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THE HOLINESS OF GOD #10

"WHAT ABOUT THE CHANGE?"

It's nice these days to drive with one of those little U.S. flags attached to the back-seat window of your car. But do you not only LOOK like an American, but also think like one, act like one, drive like one, and carry with pride and honor the high and holy values of a good citizen?
It's probably the second-favorite book most of us have — outside of the Bible, of course. Here in the United States it's blue, 24 pages long, with this paragraph on page one:

"The Secretary of State of the United States of America" — that would be Colin Powell — "hereby requests all whom it may concern to permit the citizen/national of the United States named herein to pass without delay or hindrance and in case of need to give all lawful aid and protection."

And on the front of this little blue book, just five words: "PASSPORT: United States of America."

Now friend, that is one beautiful little book. And whatever country you're from, I hope you're just as proud of yours too.

But today as we close up this two-week radio series on the holiness of God, there's one final conclusion we need to get ourselves to.

There was an exceptional editorial in the Los Angeles Times about a month after the World Trade Center tragedy. They wrote about citizenship and what it means. What does it mean to have this little blue book with your name and picture in it? And the editors commented that having a passport means a lot more than having a passport. Yes, American embassies all around the world are pledged to give aid and comfort to any person bearing this little blue book. But having a passport also means that the bearer has a responsibility to embrace — and live by — the ideals of the American experiment: democracy, freedom of religion, freedom of speech, respect for others, toleration for the views of others, support for our nation in a time of crisis and also during the rare moments of tranquility.

"Once we become Americans by birth or naturalization," they wrote, "we also have choices about what we do with that status. . . . Every generation must discover for itself the responsibilities of citizenship, just as those who pulled the country through the extreme tests of national character did during three previous centuries. One special lesson of this particular moment — when some are nervous about flying or the ordinary act of opening the mail — is that living up to one's obligations demands recognizing that being an American is much more than a notation on a birth certificate."

It's an excellent editorial, and with this powerful headline: "America the Dutiful."
Right after those three planes found their marks on September 11, entrepreneurs began to rake in cash selling little flag-holder gizmos you could buy for $11.95 and then have a flag waving from the back window of your car. And it was a beautiful thing to see all the red, white, and blue streaming down the L.A. freeways. But were those drivers also pledging that they would support America's need to reduce its dependency on foreign oil? Were they willing to be good red, white, and blue citizens by carpooling and taking public transportation? By curbing unnecessary trips? By purchasing more fuel-efficient cars? Were they ready to live up to the American ideal of following the speed limit? And being courteous drivers during morning rush hour? As they drove past an Islamic center of worship, were they willing to respect the "foreign" religion of the people who were worshiping God there?

Well, friend, you get the idea. Flags and passports are nice, but they truly do disintegrate into just cloth and paper if we simply drape ourselves in the symbols and don't truly embrace — INWARDLY, where it counts — the lofty principles they're meant to inspire.

Just the other day we came across a track from Steven Curtis Chapman's contemporary Christian CD entitled Speechless. It's probably a bit too hip-hop, too contemporary, to play for you today, but he has a song entitled "The Change." And the lyrics go like this:

"Well, I got myself a T-shirt that says what I believe. I got letters on my bracelet to serve as my ID. I got the necklace and the key chain, and almost everything a good Christian needs. I got the little Bible magnets on my refrigerator door, and a welcome mat to bless you before you walk across my floor. I got a Jesus bumper sticker and the outline of a fish stuck on my car. And even though this stuff's all well and good, I cannot help but ask myself: ‘What about the change? What about the difference? What about the grace? What about forgiveness? What about a life that's showing I'M UNDERGOING THE CHANGE?'"

It's a good song, and a powerful, biblical message.
Back on Monday we shared an anecdote from born-again Watergate criminal Chuck Colson, who realized that being a new Christian meant more than saluting the Christian flag. It also meant changing his life. It meant pleading guilty in criminal court instead of pleading the Fifth all the time. And he writes later:

"As alien and archaic as the idea may seem the task of the church is not to make men and women happy, it is to make them holy."

For Colson, this even changed his lifework. He used to be a political operative; today he runs a worldwide Christian prison ministry. Now, friend, the Lord doesn't require that all citizens of His kingdom seek full-time employment with heaven's government, so to speak. God needs His ambassadors in all walks of life. But holiness is our calling, not just on Sabbath or Sunday morning, but all week long. Dr. Eugene Peterson, who wrote the wonderful Bible paraphrase, The Message, has a delightful way of putting it:

"Standing in a church singing a hymn doesn't make us holy any more than standing in a barn and neighing makes us a horse."

And as much as I believe in holy time, in that seventh day of sanctified, hallowed rest, I also agree with the unknown philosopher who once suggested:

"Remember the WEEKDAY to keep it holy."

Meaning that the man or woman of God not only carries around that passport during a two-week annual vacation, but seeks to live by its ideals every single day. We are to be holy men and women of God wherever we go and whatever we do and with whomever we meet and fellowship.

The Bible was into steady, nonstop, on-the-job faithfulness before the expression "24/7" ever became popular with corporate America. In his letter to the Romans, Paul challenges us with the idea that holiness even involves our physical life, the cells and tissues of our bodies.

"Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices" — now notice — "HOLY and pleasing to God — this is your spiritual act of worship."

First Corinthians 10:31 adds:

"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God."

It seems that holiness is even a factor when we pick up the menu at a restaurant!
Speaking of Eugene Peterson, here's how he renders Romans 12:1:

"So here's what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life — your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life — and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for Him."

I'm so thankful that the Bible never strays from the foundation of seeking holiness as a response to God's mercy. Did you notice? "In view of God's mercy" — offer your body as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God. We live holy lives to please God, as a THANK offering to Him, not to qualify for heaven. And, as Peterson says it, we do this — "God helping us." Our holiness is a gift He provides; we simply seek it and submit to it.

I want to close with this last thought . . . and we're recording in November, just a couple weeks after the spectacular seven-game, nailbiting 2001 World Series between the Yankees and the Arizona Diamondbacks. Both teams were giving it their all, playing their hearts out, supporting each other. And if you remember, a 22-year-old kid from Korea, Byung-Hyun Kim, blew saves in both Games Four and Five. Two nights in a row, pitching in the Big Apple, with two outs in the bottom of the ninth, he gave up two-run homers. With 55,000 screaming fans and Frank Sinatra belting out "New York, New York" through the stadium PA, this young man had to know that the loss was on him. Back in Phoenix, Sunday night, an incredible Game Seven, it was Yankee closer Mariano Rivera's turn to give up the tying and winning runs to the D-Backs, sending the state of Arizona into pandemonium and all-night celebrating.

But here's the point. Two teams both were striving for — in a baseball sense — holiness. Working hard, trying hard, paying attention to excellence. Doing their best, with their eyes on a larger goal. We quoted this verse from First Corinthians 3:17 earlier in our series:

"God's temple is sacred, [holy], and YOU are that temple."

Meaning the Church, the Body of Christ. The team, if you will. And it was so incredible to see, after those three wrenching losses where one guy had to bear the brunt of failure, of stinging defeat, how the team would rally around. On both sides, the teammates were quick to embrace, to support, to express solidarity.

And wouldn't it be an amazing thing if the Church could be like that? Dedicated to holiness, to an historic team effort? But also dedicated to embracing the player who drops a ball or strikes out or even gives up a home run in the bottom of the ninth?

Friend, that's the right kind of holiness.