"Darned If You Do, Darned If You Don't"
7-6-14 (Ordinary 14A/Proper 9A)
Romans 7:15-25a; Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
Darned if You Do, Darned if You Don’t
We’ve all been there at some point in our lives. We’ve found ourselves in that place where no matter what we do, it’s wrong. You bring them home chocolate ice cream when they wanted strawberry, but if you’d brought home strawberry they would have wanted chocolate. You’re running late getting back from getting groceries, so you skip going to one of the other stores you had on your list so that you can get home sooner and your family isn’t waiting for you for dinner, but then when you get home, they’re upset that you didn’t get what they wanted from the store you skipped. You see the light turning red, but the car behind you riding six inches from your bumper shows no signs of slowing down and your choices are to run the red light and get a ticket, or slam on your breaks and get into an accident. No matter what you do differently, no matter what choices you make, in some circumstances, you truly are just darned if you do and darned if you don’t.
It’s a frustrating situation to find yourself in, even when it’s just silly, minor little trifles that put you in that place. So imagine what it must be like when it’s about who you are. As Jesus continues on his journey, preaching and teaching, he runs into some static from some of John the Baptist’s disciples: John sends them to Jesus to ask: are you the one who John spoke of when he said that someone else was coming after him? Are you the one we’ve been waiting for? And as Jesus answers their questions, as he sees and hears the crowds talking and ruminating after they hear the questions from John’s own disciples, he starts to feel the frustration.
Jesus knows that, at least for John’s disciples, the question comes from an honest place - they have a genuine concern about Jesus. They want some affirmation that John’s entire ministry so far has not been in vain - John is in prison; he’s about to be killed for his message: is Jesus really the one who John was pointing toward, or do they need to keep holding out hope, praying for someone else to come along? But regardless of their honest motivations, both they and the crowds are still operating under some mixed expectations and false assumptions. John’s disciples expected something more “in line” with what John had been preaching all this time: they were looking for a Messiah that was a barnstormer, that came in guns blazing, shouting a fire and brimstone repent now and be saved kind of gospel. So when Jesus comes preaching a gospel of love, of peace, of taking care of the widow and the orphan… when he foregoes the camel hair and locusts for drinking wine with prostitutes and sitting for dinner with tax collectors… they have to wonder: is this even the one that John was predicting?
The crowds, on the other hand… they were even more fickle than John’s disciples. And it’s to these crowds that Jesus directs his frustration in this passage. The crowds had been critical of John in the first place: he was too harsh. He was too strict. He smelled funny, he was hairy, and he was scary. So they most certainly weren’t comfortable with the kind of Messiah that would come out of John’s preaching - who wants the new Jerusalem to be all kinds of fasting and self-abuse, after all? But then Jesus enters the scene… and he’s too much of a hippie! He comes in there, eating and drinking, spending time with sinners and proclaiming forgiveness… where’s the justice? Where’s the crushing defeat of Israel’s enemies that they’d been expecting? Where’s the eternal punishment, the fire and the winnowing that John had said was coming with imminent doom?
No wonder Jesus is frustrated when he addresses the crowds - no matter what he does, no matter how good the news he proclaims, he’s making somebody upset - there’s just no pleasing some people.
As if it wasn’t bad enough for Jesus, dealing with others who are dissatisfied with his message… when we turn to Paul, he talks about the very same thing going on inside of our own selves on a regular basis. Paul talks about the fact that, through the law, we each and every one of us know what is right and what is wrong - and we may even want to do those things that are right. Every part of our being wills to do the good - but when the rubber hits the road, we somehow end up doing everything that we don’t want to do, despite our best intentions. Paul talks about himself - he says that he delights in the law of the Lord. He knows this law in the depths of his mind and he wants to follow it - and yet his own body does the opposite of what he knows he should be doing. This tension is so strong to Paul that he declares his mind to be at war with his own body, and he is a captive to the body which is at war with his own mind.
