Bologna

I played football for a couple of years in high school.

We had a small team, which meant a few of us had to play both offense and defense. I was one them. I would play nose guard on defense – faced up against the center, ready to pummel him and the quarterback behind him as soon as the ball moved a millimeter. On offense, they put me in the tailback position. I was faster and bigger than most guys on the team, and so I got to run the ball for awhile. It was “fun-ish” – I never got the hang of running low, so I was an easy target and took a beating in games.

One day in school, I got a detention. It could have been for any number of reasons. Was it taking too long of a lunch? Screwing around in the halls when I was supposed to be in class? General goofing off? Who can remember such details? What I do remember was that I missed football practice, which, at the time, didn’t seem like too big of a deal.

The next day, however, when I got my pads on and went to the field, the coach called another guy to play my spot. It appeared that the coach was not too impressed with my absence the day before. Neither was he too concerned about my feelings of passing my position along to a guy named Jay who happened to be in the right place at the right time.

I got passed up. I lost my position because I got a detention. I got a detention because I wasn’t being a good student and got busted for it. Therefore, I lost my position because I wasn’t behaving like a good student. Another guy got in ahead of me because I was focused on other things.

The targets of Jesus’ parable (Mt. 21:28-32) were the teachers and the scribes – men who garnered significant power over Jews in Jesus’ day. They were keenly interested in preserving what little power they had, enjoying all the privileges their titles afforded them. Rather then acknowledge that Jesus’ interpretation of the law was accurate (and in agreement with some of the best Jewish scholars of his day), the teachers recognized Jesus as a threat to their comfortable, self-serving establishment. These guys looked holy, but something was terribly wrong. On the outside, they wore what everybody would expect a religious leader to wear. But on the inside, there was a terrible lack of holiness. After this exchange, Jesus called them sons of the devil. A little later, he called them white washed tombs: clean on the outside, death on the inside.

Some people keep themselves feeling positive by finding fault with others and keeping them down. It’s sick, for sure, but we all do it from time to time. Last Sunday’s teaching fleshed this reality out a little bit. Nobody was very comfortable imagining Ted Bundy as a greeter, welcoming us into Heaven someday. Why? Because his choices of serial rape and murder were awful. Much worse than you and me, right? As long as Ted Bundy’s and Osama Bin Laden’s are around, we’re in good shape, because somebody is a bigger loser than we are! We feel good, until we consider our zip code. At that point we realize that 2/3 of the world is barely getting enough food to eat while we are spending billions trying to keep our weight down. We generally don’t think of ourselves as being on someone else’s Biggest Loser list, but collectively, we are, because we, collectively, allow millions to die needlessly when we could choose otherwise. Hmmm.

Anyway, the Pharisees loved to keep a few hated people groups in their lowly loser place: tax collectors and prostitutes were among their favorites to condemn.

Interestingly, however, when John the Baptist began teaching in places sinners would show up with little threat of Pharisees attending, the sinners got the message, embraced the invitation from God to have a much better life, and started living anew.

Could it be that these sinners had no desire to become like the people who looked religious because they could smell death on their breath? Perhaps the tax collectors and sinners had heard the basics of the message before, but tied with it was a plea to become like the Pharisees, and they couldn’t understand how God’s character jibed with the Pharisees’ attitude and behavior.

So Jesus levels them. Please note that Jesus doesn’t jump on the bandwagon of accusers. Were there plenty of people to call naughty in the first century? Sure. Was Jesus’ primary role to let everybody know how naughty they were? No. His role was to redeem. To free. To restore. To lift up. To bless. To give hope.

This is one of those reversal accounts where Jesus turns everything upside down. To the ones who are confident in their religiosity, Jesus says, “You’ve so missed it that the people you hate are getting in ahead of you. They’re walking in new life while you remain in your decaying cesspool of an existence, telling yourself you’re one of God’s best!”

To the ones who joyfully discovered the good news of God’s grace through John the Baptist, Jesus gives assurance: “You may have been reluctant and stubborn for awhile, but you got it and are living it – you’ve found life that is rich and full and blesses the world.”

Donald Miller, a young gifted author, spoke of an experiment he conducted at his college campus. In the middle of the university square, he constructed a confession booth. With great curiosity, some people would take a risk and enter in. They would sit there and ask, “So, am I supposed to tell you all the stuff I’ve done wrong now or something?”

Miller would reply something along these lines, “No, this is a different kind of confession booth. I am here as a representative of the Church of Jesus Christ to tell you how sorry I am for all the obvious sins the Church has committed against God and humanity. The Crusades, for instance, was a terrible mistake. Perpetuating slavery, racism, and sexism would be right up there, too. If the Church has ever done anything to hurt you or keep you from embracing God’s love and life, I am so sorry.”

People were shocked. Many wept. Many began to think differently about God that day because they saw humility instead of arrogance.

None of you will likely confuse yourself with a Pharisee. But don’t worry, nobody else has this difficulty. If you try to paste on a smiley face, use Churchy language, and yet harbor feelings of hatred against others made evident by your tone, innuendo, facial expressions, lack of interest in reaching out, etc., everybody but you will see your inner Pharisee. They will hear your words and your invitation to walk with God and cry out “Bologna!” (or something smellier). They won’t be interested in your Jesus because they have no interest in becoming like you.

You might not care. After all, they’re losers, right?

But here’s the deal. We’re about redeeming the world with the power and grace of God. When we blow off someone who has rejected our disjointed version of Jesus, we keep them out. That ticks God off, because not only are they stuck thanks to us, but everybody they may be able to impact is put on hold. Because we care more about ourselves than we do about God.

So, if you’re full of bologna, may you hear Jesus’ scathing words of accountability, a not-so-subtle invitation to do an about face and start loving people into the Kingdom instead of trying to force grace.

If you’ve been kept out of a relationship with God because of Pharisees, I am so sorry, especially if it was me! I hope that you will give Jesus a shot, because even though I’m not perfect in any way, there’s no better hope, no better life, than that which is offered us by God.

Your life may need some serious redeeming. You may be dying on the inside, and dying for something bigger than yourself for which to live. God’s message is clear: identify and let go of old destructive patterns, and trade up to God’s way of life. God’s way leads to wholeness, healthy relationships, smarter finances, better work ethic, a healthier world, and even global impact. Your heart of hearts desires it, and the world needs you.

After all, you don’t want to get to the end of your life and find out you settled for a bunch of bologna because of a bunch of people filled with bologna.

May you be patient enough to see yourself clearly, quiet enough to hear the inviting whisper of God, and courageous enough to say yes.