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Matthew Somebody Special In the name him who while we were
still sinners died for us, dear friends in Christ: I wonder if anyone has ever told you that you’re
somebody special. And I don’t mean that
in a context of a romantic or some other family or friendship relationship in
which of course you are somebody special to those who hold you dear. No, I mean that popular idea that says you
are somebody special just for being you.
It’s an intrinsic sort of thing.
It doesn’t make any difference what you do, or how well you do it, or
how much effort you put into it, or what you actually achieve in the end,
you’re still somebody special.
Have you ever been told that? The idea, which has been around for
a long time, was promoted by those progressive thinkers way back in the fifties
and sixties who wanted to reengineer society and make it a better place – which
was a noble goal, to be sure. But their underlying
assumption was that so many people struggle and end up getting behind in life
because they suffer from low self esteem.
Somewhere along the way they encountered failure and humiliation – maybe
for an extended period of time – and that broke their tender spirits. So now they go on failing because they’re
convinced that’s what they are:
failures. Every bit of
initiative, self-motivation, and creativity in them is shut down by their own
negative self-image that tells them there’s no point in trying: they’re born losers. Well, the progressive thinkers
determined that the best way to prevent a person from
falling into this self-perpetuating cycle of misery was to start early in life
and make sure that he or she never encountered the kind of failure and
humiliation that sets the cycle off in the first place. Therefore no negative reinforcement can be
allowed. We have to build people up with
positives only. And so they created
games in which there are no losers, contests in which everyone gets a prize, and
tests that everyone passes regardless of performance. No one loses.
Everyone is special. Fortunately a lot of kids who were
raised this way saw right through it. I
remember reading about a father who watched his young son play ball. The boy played quite well and so after the
game the father wanted to give him some encouragement. He patted his son on the shoulder and said,
“You’re really an O.K. player.” The
child burst into tears. The father, who
had meant the compliment sincerely, couldn’t understand why his son was so
upset until the child explained that at his school “O.K.” was the lowest
possible grade there was. To him it
meant that his father thought he was terrible.
The kid understood that bad is bad no matter what nice-sounding name you
put on it. So like I said, some people
aren’t taken in by this sort of “everybody’s good/everybody’s special” positive
reinforcement. Others, however, fall for
it hook, line, and sinker. I’ve read a
number of articles about what happens when young adults who were brought up this
way first enter the workforce and discover to their shock and horror that in
order to keep a job and get promoted and so on they’re actually expected to
perform to certain standards. “Can you
believe it? The boss doesn’t think I’m
special just for being me!” I think a great example of this can
be seen on a television program called American
Idol. I assume most of you are
familiar with it; but if you’re not, suffice it to say that it’s basically a
nationwide talent show and singing contest.
To tell the truth, it’s not my favorite, but I do like to watch a
season’s early episodes when they’re doing the first auditions. Then you can see the sharp contrast between
the very good, the merely capable, and the truly awful. It’s these latter that I find the most
intriguing. It’s amazing to me how
people who have no talent whatsoever, who can’t begin to carry a tune, can’t
remember the lyrics to the song they’ve chosen, and have voices that can sound
like anything from Minnie Mouse being strangled to bullfrogs with laryngitis –
how they can stand there in front of the judges just overflowing with
confidence, one hundred percent absolutely certain that they are going all the
way to first place in the competition. It
defies reason. Now, I suppose it’s part optimistic
self delusion: “If I want it badly
enough, I’m sure to get it”; but I really think a much bigger part of it is
that people around them, their family, friends, teachers and others have
encouraged them, built them up with positive evaluations and praise so that
they sincerely believe that they are as good as they’ve been told. “Hey, I’m special. I just know it.” And then to see them react to the judges who truthfully
tell them that they stink – they’re incredulous. They become furious at these stupid judges
who obviously don’t know a thing about music, or they pathetically try again
and again to prove themselves: “Wait!
