Something’s Just Not Right

Do you ever get the feeling things aren’t the way they’re supposed to be? Like something’s just not right?

In 2001, when my wife and I were living in Louisiana, I got a phone call from a funeral home telling me that the mayor of a nearby town had lost his daughter in a car accident. Her family’s pastor was away on vacation, so they were calling me to officiate the funeral. I was just 22 years old, and although I had never met the deceased young woman, I knew she was from one of the more prominent African-American families in the area.

The funeral home gave me the family’s phone number, so I called and spoke with one of her aunts, because her parents were too devastated to talk. I learned that she had been a cheerleader in college and that she was a vegetarian who loved to run half-marathons.

Needless to say, I was nervous. Frankly, I didn’t think I had the preaching chops to carry a Black funeral in the South, especially under these tragic circumstances. So on the day of the ceremony, I arrived an hour early to the funeral home, but by all appearances, the service was already underway. An usher saw that I was wearing a preacher’s robe so he led me to the secret clergy entrance.

I walked in and took my seat next to an older, African-American fellow who was also wearing a clergy robe. The young woman’s aunt had mentioned that someone else would be saying a prayer, so I figured that must be him. I leaned over and said, “I’m glad you’re up here with me. I hate being up here all alone.” And he just stared back at me, looking confused. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but something felt a little off.

It was the liveliest funeral I’d ever been to. The music was rousing. The people were singing and shouting. By the time it was my turn to speak, I was fired up and said, “Praise the Lord!”

The congregation responded, “Praise the Lord!”

I said, “Can I get an Amen?”

“Amen!” They shouted back.

Then I said, “Brothers and sisters, we’re gathered today to say a goodbye to our beloved sister in Christ, but we know it is only a temporary goodbye.”

THAT’S RIGHT!

“This woman was a bright light!”

YES! 

“We don’t know why God would allow such a bright light to be taken this way!”

COME ON! 

“How long, O Lord, will parents have to bury their young?”

{confused mumbling} 

“She was a world-class athlete. A cheerleader. A runner!”

{crickets}

Just like that, I’d lost the room. I’m not sure how long I kept talking. The next thing I remember was that other preacher putting his arm around my shoulder and whispering in my ear, “Son, I think you’re at the wrong funeral.”

And he showed me the bulletin for this service. It said, “In Loving Memory of Agnes Caruthers.” And there was a picture on the front of that bulletin – a picture of the oldest, largest woman I’d ever seen. I could tell from that picture that she was neither a cheerleader or a vegetarian.

I looked out at the family of Agnes Caruthers – that feeling I had, that something was not right – they were all feeling it too. We were all equally confused. So I snuck out the same door I’d snuck in before, went across the hall to the other chapel, and led the funeral I was supposed to lead in the first place. But to this day, I’m mad at myself for not acting on my instinct that something wasn’t right.

Do you ever get that feeling – like something’s off? Like when you’re at a young person’s funeral, or when bad things happen to good people, or when you watch the news. We all know that’s not the way things ought to be. That’s not the way things should be.

Whenever we use words like right and wrong and should and ought, we’re making a pretty big assumption. We’re assuming there is something that’s Right with a capital “R” and True with a capital “T.” You can’t be a moral relativist and use the words “ought” and “should.” You can’t say “your truth is your truth and my truth is my truth,” one day, and the next day look at somebody living their “truth” and say, “That’s just not right.”

Granted, some of our “shoulds” and “oughts” are just cultural norms, bound only by time and circumstance. These kinds of social mores evolve and adapt. Not long ago, my marriage would have been illegal in 16 states because people back then looked at interracial marriage and said, “That’s not the way things ought to be.” Thankfully, most people don’t feel that way anymore.

While some of our “shoulds” and “oughts” are merely the results of evolving social norms, others are much more than that. The idea that children are precious and should be protected, for example, is a “should” with a capital “S.” In other words, if you see someone mistreating a child, you’re not going to say to yourself, “Their truth is their truth, and abusing children must be their truth.” You’re going to be repulsed and you’re going to want to intervene, because you know it’s not right to abuse a child, and that’s more than just a social norm. It’s a universal Truth.

In the Christian worldview, these shoulds and oughts come from God. The Creator is the Source of basic human rights. For the Christian, morality comes from God, so when things aren’t the way they ought to be, our explanation for it is sin. Sin is a word that turns a lot of people off, because sometimes it feels like religious people use sin to take the fun out of everything.

Here’s what Christians actually believe about sin: first, if God is real, He is the Creator. If God is the Creator, this is His creation. Among all the created beings, human beings alone have the power and awareness to steward God’s creation. As stewards, we often fail. When a steward fails, he’s in the owner’s debt.

Imagine you’re at a coffeeshop, and there’s a guy at the next table, typing on a laptop. He gets up and says to you, “I’ve got to use the restroom, do you mind keeping an eye on my stuff?” You say OK, but a few minutes later, somebody comes and takes the laptop and you do nothing to stop him. When the man comes back from the restroom, you’re going to be in his debt to some degree. At a minimum, you’ll owe him an explanation!

That’s how Christians look at sin. God made us in His image and trusted us to steward His masterpiece, and we’ve messed up. The skeptic might say, “But I never agreed to this arrangement!” Fair enough. But imagine you’re back at the coffeeshop, and this time, you’re sitting next to a woman and her four small children. At one point, the mother gets up from the table to go find some napkins, and while she’s gone, a creepy stranger comes and starts talking to her kids, offering them candy. At that moment, are you not responsible? As a capable adult who’s aware of your surroundings, isn’t your stewardship over those children implied? Wouldn’t you feel forever indebted if you did nothing and something happened to those kids?

Of course you would, and rightly so. That’s how we understand sin in the Christian worldview. And we believe the problem of sin has gotten so out of control, that we’ve all been corrupted. We can’t be helped by more laws or stricter rules or mere religion. Only grace can save us.

There’s a lot of confusion about the Cross among people who are skeptical and secular. We know Jesus was crucified, but what does that have to do with my sin? Most people think Christians believe that God was just so worked up and so angry that he had to take his anger out on somebody, so he took it out on Jesus, which is a pretty horrific thought. It makes God sound like a hot-headed abusive bully. Is his anger really that out of control that blood had to be spilled?

That’s the mentality that drove ancient religions. People went to their temples and made blood sacrifices because the gods were angry. But the Cross wasn’t merely about God’s anger. It was about a debt that was owed – a debt none of us could pay. Through the Cross of Jesus, God forgave the debt.

The world isn’t the way it should be. Something’s not right here. But what are we going to do about it? Punish each other? Withdraw from each other? God says there’s another way. Grace. Grace has the power to melt the hardest heart and to cover the deepest debt.

We have all done things we shouldn’t have done, and we have not done some things we should have. But through the Cross, Jesus has chosen to testify at your trial and mine, saying, “All is forgiven.” His grace alone can make right what’s wrong with the world.