WHEN WE STAND AFAR
Posted by: bhfbc <bhfbc@...>
May 16, 2004
Evening Service
Text: Luke 18:9-14
We were looking at chapter 18 of Luke in our Bible study last Thursday.
The chapter includes, of course, this story Jesus used to make a point.
Our discussion got me to thinking about some of the points Jesus raised.
This parable is an object lesson with a very pointed moral, which is
given in its beginning found in verse 9: "To some who were confident of
their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, Jesus told
this parable..."
Now let's get off on the right foot as we examine his purpose for telling
this parable. Jesus was certainly not opposed to being confident. He was
the most confident person who has ever lived; he could not be sidetracked
from his mission. Jesus wanted to see confidence in others. He was always
put out with his disciples when they failed due to lack of faith. If
Peter, for example, had remained confident in his faith, he would not
have started to sink after he stepped out and walked on the water. On the
day of Pentecost, the disciples were filled with a power that renewed
them and caused them to be able to stand in front of a huge crowd and
testify of the work of the Christ. That was confidence.
After his experience on the road to Damascus, Paul was physically and
mentally in the dark. He was confused and no longer had confidence in his
original purpose. But after being visited by Ananias and hearing some of
the testimonies about Jesus, Paul gained a new confidence that enabled
him to "preach in the synagogues that Jesus is the Son of God." As a
final example, turn to Hebrews 10:35-36. We are instructed to "not throw
away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere
so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has
promised."
This parable teaches us not to be confident in the wrong things. Jesus
addresses some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked
down on everybody else. Instead of
looked down on everybody else, the
King James and other versions translate the last part of the clause like
this: "...and despised others." That is more forceful than looking down
on everybody else.
Let us consider first the Pharisee. Undoubtedly, Jesus had some Pharisees
in his audience. Possibly some Sadducees, priests, and scribes, too. So
the people knew what he was talking about. Not all Pharisees were like
the Pharisee of this story. Jewish literature can furnish many instances
of exemplary humility. But, because of the nature of their call and work,
they were exposed to the danger of spiritual pride, not unlike those who
turned down the invitation in the parable of the great banquet in Luke
14. In fact, Jewish literature records the prayer of one rabbi around 70
AD: "I thank thee, O Lord, my God, that thou hast given me a place among
those who sit in the House of Study, and not among those who sit at the
street corners; for I rise early and they rise early, but I rise to study
the words of the Law, and they rise early to engage in vain things; I
labor and they labor, but I labor and receive a reward, and they labor to
receive no reward; I live and they live, but I live for the life of the
future world, and they live for the pit of destruction." I'm sure we
could find contemporary examples, too.
The Pharisee was an impeccably moral person. What he said about himself
was probably true. He avoided evil behavior; he did not extort, deal
unjustly, commit adultery. He did not compromise his faith or Jewish
citizenship with the Romans to earn a living as did the tax collectors.
Although it was not prescribed by Jewish law, he fasted twice a week as
an act of self-denial for the sins of the people. He not only gave a
tenth of his products of the soil and his animals as a tithe to the Lord,
as the law prescribed, but went beyond the law in tithing even what he
bought from others. This Pharisee is obviously a moral, upright,
conscientious person, devout in the pursuit of his faith. There is a
reason why the Lord warns us in the Sermon on the Mount "that unless your
righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the
law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven."
So what's wrong? What is it that we, and God, find objectionable about
this upstanding, respectable, and moral citizen? In spite of his list of
righteous pedigrees, there is something very unbecoming about this
Pharisee. We meet him in other people and find him unbearable. It is
impossible to get along with him, and you cannot help but wonder what
cruel act he will perpetrate next upon others in the name of his high
moral code. He is a moral man whose morality has gone sour.
This Pharisee picked out a number of sins of which he was not guilty and
decided that this made him a moral, or righteous, person. Sound familiar?
Reminds me of the little quip I've heard before: "I don't smoke, drink,
cuss, nor chew, nor go out with the women what do." And to reassure
himself of his own good opinion, our Pharisee reminds himself of the
religious duties he has fulfilled.
The Pharisee regarded God as a corporation in which he had earned a
considerable block of stock, so that any moment he might be invited to
become a director. His "prayer" told God that he was waiting for
well-deserved honors. If that seems an incredible attitude, we should
recall that many people think that God owes them something, as is shown
by their question that arises from inconvenience, "Why has this happened
to me?" If they can claim a respectability that has not risked jail, they
think they are entitled to favors; and if favors do not come, they write
letters to the celestial newspapers protesting obvious failures on the
part of the celestial government.
Morality goes sour when our morality makes us self-righteous. The
Pharisee becomes a very unlovely and unloving person when he makes rather
diabolical comparisons of himself with others. His righteousness begins
to become unrighteousness as soon as he begins to take note of the sins
of another standing by.
It causes me to think of some of the faith healers I have witnessed. Now,
don't be leaving this evening saying "the pastor doesn't believe in faith
healing." I do believe in it. I believe in all forms of healing: medical,
technical, psychological, and, always, miraculous. And I believe that
there are those who are spiritually gifted with the ability to heal
others. But I also have observed that there are those who pretend to have
the gift and/or pervert the gift. So many times have I heard the promises
of healing "if you have faith. You can be healed if you want it and will
believe." Meaning, of course, "if you're not healed, then it's your
fault, not mine. I can't help it if you don't have enough faith to be
healed!"
