Renunciation & Remission

Sermon Prepared for Messiah Lutheran Church

Auburn WA, February 7, 2010 – 5^th Sunday after Epiphany

by Gregory S. Kaurin, Senior Pastor

Texts: Isaiah 6:1-8 & Luke 5:1-11

“Renunciation & Remission”

Today, we’ll talk about two more of these “re-tion” words: “renunciation and remission.” Both of these can seem to have different meanings depending on their context. Renunciation sounds big and fancy. It comes from the verb to renounce. Just switch out the prefix; it’s related to all these other words: pronunciation, annunciation, and denunciation. Or, if I can’t understand my son when he’s mumbling, I might ask him to “e-nun-ci-ate” his words.

And all of these have to do with speech or speaking, but more than that, speaking to be understood, to make a declaration, or to take a stand. After the bride and groom have exchanged vows, I could say, “By the power invested in me by the State of Washington, I now…pronounce you: husband and wife.” Pastors don’t actually say that, by the way, but we could. Pronouncing is a speech for them, in favor of their union.

But to re-nounce is, in effect, the opposite. Here, the “re-“ means to turn it around or undo it. Near the beginning of baptisms or Affirmation services, we’ll ask people to do something against the forces of evil, the devil, and all his empty promises. What is that? Right, “renounce” them. That means to speak against them, to verbally take your stand against them.

Take it further, more literally, to renounce them is to seek to undo the forces of evil, the strength of the devil, and empty promises, with a word, “I renounce them.” “Get thee behind me, Satan.” These are renouncements, that stand in the gap and undo the powers of evil. Martin Luther’s hymn, A Mighty Fortress says that, against this world’s raging tyrant, “One little word subdues him.” “In the name of Jesus Christ, I declare to you, entire forgiveness.”

But renouncing isn’t always so tough sounding. It’s not by my strength that I can take such a stand. The renunciation of sins, our sinfulness begins as we come before the altar of God, God’s holy presence, and we take an honest look within.

That’s what happened to Isaiah in our first lesson. He found himself suddenly in God’s presence. And it hit him, not just all the warnings about how deadly it was to see God, but how terribly inadequate he was there before God. “I am a man of unclean lips, coming from a people of unclean lips.” How can I live, how can I survive? Isaiah renounced his own strength, his importance and ability before God.

And the passage goes on to say how God sends a seraph with tongs to grab a live coal from the altar. [Insert window comment.] It is not a coal hot from fire, but burning with honesty, glory, and God’s truth. Hearing Isaiah’s cry, he touches the coal to Isaiah’s lips. The coal, doesn’t sear Isaiah’s lips, but his words and fears, that renunciation, and at that same moment, infuses Isaiah’s lips and life with a new word, a word and message from God, a new power, not his own.

And Peter, in the gospel, even in this first meeting with Jesus, Simon Peter hits his knees, “Lord, don’t sully yourself. Get away from me. I’m a smelly, grubby fisherman, a course and sinful man.” He renounces himself.

Jesus doesn’t just pooh-pooh it away. He doesn’t say, “Oh, Simon, don’t talk like that. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Nor does Jesus walk away like Peter asks. Instead, Jesus hears his words, let’s them ring out. And after a pause, Jesus answers, “Do not fear, stop being afraid, because I give you a new task: fish for others.”

You know, sometimes we say our public confession together, and one of the original intents of moving from private to what we call “corporate” confession was to be more honest with each other and accountable to each other as a community. Instead, we often can kind of hide in the crowd. We’re all saying this together, but we’re forgetting, sometimes, that in that moment we each stand and confess, not just to each other, but to God.

And to each one Christ responds with the remission of sins. The strength of his response may depend on how well we understand that we are not just confessing and renouncing our sins, but ourselves, our ability to stand against the powers that he wants to send us against.

How can he expect us to win? We have given into them, I have given in. Cancer-like sin riddles my life, and the world around me. How can God really expect me to renounce the powers of evil, the devil, the constant barrage of empty promises and distractions?

Do you renounce them? Will you stand against them? How do we ask you to answer that question? We tell you to say, “Yes, with the help of God.” The last part is so important, only with God’s help. If you trust God, then it easier to let go, to renounce ourselves, and to remit our sins to the cross, and let them die, let ourselves, our old mortal selves and fears die with him, in order to be infused with new light and life.

Last fall on Reformation Sunday, I preached about indulgences and purgatory, and finished by talking about the remission of sins. That’s actually what got me started on these “re-tion” words. But in that message, I said that through this confession and renunciation, “your sins are put in remission, not like the doctors say of cancer, which still leaves the possibility that it may come back. No, they, your sins, are remitted, sent to the cross and destroyed there, never to come back to you.” Instead, I said that “Jesus Christ gives you a Life Sentence.”

I declare to you, baptized children of God, by Christ’s authority alone, the entire remission of all your sins. He forgives you. Isaiah stood back up. Simon Peter stood up. You and I can get back up. Our sins are remitted, sent back. We are pro-nounced children of God, and disciples of his holy word. And we are given charge over a little word that subdues even the devil: forgiveness.