And so we see that our entire existence as Christians is one gigantic struggle in which we are every bit darned if we do, and darned if we don’t. In the outer world, we are criticized on every side by every faction - when we preach a message of love and peace, we’re considered weak, called hippies or communists, and questioned by those who expect a fire and brimstone God. If we preach a message of God’s justice, of eternal judgment and accountability, we’re seen as being too hard, of not proclaiming a gospel of love. We’re called hypocrites, people of contradictions, and worse. And in and of ourselves - we are. We are that much and more. We proclaim a gospel of love, and then turn to judge those who are different from ourselves. We proclaim a gospel of judgment, but fail to see our own sins before us. We read passages that tell us to treat widows, orphans, poor and needy with dignity and respect, and then look down our noses at the very people we’re called to serve. We preach to others about the need to turn away from sin, to repent and to live a new and transformed life, but then we return home to the skeletons in our own closets which we are too proud, too embarrassed, or too attached to air out and eliminate.
It’s a struggle that goes on day after day in our lives - and at the end of the day, it’s no wonder we’re exhausted. We’re darned if we do, darned if we don’t, and exhausted from the fact that no matter what we do, we’re still sinful, fallen creatures living in a sinful and shattered world.
But it’s when we collapse, when we stop struggling and realize that on our own, our situation is hopeless, that we hear the final verse and the only thing that can make any difference in our struggle: Jesus says, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
Jesus says come to me, all you who are tired of struggling against yourselves. Come to me, all you who are tired of being darned if you do and darned if you don’t. Come to me and give up those burdens that you carry for yourselves. Take me, instead - take my burden, take my yoke, and learn from me. Because it is only in Christ that we find relief from our own struggles - only in Christ that we find an end to our internal war against sin because Christ removes our sin from us. It is only in Christ that we find an identity that allows us to be truly good and to be released from the tension of not knowing what to do for fear of being condemned regardless. And it is in Christ that we find the rest that gives us the kind of strength we need to keep pressing onward, no matter what the rest of the world perceives from us. It is Christ who gives us the courage and strength to mourn and cry out against the injustices of the world, but Christ who also gives us the joy to dance and sing as we celebrate both Christ’s own presence in our present world and the wonderful promise of the Kingdom yet to come. In Christ, we no longer have to feel the struggle, but know that in life and death, in joy and in sorrow, in all things… we belong to God through Jesus Christ. To God be the Glory. Amen.
Romans 7:15-25a; Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
Darned if You Do, Darned if You Don’t
We’ve all been there at some point in our lives. We’ve found ourselves in that place where no matter what we do, it’s wrong. You bring them home chocolate ice cream when they wanted strawberry, but if you’d brought home strawberry they would have wanted chocolate. You’re running late getting back from getting groceries, so you skip going to one of the other stores you had on your list so that you can get home sooner and your family isn’t waiting for you for dinner, but then when you get home, they’re upset that you didn’t get what they wanted from the store you skipped. You see the light turning red, but the car behind you riding six inches from your bumper shows no signs of slowing down and your choices are to run the red light and get a ticket, or slam on your breaks and get into an accident. No matter what you do differently, no matter what choices you make, in some circumstances, you truly are just darned if you do and darned if you don’t.
It’s a frustrating situation to find yourself in, even when it’s just silly, minor little trifles that put you in that place. So imagine what it must be like when it’s about who you are. As Jesus continues on his journey, preaching and teaching, he runs into some static from some of John the Baptist’s disciples: John sends them to Jesus to ask: are you the one who John spoke of when he said that someone else was coming after him? Are you the one we’ve been waiting for? And as Jesus answers their questions, as he sees and hears the crowds talking and ruminating after they hear the questions from John’s own disciples, he starts to feel the frustration.
Jesus knows that, at least for John’s disciples, the question comes from an honest place - they have a genuine concern about Jesus. They want some affirmation that John’s entire ministry so far has not been in vain - John is in prison; he’s about to be killed for his message: is Jesus really the one who John was pointing toward, or do they need to keep holding out hope, praying for someone else to come along? But regardless of their honest motivations, both they and the crowds are still operating under some mixed expectations and false assumptions. John’s disciples expected something more “in line” with what John had been preaching all this time: they were looking for a Messiah that was a barnstormer, that came in guns blazing, shouting a fire and brimstone repent now and be saved kind of gospel. So when Jesus comes preaching a gospel of love, of peace, of taking care of the widow and the orphan… when he foregoes the camel hair and locusts for drinking wine with prostitutes and sitting for dinner with tax collectors… they have to wonder: is this even the one that John was predicting?
