Sunday 04 • 14 • 19
Summary
Geoff Bradford contrasts Judas and Peter to expose how pride manifests in two dangerous ways: having a hidden agenda for God rather than a relationship with Him, and avoiding God through false repentance like remorse or resolve. Bradford argues that true repentance is not about feeling bad enough or fixing oneself, but about desparing of self and running to the cross, where Jesus calls even the proudest sinners 'friend.'
Topics
Scripture References
Transcript
Matthew 26:69 through 27:8. Now, Peter was sitting outside in the courtyard and a servant girl came up to him and said, "You also were with Jesus, the Galilean." But he denied it before them, saying, "I do not know what you mean." And when he went out to the entrance, another servant girl saw him and she said to the bystanders, "This man was with Jesus of Nazareth." And again, he denied it with an oath: "I do not know the man." And after a little while, the bystanders came up and said to Peter, "Certainly, you too are one of them, for your accent betrays you." Then he began to invoke a curse on himself and to swear, "I do not know the man." And immediately, the rooster crowed. And Peter remembered the saying of Jesus: "Before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times." And he went out and wept bitterly.
When morning came, all the chief priests and the elders of the people took counsel against Jesus to put him to death and they bound him and led him away and delivered him over to Pilate, the governor. Then, when Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he changed his mind and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders, saying, "I have sinned by betraying innocent blood." They said, "What is that to us? See to it yourself." And throwing down the pieces of silver into the temple, he departed and he went and hanged himself. But the chief priests, taking the pieces of silver, said, "It is not lawful to put them into the treasury since it is blood money." So they took counsel and bought with them the potter's field as a burial place for strangers. Therefore, that field has been called the Field of Blood to this day. — Matthew 26:69–27:8
The word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.
Let's pray together. Father, I pray that the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts would be pleasing and acceptable in your sight. You are our rock and our fortress and our redeemer. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen.
I sound really loud to me. Am I really loud to you? Can y'all turn me down a little bit in the back? Alright. Thank you.
So if there was an urban dictionary around in the eighties, it definitely would have had the word "psych" in it. You know the word psych—it has nothing to do with psychology. Psych is when you sort of trick someone else and you tell them something to intentionally mislead them and then you say, "Psych!" and you mess with them. And today, if that's what we're doing—if you've been counting through the seven deadly sins, today we're on deadly sin number eight: Psych.
I know some of you are like, "What is the deal with this church? What is the deal? I mean, are we an overachiever bunch where we just have to have extra deadly sins because we're that kind of people?" No.
There are two reasons why we would have eight deadly sins instead of seven. One is actually historical. In the early church, in the third century, when folks—especially Evagrius—began to put down this list of the real big obstacles that they saw to discipleship in young followers of Jesus, these were called the eight deadly thoughts. And over the centuries, because there's been debate over what are the worst things—the besetting sins that really bind up and cause struggles among new believers—this list has been sort of pared down to seven, and vainglory, which I've preached on already, was replaced with pride.
But they really start out as a list of eight.
And then second is theological. Over the centuries, theologians have agreed that pride is really not just one of the deadly sins. It's the foundation under all of them. It's like the basement of a house. It's like the trunk of a vine, and all of these deadly sins grow off of pride. All other sins are like leaves or little branches that grow off of that. So we're in actually really good company today looking at the sin of pride as the capital vice—to round out this series, to look at this as the big one.
Now this past week, I saw the movie Shazam, and part of that's because I grew up watching Shazam on Saturday mornings—I'm that old, seventies Saturday morning superhero watching. But Shazam, the new movie, has just come out and it's a DC comic and it's a fun movie. But what I love about it is that the villains, the enemies of Shazam in the movie, are the seven deadly sins and they're portrayed in this way which I think is really sharp. They're portrayed both as monsters but also as spirits—as ghosts. When they go spirit, they turn into this vapor-y, smoky thing.
And I like that because it shows both the fact that these sins are our enemies. They're monsters. They're out to destroy us. And yet they're also spiritual. They're spiritual vices.
They're things that we are combating and trying to deal with. And if I was the moviemaker, I would have had eight of them, not seven. I would have pride be the arch enemy, you know, the mastermind behind all of them because that's what we find here.
Now, today, we're picking up this passage. This is one of my favorite things to preach on. I've talked about this before. If you've been through the New City Fellows, I've talked about this some. I love talking about Judas and yet, I know my preaching professor would shoot me because nobody ever wants to identify with Judas. And that's what I'm going to do in the sermon today—make you identify with Judas. But I want us to look at this together because pride is not what we think it is.
