Doing The Right Thing
Sermon
Times of Refreshing
Sermons For Lent And Easter
A well-known businessman in this community was recently asked to do something for the United Methodist Church, something inconvenient and expensive. It would require him to make available for a period of several months some facilities which he used in his business. Frankly, when it was decided to ask this man's help no one was very optimistic about a favorable response. For one thing, the man is a leading Catholic layman. He would have nothing at all to gain by agreeing to the request. At the very least, the whole thing could be a nuisance. But somewhat to everyone's surprise, the man agreed. Later, in a conversation with this gentleman, I thanked him and remarked how generous we all felt him to be. He smiled, then said something I'll never forget. He said, "It's the right thing to do." There we have it, the simple answer to the troubles that confront our nation today. No quibbling, no negotiating for a better price (we weren't offering to pay). He agreed because, according to his inner values, it was "the right thing to do."
Can we think about this idea today? If you carefully examine this Bible passage in Acts, you'll see that the two men in white robes were giving some very practical advice. Some of Jesus' close friends were witnessing an event of powerful spiritual significance. Whatever the literal event unfolding there, they were profoundly moved and "gazing into heaven." That could mean looking up into the sky, since in those times heaven was thought to have what we might call an astronomical location. Whatever the explanation, they were distracted from the real world by the wonders of an important religious experience. Then the two strangers asked, "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven?" Now I have to think the men in white robes, whoever they were, would understand why the apostles were temporarily thunderstruck by all this. But this was a re-call to reality. Their unspoken counsel was to get back to the real world, get to work, as it were, for there was much now to be done. They probably understood the grief being felt by these men who had shared a grand adventure with Jesus, and they weren't unsympathetic. But they were assuring the apostles that "this Jesus who was taken up from you É will come in the same wayÉ." Or, using twentieth century words, "Get to work; the real adventure isn't over; it's only beginning. He'll be back to help."
Suppose the same advice is given to us by this passage. "Get to work, Jesus will be along to help." But recall Jesus' words, "You shall be my witnesses." And that word was used here not to mean they were to be observers. The word "witness" in the Bible means an example, evidence to others of the effect of the faith on people like ourselves. That is, we are charged with living in a way that exemplifies the life which Christ taught. In still other words, we are to "do the right thing." Which, of course, raises the question: "In a given situation, what is the right thing?" Certainly times are dramatically different from those which the apostles faced. I fear this means we'll all face dilemmas for which the Bible has no direct answers.
I recently pulled a little book off a shelf, one which I purchased in an antique store many years ago. It has a publication date of 1856, and contains several maps of the United States. The state of Indiana only had three cities worthy of note back then: Indianapolis, Michigan City, and Vincennes. If you lived in Missouri and decided to travel west, you'd find yourself, not in Kansas, but in Indian Territory. My point is that though the map was accurate in 1856, it's nearly useless as a travel guide today. The same is true of the moral map of the New Testament. We'll find there the moral principles by which to decide right from wrong, but today's issues are different, and in many ways far more complex than those of Jesus' time. What are some of the issues today's children must face? Abortion, pre-marital sex, divorce, homosexuality, drugs, AIDS, affirmative action, smoking, gun control, intervention in foreign affairs, education issues, drug testing -- the list seems almost endless, and people of good spirit and faith can be found on both sides of nearly all these issues.
A friend of advanced years was sharing her frustration the other day, observing that when she was in high school few of these issues concerned us. It seemed an age of innocence. Almost everyone agreed about right and wrong. Maybe we weren't always good, but we all agreed on what "good" meant. Now with computers, Internet, jet travel, and genetic engineering, and with the moral revolution occasioned by the entertainment media, a new generation has come along to re-define "good" and "bad." Now we also have to re-define what it means to be a witness to Jesus Christ.
