COLOSSIANS 3: 1-4
MORE BIRD LESSONS
I want to remind you of our guiding image in this series from Soren Kierkegaard. Geese live in a barnyard surrounded by a high wall. There is plenty of delicious corn to eat, so they stay there and no longer heed the call to fly south in the autumn. Other geese fly overhead and invite them, but the barnyard geese no long bother—they don’t even look up anymore—they just keep picking at the ground and remain grounded.
This was Kierkegaard’s way of criticizing what Christianity had become in Denmark in the early 19th century. People didn’t really care about the faith; they just went along with the rest of the flock. The higher calling didn’t matter. Flight (which they were made for) just didn’t matter.
We’ve said we’re meant for flight, and flying means getting both wings stretched out—a left wing and a right wing—and by living in the tension of the two wings, we can actually take to the air, rise above the barnyard and find a superior perspective from high above the scene.
The paradoxes and unresolved tensions found throughout our faith deny us the simple comforts of the barnyard, and we become hungry for something better. We long for the sky and become eager to test our wings and get to that 3D perspective of our world.
Now I must ask you to pardon me for adding another bird to our running analogy. This one is a seagull: Jonathan Livingston Seagull. The book Jonathan Livingston Seagull, by Richard Bach, was an early, new age classic. It is a spiritual fable about a seagull who is obsessed with flying and flying well, which is our interest in this series as well. One quote says it well enough:
Most gulls don’t bother to learn more than the simplest facts of flight—how to get from shore to food and back again. For most gulls, it is not flying that matters, but eating. For this gull, though, it was not eating that mattered, but flight.
It seems seagulls are a lot like geese. They can fly—and they are meant to fly—but they can become so obsessed with food that they never bother.
GROUNDED
The geese in the barnyard think they’re content, but we need to look closer. Yes, there’s plenty of corn—enough to feed all the geese all they could want—but they still fight squabble over every kernel. What’s more, the geese have organized themselves into opposing teams in order to maximize the amount of corn they can control.
If you or I could stand among them, we’d say the geese look miserable. They squawk at each other constantly, and the barnyard ground is filthy. Why in the world would they stay there, investing themselves in that wretched, walled-in barnyard when just a few wing-flaps above the land they would see a larger, freer, cleaner world?
What keeps them grounded? Well, that is the question. To name a few possibilities, they may think flying is too complex and too complicated. All that flapping and 3d navigation seems like a lot of effort and a long way from all the corn. Perhaps they think, “Why bother flying halfway across the globe when there’s plenty of delicious corn right here?”
There are probably as many excuses as there are geese, but all have in common the feeling that the barnyard, with its steady supply of corn, is the only thing that matters.
They are grounded because they are used to the way things are. They don’t mind the filth and the fighting because it has all become their custom. It is who they are (they think), and as long as they stay grounded in the barnyard, they will never know of what lies beyond, so they point their beaks at the ground and stay focused on pecking at kernels. That is their life.
If they dared to use their wings, the geese would find new life in the sky and immediately come to their senses. They would say, “What in the world was wrong with me? Why was I so devoted to that rotten, little barnyard?”
Our text states the antidote quite clearly: Set your minds on things that are above.
Our focus needs to be above and beyond the barnyard.
OUR BARNYARD
So let’s talk about our barnyard.
It's official: we have a new president, a new cabinet, and a new congress and senate. Some of us celebrate this change, others of us grieve it, but we are still one people who have to work across the aisle: two wings and all.
Let no Christian be found gleefully gloating this win over others, and let no Christian be found pouting or whining over the loss—neither response is good and neither serve our witness to Christ. Both reactions—widespread in the media and general public—are patently childish.
Nearly a year and a half ago, we had a sermon entitled, "Why Your Political Party is the Wrong One," wherein we were challenged to beware of our party spirit which can undermine our capacity to love and instead serve the common good for all. Today, we should all refresh our focus on the common good.
Four years ago, when Trump took office, America's feelings were divided in much the same way today. Of all the things that were said—and there were many—one thing that struck me was from comedian Dave Chappelle, who hosted Saturday Night Live. He said, "I did not vote for Donald Trump, but he is our president—come on, people, give him a chance!"
This was a rare moment of adulthood for that show. This—I believe—is at the very heart of the American spirit. It isn’t about winning or losing elections; it is about working across the aisle especially when your side did not win. What we need today, as always, are adults in the room. Adults don't gloat over their wins like children, and they most certainly don't try to shoot the wounded, as we see happening in some quarters. Neither do adults refuse to play anymore and knock over the game board. That is pouting and cursedly childish.
If you have been a Biden supporter, be gracious, be tactful, and be good winners—neither vindictive against your political opponents nor high and mighty for your win. As Christians, we always seek to lead by serving.
If you have been a Trump supporter, be like Dave Chappelle—give the new administration a chance—and pray for those you see as political opponents.