There are several ways we talk about pride. So if you're an AVID Brothers fan, they sing in their song "The Perfect Space," I want to have pride like my mama has and not the kind that the Bible says makes you bad, right? So there's a good kind of pride—the kind of pride that's enjoying the maturity of another person, appreciating the gifts of another person. There's the pride that we have in our teams, in our nation, in our families, in our friends. Pride is dignity. But there is a kind of pride that makes you bad, that turns you bad.
C. S. Lewis has probably written on this better than anyone else. In Mere Christianity, he wrote:
There is one vice of which no man in the world is free, which everyone in the world loathes when they see it in someone else, of which hardly any people except Christians ever imagine they're guilty of themselves. There is no fault which makes a person more unpopular, no fault of which we are more unconscious in ourselves. The vice I'm talking about is pride.
The things that we think of as pride, however—the things that we most easily identify in other people—are often actually the least dangerous forms. We associate pride with cockiness or arrogance, boasting, a person who doesn't need anybody's help, a person who has an inflated self-image. And those are bad. I mean, the Greeks talk about that as hubris. If you've read a lot of Greek tragedies, they're all based around pride—that kind of arrogance. And yet, there is a type of pride that we don't think of as pride that is particularly the property of the people of God. That is the most dangerous and the most lethal, and we see it in the person of Judas this morning.
So I want to ask you to hang in with me as we try to identify this. We're going to look at three things about pride: One, pride's agenda for God. Two, pride's avoidance of God. And three, pride's invitation from God.
Pride's Agenda for God
Let's start with what we know about Judas. In Matthew's gospel, he lists out the twelve disciples:
Simon, who's called Peter, Andrew's brother, James, son of Zebedee, John his brother, Philip and Bartholomew, Thomas and Matthew the tax collector, James the son of Alpheus and Thaddeus, Simon the zealot, and Judas Iscariot who betrayed him.
Now, what's interesting about that list in Matthew's gospel is that Judas is the only person on the list who seems to have a last name: Judas Iscariot. And yet, if you know anything about ancient languages, that doesn't sound like a Jewish last name. If you read your Bible closely, you'll see phrases like "bar" or "bin." So Simon Bar Jonah means Simon, the son of Jonah. My name would be Jeff Bar James—Jeff, the son of James.
And so this name Iscariot doesn't really fit that. In fact, we know that Judas' name would have been Judas Bar Simon. In John's gospel, he tells us what his daddy's name was. So most commentators don't think that this is either a family name or a place name. Rather, most commentators look at this and say this seems to be something else.
If you look through Matthew's account of how he lists out the disciples, they're sort of grouped by their jobs—what they did. All the fishermen are put together. And at the end, you get Simon the zealot and you get Judas Iscariot. A lot of people look at this and say this seems to be pointing us to a first century group of zealots called the Sicarii.
So Judas Sicarii—Judas the Sicarii, one of the Sicarii. It would make sense with regard to the rest of the story. See, unlike the zealots, the Sicarii were sort of an underground terrorist group in the first century. They carried knives called sicae that they carried under the robes for assassination purposes. They would blend in with the crowd. They were very much about the overthrow of the Roman government and the reclaiming of the Jewish state. So they were about cloak and dagger kind of terrorism of the Roman government.
Killing where they could, blending in with the crowd—this actually makes sense of a lot of Judas' actions. Judas' actions otherwise are kind of unexplainable. It would make no sense for Judas just to betray Jesus for money. We know from John's gospel that Judas did carry the purse. He carried the money bags for the disciples, and he was known to take some off the top of that. And yet, in this situation, Judas goes and betrays Jesus for thirty pieces of silver. Yet it really doesn't make sense—he's doing this for some kind of gain unless he was a Sicariat, a Sicarii. His betrayal makes sense if Judas is actually wanting Jesus to do something.
Here's what we see: Judas had just watched Jesus in the triumphal entry—Palm Sunday—come into Jerusalem with the popular vote. Jesus has the hearts of the people. People are cheering for him. They recognize him. They want him to be their king. And Judas watches this popularity and sees Jesus do after Palm Sunday—nothing. Nothing with it. No big move, no public declaration, no gathering of the people. Judas knew Jesus is right on the cusp of sparking the revolution. People would follow him. He didn't. But Jesus didn't claim his power or new government. So if Jesus wasn't going to do something, Judas would. Judas would.