In facing these issues one must resist the temptation to set down hard and fast rules which often grow out of frustration with the hard work of deciding what is right "for me" in a given situation. It's still true today that a Christian is to observe the ten commandments and the greater commandment, to love. But there's hard work involved in deciding what love calls us to do specifically. There simply are not easy answers to the questions raised by many of these problems. Love has some hard work to do.
Looking back at the Bible passage, it seems our first reason to do "the right thing" is the fact that it is God's will. We see this in Jesus' life. What's our starting point? Character. Good character. Listen to what Stephen Covey wrote in his superb book, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. Covey observes that most self-improvement literature of the last several generations has been personality and success oriented, with little emphasis on personal character. Then he goes on to point out that a success oriented approach to human conduct may produce satisfaction in the short run, but it will never develop character, a much needed commodity in today's world. How much better, he argues, that personal relationships be based on mutual trust which grows out of demonstrated integrity.
Mr. Covey then cites Benjamin Franklin as an early example of character. Franklin, of course, helped establish the ethical foundations of American life. If we turn to a copy of Franklin's autobiography, we find his very simple creed by which he lived the later years of his life. It is worth our note. I'll bet you teachers will wish every student could be encouraged to memorize it. Benjamin Franklin's creed:
That there is one God who made all things.
That He governs the world by His providence.
That He ought to be worshipped by adoration, prayer, and thanksgiving.
But that the most acceptable service of God is doing good to Man.
That the soul is immortal, and that God will reward virtue and punish vice, either here or hereafter.
I have come to a personal conclusion, that just as there are laws of the physical universe which cannot be broken, so too there are laws of what we might call the spiritual world about which the same is true. Oh, we can break the rules. We just can't escape the consequences. I can elect to jump off a cliff, or eat too much, or smoke two packs of cigarettes a day. I cannot, however, avoid the inevitable consequence that I will do myself great harm. Likewise, I can choose between honesty and dishonesty, loyalty and betrayal, truth and a lie, kindness and insensitivity. But somewhere at the heart of things is a covenant between God and me that assures me that Jesus (or the Holy Spirit, if you prefer) will enable and empower my life so long as I try to choose what's right. But I can't believe God will bless those parts of my life achieved in the wrong way. A Psalmist said it long ago: "God will not be mocked."
There's a second reason for doing "the right thing." It is the only way to be happy. I suppose that raises a preliminary question: What do you mean by happiness? Each of us must define that for ourselves, of course. But for me, it has to do with what I think Jesus was referring to when he said, "I came that my joy might be in you." Not freedom from stress, nor exemption from hard work and occasional failures. No one can hope for that, nor, if we only knew, would that bring happiness anyway. For me happiness refers to an inner confidence that I can face whatever comes my way because I know that I have the courage and resourcefulness to do my best, plus the confidence that I'm not in this thing alone. When those two fellows in white robes said, "Jesus É will come in the same way as you saw him goÉ," I infer that the Jesus who walked with his followers in his earthly life will walk with me in my life. I see us in a partnership, or as the Bible calls it, a covenant. It says to me, "You try to live as I have shown, and I'll enable you in the process." The prophet Isaiah wrote: "Thou dost make smooth the path of the righteous."
I once read about a psychotherapist named Tucker who decided that when he retired he would write a book distilling all the wisdom of his many years of trying to understand what constitutes a happy, fulfilling life. He compiled long lists of do's and don'ts, of simple rules for successful living. Then one day, he decided to consult the Bible for additional help. He said that when he got to the fifth, sixth, and seventh chapters of the book of Matthew, he realized the book was already written. It was the Sermon on the Mount. He said that for all his expertise on the happy life, he could think of nothing to add to what Jesus had said there. He concluded by saying that if all the literature he'd ever read on the subject of successful living were compiled and creatively combined, it would still be a clumsy and inadequate alternative to what Jesus taught there in that "sermon."
