I closed out our Epiphany series through Galatians by tackling my least favorite passage of scripture, excepting Proverbs and James.
“Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these.”
Thanks to having binge-watched season 7 of Game of Thrones this weekend I can scratch fornication off of Paul’s list.
And Thursday afternoon I had a meeting with Steve, one of our lay leaders, so, as inexorable as water around a rock, I had quarrels, factions, and dissension checked off that list in under an hour.
You can ask Ali about my envy. She’ll tell you it’s not easy for me to be green.
The bible tells you so about my idolatry but my bank account and my Facebook feed and my every day could confirm it for you.
Just last week we took our boys to Harry Potter World at Universal Studios and we bought both of them not only magical wands but robes- sorcerer’s robes- and not even robes from House Gryffindor, the good guys, but from Slytherin, the House of the Dark Lord.
So, sorcery? Check
Not to mention, this was Orlando, where even 2 traveler’s tablets of Advil at Disney World cost $11.00, therefore those 2 wands and those 2 sorcerer’s robes set me back- before tax- approximately $900.00.
But Ali insisted we were there “to make memories.”
Don’t forget, I went to UVA and Princeton where drunkenness and carousing and licentiousness are practically club sports.
So check and check and check.
And thanks to Trump’s stock market- I mean, Obama’s stock market- I can cross off enmity and strife and even impure thoughts of rage and violence.
When it comes to the works of the flesh, I’ve got them covered.
If this were a Honey-Do List, I’ve done them all.
I’m like a brown-noser of bad behavior.
And don’t lie- that’s on another naughty list- you’ve got this list pretty well covered too. Sure, given how sexy I am it’s not your fault I afflict you with impure, licentious thoughts, but the other items on this list- those are on you.Anger, quarrels, dissension, factions- you all check those off just by how you treat Dennis on a day-to-day basis.
And I’ve heard about the adult pool parties in the summer (Riverside Gardens, Stratford Landing, I’m looking at you). Nearly all of you should take out your bibles and a red pen right now and scratch off drunkenness, carousing, and maybe fornication too.
Seriously, I’ve been here long enough to know that most of you all are just one bad day away from tales that would make the tabloids if you were famous.
Most of you would love to have a John Kelly keeping your secrets.
I’ve got this list covered and so do you. This list- this is us.
What about that other list?
“Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.”
How are you doing with that list?
Generosity? How about we pass the offering plate again and then ask you to answer?
Maybe it’s just me. Maybe you don’t hear this list as an accusation. Maybe you don’t think Christianity is easier said than done. Maybe for you every Sunday here doesn’t feel like an appointment with a Great Physician who lies and tells you you won’t feel a thing.
If so, congratulations. Gold star to you.
As of me, right after the entire Book of James, without a doubt, this is my least favorite piece of scripture. Thank God ‘truthfulness’ isn’t on this list because then I’d have to be honest with you. I’d have to own up to the fact that not even my own mother would use 8 of those 9 attributes to describe me.
I just turned 40.
I’ve been a Christian- or at least I was thought I was a Christian- for 22 years. I have 2 theology degrees. I have thousands of books on Christianity in my office. I know several psalms by heart, and I can recite John 13 from memory- in Greek. But if this is what a genuine, authentic, Holy Spirit-filled Christian does on a daily basis, I’m a fraud.
I mean, I’ve got ‘love’ down, I guess.
I love my kids.
Of course, I love my kids. How could I not? They think I’m awesome.
I tell my wife I love her, and sometimes I show her it’s true. I tell myself I love God and I tell you that I even comprehend what that means. I’m good at preaching about how we should love our enemies, but I’m not even sure if ‘Chase’ is my neighbor’s first name or last. So, I’ve got ‘love’ down.
22 years and, at best, as far as I can tell, on a consistent basis I’m 1 for 9.
If 9/9 is the expectation for who we will be and what we will do on Jesus, then Jesus just ought to give back the heart I gave to him all those years ago. Because even my mommy would tell you, my basket of fruit is so bare nothing but blind faith could ever lead you to believe it won’t always be so.
Forget crock-pots and melodrama, staring down 1/9- this is us. This is us.
Dorothy Fortenberry is a Hollywood screenwriter who writes The Handmaid’s Tale for Hulu. In post-Christian California, Fortenberry is also unabashedly religious not spiritual. In an essay in the Los Angeles Review of Books, she explains her odd habit of going to church every Sunday.
“The single most annoying thing a nonreligious person can say, in my opinion, isn’t that religion is oppressive or that religious people are brainwashed.
It’s the kind, patronizing way that nonreligious people have of saying, “You know, sometimes I wish I were religious. It must be so comforting.”
I do not find religion to be comforting in the way that I think nonreligious people mean it.
It is not comforting to know quite as much as I do about how weaselly and weak-willed I am when it comes to being as generous as Jesus demands.
