1 John 5:9-13
Testimonies. I suppose many of you
have been around church long enough to have heard one or two folks give their testimony.
For those who may be otherwise unaware, when someone “gives their testimony” it
is usually an autobiographical account of how he or she became a person of
faith. Now, I’ve heard more than a few folks give their testimony, and it’s
been my experience that they tend to fall into one of three, general
categories. First, there are those testimonies that follow a narrative that
goes something like this: “I was an awful person my entire life; I was a drunk
since the age of twelve, had a three pack a day habit since I was nine, spent
the night in jail for robbing a Chevron when I was fourteen, and got put on
probation for punching my middle school math teacher. But then I heard a
television preacher one night, and it was like he was talking to me, so I got
saved, and now my life is a gravy train with biscuit wheels: I’m married, got three
nice kids, a house, and two paid-for cars. Hallelujah! Ain’t God good?!” That’s
one sort of testimony.
The second sort of testimony is
usually a lot milder. It goes something like this: “I’ve gone to church every
day of my life (and for about nine months prior to birth). I could sing every
VBS theme song by heart, got gold stars every week in Sunday school for
memorizing my Bible verses, and even sang in the children’s choir, but I knew
that I wasn’t saved because I hadn’t said the “Sinner’s prayer” or walked the
aisle to be baptized and join the church, so I did that when I was seven, and
I’ve been a good Christian ever since.”
The third type falls somewhere in
the middle I guess. They go something like this: “Well, I wasn’t a bad person,
but I knew something was missing in my life. I lost my job…my dog died…my car
was repossessed…I didn’t get approved for a mortgage, and I found myself
looking for an answer to what may be missing or out of place in my life. That’s
when a friend invited me to church…I got involved, accepted Christ, and I’ve
been a part of the church ever since.”
Now, I don’t mean to make light of
anyone’s story—in fact, I think our stories are our most valuable resources as
human beings and especially as people of faith. I do, however, think we’re
living in an era when our stories do not carry the weight they once did; we’re
living in a time marked perhaps most deeply by an overwhelming sense of skepticism
and the desire to just find out whose side someone is on. I’m afraid we’re not
nearly as interested in each other’s stories as we are interested in where we
all stand on this or that issue; we are more concerned about what folks believe
than trying to hear and understand the journey that brought them to that
belief. Maybe that’s why folks don’t like to tell their stories as much
anymore, why they don’t like to “give their testimony.” I mean, I know I’m not
the only one who has stumbled upon those shows on television (maybe late at
night after the batteries in the remote have died) where a woman is talking
into a microphone about how she prayed to God for a miracle and after “sowing a
seed” of one thousand dollars into some preacher’s ministry she got a mysterious
check in the mail for $10,000, and after hearing three more stories like it,
you mumble under your breath, “Yeah right!” as you change the channel. I know;
I’ve been there too; it’s hard to believe folks these days when they tell you
something.
Like the time Anthony interrupted
choir practice one evening, looking for the pastor. He came in my office and
told me all about how his car was broken down just down the street, and all he
needed was a $30 belt from the parts store and he’d be back on the road. When I
asked him what kind of car he drove, he had to think about it before he told me
it was a Jeep, and when I asked him what kind of belt, he stuttered a bit
before he said, “a fan belt,” and when I offered to drive him to the parts
store, buy the belt for him, and install it, he decided he didn’t need the belt
(or the $30) anymore. It’s hard to believe folks and their stories these days.
It doesn’t matter if they’re telling you a sob story in the gas station parking
lot, trying to sell you a used Hyundai, or telling you all about the ways God
has blessed them, it’s hard to believe people’s stories, their testimonies,
because we’ve been burned one too many times, because we’re being programmed to
be suspicious and skeptical.
Maybe that’s why there is some
comfort in the first words of the text we’ve heard this morning: “If we
receive human testimony, the testimony of God is greater.” Maybe
another way to say that is, “if you’re a bit skeptical about the testimony of
others, God’s testimony is better and able to be trusted.” But what exactly
does the author of this letter mean when he says, “the testimony of God?” Does
God have a past of which we are unaware? Did God have a “Damascus Road
Experience?” What is the testimony of God? Maybe there’s more than one way to
go about answering that question.
I suppose one might be tempted to
take what one might call a biblical approach to answering that question and say
something like, “Well, the Bible is the testimony of God; after all, we call it
the word of God don’t we?” Is the Bible the testimony of God? If it is, there
may be more than just a few holes in it, at least in the eyes of those outside
of the faith. I mean, if the Bible is the testimony of God, what do we do with
all those places that either don’t make sense, contradict each other, or paint
a picture of a God that inconsequently slaughters thousands of men, women,
children, and animals just because they were already living on some land? If
the Bible is the whole of God’s testimony, then what do we do about those
places, those stories in Scripture like Hosea where God seems to approve of
spousal abuse as a way to teach his people a lesson? I have to tell you, while
I love the Bible and take it far too seriously to take it literally, I can’t
quite get settled with the entirety of the book as God’s testimony—at least not
God’s only testimony.