Now let me step back a bit and observe that this needn't seem too severe and grim. We can still have a lot of fun in life. Newsweek magazine recently published George Burns' tongue-in-cheek prescription for a long life. It went like this: "Don't gamble. Don't smoke. Don't drink. Don't over-exercise Don't eat rich food." George went on to list several more injunctions. Then he concluded: "Actually, you won't live longer but it will seem longer."
We can have fun in life, by all means. We can go to parties, and laugh, and vacation, and strive for success. We can climb our mountains, and pursue our dreams, and make every effort to be successful in the market place. I find nothing in the Bible that would in any way restrain us from having a wonderful time in life É so long as we do it by the rules that are written "in our hearts." But our pursuit of happiness, as distinguished from passing pleasure which will quickly fade, is to be done by the rules. Not restraining little petty rules, but the fundamental rules of love and moral goodness.
There's a third reason to do what we know is right: for the sake of our children. I say this because I am convinced that in tomorrow's world more than at any time in our history, our children may determine our nation's fate -- and their own.
Newsweek magazine recently devoted an issue to what they called "The Coming Technological Revolution." I thought we'd already had a technological revolution. Think what another revolution will mean. Think what the computer age has made possible. In many ways our lives are blessed. In medicine, travel, economics, entertainment -- many more ways I'm not smart enough to understand. But also in warfare, terrorism, crime. Already, the world which awaits our children is profoundly different from the one which most of us knew as children. When we try to imagine another "technological revolution," all but the most imaginative among us are incapable of anticipating the wonderful but in some ways terrifying world of tomorrow. How immensely important that tomorrow's generations have a stable moral foundation.
What can we do? We can set an example of moral fidelity which they will follow, for make no mistake, almost all of our children will become like us. This is one truth I've observed through many years of ministry. Excepting, perhaps, some dysfunctional families in which children have found the inward power to reject hurtful and destructive family systems, our kids are destined to be pretty much like their parents.
I used to resent the Psalmist's words that punishment would be visited "even unto the third and fourth generations." I used to argue that it isn't fair that I be held accountable for something my grandfather did. But it dawned on me, that's not a theological threat, it's a psychological warning. In many ways, my dad was just like my grandfather. And to my own amazement and, at times, amusement, I'm just like him. And, to my daughter's dismay, she's very much like me.
Through the years, I've taught numerous study groups. I've raised this question again and again: "Are you like one or both of your parents?" Almost without exception, people have said they are. How often we hear women say, "Gosh, I sound just like my mother." Men say, "I used to get so frustrated at Dad when he'd lecture me about this or that. Now I realize, I think he was right."
Oh, of course, we all go through a period of rebellion. Frankly, I'd have worried if my kids hadn't gone off on their own a bit during teen years (within limits, of course). That's the transition from child to adult. It's the time when it's necessary to experiment and kick over the traces a bit. I saw a cartoon some time ago in which a teenaged girl had a friend over, and she said, "I have to apologize for the condition of my room. My mother made me clean it up."
Teen music preferences can be aesthetic, but also are a form of rebellion. Someone claimed he was over at the high school cafeteria the other day. He said one student dropped a tray of dishes and seven couples got up to dance. That's all normal breaking away. But the fact is, unless we make some terrible mistakes, our kids will eventually return to the values of the family. You're the role model. You're the one they'll emulate. There will be input by other role models, by peer values. Our kids may not be identical to us. Of course, they'll have their own individuality, their own creative additions. But in ways of great significance, they'll be like us. And if you want children who are equipped for a marvelous yet in some ways terrifying world, then they must see the values you wish for them personified in you.
Two centuries ago, over in France, a young prince was entered in a private school. Like every other boy his age, he was at times guilty of disruptive conduct. But the headmaster was limited in what he could say or do to correct a prince. One day, though, he called the young fellow over and pinned a piece of purple cloth to the boy's tunic. "Your Majesty," he said, "this purple cloth symbolizes royalty. When you find yourself tempted to do something you know deep in your heart to be wrong, I ask that you look for a moment at this badge. Remind yourself what it stands for: royalty. For you are part of the royal family. Let it remind you what you stand for, who you are." It is said the young fellow was never again in any serious trouble.