Wait! Just give me one more chance.” It really is sad … and yet at the
same time (and I suspect that I’m not the only one who thinks so) it’s pretty
funny to watch them get their bubbles burst, isn’t it? C’mon, admit it. I mean, as long as it’s happening to somebody
else – neither you nor I would ever be like that, would we? Or would
we? For the past several Sundays we have
been reviewing the basic fundamentals of the Christian faith, and one of these that’s been highlighted in the last two weeks especially is
the total depravity of man. It’s the
truth that there is nothing good in us.
We are not capable of doing anything meritorious or worthy in the sight
of God. As the Scripture says, every
inclination of our sinful hearts is only evil all the time. We are bad trees capable of producing only
bad fruit. Our thoughts, actions, and
desires are all completely corrupt so that in a moral sense it’s accurate to
say that there’s nothing special about any one of us. In fact, we are all in a dead heat tie for the
title “chief of sinners”. And as
Christians we’d all confess, “Yes, that’s absolutely true”. And yet none of us really believes
it completely. That’s because all of us
retain a sin nature that refuses to admit it.
The sin nature in us continues to cling to the lie of our own inherent
goodness and worth. So while we can say,
“I am the chief of sinners” and mean it, we can still at the same time name in
our hearts any number of people whom we feel that we are better than in a moral
sense. And to the extent that we feel
that way we are exactly like those pathetic contestants who are so convinced of
their own talent that they argue with the judges and beg for another chance to
prove themselves – except that we’re doing it before
God. We’re telling him he’s wrong about
us. We’re not as bad as he says. We really don’t stink – or at least not as
bad as everybody else. “Just give me
another chance. I’ll show you,
Lord! I’m good. I’m somebody special.” It’s that sinful nature in us, the part that believes that we’re an
exception to the rule, that we constantly have to be hunting down, putting the
cross hairs on, and pulling the trigger.
It needs to be killed wherever and as often as we find it because that’s
the part of us that contains the pride and the selfishness, it’s the part of us
that sits in judgment of others, it’s the part of us that makes excuses for our
own sinful behavior even while we condemn others; but most damning and
destructive of all, it’s the part of us that rejects the need for the Savior
Jesus Christ. To the degree that I
believe I’m special in God’s sight – or that I ought to be special to him
anyway – on account of my own intrinsic goodness, to that same degree I’m
saying I don’t need the righteousness that Christ earned for me by his perfect
life and death on the cross, and which he gives to me through faith in him. Lack of self esteem is not anyone’s
problem. The problem is that we esteem
ourselves way too highly. We need to
make it our goal to extinguish the notion that “I’m somebody special” because
then, in what is perhaps one of life’s strangest ironies, by recognizing our
sin and complete lack of worth in God’s sight and trusting all the more in Jesus
who gave his life for us we actually do become somebody special –
our value and worth made priceless not because of anything we have in and of
ourselves; but rather because of what the Lord God invests in us. We see this truth highlighted in two
of today’s readings. First in the Old
Testament where the Lord speaks to his people after having delivered them from He says the same thing to you and
me. What were we before? Sinners. Rebels against God. Bad trees bearing bad fruit
and having the monumental gall to call it good. And without any power or
desire to change ourselves. Worse
than worthless, that’s what we were. But he says, “You saw what I did for you, what
I did to my Son who lived, suffered, and died on the cross for you, and how I
lifted you up by my Holy Spirit and brought you to myself … my treasured
possession … my own holy child. We heard
him say that to young Noah today as he too was made a child of God as each of
us were in our own baptisms. That’s when
we became somebody special: namely, a
member of the body of Christ. And I really do mean that we became somebody
special by God’s gracious action. This
is shown in today’s Gospel reading.
