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Why It's Difficult

WHY IT'S DIFFICULT

January 14, 2007

Text: Matthew 8:5-13

5 When Jesus had entered Capernaum, a centurion came to him, asking for help. 6 "Lord," he said, "my servant lies at home paralyzed and in terrible suffering."  

7 Jesus said to him, "I will go and heal him."   

8 The centurion replied, "Lord, I do not deserve to have you come under my roof. But just say the word, and my servant will be healed. 9 For I myself am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. I tell this one, 'Go,' and he goes; and that one, 'Come,' and he comes. I say to my servant, 'Do this,' and he does it."  

10 When Jesus heard this, he was astonished and said to those following him, "I tell you the truth, I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith. 11 I say to you that many will come from the east and the west, and will take their places at the feast with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven. 12 But the subjects of the kingdom will be thrown outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth."   

13 Then Jesus said to the centurion, "Go! It will be done just as you believed it would." And his servant was healed at that very hour.

NIV 

Theme: The Christian life is more than "training"--"thinking" about spiritual things. It's putting our training into practice, by "trusting" the Holy Spirit in all situations.

Need: We think [train] too much, trust too little.

Action: Play the "game" of Xsy in tough situations, trusting what you've learned.

Text: Centurion’s request of Jesus.

Image: Rotella's book, "Golf is Not a Game of Perfect." Golf, practicing and playing. Use image of blind skiers. Note Centurion’s “D”-ness: not a lot of “C” [thinking].

      My problem on the golf course? It’s of course not my natural athletic ability.

      It’s the fact that I think too much.

      THINK…think, think, think, think, THINK: now, relax, and play the game.

      For me, golf is a very difficult game. I think too much.

I. Why is having faith difficult?

      Why doesn’t it grow?

      I wonder if it isn’t because we have a tendency to think too much.

      We try to make sure our faith is “right.” We try to believe the “right” things about God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit. We try to believe the right things about sin, salvation, heaven, hell. We try to believe the right way about church doctrine on communion, baptism, and social issues.

      It’s so easy to focus on HOW to play the game of being a Christian, that sometimes we find it difficult to relax and play the game. We think and practice, think and practice so much that we stay on the practice range. It’s safer there. You don’t shoot bad scores there. And when we do take our game to the course, we’re too concerned about being “perfect” and not making mistakes.

      A friend loaned me a book titled, Golf Is Not a Game of Perfect.

      The author, Bob Rotella said that you ought to go out and spend time on the practice range. Take lessons. Think. Practice. BUT, the real enjoyment of the game—how you really improve as a golfer—is to go out and play.

      And when you play, Rotella said the key to having fun is to leave the “thinking” back at the practice range. You’ve already done that work. Now…PLAY! When you play, focus on your target. As you swing, feel confidence. Zero in on your target, swing confidently, and you’ll play better, and enjoy the game more.

      Could that be how we increase our faith, too?

      We put in our time on the practice range [here]. But then we go out and play the game. And all the things we talk about in here—love, grace, forgiveness, hope—grow roots, and deepen, and blossom, as we take our game into our homes, and offices, and classrooms.

      Now, I would LOVE to hire Bob Rotella to accompany me for a round of golf. I’d love for him to be my coach on the course. Something tells me that would not be in the Weeks family budget.

      However, we DO have a coach who can go with us as we take our faith into everyday life. That’s because he did it in a masterful way. Let’s use our imagination, and listen to him.

      “That’s a pretty good likeness of me, don’t you think? Especially in the eyes.

      “So, you want to take your game to the next level. You want to do what’s difficult—grow your faith so it’s real, not just something you talk about in here.

      “Well, let me give you some advice, some things I learned when I had a talk with this man Jesus one day.

      “The first thing I would say to you if you want to take your faith into the real world is this:

      FORGET ABOUT BEING PERFECT.

      When I came to Jesus that day, I was a Roman soldier. That meant I wasn’t a Sunday School teacher. I used words you won’t hear on Sunday morning. I took a vow to kill people in the name of the Roman government. You would call me vulgar. Jesus would, too: after all, he was a Jew, and I was what he would call a Gentile.

      And yet, I was intrigued by him. I wanted to meet him, and I also needed him. So I went to him, with a big “S”, standing for “sinner”, on my forehead.

      If you want to take your faith into the world, don’t wait until you’re “perfect” to do it. You’ll never be perfect. You’ll never have enough knowledge, or enough virtue. You just go out and relate to people as you are: part saint, part sinner. Being a Christian isn’t about being perfect—it’s about being real. As I discovered, there was only one who is perfect, and it wasn’t me.

      The second thing I would tell you when you take your faith outside these walls:

      BE HUMBLE.

      Humility didn’t come naturally to me. I was a proud man. I worked hard to get where I was in the Roman Legion. And the people I gave commands to: I didn’t use “please” and “thank you.”

