The Psalms: WAITING FOR REDEMPTION
Rev. Eugene N. Nelson, Jr.
The Community Church of Sebastopol
March 17, 2002
Psalm 130
Amazing grace! How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me! I once was lost, but now I am found; was blind, but now I see.
We sang those familiar words just last week and they spoke to last weeks theme on trust, but we could have just as easily sung them again today when we are looking at the biblical theme of redemption. I once was lost, but now I am found. We sing these much beloved words; people who never darken the doors of a church love Amazing Grace. We sing the words, but do we really believe them? Do we see ourselves as people who once were lost and now are found. Certainly John Newton believed them, believed they spoke to his life. He was, of course, the one who wrote them. You’ve heard his story. He trafficked in human flesh, was a sea captain and slave trader. It is hard to believe this man could write such a hymn, but he did. He wrote it after he encountered the redemptive love of Jesus. Just before his death, he confided to a friend, although by then it was no secret, that he still felt the liberating, redeeming power of Jesus’ love in his life. Years earlier, mired in the slave trade, he had encountered Jesus, heard His words about harming little children, heard him say, “God loves them and loves you.” And from that haunting, loving, redeeming presence, Newton could not escape. He knew he had to make some changes. And somehow, God gave him the strength to see it through. And see it through he did. We sing his hymns still.
O Israel, hope with the Lord, for with the Lord there is steadfast love, and with God is great power to redeem. ‘Redeem’, ‘Redemption’…these are very religious sounding words, words that we don’t use much around here. Just what do they mean? Well, in biblical times, redemption was the process by which something that was lost or alienated was restored or recovered. Restoring that which was lost… this was the process of redemption. In the world of business and commerce, it might involve property, money, a flock of sheep. They were redeemed when the owner got them back. Well, as this psalm makes clear, this language of redemption soon took on a faith dimension. God became the redeemer, restoring God’s children who were lost, broken, hurting, mired in sin. In the New Testament, Jesus becomes the agent, the embodiment of this divine redemption. In the words of the old Easter hymn, “I Know That My Redeemer Livith.”
I wonder, what do you make of this redeemer language? Does it mean anything to us at all, sophisticated residents of Sonoma County, California, in 2002? It certainly doesn’t mean much to Bishop John Shelby Spong. We just finished a study of his provocative book, Why Christianity Must Change or Die, and he doesn’t like the image of Jesus as some rescuer come to save or redeem a sinful and lost humanity. “It is an outdated and useless concept”, he says, “based on the church’s misguided teaching on original sin.” According to Spong, this image of an evil and fallen humanity, in need of a savior, in need of redemption, is in his words, “pre-Darwinian superstition and post-Darwinian nonsense.” The Bishop tells it like it is…. Well, this idea that somehow we are all stained with the sin of Adam and Eve doesn’t do much for me either. We don’t baptize infants in order to save them from hell. We baptize them to acknowledge God’s love for them from the very beginning and to welcome them onto the path of Christian discipleship. But does that mean that they – we – no longer stand in need of redemption? I once was lost, but now am found.
In her classic book, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Annie Dillard shares this little story: “Once upon a time, an Eskimo hunter went to see the local missionary who was preaching in the local village. ‘I want to ask you something’, the hunter said. ‘What’s that?’, asked the missionary. ‘If I did not know about God and sin’, said the hunter, ‘would I go to hell?’ ‘No’, said the missionary, ‘not if you did not know.’ ‘Then’, asked the hunter, ‘why did you tell me?’
Well, in like-manner, Bishop Spong seems to suggest that this idea of people lost and alienated, of needing redemption, would not exist if the church did not teach it. Is that true? I’m reminded of the time when Charlie Brown happily tells Violet, “And right after church next Sunday, we’re all going on a picnic!” A confused Violet responds, “I didn’t know your family belonged to a church.” Charlie Brown says, “Sure, doesn’t yours?” Sitting forlornly on a bench, Violet explains, “Well they used to. Now they belong to a coffee house.” Well maybe a coffee house is all we need in a world where “we” are all we need.
Dorothy Solle sounds a lot like Bishop Spong when she writes, “To live, we do not need what has repeatedly been called God. A power that intervenes, rescues, judges and confirms. We do not need this God, because love is all we need, nothing more.” John Lennon lives! Well it would seem that if we think hard enough, and love deeply enough and read the right books, maybe we can redeem ourselves.
I once was lost, but now I am found. Why does that hymn, with its archaic language, remain so popular? I think that before there were preachers and churches or even any kind of organized religion, there still were essential human experiences of community and alienation, of connection and disconnection to others and to the divine. There were essential human experiences of being lost and wanting to be found, to be at home. And I do not think that has changed much over the years, no matter how many self-help books we read or how many intense coffee house discussions we engage in. And it is here that the biblical word speaks a word of profound hope, “for with the Lord there is steadfast love and with God is great power to redeem.” Yes you may be alienated, lost, broken, alone, but you are not without hope, for it does not all depend on you. God had a word to say here, and God is not finished with you. God is still working, still creating; even now God’s power of redemption, of transformation is at work in the world and in each of your hearts.
A pastor shares this illustration: I have a church member who proudly showed me an antique radio that has been in her family for years. It has a handcrafted beautiful mahogany case and it’s over 70 years old. Yet when she turned the radio on, I was astounded by its perfect tone. ‘The outside is 70 years old’, she explained, ‘but the inside has been completely reworked. I was able to preserve the outside, but inside it is a modern, up to date radio.’ Maybe not a bad analogy for what the psalmist is talking about, not a bad analogy for the biblical witness to Christ. For Christ is always about the business of bringing new creation, new life to life within each of us. That’s what Easter and Lent are all about; about a God who can move in more ways than we can understand, a God who in Christ has the redemptive power to make new life possible, even in all the failed and hopeless places. We may look a little worn on the outside, but there can be new life within. We can be completely reworked.
You call from tomorrow, you break ancient schemes,
From the bondage of sorrow the captives dream dreams,
Our women see visions, our men clear their eyes,
With bold new decisions, your people arise.
In his article Returning to Church, which appeared in the New York Times magazine, novelist Dan Wakefield described how he discovered the truth of these words - a surprising intrusion of the amazing grace of redemption. He wrote about a treacherous time in his life when a long-standing relationship with a woman had come to a painful end, he was out of money and had just buried, within the span of seven months, both his parents. His work no longer satisfied him. Drugs had become an all too attractive means of escape. In his words, “I was headed to the edge of a cliff.” A chance conversation in a neighborhood bar with a house painter who was looking for a place to go to mass on Christmas Eve lead to Wakefield’s own attendance at a Christmas candlelight service. This then lead to other services of worship and to Bible studies and to gradually developing devotional life. And as Wakefield’s religious involvement increased he experienced a growing freedom from his sense of drifting purposelessness and from what he called “an assortment of life-numbing addictions.” Again, in his words, “At some point or other, they felt as if they were lifted.” Taken away. You call from tomorrow. You break ancient schemes. Amazing Grace! How sweet the sound.
Perhaps this is what faith is. Faith is the willingness to be surprised, shocked by the surprising intrusions of God’s power to change us. And this, finally, is redemption. Being delivered from the past, from our alienation, brokenness, lost-ness, yes, even from ourselves, that we might find our best selves in God.