WESTMINSTER CONFESSION DOCTRINES:

The Fall, Forgiveness, and Grace

 

The late Dr. Ed Dowey of Princeton Seminary gives this good synopsis of the grand document from which this church derives part of its name, one of the confessions of our denomination, the only confession of the PCA denomination and of the old PCUS denomination. It is the basis for this month of sermons. “The Westminster Confession (of faith, not of sin) was written by a congress of Puritan clergymen of the Church of England that met in 1643….Their task was to construct a Presbyterian Church order for the entire British Isles. Parliament had agreed to this in a Solemn League and Covenant with the Scottish church and nation.  On hundred twenty-one ministers were appointed [along with thirty members of Parliament. Six Scottish advisors were prominently seated as well.”  [A COMMENTARY ON THE CONFESSION OF 1967 AND AN INTRODUCTION TO THE BOOK OF CONFESSIONS, Westminster Press, 1968, p. 214]  That document follows the basic outline of the Bible, from which Presbyterians get their order of worship, if you haven’t noticed. Today we will look at the themes that appear in the first fifteen minutes of a service: The Fall, Forgiveness, and grace. 

 

In the beginning of the world, God spoke, and the earth, skies, seas, creatures, and people were created. Calls to worship remind us of that voice of God and our response to it.  Everything God offered freely, but with boundaries. As when conflicts in families, businesses, or between nations are apparent, broken trust and boundaries have been at the root of sin now as in the days of Genesis.  Human beings fell from grace, so-called because they had been given a free home, unearned in Eden, but they violated the Homeowner Association Rules for living there. Look out! J In that infraction, God did not stop loving them, but, like a good parent, God spelled out the consequences of their sin as an opportunity for learning.  As Genesis 3 outlines, sin became an intractable part of human living from that day forward.  Like the albatross thrown over our mortal necks as Coleridge described in his epic poem “Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” sin would weigh us down for good unless three things would be offered: if God offered grace, if sinners were willing to repent and ask for forgiveness, and if, through Jesus, forgiven sinners could be led to a new Eden we call Heaven.  Today sin and guilt are among the issues at the heart of suicide, of genocide, and of broken relationships between nations and spouses and parents and children. That puts a finger on the pulse of what’s wrong in our lives and what’s needed to make things right. As Paul described it in Romans “Just as one man’s trespass (Adam’s) led to condemnation for us all, so one man’s (Jesus’) act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all. Those words and their implication are at the heart of the New Testament, the heart of full and abundant living, and, when used properly, the heart of any church. But how many of us know situations where hurt, judgmentalism, and condemnation were used as weapons instead of applying the oils of grace and healing?  Two illustrations will suffice.

 

Pastor and author Jim Wallis tells a story about his father that made him feel extra proud. A crisis arose in his home church over two teenagers in the church that had gotten themselves, shall we say, in trouble. The girl was now expecting a child and they were both being ostracized by their church for their foolish and sinful actions. “The elders convened an emergency meeting to decide what to do. ‘Bring them up before the whole church and we will denounce their behavior!’ said one of the church’s most spiritual leaders. [His] father, who was the chief elder, objected. ‘Why would such a thing be necessary?’ he asked.  ‘People need to know where we stand,’ the elders declared. ‘Do you think anybody doesn’t know where we stand?’ [his] father replied. ‘These two need to know how wrong this was,’ asserted one elder. To which his dad replied “Does anyone here doubt that these kids know they’ve made a terrible mistake and what a mess they’re in?’ [The arguments continued and all the elders insisted on a public rebuke.] ‘Okay, okay,’ his father agreed. ‘We’ll do it. ’’Really?’ his surprised colleagues asked. ‘Sure, let’s bring them up in front of the whole church and declare their sins before everyone. Then let’s bring everybody else up, including me and each of you, and declare all of our sins! And since I’ve done so much counseling with so many of you and your families, I’ll make sure nothing is left out.’ At that, the plans for confronting the young people were dropped and a discussion of how to be supportive in their difficult situation ensued, which some would say is just what Jesus would do and what that church and every congregation should do in the first place.  Practices of judgmentalism and punitive punishment are the order of the day until the light of truth shines in the dark corner of our own lives. Then we cry for grace, and forgiveness and compassion. The Westminster Confession addresses our fall from perfection and expectation; it addresses God’s plan to redeem us through personal repentance and the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the cross at Calvary. The New Covenant restores believers through repentance, forgiveness and trust.

 

One more story:  pastor and author William Willimon encapsulates these themes with his description of the book SAINT MAYBE, written by Pulitzer Prize winning author Anne Tyler. The young hero is Ian Bledloe, a first year college student with a girlfriend. His ordinary world begins unraveling. His older brother Danny has just married a woman named Lucy who has two children from a previous marriage. Because he observes that she is out at night alone quite often, he jumps to the conclusion that she is being unfaithful to Danny. When she gets home late one night as Ian is babysitting her children, he is inconvenienced enough by her tardiness that, in anger, he tells his brother what he suspects.  In rage and remorse his brother drives away and ends up plowing into a wall, where he dies. Lucy is filled with such grief over the news that she overdoses on sleeping pills. The children are put under the care of Ian’s mother who is clearly not up to raising children at her stage of life. Ian is filled with guilt over his shared suspicions that may not have been true, and he wanders, lost, into a storefront church called the “Church of the Second Chance.” He had heard worshippers singing hymns and praying. Once inside, there was an altar call of sorts. “Have you asked for forgiveness for the wrongs you have done?” the preacher publicly asked Ian. Ian said he had asked but hadn’t received much of a response. He then blurted out the whole ugly story of his recent past in front of that little storefront congregation, ending with a question of the pastor: “Don’t you think I’m forgiven?”  “Goodness no!” the Reverend Emmett said briskly. Ian was shaken. Wasn’t this the whole point of Christianity? To tell people God loves then and forgives them? “You can’t just say, ‘I’m sorry God,’ Reverend Emmett replied. Why anyone could do that much! You have to offer reparation—concrete, practical reparation, according to the rules of our church.” Ian protests that the bad he has done cannot be undone, and the pastor says Jesus helps us to undo what can’t be undone, only after we have done what we can to make amends.” Rev. Emmett then looked straight at Ian and said to this freshman in college “See to those children.”  “What!” Ian protests. Drop out of college? Give up on education. What kind of stupid religion is this?” The story unfolds with him doing just that; at long last he adopts the children when he is of age and he becomes a cabinet maker to support them all. His mother, who virtually disowned him, said that her staid, predictable Presbyterian Church never asked her to drop out of school or to abandon her way of life. A changed Ian, totally devoted to those children and to God said, “Well, maybe it should have.” In closing, Willimon observes that: “The novel makes clear that reconciliation to God is never cheap. Many of us say that we would like to be close to God, but at what price? We want reconciliation, but we also want success, as contemporary culture defines success.  Freedom from the powers that hold us is not easy; it comes from an inner determination to do better and from specific, costly acts of commitment in the midst of a community of friends who hold us accountable.  The Church of the Second Chance gave Ian the support he needed to live a new life: he fixed the meals for those children, devoted himself to their education, watched his parents age, celebrated family milestones and connected with his neighbors. At the end of the story the oldest daughter, the one who seemed to give him the most trouble, said to someone else that in her mind “Ian was like a saint ..maybe.”

 

May your children, your friends, your church family, and God look at your life, your offerings of grace, your redemption from the Fall in Genesis, and all the other times you have failed and one day say that you, too, “are like a saint …maybe.”       Amen.

 

Jeffrey A. Sumner                                                                   August 6, 2006