Forget About Amnesty

 

Forget About Amnesty

Forget About Amnesty - Audio/Visual 

It happens so regularly that it’s predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. I truly delight in God’s commands, but it’s pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge. I’ve tried everything and nothing helps. I’m at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn’t that the real question? The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. (Romans 7:21-25 – MSG)

Charles Robertson should have turned himself in. Not that he’d have been acquitted or anything because he’d just robbed a bank. But at least he wouldn't have been the laughingstock of Virginia Beach. Cash-strapped Robertson, 19, went to Jefferson State Bank on a Wednesday afternoon, filled out a loan application and left. Apparently, he changed his mind about the loan and opted for a quicker underwriting process because he returned a few hours later with a pistol, a bag and a note demanding money. The teller complied and all of a sudden Robertson was holding a sack of cash. Figuring the police were soon on their way, he dashed out the front door. He was halfway to the car when he realized that he'd left the demand note. Fearing that it could be used as evidence against him, he ran back into the bank and snatched it from the teller.

Now holding the note and the money, he ran a block to his parked car. That's when he realized he'd left the keys on the counter at the bank when he'd returned for the note. Panic set in. So, Robertson ducked into the restroom of a fast-food restaurant, dislodged a ceiling tile and there he hid the money and the .25 caliber handgun he had used in the heist. Scampering through alleys and creeping behind cars, he finally reached his apartment where his roommate, who knew nothing about the robbery, greeted him with those ill-fated words, "I need my car." See, Robertson's getaway vehicle was a “loaner.” But rather than confess to the crime and admit that he’d bungled, Robertson shoveled yet another spade of dirt deeper into the hole: "Uhhhhh … your car was stolen," he lied. But then it got worse because while Robertson watched, his roommate called the police to report the stolen vehicle.

About twenty minutes later an officer spotted the "stolen" car about a block from the bank. Word was already on the police radio that the robber had forgotten his keys, so the officer put two and two together and tried the keys in the car. They worked. At that, detectives went to the address of the person who'd reported the missing car and there they found Robertson. He confessed, was charged with robbery and was put in jail. No bail. No loan. No kidding. Some days it's hard to do anything right.

It's even harder to do anything wrong right, and Mr. Robertson isn’t alone. We've all done the same. Maybe we didn't take money, but we've taken advantage, or taken control or taken leave of our senses. And then, like the thief, we've taken off; dashing down alleys of deceit and hiding behind buildings of work to be done, or deadlines to meet. Though we try to act normally, anyone who looks closely at us can see we’re on the lam: eyes darting and hands fidgeting, we chatter nervously. Committed to the cover-up, we scheme and squirm, changing the topic and then changing direction. We don't want anyone to know the truth, especially God.

But from the beginning God has always desired honesty. He's never demanded perfection, but he has expected truthfulness. Nehemiah knew the value of honesty. Upon hearing of the crumbled walls in Jerusalem, did he fault God? Did he blame heaven? Hardly. Read his prayer: "I confess the sins we Israelites have done against you. My father's family and I have sinned against you. We have been wicked toward you and have not obeyed the commands, rules and laws you gave your servant Moses."  (Neh. 1:6-7) Here’s the second most powerful man in the kingdom, the king’s cupbearer no less, turning himself in and accepting responsibility for the downfall of God’s people. Why? Because before there can be honest worship, there has to be an honest heart.

Confession does for the soul what preparing the land does for a field. Before a farmer sows the seed, he or she works the acreage, removing the rocks and pulling the stumps. They know that seed grows better if the land is prepared. Confession is the act of inviting God to walk the acreage of our hearts because God's seed grows better if the soil of the heart is cleared. And so, the Father and the Son walk the field together, digging and pulling, preparing the heart for seed and then for fruit. Confession invites the Father to work the soil of the soul. Confession seeks pardon from God, not amnesty.

Pardon presumes guilt; amnesty, derived from the same Greek word as amnesia, "forgets" the alleged offense without imputing guilt. Confession admits wrong and seeks forgiveness; amnesty denies wrong and claims innocence. Many mouth a prayer for forgiveness while, in reality, are claiming amnesty. Consequently, our worship is cold, and our faith is weak. We’re much better at keeping God out than we are at inviting God in. Sunday mornings are full of preparing the body for worship, preparing the hair for worship, preparing the clothes for worship . . . but preparing the soul? It’s like going to church on the run. Just like we spend our lives – on the run. But grace means you don’t have to run anymore; it's finally safe to turn ourselves in. That’s what Peter did.

