4-26-09 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

THE GOD OF SECOND CHANCES

Have you ever done something you really regretted? Have you ever committed a sin that ate away at your conscience? Sin has a way of doing that, you know. That’s the trouble with knowing right from wrong. If we don’t know any better, it really doesn’t bother us. But if we do know better, it can tear us up inside.
I’m reminded of a letter received by the Internal Revenue Service a number of years ago. The letter came from a guilt-ridden taxpayer. The letter read:
To Whom It May Concern:
Enclosed you will find a check for $1500.00. I cheated on my income tax return last year and have not been able to sleep ever since.
Signed, A Taxpayer.
P.S. If I still have trouble sleeping, I will send you the rest!
Sin has a way of doing that, does it not? That’s the trouble with knowing right from wrong. If we don’t know any better, it really doesn’t bother us. But if we do know better, it can tear us up inside.
I think of the disciples of whom we read in the gospel according to Luke. Jesus had been crucified just three days before. And here they were, huddled together in the Upper Room – that same Upper Room in which Jesus had shared his last supper with them. They were huddled together in fear of what might become of them. Yet perhaps they were also huddled together in shame for what they had done.
They had loved this man called Jesus with a love they had never known before. They watched as he healed the sick, gave sight to the blind and mended the lame. They listened as he spoke of a kingdom that had no end. They had come to believe that Jesus was God’s Anointed – the Messiah they had long awaited. Then what had they done when Jesus was arrested? They had abandoned him. They had turned tail and run like scared dogs. Surely they were feeling a great deal of shame over what they had done.
Some women of their company had gone to the tomb that morning and had come back saying that Jesus was raised from the dead, but it seemed to them an idle tale. Then two others named Simon and Cleopas had encountered him on the road to Emmaus. They came back and said Jesus was alive as well. But the disciples were having a hard time believing it, perhaps due in part to the great shame they felt for what they had done. They had abandoned their Lord in his hour of greatest need.
Then while these disciples huddled together in fear and shame, Jesus himself stood among them. He said to them, “Peace be with you.” Yet the disciples were terrified and thought they were seeing a ghost. So Jesus proved to them that he was not a ghost; that he was alive and had been raised from the dead. What Jesus’ appearance must have signified first and foremost to them was that they were forgiven. What thus remained was for them to forgive themselves. Let me repeat that. What Jesus’ appearance must have signified first and foremost to them was that they were forgiven. What thus remained was for these disciples to forgive themselves.
Are all of you familiar with Victor Hugo’s 1862 novel, Les Miserables? It’s the story of an escaped galley slave who rose to become a successful manufacturer in 19th century France. But I think it’s also a story of one man’s ability to forgive himself, and another man’s inability to forgive himself.
Jean Valjean was born in 1769. Both of his parents died when he was a child and he was raised by his older sister. His sister married and had seven children of her own, but then her husband died as well. When resources become scarce, Jean Valjean steals a loaf of bread from a local baker. He is caught and sent to prison for five years. He tries to escape a number of times and every time he does, his sentence is extended. He ends up serving 19 years in prison for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his hungry family.
Later Jean Valjean, now an escaped galley slave, is making his way through the city seeking food. None can be found; he is turned away from door after door. Finally, someone suggests that he try the bishop’s house. After a rap at the door he is warmly received, given food, and bedded down for the night. Then, shortly before dawn, Valjean – who in every way looks the part of a runaway – arises, packs the bishop’s silver in his knapsack, and flees.
Later he finds himself standing helplessly in the bishop’s dining room, having been apprehended by police. “We found this man leaving town,” they said. “And he has a knapsack filled with silver that bears your initials!”
The bishop’s housekeeper casts an “I told you so” glance at her employer, while he
listens to the report. All the while, Jean Valjean stands with his head bowed like a condemned man before the hangman’s noose. The police inquire if the bishop’s silver is, in fact, missing.
Then the bishop goes to the mantel and grabs two silver candlesticks. He thrusts them into the hands of Valjean and says, “Jean, don’t you remember that I gave you the candlesticks also?” Valjean looks up. He is bewildered by this show of grace, which saves his life and protects the integrity of the bishop. Then the bishop speaks. “Remember, Jean, I have discovered that life is to give and not to get!”
The story continues as Valjean leaves the bishop’s house. On the road from the city in which he was treated with grace, he experiences a conversion. As time goes on, Valjean becomes a successful manufacturer who has changed his name to Monsieur Madeleine. Yet still he is hunted by Javert, a police inspector who wishes to prosecute him and send him back to the galleys.
Monsieur Madeline uses his new-found wealth to help hospitals, orphanages and schools, all the while being persecuted by the tenacious, self-righteous Javert. When an insurrection breaks out, Javert is arrested as a spy. Monsieur Madeline becomes a hero in the insurrection and is offered anything he wants. He asks for the life of Javert, his mortal enemy, who would have been hung for being a spy. Yet even after that, Javert continues to persecute Monsieur Madeline, convinced that he is really Jean Valjean. Toward the end of the story, Javert finally has his man and allows Madeline to go home for a short time. It is later revealed that Javert has committed suicide.
One man experienced grace and it turned his life around. Another man experienced grace and he killed himself. Perhaps the secret is this. When we have been forgiven, we must also forgive ourselves. For if we cannot find it within ourselves to forgive our-selves, God only knows what can happen. Look at Javert.
Karl Menninger, the famous psychologist and the founder of the Menninger Clinic, once said that if he could convince the patients in his psychiatric hospital that their sins were forgiven, 75% of them could walk out the next day. It is not enough to be forgiven. We must also forgive ourselves.
What happens when we don’t forgive ourselves? We tend to become self-righteous – perhaps even judgmental. A man named Mike Foster describes this very well in an article entitled, “Embrace, Don’t Abandon.” He writes:
I’ve been meeting every other week at Starbucks with a pastor who had an affair with an employee at his mega church. A few months ago his actions were found out; he left the ministry disgraced and is now going through a vicious divorce. It’s not an unusual story and one that I sadly deal with in my line of work. And though this story is heartbreaking, I’m afraid there is something even more tragic that has occurred in this man’s life. You see, this incredibly popular and well-loved pastor now finds himself abandoned by those in the Christian community. When the ugly news got out about his indiscretions, people stopped calling, the invitations to lunch dried up, and he was asked not to be involved in his small group any longer.
It seems as though grace is struggling to survive these days, even in the church. As it says in the book UnChristian, “Our culture doesn’t look at us as a faith of second chances but rather, as a religion of judgments.” How does that old saying go? The church is the only army that shoots its own wounded?
Perhaps one of our weaknesses is that we’re far more concerned with being right than we are with being righteous. We become like the Pharisees whenever we focus on issues rather than on people. Judgmentalism creeps in whenever we deal with issues as if they were black and white, rather than flesh-and-blood humans in need of redemption. We need to recapture the concept of grace.
I love the quote from Philip Yancey that’s printed in the Silent Reflection in your bulletins this week. He writes:
During a British conference on comparative religions, experts from around the world were discussing whether any one belief was unique to the Christian faith. They began eliminating possibilities. Incarnation? Other religions had different versions of gods appearing in human form. Resurrection? Again, other religions had accounts of return from death. The debate went on for some time until C.S. Lewis wandered into the room. “What’s the rumpus about?” he asked, and heard in reply that his colleagues were discussing Christianity’s unique contribution among world religions. In his forthright manner Lewis responded, “Oh, that’s easy. It’s grace.”
That’s what Jesus showed to his disciples when he appeared to them in the Upper Room. Jesus forgave them, and if Jesus had forgiven them then perhaps they could forgive themselves as well. And once they did that – once they forgave themselves – they went out and changed the world.
You see, Jesus reveals to us who God really is. God is not a vindictive judge sitting on a throne looking for an opportunity to punish his malevolent subjects. Our God is a loving God – a God who gives us a second chance. Listen to a poem I wrote a number of years ago entitled, The God of Second Chances.

