Good News at Noon from Good Sam - June 4, 2020
WORDS OF FORGIVENESS
Acts 4: 8-12 1 John 1:1—2:2 Luke 24: 36-49
We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life — this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us — we declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. We are writing these things so that our joy may be complete.
This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in God there is no darkness at all. When we say that we have fellowship with God while we are walking in darkness, we lie and do not do what is true; but when we walk in the light as God indeed is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, God’s Son, cleanses us from all sin. When we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. When we confess our sins, the One who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. When we say that we have not sinned, we make God a liar, and the word is not in us.
My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and he is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world.
So, it is true that faith really matters here in Fox Hill, Wisconsin, my hometown. It’s been really quiet this past week and that’s pretty much how everyone wants it to be just about now – quiet, slow, all right, downright depressing.
The days have reflected the mood of my Wisconsin folk, rather dark and drizzly. After the winter we’ve had in Wisconsin, it takes pretty much one solid week of sunshine for it to really feel like Spring. And if that doesn’t happen, Spring is only a dream to be hoped for but never grasped and that is a depressing reality. The months of April and May can be that way sometimes. Little Trina Nordstrom, with all the enthusiasm of a ten year old, tried to make things better. She skipped through town singing, “April showers bring May flowers!” Such youthful optimism; until she ran into her great uncle George Nordstrom, one of our Scandinavian bachelor farmers; not the jolliest of species in Fox Hill. “Ah, Tina,” he retorted, “but dontcha know what May flowers bring?” She had heard this joke before, so she was ready for it, “Pilgrims!” she shouted with delight. “Nonsense!” her great uncle snapped back, it’s allergies.”
I think my hometown is one of the few places that goes out of its way to even depress a ten year old. Even a solid week of sunshine is going to have its work cut out for it. Even Easter this year didn’t work. It was poorly planned: too early in the month to get its point across and people just weren’t in the mood. It takes a lot more than candles and lilies and stained glass windows to make Easter special. Any meager Alleluias at Fox Hill Lutheran Church kind of lacked gumption.
Speaking of a lack of gumption, Pastor David Martin, pastor of Fox Hill Lutheran Church, received a phone call from Lyle Bartlett at the post office. “I thought I ought to let you know that the church hasn’t paid its box rent for the year yet,” Lyle firmly declared. “Oh my,” replied Pastor Martin, “I’ll speak with Mel Nelson immediately (He’s the treasurer of the church council, dontcha know) to straighten this out.” It seemed to the pastor a rather minor matter.
But Lyle wouldn’t back down, “You don’t think I’m making this up, do you? I ain’t no liar!”
“No, of course not, Mr. Bartlett,” countered the pastor, “It’s just that…”
“I got it right before my eyes in black and white,” Lyle ranted on, “and ain’t nothing written in for Fox Hill Lutheran Church. Now I don’t normally have any difficulty extending credit to the church, but I’ve got to see to the business of the United States Postal Service too, dontcha know!” (Serving in the 23rd Unit of the Postal Service, APO, NY during World War II had made Mr. Bartlett quite the patriot.) “And you would think,” he continued, ”the church would want to set a good example for the rest of the community and not shirk its responsibilities like everybody else does.” Pastor Martin felt like his head was being bitten off by a wild dog.
“I said I would check into it!” Pastor Martin slammed down the phone. While the days may be getting longer, people’s nerves are getting shorter around Fox Hill.
Dale Colburn had gotten to the end of his with his kids. The Colburn twins, Diane and Denise, both just turned 14, had friends over for what Dale kept calling “a pajama party.” And the twins kept responding, “Oh, Dad!” When he and his wife, Debbie, sent the girls to bed at midnight, he figured they had survived it all fairly well. At 2:00am. he awoke, thinking he had to go to the bathroom, only to realize it was really the chatter and laughing at the other end of the house which woke him. Storming down the hall, he prepared his speech that there is a difference between and over night and an all-nighter, and they had school the next day and they all had better get to sleep. The clanging of cans startled both him and the girls as he swung open the door. And there he found beer cans. The twins were in shock as was Dale. “You’re grounded,” was all he could get out, no – allow out of his mouth.
The next morning Diane and Denise tried all the “I’m sorrys” and “We’ll never do it agains” in their repertoire, but Dale was unmoved. Beyond disappointed, was devastated.