Remember Peter? Flash-the-sword-and-deny-the-Lord Peter? The apostle who boasted one minute and bolted the next? He snoozed when he should have prayed. He denied when he should have defended. He cursed when he should have comforted. He ran when he should have stayed. We remember Peter as the one who turned and fled, but do we remember Peter as the one who returned and confessed? I think we should because how did the New Testament writers know of his sin? For instance, who told them of his betrayal? And how did they know the details? Who told them of the girl at the gate and the soldiers surrounding the fire? How did Matthew know it was Peter's accent that made him a suspect? How did Luke learn of Jesus’ stare after the rooster crowed? And, for that matter, who told all four about the noisy bird and the flowing tears? The Holy Spirit? Maybe. But isn’t it also possible that each learned of Peter’s betrayal as a result of an honest confession from the man himself?

Like the bank robber, Peter bungled it and ran. But unlike the robber, Peter stopped and thought. Somewhere in the Jerusalem shadows he quit running, fell to his knees, buried his face in his hands and gave up. But not only did he give up, he opened up. He went back to the room where Jesus had broken the bread and shared the wine. There he was every burly bit of him filling the door frame. "Guys, I've got to get something off my chest." And that's when they learned of the fire and the girl and the look from Jesus. That's when they hear of the cursing mouth and the crowing rooster. Maybe that's how they heard the story. Peter had turned himself in. But how can we be so sure? Well, two reasons.

The first is that he couldn’t stay away. When word came the tomb was empty, who was first out the room? Peter. When word came that Jesus was on the shore, who was first out of the boat? Peter. He was on the run again, only now he was running in the right direction. Here’s a good rule of thumb: those who keep secrets from God keep their distance from God, and those who are honest with God draw near to God. That isn’t novel. It happens between people. If you loan me your car and I wreck it, will I look forward to seeing you again? No. And it’s no coincidence that the result of the very first sin was to duck into the hedges. Adam and Eve ate the fruit, heard God in the garden and crept behind the bushes.

The second is that he couldn't stay silent. Only fifty days after denying Christ, Peter is preaching Jesus. Peter cursed his Lord at Passover, but he proclaimed his Lord at Pentecost. This isn’t the action of a fugitive. So, what took him from traitor to orator? He let God deal with the secrets of his life. "If we confess our sins, he will forgive our sins, because we can trust God to do what is right. He will cleanse us of all the wrongs we have done." (1 John 1:9) The fugitive lives in fear, but the penitent lives in peace.

Jesus has never demanded that we be perfect, only that we be honest. But honesty is a stubborn virtue for most of us. "Me, a thief?" we ask with the revolver in one hand and the bag of cash in the other. It wasn't easy for Peter either because he considered himself the MVA – most valuable apostle. Wasn't he a first round draft pick? Wasn't he one of the chosen three? Didn't he confess Christ while the others were silent? Peter never thought he needed help until he lifted his eyes from the fire and saw the eyes of Jesus. "While Peter was still speaking, a rooster crowed. Then the Lord turned and looked straight at Peter." (Luke 22:60-61)

Jesus and Peter were not the only two in the midnight street that night, but they might as well have been. Accusers surround Jesus, but he doesn't respond. The night air is full of taunts, but Jesus doesn't hear them. But let one follower slip when he should have stood, and the Master's head pops up and his eyes search through the shadows and the disciple knows. "The Lord looks down from heaven and sees every person. From his throne he watches all who live on earth. He made their hearts and understands everything they do." (Ps. 33:13-15) And you know when God knows. You know when he’s looking. Your heart tells you. Your Bible tells you. Your mirror tells you. The longer you run, the more complicated life gets. But the sooner you confess, the lighter your load becomes.

David knew this when he wrote, “When I kept things to myself, I felt weak deep inside me. I moaned all day long. Day and night you punished me. My strength was gone as in the summer heat. Then I confessed my sins to you and didn't hide my guilt. I said, ‘I will confess my sins to the LORD,’ and you forgave my guilt.” (Ps. 32:3-5) So, are you keeping any secrets from God? Any parts of your life off-limits? Any part of your past or present that you hope you and God will never discuss? Learn a lesson from the robber: the longer you run, the worse it gets. And learn a lesson from Peter: the sooner you speak to Jesus, the more you'll speak for Jesus. Once you're in the grip of God’s grace, you're free to be honest. So, surrender before things get worse. You'll be glad you did. Honest to God, you will.

Grace,

Randy