God Is Holy
a sermon on Isaiah 6.1-5 & 1 Corinthians 11.27-32
by David C. Mauldin
Westminster Presbyterian Church, Mobile, Alabama
If the title of this morning’s sermon strikes you as bland—dare I say,
boring?—do not despair. I have learned a secret. I always wondered why preachers
of a previous generation preached so much about the attributes of God. God is
immortal, invisible, holy, just, compassionate, and so on. To be honest, I
always thought those preachers must have been dry, stuffy, and yes, boring. But
now I know their secret. Why did they preach about the attributes of God?
Because they loved God and wanted other people to love God too. That’s why you
preach a sermon like this one, or why you listen to it, or hopefully the effect
it will have on you.
This is a secret fraught with peril because there is a danger in preaching about
the attributes of God. It is the danger of joy that can only be shared by
insiders. This happens all the time. Two people are swapping boring small talk,
until they discover they are from the same town. Then their eyes light up, their
pulses quicken, and suddenly everything is interesting. “You remember that
Italian restaurant near the university?” “Oh, yes, my wife and I went there on
our first date!” Two Alabama fans can share a joy reminiscing about games they
remember—a joy not shared by someone who doesn’t like football and cares nothing
for the Crimson Tide. The same thing happens when two people have read the same
book or like the same author. “How did you like the ending of her latest novel?”
“I was surprised, and I loved it!” I could go on, but you’ve spotted the danger.
I can preach about the holiness of God, and someone who loves and trusts Jesus
Christ will thoroughly enjoy it, while someone who does not know Jesus or is not
so far along on the Christian journey will find it dull.
What I want to do then is not only share that insider’s joy with those of you
who revere God’s holiness, but also to inspire all of us with interest and
desire. Sometimes a person is so passionate about something he loves that it
makes you want to find out more or give it a try. I will try to be that person
today, if you will try to listen with an open mind. … Here we go:
Saying God is holy is like saying water is wet. Of course it is. That’s what it
means. Wet means something has water on it. Holy means something or someone is
set apart, dedicated especially to God. We call the Bible holy because it is
God’s book in a way that no other book is. We call the church holy because we
are a people God has chosen and set apart for himself and his purposes. How well
we live up to that is another story, but we are holy because he has made us
holy. If holy means something belongs to God in a special way, what do we mean
when we say God is holy?
We mean, above all, that God is not like us. God is different. He is “other.”
The technical word is transcendence. God is far above us in every way. The word
holy speaks of God’s purity and goodness. God’s holiness means he is opposed to
everything that is broken, corrupt, and wrong in our world. Because God is holy
he cannot tolerate sin. Yet, God makes his holiness known not only through his
wrath and judgment but also through his grace and mercy. If you associate the
word holy with fire and brimstone, you have seen only a small corner of the
picture. Yes, God’s holiness is terrifying. It ought to be, because we cannot
comprehend, contain, or control God. God is vastly more powerful than we, and
that alone is unsettling. But keep in mind that God’s holiness means that God is
different from us. On one hand, God is good and we are not. Without his grace we
are lost. On the other, we are inclined to lash out at those who offend us and
want to punish them, but God is different. God is merciful and desires the good
of his creation, even when we rebel. He condemns only as a last resort, and that
is a very good difference!
I want you to appreciate God’s holiness because it makes a difference in your
life. I believe our spiritual lives often lack depth because we have embraced a
one-dimensional caricature of God. He is close and cuddly and loving and doting,
but not holy. Not transcendent. Not a God of power and resolve. Several serious
consequences follow this fatal omission. First, we do not fear God, so we do not
take sin or our personal holiness seriously. Why does it matter if we honor the
vows we take in God name … or keep our word … or treat other people fairly and
justly? God told his people in the Old Testament, “You shall be holy for I am
holy” [Leviticus 19.2 and other places]. Holiness for God’s people includes both
worshipping God and how we live. But if we forget the holiness of God, we have
neither fear nor love to make us holy.
Second, when we forget the holiness of God we easily follow the selfish
direction our culture is taking anyway and we make worship and church life about
us, not about God. Our culture has taught us to view everything through the eyes
of a consumer. It tells us that’s who we are. We are consumers, and we want to
be catered to. But God is really the consumer, in worship and in our daily
lives. We strive to please him. Remembering that he is holy helps us get this
right.
The third problem with forgetting God’s holiness is this: We lack the confidence
and assurance we ought to have as his people. Think of it this way: A small
child feels safe because Mommy and Daddy are there. If she knew all that we
grown-ups know, she would be plagued with anxiety. But she is not. She believes
Mommy and Daddy can handle any problem. She knows she is little and they are
big. She is weak and they are strong. She does not have this confidence in her
playmates. A god that is not holy, a god that I discover within myself, is not
big or strong enough to handle my problems, let alone the problems of the whole
universe. The One True and Living God, whom the heavens worship as “holy, holy,
holy,” is able to sort things out and make them right.
In our Old Testament reading, Isaiah has a vision in the Temple. The year that
King Uzziah died was around 742 b.c. Uzziah had ascended the throne at age 16
and ruled for
52 years. He was successful in war, and he built up Judah’s infrastructure.
Those good times would not last. He began by following God, but scripture adds,
“when he grew strong, he grew proud, to his destruction” [2 Cor 26.16]. Isaiah
would be God’s spokesman through some turbulent years, and his call to be a
prophet came at this significant time, the year Uzziah died.
