Howdy We we love comfort I Think that's fair
to say to be honest. I think it's fair to say
we love comfort in our lives the comfort of a
recliner after a long day That the remote right
there next to you because you don't want to have
to reach over and heaven forbid you had to get
up binge watching the favorite show, the favorite
show of the week, because that has to change
every week, of course. And the comfort of knowing
maybe it's a day you don't have to rush anywhere
and you don't really have to do anything particular.
Comfort. It's something that we are so grateful
to have, especially in our country, especially
in our world, especially in this modern age.
But sometimes comfort can be more than just relaxing.
Sometimes comfort can weaken us. Sometimes comfort
can undermine what makes us strong. Do y 'all
remember that movie WALL -E? The little bitty
robot, you know, WALL -E. Yeah, and he was like,
he would go around and he was rolling around
the whole earth, right? And he was on a planet,
he was on the earth at a time later on when...
We had just polluted it way too much. It was
covered in garbage. And he would go around and
organize all the garbage into little stacks and
try to tidy up the whole world being polluted
and everything. But one day, he discovered a
tiny little plant. And this tiny plant he saw,
he picked it up, and he was giving it to his
little robot crush, Eve. And he went up, and
when she saw it though, she ran away. And what
ends up happening is they're trying to get it
to the spaceship that has all of the human beings,
because if they could get it there, then it would
be time to return to Earth and fix the whole
Earth all over again. But that's the thing about
this, though, is that the ship was meant to be
perfectly comfortable, perfectly comfortable
for everyone, taking care of every comfort imaginable,
but the ship also did not want to let anybody
go. See, the comfort itself, let's not worry
about the earth, and it's a little too dirty.
Let's go just take care of all of your comforts.
The comfort had become all -consuming, and everything
resisted the letting go of that comfort and returning
home to restore it. Imagine all the humans that
were floating in their chairs on their screens,
always in front of them, with messages that determined
everything they said and did, their bodies no
longer able to support themselves because their
bones had shrunk too much. They were safe, entertained,
and oblivious, but the earth cried out beneath
them. I'm sure that we have no idea what that
is like. Now picture us and maybe we aren't floating
in chairs, but spiritually and morally We can
be just as lazy we scroll we watch we tweet we
plan and the cries that are at our gates The
issues that may be facing our world we barely
notice unless it's right there in the screen
in front of us Comfort erodes our moral and spiritual
backbone. We may not literally be floating But
spiritual and moral reclining can feel just like
this. Glued to comfort screens, routines, habits,
numb to what's around us and only paying attention
to what's put in front of us. And then we hear
the voice of Amos. Amos 6. That progress without
grief lacks compassion. Amos begins... Woe to
those who are at ease in Zion picture the scene
Zion's leaders the leaders of Israel they're
reclining on ivory beds Sipping wine from their
bowls. There's so much of it. They're humming
along as the harpist is playing Yeah, that's
not how a harp sounds but the candles flicker
Off the polished walls, the laughter rises over
platters of roasted lamb, honeyed bread, and
probably some dad jokes. They see themselves
as refined, cultured, successful progress in
motion because they have escaped the everyday
problems of the other Israelites. But outside
the hall, it's different. Families scavenge for
scraps, soldiers, guard, borders that are crumbling
all around them, letting anybody in, widows beg
in the streets, smoke drifts from broken homes,
and Amos says, you are not grieved over the ruin
of Joseph. In other words, you are not hurting
over your brothers and sisters as they suffer.
These elite though, they're real people. They're
not just these cartoon villains twiddling their
mustache. They're humans lulled by comfort. They
told themselves, we're fine. Things will work
themselves out. We're on the right side of history.
We're benefiting from it all. But their sophistication
dulled their grief for their neighbor's ruin.
But soon, God would allow Assyria to come along.
and take these very elites off into exile and
destroy their kingdom. Today, we fall into the
same trap. We celebrate growth and culture and
achievement, but we miss the single mom struggling
on our block. We post online about justice, but
we don't take the time to just sit down, talk
and eat with people who are actually hurting,
mentoring the youth and caring for our neighbor.
