ON THE PATH: CONVICTION

A Sermon by Bill McDonald from Titus 3:3-6

September 2, 2007

Titus 3

³For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, despicable, hating one another. ⁴But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, ⁵he saved us, not because of any works of righteousness that we had done, but according to his mercy, through the water of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit.

No one likes to be wrong. After drinking several glasses of champagne he was the happiest man at the wedding reception. He sidled up behind a woman, put his arm around her and said, “Let’s dance, sweetie.” When the woman turned around he said, “Oh, excuse me, I thought you were my wife. You look just like her.” The woman remarked in a huff, “Well, I feel sorry for her; you’re a poor excuse for a husband.” To which the man replied, “Golly, you even talk like my wife.”

None of us like to be wrong or for anyone to demonstrate that we have been wrong. So this first step on the path to salvation is a difficult pill for us to swallow: Conviction. The dictionary says that conviction means “convincing a person of error” or “compelling admission of a truth.” That’s why a lot of folks keep a safe distance from churches and ministers. They feel as if they are about to be judged. And we don’t like to be judged. When you are having a fun conversation with someone you just met, invariably it gets around to the subject, “What do you do for a living?” Quite a number of times when I have responded, “I am a minister,” the other person has just turned and walked away without another word, afraid that I would judge them, I guess. At a high school class reunion one former classmate asked that question, “What do you do?” I told her, “You don’t want to know.” And she replied, “Oh, why not? Are you a porn star?” I figured it was safe to tell her the truth then since being a minister certainly couldn’t be as bad as being a porn star. So I said, “No, I am a minister.” And she turned around and walked away!

For the same purpose of avoiding judgment even we Christians often refuse to look too closely at Jesus. We can easily talk about the church or ministry team organization or fellowship groups or even giving money, but we can’t talk about Jesus because he is the Righteous Judge who will convict us. And it’s true; he will and he does. Now, I’m not promoting the idea of an angry vindictive Christ who condemns us. That’s not who Jesus is and that’s not how we get convicted. Instead we are convicted by Jesus’ goodness, by the model he offers to us, by the example he sets for us, by his very acts of kindness and love toward us. We look at Jesus closely, then we look at ourselves closely, and we see the difference.

I made a footstool in shop class in high school. The teacher said it wasn’t very good but I was pretty proud of it and proud of myself for making it. I thought it looked great, that is until I saw a footstool made by a student who really cared, who really worked at it, who put his heart into it. And then I realized that the edges of mine were rough, having been hastily cut. The top could have used a couple of more sandings. The stain was not applied evenly and had run and streaked and dried in splotches, especially on the bottom where I figured no one would ever look. The beautiful stool made by the other student put my stool in perspective. It showed the deficiencies of mine by comparison.

That’s what happens when we look at Christ. It is not the haranguing of hellfire and damnation preachers that convicts us of our sin; it is the glowing example of Christ. It is not a fierce Jesus that tears us apart with guilt; it is a loving Jesus who by example shows us how far we have fallen short. It is Christ’s very nature that convicts us. And that is a good thing. For we are then on the path to salvation: Conviction, Confession, Repentance, Forgiveness, Salvation. If we can’t see the error of our ways, then we can’t see the truth and we are lost in our sin. The old proverb says, “There are none so blind as those that will not see.” But God sent Christ to compel us to see, to hold up an image so dazzling that we cannot help but see. Paul writing to Titus lists the errors of our ways. We are foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, full of malice and envy, despicable, hating one another. And how did God react to this? With another flood? The destruction of humanity? Washing the divine hands of us measly mortals? Anger and wrath? Lightning bolts from the blue to blast our blasphemous beings? No, God responded, says Paul, with goodness and loving kindness, with Jesus. “But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us.”

It is the example of the loving Jesus that convicts us and it is therefore the example of the loving Jesus that saves us. Conviction is always the first step on the path to salvation. In the 1960s the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. led a movement of non-violence to combat the lingering shackles of the era of slavery. There are few figures in history with the remarkable eloquence of Martin Luther King Jr. He combined that eloquence with passion and with logic and with Biblical imperative. And yet all his skills blended together were not enough to stir our apathetic white hearts to rid ourselves of inequity and prejudice. What finally convinced us that something was terribly wrong in our nation were the evening TV newscasts. What finally convinced us were broadcast images of women and children having police dogs set upon them for just marching peacefully through their own town. What finally convinced us was seeing right there in our living rooms the horror of violence and hatred as it swept over the passiveness of non-resistance. Those who were apathetic to the plight of African-Americans, and even those who were prejudiced against them, watched this and thought to themselves, “This isn’t right.” By the modeling of Christ’s turn-the-other-cheek philosophy, by bringing the gospel to life, we were convicted of our sin. And it was the first step on the path to reconciliation. The ugliest, most horrid, most despicable behavior imaginable came up against the goodness and loving kindness of God displayed right on TV. And it may have saved us as a nation and as individuals. I pray to God it never happens again. But I thank God that it happened then. If we are ever going to get where we are supposed to go, if we are ever going to become what we were created to be, the first step to that final glory is to realize how far off the path we are now, to be convicted of our own waywardness.

Back in 1983 I drove Millard Fuller, the founder of Habitat for Humanity, to the airport in Louisville. We were pressed for time so I suggested that we use the sky cap, the baggage handler out by the curb, as a way of getting checked in faster. I went up to speak to the skycap and stood there slack-jawed as he, angry, surly and mean, chewed out the customer in front of me. Without ever speaking to the man, I returned to where Millard was wrestling his suitcase out of the car and told him that I didn’t think this skycap was going to be much help to us. Millard responded, “He must be having a tough day.” Approaching the man, Millard was extremely polite, meek, and almost apologetic for bothering him. The skycap was still hostile, surly, sarcastic and curt. Millard said thank you and, in a time when $1 per suitcase was the usual tip, Millard gave the man $7, seven times the amount he deserved, seven, a Biblical number. The baggage handler stood and stared at the money in his hand and stared at Millard as we walked away. Obviously no one had ever before met his hostility with their love. After putting Millard on the plane, I came outside and stood for a moment where I could watch that skycap. As he dealt with people, his voice was so pleasant that it was almost a song. He went out of his way to help his customers. He lifted their spirits and reassured them in their worries. Someone had come into his life and had changed him. Someone had modeled the way of truth. Someone had convicted him of his sin and in doing so had set him free from it.

Christ convicts us—and sets us free. Christ convicts us—and in so doing sets us on the path to salvation.