The stinky church

Genesis 6:16-22; 9:8-15

I want to tell you today about the stinky church. Strangely, it’s the story of a boat.

Now, there are a lot of boats in the Bible. Jesus falls asleep in one; Peter jumps out of another; the baby Moses floats in his own kind of basket-boat in the Nile, but no boat is quite as famous as the ark. The big one. It is this boat that so captures our imaginations.

            It’s also a tough one to preach on Rally Sunday, to be honest, having seen the state of us, God decides he’s seen enough. Get rid of it all! Let’s start over! If you’re hoping God doesn’t come to a similar conclusion today, then you really have to hope that God doesn’t have Twitter. At the last second, stopping short of obliterating the human race, God gives us a boat. He gives it to Noah, but that boat just keeps floating, even to today.

            That boat is the church.

Now, when I say that, I want to point out that this isn’t some radical, millennial pastor off-the-wall thought. Boats have been a sign of the church for as long as there has been a church. In fact, many sanctuaries have been constructed to look like an upside-down ship. If you’ve ever been in a church with flying buttresses and a large curved ceiling, there’s a decent bet that the architects had a boat in mind in the construction.

Also, you know, “Jesus, Savior, pilot me… over life’s tempestuous seas.” That kind of thing.

Earning salvation isn't hard; it's impossible

Mark 10:17-31

            I preach on this story so often when it is not the reading of the day that I hardly know what to do with it when it is. I actually went back and looked and I’ve never officially preached on Mark 10, or the same story as it appears in Matthew or Luke, but I’ve probably mentioned the story of Jesus and the rich man a half dozen times or more in sermons through the years. So, it’s probably no surprise to you that I believe this is one of the most important passages in the entire Bible. Naturally, we’re reading it on Labor Day weekend when everybody is at the cabin, but hey, you can’t have it all.  

It goes like this: A man comes to Jesus with a fantastic question. “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” he asks.  In fact, that really is the question isn’t it? If you knew for certain what it took have eternal life, then all the other questions would sort of be moot, wouldn’t they? If you had salvation assured, then all the secrets of how to live follow.

            Interestingly enough, Jesus does not answer the man with a parable. A parable would be more typical of Jesus. Somebody comes to him with a really big, difficult question, and his response is to say, “A man was going down the road…” or “A farmer went out to sow his seed…” Jesus does not go that route here. Instead, he asks how the man is doing with following the commandments. “Have you not murdered? Have you stayed faithful? Have you not stolen?”

            “I’ve done none of that,” says the man, “More than that, I have never used the Lord’s name in vain, I have never put another god before the true God, I have never coveted. You name it, I haven’t done it.” Sounds like a fun guy.

            More to the point, this is remarkable response. I mean, everybody violates the commandments! Some of us might be better at following the rules than others, but to keep them all—even the parts about coveting, which, honestly, most of us covet about twice a minute? That is astounding—impossible, really. What’s more astounding, however, is that Jesus doesn’t even question it. Jesus doesn’t go down the ‘Yeah, but…” rabbit hole, pointing out that this schmoe is obviously lying to himself. He doesn’t need to point out how wrong he is. Instead, he turns back to the man and says, “Alright, then go and give away all your possessions.”

            Hit him where it hurts, Jesus. Hit him where it hurts.