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[This sermon is also available in MS Word format]
“My Sin is Ever Before Me?”
Chapel Service
April 1, 2004
Richard R. Crocker, College Chaplain
Welcome back.
Wherever you were on spring break, I expect it was warmer and sunnier than here in New Hampshire. Here it is still Lent. We are still in a penitential season, and our sin is ever before us.
Or is it?
I have chosen to talk about Psalm 51 today for several reasons. It is the classic penitential psalm - used in the church in all seasons of penitence, but especially in Lent. I expect you are acquainted with it, somewhat. And I know that for one or two of you, at least, it is a psalm that you have committed to memory.
Tradition says that this is a psalm written by King David himself, following his confrontation by the prophet Nathan. You may remember the story. King David, smitten by the beauty of Bathsheba, whom he saw bathing on her house-top, had impregnated her. When this fact was clear, he compounded his misdeed by having her husband Uriah killed. If you don’t know this story, it’s there in the book of Kings - not
s there in the book of Kings, chapters 11 and 12 , and it is not a pretty read. Anyway, the prophet Nathan confronted David. The child died. David mourned, repented, and wrote this Psalm.
I think one of the reasons this psalm has been so often used by Christians is that simply remembering its supposed origin is comforting to us. After all, whatever we may have done, we have not done that. At least most of us. And if God could love David, after a deed like that, then God could love and forgive us too, no matter what we have done.
But, whatever the reason, these words have brought comfort to many people for many generations.
I would like simply to concentrate on one phrase: "“my sin is ever before me." (verse 3) I just wonder if that is true for any of us? Do we think constantly about our sin? Do we think that a person who thinks about his or her sin all the time is a healthy person? Do we even believe in sin?
A confession of sin is a standard part of many services of Christian worship - but not all. A ministerial friend of mine, in the free church tradition, tried to introduce the confession of sin into the order of worship at his prosperous New Jersey suburban congregation. There was resistance. One member expressed the objection by saying to the minister: “I don’t have anything to apologize to God about.” It sounds rather odd when stated so baldly. But does that person speak for many of us?
Most of us do not have a sense of sin, nor do we think that we should. We have been taught, most of us, that we should not feel bad about ourselves. Since the principal danger that our parents saw was not sin, but rather poor self-esteem, we have not usually been scolded or judged, but rather, mostly, praised. Guilt is, we are taught, a useless emotion - almost always a product of faulty or retrogressive thinking. Am I overstating the case?
Do you ever feel guilty? Do you ever even think about sin? Or do you think rather about deficiencies and strategies for overcoming them? I speak with troubled people, often. It is part of my job, and part of my being. I understand troubled people very well, because I know what it is it to be troubled. But most of the trouble I see people - especially students – thinking about is very healthy - almost admirable - trouble. Students are troubled about finding a direction in life - making a choice about how to use their many talents. They are troubled about meeting the high expectations of parents or family, and harbor doubts that they may not be able to do it. They are troubled about relationships - either not having them, or having ones that do not feel right. But troubled about sin? Not much. It is a very rare thing to talk to someone who says "“I did something that was hurtful and wrong. I am sorry and ashamed. How can I receive forgiveness?"”
It’s rare, but not unheard of. Even in our very busy and successful lives, even in a culture that prizes achievement and blames almost every failure on lack of self-esteem, we sometimes run into the fact that we do what we know is wrong.
Recently I heard a story about research being done by a professor at West Point concerning post traumatic stress disorder among soldiers especially soldiers who have killed other people. Two people were profiled in the report - who was haunted by the vision of the men he had killed and another who simply accepted that killing was part of the job. A central difference in reaction, according to this study, is the matter of social support. If a soldier is surrounded by fellows who say “Well done!" “Good kill!", and if
The soldier's family and wider social circle and nation say that he or she has done the right thing, there is usually no lasting trauma. But if any of those circles questions the deed, there is a higher chance of trauma. (“The Psychological Impact of Killing in Battle. Morning Edition - www.npr.org – March 30, 2004)
Trauma. It's a psychological word that describes tremendous pain. Sometimes it’s pain someone has inflicted on us. Sometimes it’s pain we have inflicted on ourselves or on someone else, by a choice we made. Sometimes the only word that describes it is sin. And the only remedy possible seems impossible, because the only remedy is forgiveness.
My sin is ever before me. What do you think? Is it? Should it be?
Sermon © 2004 Richard R. Crocker. All rights reserved.
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