Perhaps there’s a more historical
way to think about God’s testimony. Maybe if we were to trace God’s covenants
with God’s people through the Hebrew Scriptures of the Old Testament we might
find a more satisfactory way of thinking about God’s testimony. Maybe God’s
testimony is found in God’s covenant with Abraham, in God’s promise to preserve
Abraham’s people. Maybe…but if that’s the case, God’s going to have some
explaining to do about all that persecution, about the Holocaust, about the
many ways that innocent people, descendants of Abraham, have suffered
needlessly at the hands of others in the world. You know, when it comes down to
it, if God’s testimony is found in the way God has covenanted with people down
through the centuries it’s not a very strong testimony. I mean, either God
chooses some really sorry people who never get it right and are always being
corrected, or God simply doesn’t live up to God’s end of the contract as time
after time the people are pulled back and forth across their land and their
very humanity. So, maybe God’s testimony isn’t necessarily found in the history
of God’s relationship with God’s people.
Of course, phrases like “the testimony
of God” lend themselves to a great deal of pondering among the giant,
theological minds of the Church. Perhaps God’s testimony is to be understood
doctrinally, as in God’s testimony is something found in the complex ideas of
God’s substance in relation to the salvific work…I almost put myself to sleep
thinking about such things!
To tell the truth, I think the
testimony of God is a fuller, more complete version of those kinds of
testimonies that stick with us, those kinds of testimonies that are not told in
three acts, the kind that are written down, shared from the pulpit, or told in
a Lifetime made-for-tv movie. No, God’s testimony is found in flesh and bone
and blood—in the very presence of Jesus. Now, hear what I’m about to say: I
don’t necessarily mean that God’s testimony is found in the historical accounts
of Jesus’ life and ministry; I’m not even saying that God’s testimony is found
in the retelling of Jesus’ death and resurrection. After all, if Jesus was
raised a hundred times it doesn’t mean a thing unless it does something to you,
unless it changes something deep down inside of you. So, what I mean by God’s
testimony is found in the very presence of Jesus, is that God’s testimony is
found…in you! It’s a bit of a worn-out expression, but it’s true: the only
Jesus some folks will ever meet is you. You are God’s testimony, and I know
this because I’ve experienced the testimony of God firsthand—not by sitting in
a pew and listening to someone tell me their story, but by the countless,
small, big, and sometimes hidden ways that Christ has been shown to me through
others.
Like the way I used to walk to my
mailbox every day before lunch in college, and at least once a week there’d be
a small envelope with the return address marked “County Road 625, Enterprise,
AL 36330.” Every week I received a note from Ann Arrington, the organist at my
home church. There wasn’t much to the note usually, just a word about how
things were going at church, how her sister Rachel was doing, or how long her
brother Franky had been gone riding his mule. I’ve kept most of those notes
because for me, their part of God’s testimony.
I think about the woman who sat on
the other side of the sanctuary in that church, Freda Jones (I sometimes called
her “Aunt Freda”). She was my eighth grade Algebra teacher; I played baseball
with two of her sons, and she graduated high school with my dad, so she knew a
thing or two about me and the kind of people I came from. She was my first real
Sunday school teacher, but the way she taught me how to quietly love and care
about folks is a part of the testimony of God for me. Every time I’d visit back
home, even after I was married, in seminary, and working in a church, Aunt
Freda would find me after church, give me a big hug, and slip a twenty-dollar
bill in my hand. The last time she did that I said, “Aunt Freda I’m grown now.
I don’t need this.” She said, “Hush and use it to take Sallie to lunch.” That’s
part of the testimony of God.
I think of all of those people in
my own life who’ve gone out of their way to show me they care about me, those
people who’ve listened to my story and still care enough to hang around, those
people who secretly hold the weight of other people’s worlds on their shoulders
and still carry on with a joy and a love that can only come from some source
beyond themselves.
You see, God’s testimony isn’t
found in words, because words will fail, they will let us down, they’ll be
forgotten. But life, love, flesh, bone, and blood…that sticks with you. I’m
convinced that God could have ripped open the sky, made the earth stop
spinning, and spoke from heaven in a booming, powerful voice for every man,
woman, and child to hear, but it wouldn’t have stuck. God could’ve reached down
his hand and tapped us all on the shoulder, whispered in our ears and said,
“I’m here. I’m real. Believe me,” and we’d all carry on as if nothing had
happened in a few weeks. Instead, God came among us. Instead, God chose to show
us—not tell us—God’s reckless, eternal love for us. God’s testimony is found in
God’s son Jesus, in the way Jesus lives on in you and me. So, have you heard
God’s testimony in your own life? Will you be God’s testimony for someone else
today? Amen.
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