We binge the latest creative work, but we don't
grieve the brokenness that still exists on this
earth. Think of a corporate party celebrating
record profits while factories close in the nearby
town. Church committee debating pews while the
food pantry sits empty. A young professional
in a cafe, headphones in, sipping the Starbucks,
scrolling the latest headlines while their very
neighbors are wrestling with bills. No pumpkin
spice latte can overcome. Amos convicts us of
a comfort that says, I'm right, I'm enlightened,
and I don't need to change because I have everything
taken care of. It's not just one group or another,
it's a mirror for all of us, frankly. Comfort
in progress, culture, sophistication, it can
blind any of us. Amos speaks to people who pride
themselves on being refined and cultured, progressive,
lovers of music, art, and luxury, but their comfort
lets them ignore the collapse of actual justice
around them. Their curse is being self -satisfied,
refined. Things will work out as long as people
are deserving. The blind spot, though, is that
cultural... or moral progress doesn't excuse
us from being indifferent to the suffering of
the poor. And then, centuries later, we hear
Jesus speaking. Because, of course, the people
of Israel, they still haven't learned the lesson
yet. Luke 16, security without compassion, lacks
vision. There's a rich man, he's respectable,
established. He wears purple and the linen. Every
day he feasts roasted meat, platters of fruit
and bread, I'm sure some filet mignon and some
sort of appetizer on the side. Servants, they
shuffle in and out, the clinking of cups marking
the rhythm of his secure abundant life. Well
done, well done. He likely prays. He probably
gives to the local synagogue. He manages his
estate. Everything about him says, I am a fine
upstanding man. I'm secure. All is right in my
world. And at his gate lies Lazarus. Lazarus'
body is crusted with sores. Ew. Ew. Hunger. gnawing
at him, dogs licking his wounds. That's not a
good way to have a dog licking. He stretches
his hand towards scraps that never come, the
smell of sickness, the itch of hunger, the ache
of longing, it's all right there at the threshold
of this other man's abundance. But here's what's
chilling. Rich man never hurt Lazarus. You cannot.
point at the rich man and say anything he ever
actually did. He never cursed him. He never hurt
him. He just ignored him. Every day he stepped
over Lazarus on the way to the synagogue. He
stepped over Lazarus on the way to business.
He stepped over Lazarus on the way back to dinner.
Man, it'd be nice if I didn't have to see Lazarus
there. Just hopefully move along. And he told
himself, I'm fine. Life is good, or maybe he
didn't even tell himself anything at all. He
was completely unmoved. The rich man in Jesus'
story, he's not condemned for robbing or oppressing
anyone. He's condemned for ignoring. The curse
of self -sufficiency and self -righteousness,
I have what I need, God must be blessing me,
that's what matters, and maybe I deserve it.
but Jesus unmasks the blindness. Tradition, morality,
even generosity can all become excuses if they
let us step past our neighbor without compassion.
Hard work, even piety, even doing community service
doesn't excuse when we're indifferent to the
suffering that's at our doorstep. You can still
be doing good things and struggle with what's
in your heart. And Jesus tells us what happened
next. The roles are reversed. Isn't it funny
how just whenever people are getting exactly
what they wanted, somehow the roles always reverse?
Lazarus is carried to Abraham's side, but the
rich man is tormented. He pleads for relief.
And Abraham says, Between us, there's a great
chasm that's been fixed. I can't get to you.
That's it. Game over. Final. Security without
compassion has eternal consequences. Now, yeah,
we can be pointing the finger and I'm sure people
have in their mind which person that they are
thinking about as, oh yeah, that person's pretty
bad at this. It's a subtle trap though. The rich
man, he's not a monster. He could very well be
a very devout man. He probably is respectable.
He's certainly secure. He's very successful in
many measures of the sense. And yet that very
security numbed him to what was right outside
his doorstep. And let's be honest, I mean, we
have plenty of justification for ignoring the
person at the stoplight with the cardboard sign.
We don't know their story. We may assume somebody
else is probably able to help. But what about
the elderly neighbor whose lights are still dark
night after night? Because maybe they can't pay
the bill and we're just hoping that we can assume
someone else is helping them out Security stability
routine we get blind Just as surely as wealth
and luxury But here's what presses on us. We
say people should take responsibility. Don't
we say that a lot? People should take responsibility.
But they don't stop to help them bear their load.
Maybe that person was trained in a job that doesn't
exist anymore. Or maybe they never had the money
to pay for the job training in the first place.
Let's be honest. Most training and apprenticeships
are expensive to get started. A friend of mine
is actually starting up a year -long internship
and he has to pay to do it. We say the world
needs stability. but we close our eyes to unstable
lives around us. We can see many people are suffering
from warfare and poverty, but we'd rather there
be stability by just getting them to leave us
alone. We tell ourselves, my morality is the
reason why I'm secure, while Lazarus lies at
the gate for reasons we don't understand. Does
anybody know why he's there? No. No, we don't.
But we do know that there are many immoral people
living very easy lives. Not about pointing fingers,
but let's be honest, many of us, we love our
stability, security, comfort that blinds us just
as surely as anything else. And then Amos and
Jesus intersect. See, the thing about different
viewpoints, it's the same problems. See, Amos...
He's convicting the people who are comfortable
in being right all the time. Oof, man, they think
that they've got it all figured out all the time.