And so the betrayal is less about personal gain, and it's more about forcing Jesus' hand because Judas knew, "Look, Jesus is compelling. If I can get other people to listen to him, if I can finally push him onto the public stage, this whole thing is going to flip." See, to someone, this whole betrayal of Jesus with a kiss is not to sell him out but to get Jesus back on track.
Now Judas looked like a real disciple. He was pro-Jesus. He was with Jesus. He had walked with Jesus. But what he really had was an agenda for Jesus. This is the first thing I want us to talk about with regard to spiritual pride: Pride is dangerous when pride has an agenda for God.
The proud heart doesn't want God, but wants control of God. Wants control of God. Knowing God, or enjoying God, or worshiping God—but having God do what you want him to do. Having God give you your best life now. Bless your life. Deliver on the things that you know God can do for you and should be doing.
We always look at Judas as if he's some kind of monster in the Bible, but I think Judas is more like than unlike us. I think he's a lot more like than unlike. He's both a special case in the New Testament and you can argue with me about that. Sure, he's a special case. But he's sort of not. He's sort of very much like us. Can't we be honest? There are a lot of times that we don't worship God or follow God for just who he is—in his beauty, in his character—because we're just so taken with him. But we have an agenda. Right? God, we have stuff that we want you to do for us. And what we really want from God is exposed when those desires are blocked, when God doesn't deliver, when he doesn't answer the prayers the way you expected, when he doesn't show up in the way that you want him to.
See, you can follow Jesus because you want a great family. I mean, who doesn't want a great family? You could follow Jesus because you want him to bless your career. Who doesn't want a great career? That's not bad. That's not hurting anybody. You can follow Jesus because you want a spouse. You could follow Jesus because you want—like, if I do these things, God will deliver for me. That's what we do. We make this into a formula.
See, we look at the disciples and we say, "You know, if I lived back then, if I was one of those guys who walked around with Jesus, it's so hard being a Christian now when you don't see it, it's not tangible, it's not immediate. But if I was one of them back then, it would be very different." But Judas kind of confronts us here and says, "Would it? Or would we also have an agenda for Jesus?"
How to Know If You Have an Agenda
Here's how you know. Here's how you know if you have an agenda that you're following God for rather than following him for himself: When you're—what are you disillusioned by with regard to your faith? When you look at your own faith life over the last years, where do you feel this real sense of letdown or the sense of being behind in your life? Like, by this point in my life, I just thought I'd be further down the road. I thought things would be different. How would you answer these questions?
Four questions here:
- I'm not really happy unless I have _____.
- I'd be willing to disobey God in order to get _____.
- Life only has meaning if I can have _____.
- I only have worth if I have _____.
See, I see this in our city all the time. I'm running into people and when they ask me what I do, telling them I'm a pastor is usually a conversation stopper right there.
I find out a lot of folks who used to go to church and used to be into the things of God and used to name themselves as Christian are now far off. They say, "That didn't work. The whole Christian thing didn't work." What they mean is they didn't want a relationship with God. They wanted a bargain with God. They wanted things to work out. And that's not just true for people outside the church. That's true for us. We often want a bargain with God more than we want a relationship, and that is spiritual pride.
It's a religious way to control God, to manage God. It's having an agenda for him, not a relationship with him, not a vital connection to him. The New Testament says it's easy to look like a disciple and yet your god is your stomach—it's what you want. A prideful heart has an agenda for God. So when your desires are blocked, when God doesn't deliver, it shows the ways that we come to God wanting Jesus to be a vitamin supplement to our life—make things a little better for me, make me a healthier version of me. Or we want Jesus to be a butler who delivers on our desires. Or we want Jesus to be like the variable in the equation, and we just plug him in and out come great kids or great family or great life.
Jesus has bigger desires for us than simply our little kingdoms. He's inviting us to live in the big kingdom, which is not safe and it's not controllable and it's what he wants and it's incredible, but it's not yours.
Pride's Avoidance of God
The second way we see a pride of heart is pride's avoidance of God. Judas shows us that there is a way to see your own sin and even deal with your sin in a way that avoids God entirely.
One of the things I love about this passage is the way that Matthew writes Judas' story and Peter's story next to each other. Both of these men, their sin looks very similar. Both of them betray the Lord Jesus Christ. Both of them reject him in the moment and both of them sell out and turn their backs. They realize they've sinned grievously and both of them do some version of coming back, weeping tears, and trying to fix this, trying to undo this. Both of them have this change of heart.