First we’ve got Jesus going throughout all the cities and villages
proclaiming the Gospel of the kingdom and healing all the peoples’ diseases and
afflictions. The problems before him are
huge: a mass of nameless, faceless suffering humanity … sheep without shepherds
… lost … nobodies—and that’s what they would continue to be except for his
work to save them. So he calls his
disciples together and he empowers them to assist him in his work. And what follows then are a list of their
names. That’s key – it’s important that
we not miss it. Who were these guys
before Jesus chose them and called them to follow him? They were nobodies, just like everyone
else. Ah, but now they’re the twelve
disciples of Jesus. They have real
identities now. They have a real
purpose. They’ve become somebodies. And their
names are recorded for all eternity. Again, the same is true of each of
us. We were nobodies until Christ chose
us and called us into discipleship – again, for most of us, at the time of our
baptisms. That’s when our names were
recorded in the Lamb’s Book of Life.
That’s a real identity, one that lasts forever. And maybe you know that it was the custom in
earlier days not to name a child until the time of their baptism. That’s when they were given their Christian
name, so called because that’s when they became somebody in Christ. And just like he did with the
original twelve disciples, he’s given us more than an identity; he’s also given
us power and a purpose to assist him in his work of seeking and saving the
lost. Now, you might think, “No, wait a
minute, they were given the power to perform miracles and cast out demons; I
can’t do anything like that. So there’s
no comparison.” I beg to differ. Jesus charged them first to proclaim the
Gospel of the kingdom. That’s what
delivers people from the bondage of sin and death and grants eternal life. It is by far the most important part of the
mission – and there’s nothing stopping you from doing that. Then he said to do the other things to
help people in need, “heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, cast out
demons”, and okay, you may not have the power to do any of that; but why should
that stop you from helping people in need with the powers that you have been
given? Going back to what he said to the
Israelites, “I’ve appointed you a kingdom of priests”—that’s what we are: God’s priests. And a priest is somebody who represents the
Lord to people and who intercedes for people to God. That’s what you are now. Wherever you go, whomever you meet, because
you are a part of the body of Christ, you represent Christ to them. And until such time that they meet him
themselves personally at the time of their conversion, you are the part of Christ
they will see and hear. Take the job
seriously – and let Judas’ bad example serve as a warning to you. He was chosen and empowered by Jesus too; but
as you know, he fell down on the job – more concerned about feathering his own
nest and looking out for number one than taking care of and serving others. And you see his problem was that he was
counting as somebody special the part of him that he should have been seeking
to destroy. There’s a great little video clip I
saw this last week on the internet called “Get Service”. It shows a guy on his way to work in the
city. He grumbles about the neighbor kid
on a skateboard who’s in his way when he’s pulling out of the driveway. He complains about the traffic. He’s irritated by the line at the coffee shop
where he picks up his overpriced cappuccino, he’s annoyed by the slow service. One thing is clear: he feels he’s not being served as he
should. He’s the most important guy in
the world and everyone else is a nuisance.
Anyway, while he impatiently waits for his coffee, suddenly this guy is
standing before him presenting him with a case for glasses on which is written
in big letters “Get Service”. He thinks,
“Ah, that’s what I need”, so he takes it, opens the case, and puts the glasses
on. He’s started to see that the guy who
gave him the glasses has vanished, but as he looks around for him he sees that
everyone else has a little caption floating on them as if by magic. He begins to read them: On a man who had been in his way, “Recently
lost his job”, on a harried looking woman, “Works two jobs to feed her kids”,
on the employee who hands him his coffee, “Struggling with addiction”, on a man
sitting alone in a booth, “Has never had a true friend”, on the woman who took
the parking space he wanted, “Mourning the loss of a loved one”. Suddenly he saw that everyone around him were
no longer nuisances, now they were opportunities to serve. I won’t ruin it by telling you how
it ends, but I think it illustrates precisely what I’ve been talking about
today. As long as I think I’m somebody
special, it’s all about me. When I see
that I’m nobody, but that Christ counts me somebody special in him, then I can
begin see others as Christ does: people
with needs that I can do something about.
I can serve them and in that way be Christ to them. And certainly, that’s Somebody special. In Jesus’ name. Amen. Soli Deo Gloria! |
