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SERMON
Last week's lesson ended, you may remember, with an intriguing
paradox. On the one hand we are told: "For it is by grace you have
been saved, through faith – and this not from yourselves, it is the gift
of God – not by works, so that no one can boast." Yet in the
very next sentence we read: "For we are God's workmanship, created in
Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for
us to do." Look at the paradox this way. You can never make things
right with God by doing goods works. However, having been made right
with God by his grace, there is something very wrong if your life
doesn't issue in good works. Grace and good works are bound together.
You can't separate them.
You find the same kind of paradox in the Lord's Prayer. Our Lord tells
us to pray, "Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors."
Jesus teaches us to ask God to forgive us our sins. And yet he ties that
petition in with our forgiving those who sin against us. God's
forgiveness is unconditional. That is, God doesn't wait for us to
forgive others before he forgives us. Nevertheless, Jesus tells us in
this prayer that there is something fundamentally wrong if you ask God
to forgive you, and yet continue to nurse a grudge against someone who
has offended you.
Now, grace works like forgiveness. Grace is God's unconditional gift –
no strings attached. The paradox is that, even though the gift of grace
is free, once you've received it, you're eternally indebted. But this
debt isn't like an outstanding bill hanging over your head. It's a debt
of love. It's a debt your heart wants to repay. But the only practical
way you can handle that debt of love toward God is to love others. Grace
has to issue in practical acts of goodness. And so, as the first half of
chapter 2 dealt with how God's grace is making each of us
alive in Christ, the second half deals with how God's grace is
making all of us one in Christ. So as the first half
began: "Remember how you were once dead in your transgressions and
sins…" here it starts with: "Remember how you were once isolated,
separated and excluded…"
So our lesson opens with a portrait of the contrast between Jew and
Gentile that existed prior to the coming of Christ. The walls of
hostility were ancient and complex even back then. There was the
name-calling: "the uncircumcised" and "the circumcision." Gentiles
thought of Jews as arrogant and egotistical; while the Jews considered
Gentiles to have been created by God as "fuel for the fires of hell."
But while there was no lack of hatred and mistrust in both directions,
remember that this letter was addressed principally to Gentile
Christians. And here they are reminded of just how far they have come in
Christ. In fact, in verse 12 we find these Gentiles being reminded that
they had suffered at least five disabilities before a Jew named Jesus
came and died for them.
First, they were "separated from Christ" ("Messiah" in Hebrew).
Not only did these Gentiles have no Messiah, they had no hope of one.
That wasn't so for the Jews. Even in their most dismal hours, the Jews
could say, "Wouldn't this be a perfect time for Messiah to come!"
To the Jews, life had purpose and direction. The Jews saw themselves as
the steady axis of a spiraling history that was moving inexorably toward
God; so they could be optimistic, even in the worst of times. On the
other hand, most Gentiles saw history as cyclical, with no end in sight
(except death, of course). For most Gentiles their motto might as well
have been: "Life is hard – then you die." For them, life was
basically pointless. So, being "separated from Christ" meant that not
only was their future bleak, the present had no real purpose either. And
so they're told here, "Don't forget – that's how it was with you."
Second, they were "excluded from citizenship in Israel." They
were literally "aliens" who could not feel what it was like to be at
home with the people of God. Try to imagine what that must have felt
like, knowing that you didn't belong. "Remember that," they are
told. "That is what it was like before Christ."
Third, they were "foreigners to the covenants of the promise."
Imagine how you would feel, being at the reading of a will and realizing
to your embarrassment, "What am I doing here? I don't belong here.
I'm not one of the beneficiaries." And here they are reminded:
"That's how things were for you. You had no claim to the promise of
God."
Fourth, they were "without hope." William Barclay reminds us that
the first century was saturated with a kind of melancholy. He put it
this way: "The Greek could say, ‘We blossom and flourish as leaves on
the tree, and wither, and perish…' But he could not add
triumphantly, ‘but naught changeth Thee!'" Before Christ, That's
how it was. They were without hope.
And why were they without hope? Because they were "without God."
Notice that he doesn't say, "without gods." They had plenty of gods. The
problem was that all of their gods were made by human hands. And of
course, everybody knew that those gods were worthless, even though
nobody would admit it out loud. Here they are told, "Don't forget
that you once lived like that."
So, much like the first half of chapter 2, the second half also begins
with bad news. But then at verse 13, just as it happened at verse 4, the
suspense becomes too much. The good news can be silenced no longer.
"But now," it says, "in Christ Jesus you who once were far
away have been brought near through the blood of Christ." Folks,
there is only one reason why those of us who were "far away" found hope
when we had no hope. It wasn't because of anything we did. We didn't
generate that hope. It was because Jesus gave up his life on the cross
that we were brought near to God – nothing but the blood of Jesus.
Verse 14 goes on: "For he himself is our peace, who has made the two
one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility…"
Imagine two people having a quarrel that was fast approaching
out-and-out warfare. Now they could go to court and perhaps negotiate
some sort of deal to resolve their differences. However, human nature
being what it is, although the threat of open violence may have been
averted, there would almost certainly still be a wall of hostility
between them; glaring at each other across the fence.
But suppose someone whom both of these adversaries loved went ahead and
repaired the problem that had alienated them in the first place. There
would be a much better chance of making real peace, effecting true
reconciliation between them, and not just a cessation of hostilities.
That's what Jesus did for Jews and Gentiles on the cross.