Look at verses three and four. When Judas hears the religious leaders have pushed Jesus to the cross, he goes to try to undo the damage. Matthew 27 reads, "Jesus was seized with remorse," words there which mean deep sorrow. He tried to return the money and says the words of repentance: "I have betrayed innocent blood." Peter denies Jesus three times as was predicted, and when he hears the rooster crow, it says, "he remembered the sayings of Jesus before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times, and he went outside and wept bitterly."
So what's the difference between Judas and Peter? They're so similar in their sin, both became sorry, both did actions that we associate with making things right—Christian actions, what you're supposed to do with sin. And yet the big difference between them is pride. One man hangs himself, the other becomes the leader of the early church. Vastly different outcomes, almost the same behaviors.
This passage shows us that there can be a good kind of grief and a bad kind of grief. Our sadness over our sin can be good, and it can be bad. The difference is pride. How can that be? Like, you blow it in public. It's undeniable for other people to see you. Both these men have that experience. You feel crushed. You feel terrible. You know you're a big sinner. You weep tears. You even try to make things right, and yet one of those can be bad grief, and one of those could be good grief. What's the difference? Their actions look identical, but it shows us that repentance is not just about our behavior. It's not just about what we look like. It's something much deeper.
The distinction is this: When Peter saw his betrayal, he moved toward Christ. When Judas saw his betrayal, he moved away from Christ. That's the real difference. When he moved away, think about the way you and I respond to seeing our own sins.
When we see that we've really blown it with a good friend or with family members or we've just lost it with our kids or we've done something—we've lied and gotten caught in a lie, we've done something illegal, and it's public. All of us respond in those moments with shame. And it's easy to say, "Okay, what do I need to do next? What is the right response?"
There are three ways I want to show you that we see what responses we can have and which ones are good grief and which ones are bad grief. They're really simple: remorse, resolve, and repentance. Let's look at these together.
Remorse vs. Repentance
Judas shows us remorse. Look at verse three. The original Greek word there for remorse, for crying, for sorrow—it's a word that's used for an outward display of sorrow, and yet it's different from the word that's used for repentance. If you look closely at Judas and you look closely at your own heart, you know the difference between those things.
Remorse cries tears. We're taken in by tears, aren't we? I mean, someone cries and we're moved by that, I hope. You see someone crying and you're like, "Something's really wrong. They feel really badly about something." And yet one of the questions we should ask of ourselves with our tears is: What do those tears mean?
Tears don't always mean the same things. There's a difference between happy tears and sad tears, but there's a difference too between tears of self-pity and tears of real repentance. Tears of self-pity come from a bruised pride. Tears that come from being ashamed. Tears that come from saying, "I can't believe I did that. I'm not really like that." That's not me.
These are tears not so much over the effects of your sin—like, "This has hurt someone. Jesus had to die for this. There's a payment required here"—but rather over the facts of our sin: that you actually are the kind of person who would need a savior. When you've sinned, what do you do? There's a way to feel bad but not move toward God in that moment. We have to be really careful of this.
Pride is absorption with self, and that can enter very much into our so-called repentance, our remorse. When we disobey God, we keep staring at it and we say, "Look at how I let God down." We stop there. That's pride. That's not going to change you. That doesn't change your heart. It will push you to despair.
What's wrong with remorse? Well, on the surface of it, nothing. But if that's all that there is, then remorse can be a place where we still think too highly of self. We still think too much of ourselves. That's not repentance. Remorse actually can reveal a heart that doesn't think much about Jesus, doesn't think much of Him. We still think too much of self.
The Christian life is not about groveling. It is not about feeling bad to feel bad. We don't feel bad over our sin, and somehow that makes God happy. We have a lot of cartoonish definitions of what this means. We don't—if we need to feel bad enough, then somehow that makes God happy and He forgives us. That is not how that works.
That's an act of contrition, to use a Catholic term for that. Somehow your feeling bad makes God feel good. If that's the case, then how much is enough? How bad do you have to feel for how long for God to be okay with that? Do you need to be like the pastor in A Scarlet Letter who stays up all night and stares at the candle, and is sad and just wants more and more sadness? Is that what God wants of us? Just more and more sadness?
Here's how you know you're stuck with this definition of repentance: not only do you think that your feeling bad somehow fixes it, but then you look for some kind of emotional response, some kind of sign from the Lord to show you that He's okay with you again. I've talked with people like this, and they say things like, "I just want God to do something—like, give me a space, a parking spot at the mall right up front. That'll show me, you know, he's okay with me again. I just want God to send me some kind of little sign that makes me know we're okay again."