So it is with us, then. Because it is God's will. Because it is the only hope for personal happiness. Because it offers our children their best hope for the future. As Christians, this is what we stand for, who we are. Tomorrow's hope lies with God, and with those who wear the mark of Christian and choose to do what we know in our hearts is the right thing.
Can we think about this idea today? If you carefully examine this Bible passage in Acts, you'll see that the two men in white robes were giving some very practical advice. Some of Jesus' close friends were witnessing an event of powerful spiritual significance. Whatever the literal event unfolding there, they were profoundly moved and "gazing into heaven." That could mean looking up into the sky, since in those times heaven was thought to have what we might call an astronomical location. Whatever the explanation, they were distracted from the real world by the wonders of an important religious experience. Then the two strangers asked, "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven?" Now I have to think the men in white robes, whoever they were, would understand why the apostles were temporarily thunderstruck by all this. But this was a re-call to reality. Their unspoken counsel was to get back to the real world, get to work, as it were, for there was much now to be done. They probably understood the grief being felt by these men who had shared a grand adventure with Jesus, and they weren't unsympathetic. But they were assuring the apostles that "this Jesus who was taken up from you É will come in the same wayÉ." Or, using twentieth century words, "Get to work; the real adventure isn't over; it's only beginning. He'll be back to help."
Suppose the same advice is given to us by this passage. "Get to work, Jesus will be along to help." But recall Jesus' words, "You shall be my witnesses." And that word was used here not to mean they were to be observers. The word "witness" in the Bible means an example, evidence to others of the effect of the faith on people like ourselves. That is, we are charged with living in a way that exemplifies the life which Christ taught. In still other words, we are to "do the right thing." Which, of course, raises the question: "In a given situation, what is the right thing?" Certainly times are dramatically different from those which the apostles faced. I fear this means we'll all face dilemmas for which the Bible has no direct answers.
I recently pulled a little book off a shelf, one which I purchased in an antique store many years ago. It has a publication date of 1856, and contains several maps of the United States. The state of Indiana only had three cities worthy of note back then: Indianapolis, Michigan City, and Vincennes. If you lived in Missouri and decided to travel west, you'd find yourself, not in Kansas, but in Indian Territory. My point is that though the map was accurate in 1856, it's nearly useless as a travel guide today. The same is true of the moral map of the New Testament. We'll find there the moral principles by which to decide right from wrong, but today's issues are different, and in many ways far more complex than those of Jesus' time. What are some of the issues today's children must face? Abortion, pre-marital sex, divorce, homosexuality, drugs, AIDS, affirmative action, smoking, gun control, intervention in foreign affairs, education issues, drug testing -- the list seems almost endless, and people of good spirit and faith can be found on both sides of nearly all these issues.
A friend of advanced years was sharing her frustration the other day, observing that when she was in high school few of these issues concerned us. It seemed an age of innocence. Almost everyone agreed about right and wrong. Maybe we weren't always good, but we all agreed on what "good" meant. Now with computers, Internet, jet travel, and genetic engineering, and with the moral revolution occasioned by the entertainment media, a new generation has come along to re-define "good" and "bad." Now we also have to re-define what it means to be a witness to Jesus Christ.
In facing these issues one must resist the temptation to set down hard and fast rules which often grow out of frustration with the hard work of deciding what is right "for me" in a given situation. It's still true today that a Christian is to observe the ten commandments and the greater commandment, to love. But there's hard work involved in deciding what love calls us to do specifically. There simply are not easy answers to the questions raised by many of these problems. Love has some hard work to do.