Thanks to church, I have a much stronger sense of the sort of person I would like to be, and every Sunday I am forced to confront all the ways in which I fail, daily.
Nothing promotes self-awareness like turning down an opportunity to bring children to visit their incarcerated parents. Or avoiding shifts at the food bank. Or calculating just how much I will put in the collection basket.
Thanks to church, I have looked deeply into my own heart and found it to be of merely small-to-medium size.
None of this is particularly comforting.
I come to sit next to people, well aware of all we don’t have in common, and face together in the same direction because we’re all broken individuals united only by our brokenness, traveling together to ask to be fixed. It’s like a subway car. It’s like the DMV.
Church is like The Wizard of Oz: we are each missing something, and there is a person in a flowing robe whom we trust to hand over the promise that the something we’re missing will be provided.”
Note the passive voice.
We’re all missing something and we’re here to receive the promise that the something we’re missing will be provided.
When we hear this list as telling us who we should be or what we ought to do- in Paul’s terms- we twist this from Gospel back into Law.
As a Christian, you should be generous. As a faithful follower of Jesus Christ, you ought to be patient and kind. Become more gentle and joy-filled! That way of hearing turns this list into the Law.
And that’s my first point.
(I know, another 3-point sermon! I may not be kind but I can be consistent.)
This is my first point:
This list is not the Law.
It is descriptive; it is not prescriptive. It’s proclamation; it’s not exhortation. They are indicatives. They are not imperatives. Paul says: “The fruit of the Spirit is patience.” Paul does not say: “Become more patient.” To turn the fruit of the Spirit into aspirations or expectations of who you will be or what you will do as a Christian is to stumble back into the Law just like the Galatians.
As Paul said earlier, if the Law is in any way necessary for us to follow then Jesus Christ died for absolutely no reason.
To hear this list as goals or, worse, a code of conduct is to hear it as Law, and the Law, Paul says, always accuses, reminding you of who you’re not, what you’re lacking, how inadequate and imperfect and incomplete you are.
As Law, this list just reinforces the message you see and hear in ads 3,000 times a day: You’re not good enough.
If it’s Law then this just accuses us because there’s always more money you could’ve left in the plate, there’s always someone for whom you have neither patience nor kindness, there’s always days- if you’re like me, whole weeks even- when you have no joy.
But this list is not Law and your lack of joy or gentleness does not make you an incomplete or inauthentic Christian.
Because notice- After Paul describes the works of the flesh, the works we do, Paul doesn’t pivot to our ‘works of faithfulness.’ Paul doesn’t say ‘the works of the flesh are these…but the works of faith are these…’ No, he changes the voice completely.
He shifts from the active voice to a passive image: fruit. He says Fruit of the Spirit not Works of Faith.
You see, the opposite of our vice isn’t our virtue.
The opposite of our vice is the vine of which we are but the branches. When Paul speaks of our life lived in light of the Gospel, he shifts to a passive image.
What you do not hear in any vineyard is the sound of anyone’s effort.
Except the Gardener.
Fruit do not grow themselves; fruit are the byproduct of a plant made healthy. To think that you’re responsible for cultivating joy and kindness in your life now that you’re a Christian is to miss Paul’s entire point- his point that, apart from Christ’s bleeding and dying for you, you are dead in your sins.
Apart from the grace of God in Jesus Christ you are a dead plant, but by your baptism you have been made alive such that now in you and through you the Holy Spirit can grow fruit.
This list is not the Law because the fruit of the Spirit is the fruit of the Gospel.
It’s not fruit you gotta go get or do. It’s passive. It’s not what you do but what the pardon of God produces in you in spite of still sinful you.
In quantifying, life-hacking culture of constant self-improvement, this passive image of fruit might be the most counter-cultural part of Christianity. It’s counter to much of Christian culture too. On the Left and the Right, so much of Christianity nowadays is just another version of what’s on your Fitbit. It’s all about behavior modification.
But what Paul is getting at here in his list is not the Law. It’s not about you becoming a better you. Tomato plants do not have agency. It’s not about you becoming a better you. It’s about God making you new. Joy, gentleness, peace and patience- these are not the attributes by which you work your way to heaven. This is the work heaven is doing in you here on earth.
And that’s my second point:
The fruit of the Spirit are for your neighbor.
When you hear Paul’s list as Law, you think that this is prescription for who you must be and what you must do in order to be right before God.
But the Gospel is that Christ by his obedience has fulfilled all the righteousness that the Law requires of you. He’s fulfilled the demands of the Law for you. And he bore all your failures to follow the Law upon the cross. Because of Jesus Christ, though you are not, God reckons you as righteous. God credits Christ’s righteousness to you as though it were your own.
