Surrender
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)
Charles
Robertson should have turned himself in. Not that he’d have been acquitted, or
anything; he 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 plan. He
returned within a couple of hours 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 fast on their way, he dashed out the front door.
He was halfway to the car when he realized he'd left the note. Fearing 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 his keys on the counter when he'd returned for the note. Panic set
in. So, Robertson ducked into the restroom of a fast-food restaurant. He
dislodged a ceiling tile and hid the money and the .25 caliber handgun.
Scampering through alleys and creeping behind cars, he finally reached his
apartment where his roommate, who knew nothing about the robbery, greeted him
with the words, "I need my car." You see, Robertson's getaway vehicle
was a loaner. But rather than confess to the crime and admit the bungle,
Robertson shoveled yet another spade of dirt deeper into the hole: "Uhhhhh
…, your car was stolen," he lied.
While Robertson
watched in panic, the roommate called the police to inform them of the stolen
vehicle. About twenty minutes later an officer spotted the "stolen"
car a block from the recently robbed bank. Word was already on the scanner that
the robber had forgotten his keys. The officer put two and two together and
tried the keys in the car. They worked. So, detectives went to the address of
the person who'd reported the missing car. 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. But then
again, Robertson's not alone. We've all done the same. Perhaps 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.
Hiding behind buildings of work to be done, or deadlines to be met. Though we
try to act normal, anyone who looks closely at us can see we are on the lam:
eyes darting and hands fidgeting, we chatter nervously. Committed to the
cover-up, we scheme and squirm, changing the topic and changing direction. We
don't want anyone to know the truth, especially God.
But from the
beginning God has called for 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 turning himself
in, and accepting responsibility for the downfall of God’s people. Why? Because
before there can be honest worship, there have to be honest hearts.
Confession does
for the soul what preparing the land does for the field. Before the farmer sows
the seed, he works the acreage, removing the rocks and pulling the stumps. He
knows that seed grows better if the land is prepared. Confession is the act of
inviting God to walk the acreage of our hearts. 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 claiming
amnesty. Consequently our worship is cold, and our faith is weak. We’re 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? 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 of the noisy
bird and the flowing tears? The Holy Spirit? Maybe. But isn’t it also possible
that each learned of the 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. 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. Those
who are honest with God draw near to God. This 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 the Passover, but he proclaimed his
Lord at the feast. 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 from 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, because he
considered himself the MVA – most valuable apostle. Wasn't he one of the early
draft picks? 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. Jesus is surrounded by accusers, but he doesn't respond. The night air is
full of taunts, but Jesus doesn't hear. 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) 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.
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 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
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