Sheepfold Ministries - Resist Not Evil 2007-08-26

R E S I S T N O T E V I L

SERMON STARTER

Biblical paradoxes are statements that seem to contradict one another. There are no contradictions in scripture, but our thinking is sometimes contradictory. When I first read the Bible in its entirety as a young man, my eyes fell on Matthew 5:39 and I was caught. Aren’t Christians supposed to fight evil and injustice? Aren’t they supposed to champion those who are oppressed by their enemies? What can this mean?

Walter Martin, author of Kingdom of the Cults taught that the Bible is not illogical, but rather that the Bible is AH-logical. He explained that the “AH” is Latin for “above,” therefore the Bible is above logic. Stated in other words, the Bible is above man’s comprehension. It is deeper in meaning than the human mind can grasp. You can keep grasping deeper and deeper truths until you reach the limits of human comprehension and the Bible’s depth is deeper still.

This sermon is an attempt to explore and balance the paradox. There is much spiritual meat in this study. It represents a lifetime of living with and for Christ. His Word is true and His love is beyond measure.

REVENGE, MERCY AND PRAYER

Go Ahead Hate Me!

by MARILYN HELLEBERG

"I'm Ka Yeung Kwan from Hong Kong. I think English is a real bore. My main hobby is harassing stupid teachers, and English teachers are the stupidest of all"

It was the first day of classes at Kearaey State College, and I'd asked my freshman English students to tell a little about themselves. I hadn't been teaching in the department very long, and so, even though he said them jokingly, Kwan's words splattered against my ego like a rotten tomato.

The other students looked embarrassed. During the rest of the period, Kwan snickered, mumbled under his breath, dropped books on the floor and squirmed in his seat.

Later, when I told my husband about it, he said, "You’d better crack down on him right now or you'll have trouble all semester." That night I prayed for strength to be firm. But then, as I was drifting off to sleep, the words, "See Christ in him," floated across my mind.

About halfway through the next class period, I heard loud, "Ho-o-o hum! How boring!" It was Kwan, with a sly smirk on his race. I was ready to say, "If you're bored, Kwan, you can leave." But there was something in those dark eyes behind the thick glasses that stopped me. I ignored him went on with my lecture.

After class, I noticed Kwan standing in the doorway, expected another smart remark, but he asked me a question about the literature we'd been discussing and walked back my office with me. He now seemed a very intelligent, good-humored young man, and I was sure I'd have no more trouble with him.

I was wrong. In the classes that followed, Kwan seized every opportunity to practice his "hobby"—coming in late, making wisecracks, arguing with everything I said, interrupting other students. Yet every day he stayed after class, asking perceptive questions.

I couldn't figure Kwan out. He was really two different people—the childish, irritating boy who disrupted class, and the mature, thoughtful young man who was becoming my after-class friend.

His first essay was extremely well-constructed, but it was sprinkled with obscene language, obviously intended to shock me. How could I see Christ in someone who used such un-Christlike words?

One day after class, Kwan confided that all his life he'd been playing a game called never-let-anyone-know-you're-hurting. I understood, because I sometimes played that game, too.

I hoped that with our growing student-teacher friendship, the problem in class would dissolve. But if anything, it got worse. When we were studying the poem, "God's Grandeur," by Hopkins, Kwan monopolized the class discussion by arguing with the other students about their beliefs. It was upsetting to many of the students and doubly so to me. See Christ in Kwan? Was it really possible to "see Christ" in someone who wasn't even a Christian? Maybe I should just squelch him, once and for all, I thought.

Instead, I closed the class with a quotation from "Outwitted" by Edwin Markham and prefaced it with the words, "This is for Kwan."

"He drew a circle that shut me out—

Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout

But Love and I had the wit to win:

We drew a circle that took him in!"

There was a warm silence in the classroom, and even Kwan seemed subdued. After class, he said, "I can't understand you. Why don't you just give up on me?"

I felt like telling him how many times I had almost given up. I thought of telling him that I was trying to see Christ in him, but I didn't because, in spite of my efforts and prayers, I still couldn't quite do it. Christ, to me, was beautiful and loving and compassionate—all of the things Kwan's behavior showed he wasn't.

During our quiet talks, I had told Kwan about Christ's love, but I knew he was far from accepting it. Whenever I prayed about the problem, I seemed to get the same answer— not "tell him about Christ," but "see Christ in him." Still, the more I tried, the harder he seemed to try to make me reject him.

Then came the essay in which Kwan wrote: "There are three kinds of teachers—those who are interesting but stupid, those who are intelligent but boring, and those who are both boring and stupid—like my English teacher." First I was angry, then hurt. Till now, I hadn't realized how much I really cared about this student. What about the friendship I thought we'd built? Did he really despise me so much?

I couldn't put a grade on his paper. When I handed it back without a mark on it, he waited for me after class.

"I'm sorry, Kwan," I said. "I can't play the game of never-let-anyone-know-you're-hurting. I just lost." Then, to my horror and embarrassment, I started choking back tears. I hurried into my office and tried to eat my lunch, but I couldn't swallow. "Oh, God," I prayed, "why have I failed so badly with Kwan?"

I don't know how long I'd been sitting there, aching with rejection and failure, when Kwan walked in. Without a word he put a note on my desk and left. It said, "I am truly sorry for what I have written. I did not know until now that you are just as vulnerable as I am. I meant the essay as a big, teasing joke. Instead, I hurt you, the only true friend I have... I've been rejected so often in my life that I've learned to protect myself by hurting other people first. But you wouldn't let me do it! You 'drew a circle that took me in.' If this has something to do with your Christ, then I think I'd like to know more about Him..."

Something to do with your Christ. Hurrying out of my office, I found Kwan standing near the stairs. Blind to the students all around us, we stood looking at each other, unable to speak. Then my insolent student took off his glasses, dried his eyes and handed me his handkerchief.

And in that moment, for the first time, to me Kwan did look Christlike.

GUIDEPOSTS TREASURERY OF LOVE