Looking back at the Bible passage, it seems our first reason to do "the right thing" is the fact that it is God's will. We see this in Jesus' life. What's our starting point? Character. Good character. Listen to what Stephen Covey wrote in his superb book, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. Covey observes that most self-improvement literature of the last several generations has been personality and success oriented, with little emphasis on personal character. Then he goes on to point out that a success oriented approach to human conduct may produce satisfaction in the short run, but it will never develop character, a much needed commodity in today's world. How much better, he argues, that personal relationships be based on mutual trust which grows out of demonstrated integrity.
Mr. Covey then cites Benjamin Franklin as an early example of character. Franklin, of course, helped establish the ethical foundations of American life. If we turn to a copy of Franklin's autobiography, we find his very simple creed by which he lived the later years of his life. It is worth our note. I'll bet you teachers will wish every student could be encouraged to memorize it. Benjamin Franklin's creed:
That there is one God who made all things.
That He governs the world by His providence.
That He ought to be worshipped by adoration, prayer, and thanksgiving.
But that the most acceptable service of God is doing good to Man.
That the soul is immortal, and that God will reward virtue and punish vice, either here or hereafter.
I have come to a personal conclusion, that just as there are laws of the physical universe which cannot be broken, so too there are laws of what we might call the spiritual world about which the same is true. Oh, we can break the rules. We just can't escape the consequences. I can elect to jump off a cliff, or eat too much, or smoke two packs of cigarettes a day. I cannot, however, avoid the inevitable consequence that I will do myself great harm. Likewise, I can choose between honesty and dishonesty, loyalty and betrayal, truth and a lie, kindness and insensitivity. But somewhere at the heart of things is a covenant between God and me that assures me that Jesus (or the Holy Spirit, if you prefer) will enable and empower my life so long as I try to choose what's right. But I can't believe God will bless those parts of my life achieved in the wrong way. A Psalmist said it long ago: "God will not be mocked."
There's a second reason for doing "the right thing." It is the only way to be happy. I suppose that raises a preliminary question: What do you mean by happiness? Each of us must define that for ourselves, of course. But for me, it has to do with what I think Jesus was referring to when he said, "I came that my joy might be in you." Not freedom from stress, nor exemption from hard work and occasional failures. No one can hope for that, nor, if we only knew, would that bring happiness anyway. For me happiness refers to an inner confidence that I can face whatever comes my way because I know that I have the courage and resourcefulness to do my best, plus the confidence that I'm not in this thing alone. When those two fellows in white robes said, "Jesus É will come in the same way as you saw him goÉ," I infer that the Jesus who walked with his followers in his earthly life will walk with me in my life. I see us in a partnership, or as the Bible calls it, a covenant. It says to me, "You try to live as I have shown, and I'll enable you in the process." The prophet Isaiah wrote: "Thou dost make smooth the path of the righteous."
I once read about a psychotherapist named Tucker who decided that when he retired he would write a book distilling all the wisdom of his many years of trying to understand what constitutes a happy, fulfilling life. He compiled long lists of do's and don'ts, of simple rules for successful living. Then one day, he decided to consult the Bible for additional help. He said that when he got to the fifth, sixth, and seventh chapters of the book of Matthew, he realized the book was already written. It was the Sermon on the Mount. He said that for all his expertise on the happy life, he could think of nothing to add to what Jesus had said there. He concluded by saying that if all the literature he'd ever read on the subject of successful living were compiled and creatively combined, it would still be a clumsy and inadequate alternative to what Jesus taught there in that "sermon."
Now let me step back a bit and observe that this needn't seem too severe and grim. We can still have a lot of fun in life. Newsweek magazine recently published George Burns' tongue-in-cheek prescription for a long life. It went like this: "Don't gamble. Don't smoke. Don't drink. Don't over-exercise Don't eat rich food." George went on to list several more injunctions. Then he concluded: "Actually, you won't live longer but it will seem longer."
