Sinful Blindness

SINFUL BLINDNESS

THEME: DEVELOPING THE ABILITY TO SEE THE RESULTS FROM YOUR SINFUL ACTIONS

TEXT: 2 SAMUEL 12:1-10

We are all shaped by others. As we come up against people in life we are shaped by their influence. This influence can be positive or negative. Maybe some of us have wondered what affect we have had on the people around us. We are never above the influence completely. Some of us have saved others because of our friendships and connections. Others of us have harmed others by our influence. We really do not know how the influence that we have changes people for the good of for the bad. Some of us have seriously hurt others. We have destroyed others by our sinful behaviors. The problem is that we never really admit the sins that we are committing that are hurting those we love around them.

This sermon is a wake up call for sinners. It is a call for us to truly see ourselves. Not as we like to see ourselves, but to see who we really are. A friend of mine loves to says, “Some people cannot see themselves even if they lived in a house full of mirrors. This is the problem with sin. It is the failure to take responsibility for your actions. You truly do not believe you have a problem. This lesson is for everyone. You need to hear this. It may save your life and those around you. Here is a story about seeing your truth self.

Brennan Manning tells this true story. It goes back to April 1975 when I was a patient at an alcoholic rehabilitation center in a small twon north of Minneapolis. The setting was a large, split level recreation room on the brow of a hill overlooking an artificial lake. Twenty-five chemically dependent men were assembled. Out lead was a trained counselor, skilled therapist, and senior member of the staff. His name was Sean Murphy-O’Connor, though he normally announced his arrival with the statement, “It’s himself. Let’s get to work. Sean direct a patient named Max to sit on “the hot seat” in the center of the U-shaped group. A small man, Max was a nominal Christian, married with five children, owner and president of his company, wealthy, affable, and gifted with remarkable poise. “How long have you been drinking like a pig, Max?” Sean had begun the interrogation. Max, winced. “That’s quite unfair.” “We shall see. I want to get into your drinking history. How much booze per day?” Max relit his corncob pipe. “I have two Marys with the men before lunch and twin Martinis after the office closes at five. Then…” “What are Marys and Martins?” Sean interrupts. “Bloody Marys—vodka, tomato juice, a dash of lemon, and a splash of Tabasco; and Martinis—Beefeater gin, extra dry, straight up, ice cold with an olive and lemon twist.” Than you, Mary Martin. Continue.” “The wife likes a drink before dinner. I got her hooked on Martins several years ago. We have two martinis before dinner and two more before going to bed.” “A total of eight drinks a day, Max?” Sean inquired. “Absolutely right. Not a drop more, not a drop less.” You’re a liar!” “Ever hide a bottle in your house? Asked Benjamin from New Mexico. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve got a bar in my living room as big as a horse. Nothing personal, Ben. Max felt he had regained control. He was smiling again. “Do you keep any booze in the garage, Max?” Naturally. I have to replenish the stock. A man in my profession does a lot of entertaining at home. The excutive swagger had returned. “How many bottles in the garage?” “I really do not know the actual count. Offhand, I would say two cases of Smirnoff vodka, a case of Beefeater gin, a few bottles of bourbon and scotch, and a bevy of liquors.” The interrogation continued for another twenty minutes. Max fudged and hedged, minimized, rationalized, and justified his drinking pattern. Finally, hemmed in by relentless cross examination, he admitted he kept a bottle of vodka in the nightstand, a bottle of gin in the suitcase for travel purpose, another in his bathroom cabinet for medicinal purposes, and three more at the office for entertaining clients. He squirmed occasionally but never lost his veneer of confidence. Max grinned. “Gentlemen, I guess we have all gilded the lily once or twice in our lives. Was the way he put it, implying that only men of large living can afford the luxury of self deprecating humor. You are a liar another voice boomed. No need to get vindictive, Charlie, Max shot back. Remember the image in John’s Gospel about the speck in your brother’s eye and the two by four in your own. And the other one in Matthew about the pot calling the kettle black. I felt that I needed to inform Max that the judging is in Matthew not John, and there is no verse about the kettle.