In his vision, Isaiah sees the Lord, sitting on a throne. Around him heavenly
beings sing praises. The six-winged seraphs hide their faces precisely because
of God’s holiness. God is so beautiful, pure, and holy that to look on him is
death. Isaiah knows this. No one sees God and lives. Now, seeing God, Isaiah
becomes aware of the vast gulf that separates us from God. He realizes his own
pitiful condition. This is the natural human reaction to the holiness of God. I
am a poor, weak, miserable sinner; and God is holy and pure. If you think this
is a bit unnecessary, consider this: Have you ever shown up to some event
underdressed? It is uncomfortable. Even if no one seems to pay particular
attention to you, you feel out of place. You show up at the reunion dinner
wearing a flowered shirt and shorts. Everyone else is in a tux or evening dress.
What happened? You got the dates mixed up. The barbeque is tomorrow. This is the
formal dinner. How embarrassed do you feel? Now take that feeling, give it a
moral dimension, and multiply it by a factor of a billion. You still will not
know how Isaiah felt. You have to experience the holiness of God to appreciate
it. If you have never felt ashamed and helpless before God, then you have never
sought or known his grace. Grace comes from a big God, and he gives it to those
who are humble, not to those who think they are pretty much OK just the way they
are.
If you have never encountered or contemplated God’s holiness, I cannot describe
it to you, but I can tell you that you are missing out. God’s holiness does not
put us in the dust and leave us there. It puts us in our place and raises us up.
Isaiah did not die. God gave him grace and a mission. God does the same for us.
Atonement had to be made. The vast gap separating us from God had to be bridged.
The burning coal in the Isaiah passage symbolizes this, but whether we are
considering a faithful person from the Old Testament or a person in the pew this
morning, forgiveness comes from one source—Jesus Christ and his death for us.
Through him we become holy. Because of him all of life can be holy.
If you permit me a quick aside, I’d like to give you an example and plug our
Presbyterian heritage at the same time. It was Calvin who taught the church that
any work that is honest and moral is also holy. The priest in the Temple and the
pastor in the pulpit obviously do holy work. But so, said Calvin, does a
teacher, a delivery truck driver, a hotdog vendor. Why? Because Jesus Christ has
made every Christian holy, and therefore everything about us can and should be
holy. If you deliver mail, you do it for God. If you play golf professionally,
you do it for God. You are holy, set apart for God’s purposes, and that flavors
everything you do, all the time. Christianity is not a hobby; it is Christ
living in you.
This leads us straight into the second of the two points of this sermon. The
first one was about the holiness of God. The second is about the holiness of God
in relation to the Lord’s Supper. An interesting change takes place as we move
from the Old Testament to the New. In the Old Testament, God’s people were to be
holy, but there were also many things and places designated as holy: Jerusalem
was holy, especially the Temple. The furnishings and utensils in the Temple were
holy. The Sabbath was holy. Certain special days were holy. With the coming of
Jesus, all these things and times and places lose some of their luster. Holiness
centers on him … and the people who belong to him by faith. Paul’s usual word
for Christians is hagios, holy ones, saints. In the New Testament, a saint is
not an unusually holy Christian, it is any and every Christian.
As we watch Jesus going about his ministry, we notice something strange. When
Jesus touches a person who is ritually unclean according to the Law of Moses, he
does not become unclean; that person becomes clean. When he touches the sick,
such as a leper, he does not become diseased; that person becomes well and
whole. No one else had this power. When Jesus ate with notorious sinners, such
as tax collectors and prostitutes, they did not corrupt his morals; he forgave
their sins and changed their lives. Jesus makes the unholy holy.
Now to the Lord’s Supper, where we encounter our risen Lord. He gave us this
supper both as a way for us to remember him and for him to unite himself to us.
Like baptism, the Lord’s Supper makes us holy. The Supper itself is holy,
because of its association with Jesus. It is holy, and woe to anyone who takes
it lightly or abuses it.
We find Paul addressing just this kind of situation in the church in Corinth.
That church was divided into factions. Their practice of the Lord’s Supper was a
mockery. They made it like a picnic. Some people ate a lot without waiting for
the others to arrive. A few of them even got drunk. Meanwhile, others went
without. The Lord’s Supper is supposed to be a tangible expression of our unity
in Christ. They were making it an expression of division and their obvious lack
of love. Paul said such an abomination did not even count as the Lord’s Supper.
Then he told them how Christ gave the Supper and what it means. Then we come to
this morning’s reading, a warning about the holiness of the Supper (although
Paul does not use that word) and the importance of “discerning the body.” Some
scholars say that in light of the problems the Corinthian church was having,
“the body” in question is the body of Christ meaning the church. They had failed
to discern that they were all members of one body. I think this interpretation
is correct. Other scholars suggest discerning the body means you ought to
consider the bread the literal body of Christ. We Presbyterians do not believe
the bread becomes the body of Christ. It represents Christ. But, we do believe
that as we eat the bread, Christ gives himself to us spiritually.
In the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries, Presbyterians took this passage so
seriously that church elders zealously guarded their people from partaking of
the Supper in an unworthy manner. The Lord’s Supper would be celebrated only
once or twice per year. In the weeks leading up to it, the session would visit
every member of the congregation and examine them concerning their Christian
discipleship and way of life. They wanted to be sure everyone who would share in
the Supper was right with God. They took to heart verse 31, “If we judged
ourselves, we would not be judged.” When a person was found ready for the
Supper, he or she was given a token, which would be exchanged for the elements
at the table. If you go to the historical society museum at Montreat, you can
see some of these tokens on display.
They went overboard, but their hearts were in the right place. This meal is
holy, and so we approach it with reverence. They were wrong to think you had to
be holy before you could partake of the Supper. If you belong to Jesus, the
Supper is for you. And you are not as holy as he is, but that is OK. When your
unholiness meets his holiness, his holiness wins and you become holy. Examine
your heart. Come to the table reverently and with humility. But come. God is
holy, but his holiness is love. Receive his grace, and worship him, for he alone
is worthy. Amen.
rev_mauldn@yahoo.com
August 5, 2007