Cliff Loesch July 8, 2007 Called to Completeness Matthew 5:43-48 Back in the mid-1980s when personal computers were still kind of new, a friend of mine was really fascinated with them and learned how to run them and also how to write programs and things like that. He was in college at the time and one day we were talking about school and he was telling me about his classes. He said that he had calculated what he had to make on his final exams in order to pass his classes. It was something like, "I only have to make a 60 on the final to pass this class," and "In that class I only have to make a 53." I think he had even written a computer program to help him figure out how low he could score on his finals in order to end up with passing grades. I didn't say anything, but I was very surprised by this approach to taking classes. I wanted to ask, "Are you happy making Cs?" And low Cs at that? I just couldn't imagine. But he certainly communicated the attitude that just passing the classes was his goal. It didn't seem to matter to him if he just barely passed or if he passed by a lot-just so he passed. In reality, he probably made better grades than he let on. He probably just wanted to know the baseline. Because every summer he got some really good internships with computer companies (he was with Texas Instruments at least a couple of summers) and even if he didn't learn everything he might have learned in some of his other classes, he did learn a lot about computers, and has a successful career in the computer field. So he probably just wanted to know the baseline, the threshold-because, obviously, you do have to pass your classes in order to earn a degree. Yet it's interesting that he wasn't working it from another angle. He wasn't figuring out, "If I can only score an 85 on this final I can raise that grade to a B." Or, "In that class, a 92 on the final would actually raise the grade to an A." But that's not what he was doing. It was, "How little can I do for the rest of the semester and still pass my classes?" And I won't tell him if you won't, but I'm sort of using my good friend as a bad example this morning. When you read the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus takes a completely different approach. We are always encouraged to look for what more we can do. In Matthew 5:46, Jesus asks, "If you love those who love you, what reward do you have?" The tone of his question seems to say, "So what?" He gives the impression that this is not even a threshold to a barely-passing grade. He said that even the tax-collectors do that. You need to strive toward a higher standard. Love those who love you, yes. But love more. And in this passage, Jesus tells us to love not only those who love us, and to love not only our neighbors, but also to love our enemies. A few verses earlier Jesus said that if someone forces you to go one mile that, instead, you should go two. Go the extra mile, Jesus teaches. And you have heard that you should love your neighbor, Jesus says. But don't just shoot for the barely passing-almost anybody can do that. Go a step farther. Love those who are not so easy to love. Indeed this whole section of Matthew 5 is a call to excellence. In all you do, go the extra mile. Put all you have into it. Do more than is expected. But it's also a call to completeness-or a call to wholeness. Matthew 5:48 says, "Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect." Now this is a perplexing verse. We think we know what it means-and we don't like it. The idea of being perfect seems impossible. Even if we take the theological view that perfection is possible-there are very few who would say they have achieved it. And perhaps we are hesitant to believe that we could ever achieve it on this side of eternity. So it's a perplexing verse. But there is more to this word than meets the eye. The original word that is used carried the meaning of "end" or "goal." So it very much could carry the meaning that our long-term goal, or the end that we're working toward, is to be like our heavenly Father. But none of our English translations try to translate it that way. They all simply say, "Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect." And I suppose one problem for the translators would be that we believe God is not working toward some future state of perfection. God has already achieved it. Or not achieved it-but has always been complete perfection. But on our side, we need to see the words, "Be perfect," as an encouragement to make that our goal or to move toward that end. And in context I think you could say that our approach should not be to simply do the minimum necessary-to try to achieve a barely-passing grade. No, excellence is what Jesus calls for in this passage; going the extra mile; loving others beyond what is comfortable for us. But aiming at completeness or wholeness or even perfection is not something we should try on our own. In the movie, Jerry Maguire, there are two couples on an elevator. There is one, young, deaf couple who appear to be very much in love. And they talk to each other in sign language just before they get off the elevator. And when the door closes and they are alone in the elevator, Jerry Maguire asks, "Do you know sign language? What did he say to her?" And her response was that he said, "You complete me." And this phrase, "You complete me," caught a lot of attention, and it's become part of our popular culture. I think it sums up in three short words the longing that we feel for wholeness, and the feeling that we have that those we love do indeed complete our lives in some way. But from another point of view, this longing that is captured in that phrase is actually a spiritual longing. Deep down, we know that our true home is in God. It is God who completes us. Likewise, we should see our movement toward wholeness or completion or perfection not as something we strive to accomplish in our own strength. That's another thing that we simply know, deep down: we can never manufacture perfection on our own. It's a partnership, it's a relationship with God. May the Lord continue his good work in us to make us complete in him. |