But consider the account from Matthew 17:14-20, "...a man approached
Jesus and knelt before him. 'Lord, have mercy on my son,' he said. 'He is
an epileptic and is suffering greatly. He often falls into the fire or
water. I brought him to your disciples, but they could not heal him.'...
Jesus rebuked the demon, and it came out of the boy, and he was healed
from that moment. Then the disciples came to Jesus in private and asked,
'Why couldn't we drive it out?' He replied, 'Because you have so little
faith...'" And then he went on to talk about the mustard seed. I ask you,
how many faith healers have you seen or heard who have stood up and
declared, "I cannot heal you because I have so little faith." There are
probably those who can be so honest, but we'll only rarely hear of them.
The Pharisee was similar. He could not put himself in the same category
as one who was seedier, dirtier, and weaker than himself. So morality
goes sour when our morality separates us from other persons. The Pharisee
thanks God he is not like other men and particularly not like the tax
collector. We can see him gathering his arms tightly about himself in
separateness from others. His morality had given him a sense that he was
too good to associate with other persons.
Let's leave the Pharisee and consider the tax collector. "But the tax
collector stood at a distance." In other words, the tax collector stood
afar from the altar. He couldn't even raise his head to the heavens
because of his great shame. Instead, he "beat his breast and said, 'God,
have mercy on me, a sinner.'"
This man saw God as a burning holiness, yet of such love that even a tax
collector could be pardoned. He is like Isaiah, standing before the
throne of God, crying in agony, "Woe to me! I am ruined! For I am a man
of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty." But,
also like Isaiah, the tax collector experienced God's mercy: "With it he
touched my mouth and said, 'See, this has touched your lips; your guilt
is taken away and your sin atoned for.'" What we think of ourselves and
our neighbors stems from what we think about God.
This is important, so let me say it again: what we think of ourselves and
our neighbors stems from what we think about God. If God is the "old man
on the throne" dispensing only judgment and punishment, that is how we'll
deal with others. If we think He is a weak and useless dream of misguided
people, then we'll treat others with disdain and disgust. But if we think
of God as someone who makes a difference in our lives, and as someone who
does not condone unrighteousness but instead overcomes it, then we can
treat ourselves and our neighbors with compassion and mercy and justice.
We can have the power to humble ourselves. We can love, because God first
loved us. We don't always think this way, but we need to. We need to be
conscious and aware of what we think about God. It makes a difference.
In the early days of the Nazi movement in Germany, a handful of young
fanatics carried out the assassination of Walter Rathenau, a high
government official and the first Jew in public life to lose his life in
the Hitler movement. When the young men were arrested and placed in
prison, one of them received a very strange note. It was actually written
to his mother by the mother of Rathenau. In her note, she was writing to
express her sympathy. She said that while she grieved for her son who had
been killed, her pain surely was not as great as that of being the mother
of a boy who was one of the killers. The note was sent on to prison, and
the young man reading it was amazed.
What kind of person could write such a note? What kind of faith was this?
He began to study the Jewish faith, seeking an answer. Upon his release
from prison, he escaped from Germany and dropped out of sight. No one
knew what had happened to him. But one day walking on the dock of a port
in southern France, a war correspondent who had known this young man saw
a familiar figure pass, dressed in the working clothes of a porter. He
followed and asked the question. Yes, it was the same man. He took him
inside where the story could be told. The German had deliberately taken
this job in a seaport in order that he might be the go-between to help
persecuted Jewish families escape from Germany. Already he had helped
over three hundred find their way to freedom. Over the years, this man
had made a complete turn around. The assassin was seeking to make
restitution for his crime. It does make a difference what we think about
God!
It made a difference to the tax collector. He compared himself to God,
not to the others around him. And when he did this, he saw himself, as
anyone would see themselves, as a wretched sinner - unholy and full of
unrighteousness. Our righteousness might stand up against tests of
others, but against the test of God: "Woe to me! I am ruined! For I am a
man of unclean lips!" There was a Scottish pastor who made a journey by
train to England. As he passed through the Yorkshire moors, he saw a
little whitewashed cottage that seemed to shine with an almost radiant
whiteness. Some days later, the journey was made back to Scotland. The
snow had fallen, and was lying deep all around. He came again to the
little white cottage, but this time its whiteness seemed drab and soiled
and almost grey - in comparison with the sparkling whiteness of the
driven snow. It all depends what we compare ourselves with.
Even though the tax collector stood afar, he was brought very near by the
compassion of God. Even though the tax collector stood afar, God heard
his prayer. Even though the tax collector stood afar, he "went home
justified before God." The tax collector had a soul open toward God; the
Pharisee was locked in himself. So the Pharisee was a cold hilltop where
no flowers grow; the tax collector was a valley low enough in sense of
sin to hold the flowing stream of God's mercy. When we stand afar off,
and when we set our lives beside the wonder of the life of Jesus, and
beside the holiness of God, then all that is left to say is, "God, have
mercy on me, a sinner."
Rev. Charles A. Layne, pastor, First Baptist Church, Bunker Hill, IN
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