People of First Pres: you and I need to model unity for the rest of the nation.
And let's be crystal clear: Jesus doesn't care which party or candidate you support. Jesus judges both the left and the right, the rich and the poor, the cultural elites and the common folk. God backs neither party but loves the people of all parties. Brothers and sisters, earthly politics is mostly a lot of silly games. Both sides have their forays into self-righteousness (which is always false righteousness). Politics can divide people or lead them to the erroneous conclusion that others are unworthy of their love, and that is a deep sin indeed. We mustn’t allow ourselves to be drowned in the noise of the barnyard.
"Love your enemies," says Jesus. That means we have no justification for withholding our love from anyone. Put in the most practical terms, we must forgive everyone for everything all the time.
For some of you, that may be too much, but that is Christ's command. If you would like to withhold forgiveness from anyone for any reason, this is where you get off the bus call the Christian faith. If you should want to stay on the bus, you must forgive—every one of everything all of the time.
I know many of you dislike this. If you think I enjoy telling you this, you're right—I do—because I have little respect for the popular brands of Christianity that make excuses to protect people's egos.
[with mock sincerity]: "I think God wants us to forgive in general, but I think there are things we don't really have to forgive others for." Heresy.
"I think there are some sins which God does not expect us to forgive." Also heresy.
Matthew 6: 14-15:
14 For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; 15 but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.
That’s one wing.
Luke 17: 3-4
3 Be on your guard! If another disciple sins, you must rebuke the offender, and if there is repentance, you must forgive. 4 And if the same person sins against you seven times a day, and turns back to you seven times and says, 'I repent,' you must forgive."
"Aha!" you're thinking, "IF someone repents, then you must forgive. IF! That means we only have to forgive if someone is truly repentant, right?" Do you think that's a loophole? Are we going to get legalistic about it now? No. The spirit of forgiveness is to forgive and let it go—not to nurture some inward justification to keep hating someone.
But let's say it plainly: forgiving others can be very, very hard.
HARD TO FORGIVE
Some people forgive easily. They can say it’s over and let it go—and really let it go in their heart of hearts—these are the blessed ones, and I think they’re pretty rare. But I think we can all grow in that direction and ought to make it our goal.
Others—perhaps most people—struggle with themselves to forgive. Some people may have previously offered forgiveness too quickly, before they could mean it or feel it in their hearts, so they came to resent themselves for having let someone off the hook so easily. Did you ever feel that way? Forgive someone and then regret that you did quite so quickly? I think we all understand.
Some people find forgiving others extremely difficult. When one feels damage that is deep and savaging, that pain can feel like something impossible to counteract. Some people have unresolved hurts and even deep scarring—they’d like to forgive but find it difficult, if not impossible.
If that’s you, I’d say fret not—God bless you! It’s okay to be patient with yourself in coming to a genuine sense of forgiveness. And it’s perhaps better to say it when you can do so sincerely than to do it and not mean it. That’s a kind of lie both to oneself and to the person you’re ostensibly forgiving. It’s okay to say, “I’m trying to forgive with God’s help. My goal is to forgive,” which is not the same as saying, “I will not forgive.” Some people need time.
Ever been on the other side of insincere forgiveness? Ever been “forgiven” and then reminded of your offense again and again? That is the same thing as not being forgiven.
FORGIVE AND FORGET
The aphorism Forgive and Forget is the right formula. To forgive but not forget is to not forgive. It is to remember the sins of others continually. Now to be clear, forgetting doesn’t need to mean literally forgetting—it’s possible you’ll always internally remember an injury done to you—but that once you forgive, it is forgotten within the relationship. Once you forgive, you forego your right ever to bring it up again. It might be there in your head, and you may want to bring it up—but you shouldn’t. To not mention it is to forget with the kind of forgetting that is forgiveness. That is how God forgives us, and the way we should forgive one another. True forgiveness forgets, practically speaking.
THE GIFT OF FLIGHT
When we forgive others, it may not feel like love to us. It may feel like a risky bet that the other may not pay off. Forgiving others may feel like a loss rather than a win. We hope the other person would appreciate it, but it can be hard to know.
But when you are the one who has been offered forgiveness, that feels like love. When we are forgiven, it is as though a weight is taken off our backs and we are again free to fly as we should.
The great paradox of forgiveness is that once we are freed to fly high above the barnyard, our life in the barnyard improves dramatically. We involve ourselves by choice, not by compulsion. We keep a sense of humor over the silly games that lead the other geese to anger and fighting. We don’t seriously invest ourselves in anything grounded, because our real life is hidden with Christ in the air, high above the barnyard.
And we believe a day is coming when the call to join Him in the air will be completely irresistible, and all his flock will come to Him, to be with Him and fly with Him…south? north? east? west? up yonder? What matters is that wherever He is, we shall be, and that is why we set our minds on the things that are above, and thank Him for the gift of flight.