It was a bird that had devastated Judy Martin, the pastor’s wife. A robin – a dead robin. She had been watching for robins for as long as she thought it should be Spring. And it’s not that she didn’t see any, but it had become a compulsion for her – like Spring’s arrival was dependent upon her seeing and counting every robin there was and she hadn’t yet reached the magic number, when she came upon the dead one in her front yard. Might that very one have been the last one she needed? And now, there would be no Spring! Had she somehow failed? If she had seen the robin just the day before might it still be alive today? Was she somehow responsible for its death? Had she, by her inattention and neglect, harmed another living creature and upset the balance of nature? Had she single handedly brought about the death of unborn Spring?
Her husband had little sympathy for her philosophical plight. He had been ministering to the Anderson family all Tuesday night as they posted vigil at the bedside of 104 year old Mabel Anderson, the family matriarch. Just about at the time that Dale Colburn was at a loss for words of his twins’ behavior, Pastor Martin didn’t quite know what to say at Mabel’s last labored breath. He led the family in a recitation of the 23rd Psalm and felt the experience of walking through the valley of the shadow of death. But the valley was a little longer than he expected. Each Anderson family member, by then in tears, began to recount all the things he or she had ever done to offend or injure Auntie Mabel, as if taking back that event or remark would carry her beyond her 104 years. At Friday’s funeral service, he preached about her long and gracious life. And while everybody seemed to appreciate it, he knew he had missed the mark and didn’t really answer the concerns of their own guilt, grief and loss.
Canceled check in hand, Pastor Martin marched to the Post Office on Saturday morning. Here was proof that the church had paid the box rent and he would demand an apology from Mr. Bartlett. Confronted with indisputable evidence, Mr. Bartlett whimpered like a little puppy, “I am so sorry. It must have been a bookkeeping error, not that it’s any excuse.” “Oh, that’s OK,” said the Pastor.
Lyle continued, “How could I have possibly doubted the goodness and punctuality of the church? Can you ever forgive me?”
“Forget about it,” replied Pastor Martin.
“How can I forget?” continued Lyle, “I accused you. I insulted you. I know how angry I was and I know that’s a sin.”
“it’s all right,” assured Pastor Martin, “It was an honest mistake.”
“I take full responsibility for this,” asserted Lyle, “I personally will see to it that this never happens again. I’m so embarrassed. I’m so ashamed. I’m so sorry.”
Again, at a loss for words, and reacting only out of divine call, Pastor Martin quieted Lyle down, looked him in the eye and spoke in full authority, “Mr. Bartlett, I forgive you.” And quite suddenly, Lyle smiled a smile of gratitude. Never before had Pastor Martin felt so… well, pastoral.
But, the feeling soon passed. All of this helps to explain why it was that on Sunday morning at 10:15am. at the start of the worship service, the Pastor stood before the people of Fox Hill Lutheran with no sermon prepared: a pastor’s ultimate fear of being at a loss for words. Not that he was scared about it. The Lutherans in Fox Hill have never expected a doctoral dissertation or a dramatic presentation from the weekly sermon and many times Pastor Martin has sounded ill-prepared, even when he wasn’t. He has preached sermons before when he had absolutely no idea himself what he was talking about. He would certainly be able to do that again.
Maybe he would preach on the Epistle lesson from 1 John: My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and he is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world. Because he did feel guilty, guilty that he hadn’t done his whole job. Guilty that he had failed in his responsibility. He had been awfully busy (it’s not like Sunday is his only day of work!) but that, he admitted, was no excuse. Standing before the Fox Hill congregation, he led them in the service of confession. There sat George Nordstrom with a scowl that could depress a ten year old. There sat the Colburn twins like fallen angels doing perfect penance next to a disappointed father. There sat the Anderson family, filling two entire pews, still sobbing, unwilling to let go of their grief. There sat his own wife, the robin killer, the murderer of Spring. And there he stood, the unprepared pastor, speaking, “When we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. But whenever we confess our sins, God who is faithful and just, will forgive our sins.”
As they all knelt for silent, personal confession, Pastor Martin’s conscience screamed out, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! What can I do for you all to forgive me?”
Pastor Martin rose to address the congregation with words of absolution, but it was not their pastor standing before the people of Fox Hill Lutheran. He was really still with them, still kneeling in confession when he spoke these words: “Almighty God, in divine mercy, has given Jesus to die for us and, for his sake, forgives us all our sins. As a called and ordained minister of the Church of Jesus Christ and by his authority, I declare to you the entire forgiveness of all your sins.” Forgives us ALL, our sins. Forgives us, ALL our sins.
And he looked up and there stood Kyle Bartlett, still smiling, and a gracious smile cracked the penitential lips of Pastor Martin; and rays of warm, Spring sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows of Fox Hill Lutheran Church.
And that’s the Good News from Fox Hill, Wisconsin, where faith really matters for every single man, woman, and child; oh, and the married ones too. Amen.