The crowds, on the other hand… they were even more fickle than John’s disciples. And it’s to these crowds that Jesus directs his frustration in this passage. The crowds had been critical of John in the first place: he was too harsh. He was too strict. He smelled funny, he was hairy, and he was scary. So they most certainly weren’t comfortable with the kind of Messiah that would come out of John’s preaching - who wants the new Jerusalem to be all kinds of fasting and self-abuse, after all? But then Jesus enters the scene… and he’s too much of a hippie! He comes in there, eating and drinking, spending time with sinners and proclaiming forgiveness… where’s the justice? Where’s the crushing defeat of Israel’s enemies that they’d been expecting? Where’s the eternal punishment, the fire and the winnowing that John had said was coming with imminent doom?
No wonder Jesus is frustrated when he addresses the crowds - no matter what he does, no matter how good the news he proclaims, he’s making somebody upset - there’s just no pleasing some people.
As if it wasn’t bad enough for Jesus, dealing with others who are dissatisfied with his message… when we turn to Paul, he talks about the very same thing going on inside of our own selves on a regular basis. Paul talks about the fact that, through the law, we each and every one of us know what is right and what is wrong - and we may even want to do those things that are right. Every part of our being wills to do the good - but when the rubber hits the road, we somehow end up doing everything that we don’t want to do, despite our best intentions. Paul talks about himself - he says that he delights in the law of the Lord. He knows this law in the depths of his mind and he wants to follow it - and yet his own body does the opposite of what he knows he should be doing. This tension is so strong to Paul that he declares his mind to be at war with his own body, and he is a captive to the body which is at war with his own mind.
And so we see that our entire existence as Christians is one gigantic struggle in which we are every bit darned if we do, and darned if we don’t. In the outer world, we are criticized on every side by every faction - when we preach a message of love and peace, we’re considered weak, called hippies or communists, and questioned by those who expect a fire and brimstone God. If we preach a message of God’s justice, of eternal judgment and accountability, we’re seen as being too hard, of not proclaiming a gospel of love. We’re called hypocrites, people of contradictions, and worse. And in and of ourselves - we are. We are that much and more. We proclaim a gospel of love, and then turn to judge those who are different from ourselves. We proclaim a gospel of judgment, but fail to see our own sins before us. We read passages that tell us to treat widows, orphans, poor and needy with dignity and respect, and then look down our noses at the very people we’re called to serve. We preach to others about the need to turn away from sin, to repent and to live a new and transformed life, but then we return home to the skeletons in our own closets which we are too proud, too embarrassed, or too attached to air out and eliminate.
It’s a struggle that goes on day after day in our lives - and at the end of the day, it’s no wonder we’re exhausted. We’re darned if we do, darned if we don’t, and exhausted from the fact that no matter what we do, we’re still sinful, fallen creatures living in a sinful and shattered world.
But it’s when we collapse, when we stop struggling and realize that on our own, our situation is hopeless, that we hear the final verse and the only thing that can make any difference in our struggle: Jesus says, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
Jesus says come to me, all you who are tired of struggling against yourselves. Come to me, all you who are tired of being darned if you do and darned if you don’t. Come to me and give up those burdens that you carry for yourselves. Take me, instead - take my burden, take my yoke, and learn from me. Because it is only in Christ that we find relief from our own struggles - only in Christ that we find an end to our internal war against sin because Christ removes our sin from us. It is only in Christ that we find an identity that allows us to be truly good and to be released from the tension of not knowing what to do for fear of being condemned regardless. And it is in Christ that we find the rest that gives us the kind of strength we need to keep pressing onward, no matter what the rest of the world perceives from us. It is Christ who gives us the courage and strength to mourn and cry out against the injustices of the world, but Christ who also gives us the joy to dance and sing as we celebrate both Christ’s own presence in our present world and the wonderful promise of the Kingdom yet to come. In Christ, we no longer have to feel the struggle, but know that in life and death, in joy and in sorrow, in all things… we belong to God through Jesus Christ. To God be the Glory. Amen.
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