The Law, Paul has said, no longer has any power to condemn you. There is now, Paul says in Romans, no condemnation for those who are in Christ and to whom his righteousness has been imputed. Your sins are forgiven, once for all.
You are fit for heaven just as you are:
impatient and unkind, frequently faithless, and often harsh and out of control.
Every work of faith has already been done for you. As gift. And its yours by faith not by works.
No work you do, no fruit you yield, adds anything to what Christ has already done for you. Everything. He’s done everything already.
God’s not counting. God’s forgotten how to count.
The God who longer counts your trespasses isn’t counting your good works either (thank God).
God’s neither a score-keeper nor a fruit counter.
The Gospel is that you are justified in Christ alone by grace alone through faith. Alone.
The fruit of the Gospel is not for your justification. It’s for your neighbor. It’s a community garden the Spirit is growing in you.
God doesn’t need your love or your peace or your patience. God certainly doesn’t need your generosity. God doesn’t need any of them, but your neighbor does.
I mean, Paul’s repeated it like 100 times thus far:
For freedom Christ has set you free.
Christ didn’t set you free for fruit.
Christ freed you for freedom. Not for a return on his investment.
Christ freed you for freedom. Not so you can clean yourself up and get your act together.
Christ freed you for freedom. Not so you can go out and earn back what he paid for you. And not so you can build a Kingdom only he can bring.
Paul’s not blinking and he’s not BS-ing.
For freedom Christ has set you free.
There’s no one else you have to be before God.
And there’s nothing else you have to do for God.
But for the sake of your neighbor…God will yet make you loving and gentle and joyous.
You see, the question that the fruit of the Spirit should provoke in you is NOT “What must I do now that God has saved me?”
No, the question the fruit of the Spirit should lead you to ask is this one: “What work is God doing in me and through me-in spite of sinful me- for the sake of my neighbor?” And the answer to that question can only come to us by the same route our justification comes: by faith alone.
And that leads to my final point: the fruit of the Spirit teach us that not only are you justified by faith apart from your works, very often you’re justified by faith apart from your everyday experience.
By faith apart from your feelings.
Forget Christmas and the resurrection, in no small part, what it means to have faith is to believe about you what your feelings can’t seem to corroborate.
The biggest obstacle to faith isn’t science- only an idiot would think that.
The biggest obstacle to faith is your mirror.
I know it about a whole lot of you. Surely you know it about you too. You’re not always kind or patient or generous.
Yet the Gospel promises and the Gospel invites you to believe that the Holy Spirit is at work like a patient Gardener to yield in you and harvest from you kindness and patience and generosity.
And that’s an even bigger leap of faith than it sounds because because the word Paul uses for ‘fruit’ in Greek is singular. As in, it’s all one gift: Love and joy and peace and patience and kindness and all the rest. God’s working all of it, every one of them, in you. Even though you might feel at best you have only a few of them.
God’s working all of them, every one of them, in you. Which makes the Spirit’s work in you is as mysterious and invisible as what the Spirit does to water and wine and bread and the word.
The fruit of the Spirit is a matter of faith not feeling.
By your baptism in to his death and resurrection, you are in Jesus Christ.
No ifs, ands, or buts. Nothing else is necessary.
And if you are in Christ, then the Spirit is at work in you.
No exceptions. No conditions. No qualifications.
No matter what your life looks like
No matter what you see when you look into the mirror
No matter how up and down, there and back again, is your faith
No matter how bare feel your basket to be.
If you are in Christ, Christ’s Spirit is in you.
And the pardon of God is powerful to produce in you what your eyes cannot see and what your feelings cannot confirm.
God works in mysterious ways, we say all the time without realizing each of us who are in Jesus Christ are one of those mysteries.
Joy, peace, love, gentleness…as unbelievable as seems…this is us.
Dorothy Fortenberry is on in the mystery and puts it better than me:
“Being a screenwriter in Los Angeles is like being on a perpetual second date with everyone you know. You strive to be your most charming, delightful, quirky-but-not-damaged self because you never know what will come of the encounter.
Being on a perpetual second date can get exhausting.
Constantly feeling that you should be meeting people, impressing people, shocking people (just the right amount) is a strange way to live your life.
And one of the reasons that I go to church is that church is the opposite of that.
I do not impress anyone at church. I do not say anything surprising or charming, because the things I say are rote responses that someone else decided on centuries ago.
I am not special at church, and this is the point. Because (according to the ridiculous, generous, imperfectly applied rules of my religion) we are all equally bad and equally beloved children of God.
We are all exactly the same amount of sinful and special. The things that I feel proud of can’t help me here, and the things that I feel ashamed by are beside the point.
I’m a person but, for 60 minutes, I’m not a personality. Even better, I’m not my personality because Church is not about how I feel.
It’s about faith.
It’s about looking at the light until our eyes water, waiting to receive the promise that the something missing in us (love or joy, or peace) will be provided.