The Real McCoy--September 19, 2022

The Real McCoy--September 19, 2022

"If I proclaim the gospel, this give me no ground for boasting, for an obligation is laid on me, and woe to me if I do not proclaim the gospel!" [1 Corinthians 9:16]

There is some news so good that you just can't hold it in.  In those times, you don't care how foolish your uncontainable joy looks to the cool, the cynical, or the disenchanted.  You just can't help but tell people.

You know those kinds of moments:

"The baby is born!"

"I got the job!"

"She got her acceptance letter to college!"

"He loves you!"

"They made it, safe and sound!"

"The war is over; they'll be coming home soon!"

In those times, there is something that compels us to share whatever the good news is, and yet it is also the freest thing in the world.  When you have really good news to share, you can't help but share it, and at the same time, you can't imagine wanting to do anything else in that moment.  You have to tell the rest of the family when the baby is born; you can't imagine not sharing the news about getting into college.  That sort of thing.

The other thing I notice about those times when we have genuinely good news is that whatever the message it, it's not typically conditional, like a deal or a sales pitch; it's a declaration of how things are. Deals are a dime a dozen. They come with strings, conditions, and fine print.  A sales pitch might be delivered with plenty of hype, but it's not really "news"--only the potential of good news, "if only you act now!"  

And to be honest, all those deal-making sales-pitches leave me feeling kind of slimy--like I'm only important to the person speaking if I sign on the dotted line, put money down, or subscribe to whatever they're hawking.  Good news that's truly good and news isn't like that--it isn't conditional or merely potential.  It's a statement about how things are.  You know?  The news that the war is over [when it is, in fact, over] isn't up for debate--it's a reality.  The announcement that someone loves you is a description of what is--becuase if it is made conditionally, "He'll only love you if you do the following three things," isn't really love.  

And that's what makes the gospel of Jesus Christ--when it's the Real McCoy--so refreshingly different in a world full of religious sales-pitches.  The gospel is one of those so-good-you-can't-help-but-share-it announcements [in fact, it is THE epitome of them] that announces what is already true because of God's grace, God's action, God's saving power, and God's merciful intention.  The gospel is decidedly NOT a contract to be settled on or a transaction to be negotiated.  It is about God's unconditional choice to redeem and save the world in Christ, and that means it is about proclaiming "how things are" because of God's grace, not wishfully teasing us about "how nice things could be" if only we would do these religious actions, say these religious words, or think these religious thoughts first.  It ain't a deal--it's a declaration.

I can't help but think of a passage from Robert Farrar Capon's Between Noon and Three where he explores this idea in another passage of Saint Paul's--from the opening verse of what we call the eighth chapter of Romans: "There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus."  And Capon, in his usual provocative way, just revels in what Paul is saying--contrary to all the ways Respectable Religious people have tried to water him down or turn him into a snake-oil salesman.  Capon says:

"Saint Paul has not said to you, 'Think how it would be if there were no condemnation'; he has said, 'There is therefore none.' He has made an unconditional statement, not a conditional one--a flat assertion, not a parabolic one. He has not said, 'God has done this and that and the other thing; and if by dint of imagination you can manage to put it all together, you may be able to experience a little solace in the prison of your days.' No. He has simply said, 'You are free. Your services are no longer required. The salt mine has been closed'."

Like all those other times in your life when you have good news of a new reality that you cannot contain, Paul helps us to see that the gospel is a statement of how things ARE between us and God, by God's grace, through Christ's action, not a potential situation we could subscribe to if we will only sit through the time-share rental presentation and then sign on the dotted line at the end.  Like running into the family waiting room and shouting without blushing with embarrassment at all, "The baby's here--and she's beautiful!" the gospel is the announcement of a new thing that has been brought to birth in the world, and it has been accomplished because God has done the sweating and bleeding and gone through the pain and labor to make it happen.  It is God's work, from beginning to end; proclaiming the gospel doesn't end with an added speech to "close the deal," but with the confident trust that the same divine love which is strong enough to redeem us is also compelling enough to open our hearts to believe the news. 

When our life and witness as God's people reflects the real good news, it will always have that feel of announcing "Here's how things ARE because of God's loving work in the world," rather than, "Don't miss out--your chance to sign up is running out!"  So today, the question is simply this:  how can we let our words, our lives, and our actions become embodiments of that Good News?  How will we help others to see, as Capon says, that the salt mines are closed, you are free, and you are beloved?  And how will we move beyond the deal-making sales-pitching religious-speak that so much of the world has heard a million times before, and grown cynical of?

That's the invitation today: to tell the world the baby's been born.  The war is over. He loves you.  He loves you.  He loves you.

Lord God, give us the courage and clarity to proclaim your gospel with our words and our lives today.