We can have fun in life, by all means. We can go to parties, and laugh, and vacation, and strive for success. We can climb our mountains, and pursue our dreams, and make every effort to be successful in the market place. I find nothing in the Bible that would in any way restrain us from having a wonderful time in life É so long as we do it by the rules that are written "in our hearts." But our pursuit of happiness, as distinguished from passing pleasure which will quickly fade, is to be done by the rules. Not restraining little petty rules, but the fundamental rules of love and moral goodness.
There's a third reason to do what we know is right: for the sake of our children. I say this because I am convinced that in tomorrow's world more than at any time in our history, our children may determine our nation's fate -- and their own.
Newsweek magazine recently devoted an issue to what they called "The Coming Technological Revolution." I thought we'd already had a technological revolution. Think what another revolution will mean. Think what the computer age has made possible. In many ways our lives are blessed. In medicine, travel, economics, entertainment -- many more ways I'm not smart enough to understand. But also in warfare, terrorism, crime. Already, the world which awaits our children is profoundly different from the one which most of us knew as children. When we try to imagine another "technological revolution," all but the most imaginative among us are incapable of anticipating the wonderful but in some ways terrifying world of tomorrow. How immensely important that tomorrow's generations have a stable moral foundation.
What can we do? We can set an example of moral fidelity which they will follow, for make no mistake, almost all of our children will become like us. This is one truth I've observed through many years of ministry. Excepting, perhaps, some dysfunctional families in which children have found the inward power to reject hurtful and destructive family systems, our kids are destined to be pretty much like their parents.
I used to resent the Psalmist's words that punishment would be visited "even unto the third and fourth generations." I used to argue that it isn't fair that I be held accountable for something my grandfather did. But it dawned on me, that's not a theological threat, it's a psychological warning. In many ways, my dad was just like my grandfather. And to my own amazement and, at times, amusement, I'm just like him. And, to my daughter's dismay, she's very much like me.
Through the years, I've taught numerous study groups. I've raised this question again and again: "Are you like one or both of your parents?" Almost without exception, people have said they are. How often we hear women say, "Gosh, I sound just like my mother." Men say, "I used to get so frustrated at Dad when he'd lecture me about this or that. Now I realize, I think he was right."
Oh, of course, we all go through a period of rebellion. Frankly, I'd have worried if my kids hadn't gone off on their own a bit during teen years (within limits, of course). That's the transition from child to adult. It's the time when it's necessary to experiment and kick over the traces a bit. I saw a cartoon some time ago in which a teenaged girl had a friend over, and she said, "I have to apologize for the condition of my room. My mother made me clean it up."
Teen music preferences can be aesthetic, but also are a form of rebellion. Someone claimed he was over at the high school cafeteria the other day. He said one student dropped a tray of dishes and seven couples got up to dance. That's all normal breaking away. But the fact is, unless we make some terrible mistakes, our kids will eventually return to the values of the family. You're the role model. You're the one they'll emulate. There will be input by other role models, by peer values. Our kids may not be identical to us. Of course, they'll have their own individuality, their own creative additions. But in ways of great significance, they'll be like us. And if you want children who are equipped for a marvelous yet in some ways terrifying world, then they must see the values you wish for them personified in you.
Two centuries ago, over in France, a young prince was entered in a private school. Like every other boy his age, he was at times guilty of disruptive conduct. But the headmaster was limited in what he could say or do to correct a prince. One day, though, he called the young fellow over and pinned a piece of purple cloth to the boy's tunic. "Your Majesty," he said, "this purple cloth symbolizes royalty. When you find yourself tempted to do something you know deep in your heart to be wrong, I ask that you look for a moment at this badge. Remind yourself what it stands for: royalty. For you are part of the royal family. Let it remind you what you stand for, who you are." It is said the young fellow was never again in any serious trouble.
So it is with us, then. Because it is God's will. Because it is the only hope for personal happiness. Because it offers our children their best hope for the future. As Christians, this is what we stand for, who we are. Tomorrow's hope lies with God, and with those who wear the mark of Christian and choose to do what we know in our hearts is the right thing.