And I'm like, really? The death of His son wasn't enough for you? The cross and the empty tomb—yeah, you need something else, like a parking spot, that really is going to seal the deal for you.
See, we're looking for some emotional thing in us and some emotional feeling that convinces us we're done here. We can move on. But that is deadly because Jesus is not even in the picture. It's deadly. It's a deadly sin. It's spiritual pride.
Second Form of Fake Repentance: Resolve
The second form of fake repentance we see in Judas is resolve. Resolve is making promises. I'm going to do better next time. I'm not going to do this again. I'll make it up to you. I can change. Resolve tries to fix it.
Notice Judas. He goes into the temple. He takes back the money. He says the words of repentance: I have sinned. He tries to make it right. He confesses: I have shed innocent blood. It looks good, right? That looks good to us.
I've sat with a lot of people working through confession, working through what they've done wrong, and they go through these stages. There's grief, which is appropriate. Tears are appropriate. Then there's undoing—a sense of ugh. And then they sort of turn a corner: what now? What should I do?
I have to be really careful at that place because that can be the orphan's plea to negotiate. The orphan's plea to negotiate. The resolve to fix self. That is not repentance. It's not repentance. Neither good deeds nor asceticism nor resolve to do anything to fix things is anything but empty religiosity. Nothing but empty religiosity.
Look, I look at you guys and you are a very accomplished group of people. You've all made things happen in your lives. You've made plans and made them happen. And so we're so used to that, we're like, hey, I'll apply that to my Christian life. I know what it takes to get into that school. I know what it takes to get that kind of job. I know what it takes to make that person think I'm great. I'm going to use that on my Christian life, and that is nothing more than spiritual pride.
Because the problem is we don't have any idea how big our sin is and our utter inability to fix ourselves.
Can an Ethiopian change his skin or a leopard change his spots? Neither can you do good who are accustomed to doing evil. — Jeremiah
See, Judas is surprisingly prideful here. Surprisingly prideful. Resolve always wants to maintain pride. It always wants to maintain pride. So Judas despairs of God. He despairs of God's grace even as he makes much of himself. He can't get past his failure, and he can't see Jesus in that moment.
We do this too. How many times have I sat down with folks, and you've sat down with folks, and in your community group, you've heard people say this: I can't forgive myself. I know what that feels like. There's something about that where you're saying, this sin is so great, what I've done is so destructive. But be careful. Be really careful with that because you're saying, I can't get over this, I can't move on. And what you're really saying is, I can't believe I'm the type of person who needs the blood of Jesus. I can't believe I'm that kind of sinner. I thought I was much better than that. All those other people in my community group—I know they're those people like that. But I can't believe I'm that type of person, a person who needs the gospel.
You can't fix you. That is the point. If God knew we didn't just need a reform program, we needed a dying Savior. If we just needed a reform program, he would have sent us a much better Dr. Phil, right? With good advice for us. Here's what you're going to do. Here's your plan. And there's a lot of Christian preaching, a lot of Christian teaching that's like, here's seven steps. But we didn't need a reform program. If you could fix you, you do not need a savior. You just need an example to follow. You just need an example.
He didn't send a how-to manual shrink-wrapped, dropped down from heaven. He sent his son. He sent his son.
See, we are spiritually unable to fix ourselves. These are dead ends, and they look spiritual. They look Christian. They look right to us. Remorse, sadness over sin, resolve—I'm going to change. The only thing that really changes the heart is repentance.
What Repentance Actually Means
You know that word, but I want to give some definition to it. This is the difference between Peter and Judas. Lots of people have heard this. I could push a button. You can give me the definition for repentance? To turn around. Now, that's what repentance literally means, but we see Judas do that, right? He changes his mind. He goes back and gives back the silver. So it can't just mean turn around.
We do this with the Greek text a lot of times. Just a side note for you Bible study people: we do this with the Greek text where we're like, that word must mean this concept, exactly the same. But that doesn't work. That's not how English works, is it?
Pineapple is not either a pine tree or an apple. Butterfly has nothing to do with butters or flies. Right? So just back a little bit off of what you think you know about Greek. It's coming from a very non-Greek scholar, by the way.
So repentance is not a behavioral category. It's neither weeping enough to make God feel good or doing enough to change yourself. It's a relational category. It's the opposite of remorse. It's opposite resolve. If pride leads us to false repentance—to either remorse or resolve—ways that maintain pride, repentance is letting go of pride, yielding pride. It's good grief.