      And yet, when I actually saw Jesus face to face, you know the first word off my lips? I had practiced my speech—it was a formal speech, like what I’d say to my general. But when I saw him, the speech flew out the window. I opened my mouth, and the first word I said was, ‘Lord.’ LORD! That’s the same as, ‘master.’ And I had never called anyone my ‘master.’

      ‘Lord.’

      LORD!

      I asked him to heal my servant, he said he’d come, and you know what other words I heard fly off my tongue?

      ‘I do not deserve to have you enter my house.’

      Do you know the last time I began a sentence, ‘I do not deserve’? It was when the Jerusalem Cubs won the World Series—in other words, I can’t remember when.

      But simply being in the presence of this man, drove my heart to its knees. I knew I needed him. So to me, he was Lord, and I wasn’t worthy to have him be my guest.

      When you’re outside these walls, how often do you treat others as if you needed them, as if they were Christ, as if they were worthy of your respect and honor? Sometimes we let our pride and selfishness stand in our way of saying to someone, “You’re important to me. I need you.”

      You want to play the game of faith, you respect people—from the youngest child to the oldest adult. You treat them as if they’re better than you.

      Be humble.

      The third thing I’d tell you when you take your faith outside these walls:

      LISTEN TO YOUR HEART.

      Do you know why I went to this man Jesus in the first place?

      Because my slave, whom I had bought not too long ago to take care of my household, was sick. He was so sick, he was close to death.

      Now, a man of my status, my money—a man as busy as I: it would be perfectly acceptable to say, “Well, that kid was a bad investment.” Go on, cut my losses, let the kid die, and get a good deal on another slave.

      And yet, I couldn’t do that.

      Why?

      Maybe because I had seen so much suffering in life—maybe because I had caused so much suffering with my sword: the sight of this pitiful young man just got to me. Here was this teenager who was born into slavery, never had any freedom, never played any games like I did as a kid, and he’s lying in my house—legs useless, waves of pain shooting through his body.

      My heart simply cried out for him, and I had to do something to try to help him. It didn’t make any sense in my mind to spend my time and energy doing this—but it made a lot of sense in my heart.

      Sometimes the best thing to do isn’t following your mind—it’s following your heart. When was the last time you listened with your heart, when you were talking to someone? When was the last time you looked at life through that person’s eyes, felt their hopes, felt their hurts? When did you allow yourself to be moved by what that person was going through?

      When you did that, you were in the zone—you were playing the game of faith like it was supposed to be played—and you probably didn’t even know it.

      The last thing I’d say to you if you want to take your game outside these walls:

      TRUST.

      You think that’s easy for me to do?

      You know how many times I’ve given orders to my men? Do you know how many times my orders were misunderstood or ignored? My trust-meter doesn’t register high when I deal with most people.

      And yet, with this man Jesus—he was different.

      I saw the way he walked and talked. I saw how he looked at me, and how his face was moved as I described my slave’s pain. And when he said, ‘I’ll go to your house and heal him,’ there was no doubt in my mind or in my heart that he would do just that. Here was a man I could trust, not just with my slave’s life, but with my own.

      I paused, as I saw all this in Jesus. Then I heard myself say, ‘Lord, you don’t need to take time to come to my house. I see your authority. I trust you. Just say the word, give the order, and I know that young man will be healed.’

      It was then Jesus’ turn to pause. He looked at me, then broke out into a broad smile, and laughed a laugh that came from deep inside him. And he said—to me, a vulgar, unclean, Gentile: ‘I tell you the truth, I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith!...Go, and your servant will be healed.’

      When I returned to my house, the young man who had been so close to death, was sitting in the kitchen, eating. I told him, ‘Young man, today you can eat in the dining room. You’re my guest today. And then, when you’re finished—get back to work?’ He smiled, nodded, and said thanks.

      I was surprised Jesus complimented me on my faith. Nothing special about me—I’m no different from you. It’s just that maybe, when you’re honest with someone, when you look at another person as better than yourself, when you follow your heart: maybe that’s when you see Jesus the best. And when you see him so clearly, you can’t help but trust him.

      …I put up my sword…

Here’s a guy who’s mind was defaulting to the business at hand: During the 1957 World Series, Yankee catcher, Yogi Berra, noticed that Hank Aaron, who would go on the set the record for most home runs, eclipsing Babe Ruth, had grasped the bat the wrong way.

“Turn it around,” he said to Aaron, “so that you can see the trademark.”

But Hank kept his eye on the pitcher’s mound. “Didn’t come up here to read. Came up here to hit.”

      You and I didn’t come up here to think everything through, clearly and precisely.

      You and I came up here to live as Christ asked us to live: with honesty, humility, compassion, and profound—earthshaking—trust.

      I invite you to leave this place in a few minutes, and enjoy the game of your life!