Of course, that wasn't the only "dividing wall of hostility" Jesus
demolished. The Romans were the master race and everyone else in the
world were "nobodies." The Greeks divided the world neatly into those
who spoke Greek and everyone else whom they called "Barbarians." To this
day there remain countless dividing walls of hostility that run along
the lines of race and gender and class and education and wealth. But at
this point in the letter the focus in on the relationship between Jew
and Gentile. And here we are told that Christ "made the two one and
has destroyed the dividing wall of hostility." How did Christ do
that?
At verse 15 it says that he did it, first, "by abolishing in his
flesh the law with its commandments and regulations." The Jews had
set up an elaborate system of religious regulations in an effort to earn
God's favor. That kind of legalism, however, drove a wedge of hostility
and resentment between the legalists and all those who didn't measure up
for one reason or another. But the hard fact is this: Nobody,
legalist or libertine, Pharisee of agnostic, has ever been able to keep
God's law.
Now, the law stipulated that the consequences of breaking God's law is
death, and that is exactly what everyone, Jew and Gentile alike, was
earning. It was a hopeless situation. That is, until Christ stepped in
and said, "It's true, the consequences of sin is death. I've come to
suffer those consequences for every single person my Father loves."
When Jesus took on himself the responsibility for all our sins, he
abolished in his flesh the law with its commandments and regulations.
And in doing that, he transformed religion from one that's based on
earning God's favor to one that is based on accepting God's love.
Rita Snowden tells the story of how love can transplant a "dividing wall
of hostility." It was in WWII, in France, that three British soldiers
brought the body of a dead comrade to a churchyard to have him buried.
The priest told them gently that he was bound to ask if their friend had
been baptized in the Roman Catholic Church. When they said that they
didn't know, the priest said he was sorry but could not bury the man in
the churchyard. So the soldiers buried his body just outside the fence.
The next day they came back to see that the grave was all right, but
they couldn't find any evidence of freshly turned soil. As they turned
to leave in bewilderment, the priest came out and told them that his
heart had been troubled all night about not allowing their friend to be
buried there. And so, early in the morning, he had gotten up and with
his own hands, rock by rock, he had moved the fence to include the body
of the soldier who had died for France. Rules and regulations had put up
the fence, but love moved it. Jesus removed the fences that divide us by
abolishing in his flesh a religion based on rules and regulations and
giving us a religion based on love.
Second, Jesus destroyed the dividing wall of hostility between Jew and
Gentile by "creating in himself one new man out of the two."
There are two Greek words translated as "new" in English. One is
neos, and it
means "new" as in a "new Honda" or a "new television." The other is
kainos, and
it means a "new quality." The word used here is
kainos. So
the phrase "to create one new man out of the two" doesn't mean to take
an arm here and a leg there and stitch them together. It means that
Christ is creating in himself a brand new quality of life that both Jew
and Gentile can share completely.
That new life in Christ doesn't mean that either party has to give up
their identity or their individuality. In fact, one of the most
insidious lies ever perpetrated is that when you become a Christian you
somehow lose your identity. It's been my experience that when Christ
takes hold of a person, that life becomes all the more clear and rich. A
Jew who falls in love with Jesus becomes a very Jewish Christian. A
serious scholar becomes an erudite Christian. An off-the-wall nut
becomes a clown for Jesus. I suspect that most people outside the faith
have little or no idea how rich and varied and wonderfully diverse the
fabric of the family of faith is. But despite our great diversity, we
are one in Christ because Christ has purposed to make us all new. Our
lesson teaches us that the Jew and the Gentile who are reconciled to God
by his grace in Jesus Christ are joined together in a new identity far
greater than either one's individual identity.
Third, Jesus destroyed the dividing wall of hostility between Jew and
Gentile by "reconciling both to God through the cross, by which he
put to death their hostility." With all due respect to those who
believe that Jesus is the Messiah to the Gentiles and that following the
Torah is salvation for the Jews, the unequivocal assertion here is that
the cross of Christ is the only way that anyone can be reconciled to
God. And for those who believe that following the teachings of Gautama
Buddha will provide the necessary enlightenment to find your way to
Nirvana, or those who hold that there is only one god, Allah, and
Muhammad is his prophet, I want to make myself as clear as I can be
about this. There are not many ways to God. There is only one way – and
it is the way of the cross.
And if that seems exclusive to you, then I beg you to look again.
Because the cross of Christ is the most inclusive thing that God has to
say to us. "Christ," it says at verse 17, "came and preached
peace to you who were far away and peace to those who were near. For
through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit." Folks,
you don't get any more inclusive than that.
And what is the result of Christ's reconciling work on the cross? It
says, "Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but
fellow citizens with God's people and members of God's household."
We are no longer strangers – to each other or to God. In fact, this
household of which you and I are a part is "built on the foundation
of the apostles and prophets." I think it's noteworthy that none of
the apostles and none of the prophets had any authority of their own.
They taught and spoke for God on his authority alone. So what it's
saying here is that God's truth, which they represent, is the bedrock of
the household of God.
Then it goes on to say that Jesus Christ himself is the cornerstone (or
capstone) "in whom the whole building is joined together and rises to
become a holy temple in the Lord." The household of God, it says, is
a building. And our lesson closes with the encouraging reminder that
"in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which
God lives by his Spirit." The building isn't finished yet. There's
still a lot of work to be done. So let me leave you with this thought.
Someone once said that an arch is two weaknesses leaning on each
other and supported at the top. That, men and women, is the church.
This next week we'll be talking about evangelism as we study the first
thirteen verses of chapter 3. Meanwhile, here are a few questions that
emerge from today's lesson to apply to your own life.
- Where today do you see "dividing walls of hostility?"
- Where do you see evidence that Christ has torn down those walls,
or how might Christ tear them down?
- What does it mean to you that you are being built as a dwelling in
which God lives by his Spirit?
That should keep you busy.
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