To come of age in this wide world, one finds life’s full of dances.
One knows there is – yet turns not to – the God of second chances.
We want to spread our mighty wings, to soar far as we can.
A conquest here, a conquest there: who thought it’d be this grand?
We have success and all is good in this terrestrial life.
To top it off, we then seek out a husband or a wife.
We fall in love and happiness is all we think and feel.
And then along come one, two, three children with which to deal.
But that’s all right. It gives our life a sense of true delight.
We always have more love to share. It simply feels so right.
We live our lives by our own rules ‘bout each and every day.
We have success, but then come woes, to boot, along the way.
A child in whom we took such pride turns out not like we’d planned.
He takes a wrong turn here and there in spite of our demands.
And then that husband or that wife no longer feels the same.
So they want out. And we want out. It’s such a hurtful game.
Then there’s that job for which we strove our hardest every day.
Turns out it’s simply a dead end. We only work for pay.
Or what if everything’s still grand? In life we find no “whys?”
But then that one we loved so much gets sick and then he dies?
We find that life is not all fun and games along the way.
We have our good days and our bad. So then we learn to pray.
As long as we maintain our faith across life’s wide expanses,
We’ll find that we are blessed by Him: the God of second chances.
To get a second chance at life and love; a chance to cope.
We want it and we find that this is all for which we hope.
Perhaps the second time around we won’t take it for granted.
The seed of love now in our hearts will be securely planted.
We learn life has its ups and downs, but still, we do find love.
We find a sense of happiness: it comes from up above.
Oh, there are those who’ll think we’ve failed and made a few mistakes.
But until life takes twists and turns, you don’t know what it takes.
No longer are we fooled by all
Life’s trials, hoops and trances.
We’ve found we now owe all to Him:
The God of second chances.
Our God is a God of second chances. God has forgiven you. Perhaps you can now forgive yourself. Amen.