So many of us see ourselves as progressing in
the world, living beautiful lives because we're
not foolish like those poor people in the olden
ways of living. But Jesus convicts those who
are comfortable in their righteousness or their
self -righteousness. See, so many people have
decided that their morality, even their Christian
behavior, has allowed them to be blessed. Clearly,
God's blessing me. I'm a good Christian. Therefore,
I'm immune to having to examine myself. And others,
they're not blessed because somehow they're not
good enough and it's probably their fault. Different
viewpoints but the same curse. When we are comfortable,
we become blind. We miss out on the ways in which
God wants to bless us by moving us to bless others.
The comfort of our mindset, it undermines God
speaking to us. It blinds us to grief, it blinds
us to compassion, and frankly, it blinds us to
God. All those humans floating around on their
little chairs in the spaceship, the comfort literally
weakens, but it also spiritually, morally, emotionally,
makes us less. Until... We discover that we can't
even stand for anything that's good and true
anymore. We're so comfortable with things that
if something good and true comes along to convict
us, we're going to shut it out as best we can.
We're willing to let others put a message in
front of us that makes us feel good about our
lazy minds. Tell me what I want to hear, and
we don't even question it. But imagine someone
choosing to stand, reaching out to the neighbor,
in need, making a meal, or even just listening.
Not to your buddy, but to someone who can never
give you anything in return. See, comfort no
longer rules in this situation. It's about compassion
and courage to take the weight. But imagine that
person even being willing to die for them. Christ
had every right to stay comfortable. What do
you think it was like in heaven? Glory, worship,
security. When you are eternal and dwelling in
heaven, you're probably not worried about pimples
or social security or whether or not there's
a riptide at the beach on your vacation. But
he didn't cling to it. He left it. He humbled
himself, became one of us, and entered our ruin.
He came to the earth. noticing our sores and
bearing our griefs, carrying our sins to the
cross. He gave up comfort so we could share His
eternal comfort. He gave up His right in the
world's eyes so we could be made righteous in
God's sight. But Jesus ends this parable with
the haunting truth. You may have missed it. It's
at the very end. If they do not listen to Moses
and the prophets, they will not be convinced
even if someone rises from the dead. Strange.
What's he saying? Unless we're willing to be
convicted of our own need to repent, we can stand
face to face with a crucified and risen Jesus
and still miss Him. If I look at my own morality
and I conclude, you know what, I'm good enough,
I'm righteous. I'm the kind of person that God
is pleased with and I'm the one he sent Jesus
for. Then the whole message of Jesus actually
becomes useless. The Gospel, it's not about reinforcing
my goodness or yours. It's about exposing our
desperate need for forgiveness every day. And
if I won't let the Spirit convict me, then even
resurrection itself wouldn't shake me awake.
But notice how subtle the danger is. We talk
about sin and grace. We use the words all the
time. And we even, we nod along to, yes, we're
all broken people, yes, yes, uh -huh, yeah, absolutely.
And then we still end up standing on our moral
high ground in front of other people. We end
up trying to argue people into faith by proving
we're right, they're wrong, and the world, frankly,
they can see right through us. They know it.
even when we don't want to acknowledge it. They
can sense when our words about, oh, well, we're
sinners. It's just surface level. We're trying
to sound humble even at the times when underneath
we're not convicted, we're unmoved, we're unwilling
to change. Because without the Spirit of God
pressing the truth into us, our repentance, it's
just a performance. Our morality is just another
comfort that we sometimes hide behind. I appreciate
how Tullian Chavijian, don't ask me to spell
it, puts it. The church is not a factory producing
better people. It's a recovery place announcing
that in Christ, the sick are healed and the guilty
are pardoned. And if you know anything about
Tullian Chavijian, he has needed grace more than
many of us. He reminds us the mission of the
church is not to build a flawless kingdom that
others are going to envy. It's to point to Christ
by first admitting how much we need Him ourselves.
The invitation we extend to the world is not,
look how righteous we are, don't you want to
join us? It's come with us because we're broken
too, and Jesus is the one who will make us whole.
The shock of the gospel is that the very thing
that changes the world is not our morality, but
our willingness to admit our desperate need.
for grace. So, do we realize how uncomfortable
this is to hear? Yeah. I'm paid to make y 'all
feel uncomfortable, just letting you know. But
it's also the only way for us to shift ourselves
to compassion. When we realize that we need it
just as much as the sinners around us. Have you
chosen ease over compassion? Have you been so
certain you were right that you stopped listening?
Have you stepped over the people lying at your
gate? What ruins are you ignoring because of
the progress or security that looks so good?
Where has the comfort become your curse? So as
we close, what if we as a church refused to let
comfort blind us? What if we, instead of being
known for the ease, We try to live for we're
known for our compassion and what if instead
of clinging to progress or security we come to
Christ who makes us new because then We'd become
a signpost for eternity Then people would live
in the light of forever The community would be
awake Because comfort is a gift when it leads
to gratitude, but it's a curse When it takes
us away from compassion and God So may we not
let comfort? Tell us that we're just fine. May
Christ open our eyes and may we live now in the
light of eternity. Thanks be to God.