Sermon

Saying yes and saying no

Scripture Text:

Romans 7:15-25

Sermon:

I bought a book about spiritual disciplines a couple years ago and I was surprised by some of the things the author considered a spiritual discipline. It wasn’t because they were outlandish or weird– it was just I was surprised how ordinary some of them were.  But the discipline that popped out at me more than all the others was the discipline the author called “saying yes and saying no.”

“No” isn’t a word our culture honors much: we live in a society where corporate retail giants really want us to say “yes!” to ourselves as much as possible, where our economy has plummeted because lenders and home buyers said yes to mortgages that they couldn’t really afford, a society where with a credit card, it’s a little too easy to say “yes” and buy whatever you think you might want.  A society whose government is slamming into our national debt ceiling because we haven’t been able to say no to popular benefit programs, to a 10-year war in two foreign countries, corporate subsidies, and all kinds of other goodies that aren’t within our means.  We live in a society where it’s hard to practice the discipline of saying “no,” because “yes” is so much stronger and more popular.  And so, for many parents of the hardest words to say to their children is, “No.” One of the hardest words to say to someone else is, “No.”  One of the hardest words to say to ourselves, is “No.”

When God created us, in God’s image, God gave us freedom to say yes and say no.  But, as Paul reminds us in his letter to the Romans, we don’t always know how to use that freedom very well.  We often say “yes” when what we really wish we could say is “no,” or we say “no” when we really wish we could say “yes.”  And not being able to say “no” sometimes makes saying a true “yes” hard, also.  That author was right: saying yes and saying no is a spiritual discipline.

Paul says:  What I don’t understand about myself is that I decide one way, but then I act another, doing things I absolutely despise.  … I can will it, but I can’t do it. I decide to do good, but I don’t really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway.*

What makes that so complicated?

Part of the problem is that deep down our minds are wired to be able to respond to crisis and opportunity very quickly – that how we’ve survived the chaotic and dangerous lives most humans have led for tens thousands of years.  Some scientists call it our “reptile brain.”  It sits, here, at the very back of our skulls: some of the oldest parts of the human brain, which have evolved over millennia to think in all kinds of wonderful ways but that still share with other creatures, like reptiles, a deep instinct to respond very quickly when there’s danger or when there’s opportunity.

A threat!?!  Our adrenalin kicks in and makes us want to run away or fight back at whatever we perceive the danger is:  whether it’s wild animal just outside the light of the fire, threatening the tribe … or some guy who cuts in front of us on the expressway.

Or, an opportunity!  Our adrenalin wants us to jump at it, quick, before it’s gone:  whether it’s a clutch of berries that will feed our children for the day, or a really great thing on sale that we need to have and that we’re SURE will make us happy!

The thing is, our reptile brain is good at speed, but not very good at judgment.  We get lost in the moment, and the reptile brain wants us to respond in ways that probably won’t actually benefit us.  Not everything that seems like a threat is really a threat, and that brownie death sundae on the menu is probably not the last time you will ever get to taste a brownie.  I decide to do good, but I don’t really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway.*

But when we can take a step back, we know better.  The rest of our brain knows that happiness doesn’t come from buying this or that.  The rest of our brain knows that responding to that infuriating email right away is probably not a good idea.  The rest of our brain knows its better to eat more fruit and smaller portions, to drink less pop and more water.  The rest of our brain knows that sometimes we have to make other people upset or anxious when we make choices that are better for us in the long run. Or sometimes we need to grit our teeth and step out of our isolation and do something someone else has asked us to for a change.

The rest of the brain knows that long-term investment is going to do more for the quality of our lives and communities: saving for retirement, giving to charity, spending time building our relationships with the people we really care about, and keeping our bodies and minds healthy.  The rest of the brain is much better at saying yes and saying no if we give it a chance, if we can slow I down and let the wiser part of our brain make the choice.

But knowing what we should do doesn’t actually help us to choose differently.  Self-will is going to disappoint us.  We can’t just decide one day that everything will be different, and expect our souls and bodies to do a 180 degree turn.

Again, Paul says: I truly delight in God’s commands, but it’s pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge. I’ve tried everything and nothing helps. I’m at the end of my rope.*

We can’t trust ourselves to consistently say “no” when we need to say “no” or “yes” when we need to say “yes.”  We can’t trust ourselves to always make decisions that will make us the healthy, loving, unselfish, and joyful people God in Christ has invited us to be.  That author was right, “Saying yes and saying no” is a spiritual discipline.  And as with all spiritual disciplines, we’re not really supposed to be doing all the work and discipline ourselves, from our own will and effort.  Those disciplines are supposed to teach us to lean on God for support, or perhaps most tangibly, to lean on our savior and brother Jesus Christ, who walked in the same way we did, as a human being on earth. It can sound a little corny to me sometimes (maybe it doesn’t to you), but it’s really true: Jesus is there with you, all the time, for you to lean on, to share your struggles with, and to give you strength and love to go on.

Paul says: Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn’t that the real question? The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influence of sin to do something totally different.*

Amen.

*translation: The Message, Eugene Peterson

Uploaded on July 4, 2011 in by RevHeidi

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