Prior to
entering ministry, I was diligently working in college on completing my degree
in computer science. The focus of that degree is to learn how to make computers
do all the wonderful things that we use them for; to write the programs that
let you send e-mail, play solitaire, write a document, and so forth. That
required of me to learn programming languages: Basic, C, Pascal, Assembly, and
so forth.
Now one
thing that is true about all computer languages is that there is one function
or command called a conditional. Basically, a conditional triggers an action if
something is true. If you press the print button, then your document will
print. If you line up your cards in the proper sequence, then you win the game
of solitaire. Every program you use on a computer has thousands of these
statements in its code. If something is true, then something else will happen. Kind of a cause-effect action-reaction thing.
Now, what
often surprises me is how many people take this same sort of mindset to their
life of faith. I call it “if…then” theology, after a computer conditional. If I
obey the ten commandments, then God will bless me. If
I go to church every Sunday, then my life will be wonderful. If I pray the
right prayers, then God will heal me of my illness.
I will
confess that I hate this sort of theology, in part because I catch myself doing
it from time to time. But my real reason for loathing it is two-fold.
The first
reason is because what I see people who ascribe to “if...then” thinking will do
to themselves when they play the game in reverse. I’m sick,
therefore God must be punishing me because I didn’t pray enough. I lost my job,
because God is mad at me for not going to church.
I have seen
people destroy their lives because of this sort of thinking. I have watched
faith disintegrate because people believed God as unjust because of this sort
of thinking. How many atheists do you suppose have been created by this
mindset? Mommy died and you say it’s because I wasn’t a good enough Christian?
Well, screw you and your God. Boom! Congratulations. We’ve made an atheist.
We’ve driven someone away for a God, who in truth,
loves them more than words can express. All because someone had to fit their
tragedy and suffering into some simplistic cause-and-effect equation.
My second
reason for disliking “if…then” theology is a bit more complicated, but it has
to do with what it says about us and about God and our relationship to one
another. If I do something, then God must respond accordingly. If I am good,
then God must bless me. If I am bad, then God must punish me. Note in that
pattern, who is in charge? Who is the master of fate and destiny?
Is it the
God who created the stars and galaxies, the size of which dwarfs us to the size
of atoms? Stars and galaxies all of which are scattered about a universe so
vast our minds can barely comprehend it. Is that the one in charge in “if…then”
theology? Nope.
Nope, in
“if…then” theology, God is a puppet on strings. Ok, God do this for me because
I’ve done this and that. We tell God to jump and expect him to ask “How high?”
We like it
that way. Because, when we really think about who God is and what God can do,
it should scare the daylights out of us.
A God who
created a universe so vast that if we were to measure it and then print out its
diameter in standard 12-point characters like in your bulletin, the number
would spread from one side of this sanctuary to the other in digits. That’s how
many miles across the universe that this God created is. If He were to turn on
us, if He were to get outside our control, he could destroy us with even less
thought than we give to stepping on ants in the summertime.
We want God
in our control, because if he’s not he can do anything.
Well, guess
what? God isn’t in our control. God is the master of all destiny.
He calls all the shots. His will trumps ours.
It is for
this reason that I find our Gospel text today from Mark so incredibly
important. Jesus reveals God’s true nature in this story about the healing of a
leper. That secret is revealed interestingly enough in the exchange of dialogue
between the leper and Jesus.
If this
leper had been an “if…then” theologian, he might have come before Jesus with a
whole laundry list of reasons why he was worthy to receive healing and then
demand of Jesus that he be restored to health. But this leper is smarter than
that, wiser than that. He knows his place in the universe, and so he makes a
simple humble request. “If you choose, you can heal me.”
Jesus then
responds, “I do choose. Be made well.” I do choose. Those may be among the most
important words Jesus ever spoke. God is the creator of all
the universe. God is the master of all destiny.
He can do anything he wishes, destroy any and all of us without even lifting a
finger. We should rightly be terrified of his immense power, and yet what he
does with this power is give life. I do choose to heal this leper. I do choose
to grant my people blessings. I do choose to give my life on a cross. I do
choose to give my children life eternal.
He’s in
control. He calls all the shots. And what he chooses is to grant to us life,
blessings, and ultimately salvation. God did not need to come to earth
incarnate as his son Jesus. He chose to. God did not need to heal this or any
of the other hundred who came to Jesus seeking help. He chose to. God did not
need to teach us about himself. He chose to. And God did not need to go to the
cross and die and then on the third day rise again. He chose to. He chose to
because he loves us.
In the
Chronicles of Narnia, C.S Lewis depicts God as the
lion Aslan. The four children who come into Narnia are surprised to discover that Aslan
is this wild beast; they’ve all heard stories about what lions in this world
are like, how fierce and powerful they are. So they ask, with some trepidation,
“Is he safe? Is he tame?”
The Narnians to whom they ask this laugh. “No, he is not safe. He is not
tame. But he is good.” Lewis was brilliant, because that is God. He is not
safe. He is not tame. He does not dance to our tune. But he is good, because he
chooses life for us out of his love for us. Amen.