What's good grief? I'm not talking about Charlie Brown. Good grief is when you are grieved, when you're overwhelmed. You think about how good He is. How gigantic His grace and mercy is for sinners. You think about how He was so obedient every day for your disobedience. You think about the cost of the nails. You think about the crown of thorns.
See, when we see our sin and own it, we run to the foot of the cross. We run to the foot of the cross. We're going to look this next week as Peter does that. He runs to Jesus. And we say, "It's not through what I do for You. It's what You've done for me. You lived for me. You died for me. That is everything and all that I need." And there are different kinds of tears that come out of that. Different kinds of tears.
The great nineteenth-century preacher Charles Spurgeon used to say this: "I have a great need for God." Anybody who's really been a Christian for more than two minutes knows this. A great need for God. "I have a great God for my need."
See, repentance despairs of self—self's ability to feel bad enough, self's ability to fix self—and runs to Him. Despairs of self, runs to Jesus. Pride despairs of Jesus and tries to fix itself, maintains self. Real repentance is despair of self and make much of God. It's to despair of flesh as it means to fix self. It's despair of your own ability to even feel bad enough about it. It's like, I need Him.
One of my great heroes, Robert Murray McCheyene—I've said this a hundred times in this church, I'm going to keep saying it. My favorite quote by him is: "For every one look at my sin, I take ten looks at the cross."
Why does he say that? Because he's a Debbie Downer? No. He's like, my sin always lifts my eyes straight to Jesus, to His cross. I look to His redemption. That's the point. That's the whole point.
Lots of Christians get stuck here. The whole point of the Christian life was to feel bad enough, to try to do better next time, to be in sin management? Nobody wants to be in middle management. Sin management. Right? To become adept at trying to root out every known sin, to play Whack-a-Mole like you do at the state fair, just bat it down or let it bat down. That is not the point of the Christian life.
The Christian life is to see written over you over and over and over again in all these experiences: "It is finished, paid in full." That's what this is about.
See, there's a way that pride actually in looking at our sin avoids God. This is where I want to give you the invitation.
Jesus' Invitation to the Proud
What we see at the end here is pride's invitation from God. Judas is both like us and unlike us. He's a special case. Of course, his betrayal was prophesied. His betrayal was part of God's plan for how He was going to deliver up His Son to be crucified. And yet, even in this tragic story, I want you to see Jesus' invitation to Judas—His heart toward the proud, toward prideful people like us.
When Judas comes and Jesus is praying in the Garden of Gethsemane, Judas comes in with a group of soldiers to arrest Jesus. He comes and he kisses Him. He says, "The one I kiss, that's the one. Arrest Him."
There's this little moment where Jesus gives these strange words. Do you know what He says to Judas in this moment?
Friend, do what you came to do. — Matthew 26:50
I mean, it's a bizarre statement. Friend. Why would Jesus say this? Remember, He has just taught the disciples:
Greater love has no one than this: that he laid down his life for a friend. — John 15:13
This is Jesus's heart even in this moment toward Judas. This is like, I see you. I'm dying even for these kind of sins. I'm dying even for these prideful ones who tried to manage God in our sin, who avoid God with our remorse and our resolve to do better next time.
This is the invitation for us to hear from Jesus. God says to you, friend. Friend, I see you.
So back to Shazam. It's a great movie. But I love how they characterize these enemies as real enemies and deadly enemies.
But look, if you're going to fight the enemies of the seven deadly sins in your life, it's not going to be through your tears, and it's not going to be through your promises. It's not going to be through superhuman strength like Shazam or super speed or ability to take a bullet or zap things with your fingers. It's because you have a gigantic savior. You have a big Jesus.
And so fellow prideful ones who spend all week with your agenda for Jesus, who spend all week avoiding him through things that look like repentance but are not. Friends, come this morning. Remember that you are his friends. That he invites you to himself and lay down your pride and receive all that he has for you in his redemption, his resurrection, and even his sanctifying work in your life. In the name of the father and the son, the holy spirit, amen.
Would you pray with me? Father God, we find ourselves in a place of great unworthiness again this morning. And Father, we have come up with intricate ways to avoid you and agendas for you. Father, we pray that you would help us to come this morning in repentance, not with stirring up some kind of feelings or promises of change but simply receiving what you've given to us in the Lord Jesus Christ, that we have a great need for God and a great God for our need. We pray these things in Jesus' name. Amen.
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