and sin, and to take responsibility for them. We need to learn from them. But most of all, we need to repent of them – which means saying sorry, deep, heartfelt, regretful, remorseful sorry, as David does in this psalm.

But repentance means something else. We’ve probably all heard before: it’s not just saying sorry, not even just being really sorry. Repentance is about turning around, turning around from one way of thinking, or behaving, to another. It’s turning to move in the opposite direction.

It’s about choosing to change, to change our behaviour, our thoughts, whatever. Consciously, deliberately, actively. Get rid of the things that make the sinful pattern easy and put in place the things that will help you change. Get help if need be, too! If you possibly can, tell someone else whom you trust, what you’re struggling with and enlist their support, and prayer. Whatever it takes, do it!

A few minutes ago I said this “I’m sorry” prayer of David’s, is firmly set in the context of God’s constant love. His mercy his forgiveness is there for the taking, and all we need to do is to receive it. Remember, our sin can be forgiven, thanks to Jesus’ death on the cross, as we’ll be celebrating in Communion shortly. When Jesus died, he took the sin of the whole world, and that includes yours and mine, on to himself, and took our place so that you and I might be free from the punishment we deserve. So that we can be forgiven.

As David says, there is joy and gladness in knowing we are deeply loved and accepted by God! We don’t have to earn it, we simply have to receive it.

And so we need to let it go, we need to forgive ourselves too. The point of acknowledging our sin is not so we can beat ourselves up about it, is not self hatred or to be burdened with guilt. It’s exactly the opposite: so we can know we’re loved & forgiven & accepted & set free to live differently. It’s about freedom! It’s about joy and gladness!

It is about living our lives to the full by living as God made us to be.

As I conclude then, I want to recognise how difficult this is. In chapter 7 of Romans, Paul talks about failing to do the things we theoretically want to do and doing the things that we theoretically don’t want to do. He says:

“I do not understand what I do, for I don’t do what I would like to do, but instead I do what I hate. … For even though the desire to do good is in me, I am not able to do it. I don’t do the good I want to do; instead, I do the evil that I do not want to do. … What an unhappy man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is taking me to death? Thanks be to God – who does this through our Lord Jesus Christ!”

So I’m not suggesting repenting, saying I’m sorry, and repenting, changing our direction and behaviour, is easy. In the end, we can only cast ourselves on the mercy and love of God, “through Jesus Christ our Lord”, as Paul says.

Which brings us back to where we started. With God’s

constant love for each of us. That really is the beginning middle and end of the matter – God loves us, and his forgiveness, his mercy, his grace are available to us, when we say “I’m sorry”.

And now let’s pray……….