While We Were Still Sinners
July 24, 2022
Preached by Benjamin Vrbicek
Scripture Reading
John 2:23-25
23 Now when he was in Jerusalem at the Passover Feast, many believed in his name when they saw the signs that he was doing. 24 But Jesus on his part did not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people 25 and needed no one to bear witness about man, for he himself knew what was in man.
We’ve had more children in the sanctuary all summer. And we’re glad for that. We’ve been collecting the pictures drawn by both adults and children and putting them up in the foyer. After the service, people have been just laying them on the stage, and then we put them up throughout the week. For this sermon, I’ll suggest a picture you might draw. Start with the picture of a heart. You can make a real-looking heart, like one from a textbook in the shape of an actual heart, or you can just draw the more classic heart shape. After you’ve drawn that, try to make the heart as ugly as possible. You can do that by adding things to the heart, putting things around the heart, or putting things inside the heart. But try to make at least part of the heart as ugly as possible. Now, in suggesting that kind of picture, you can probably anticipate some of what we might be talking about. So, let’s pray before we do that. “Dear heavenly Father . . .”
Introduction: What’s Really Broken?
A little over a dozen years ago, my wife told me a story. At the time we had two children. I wasn’t there, but as they were all sitting at the dinner table, my wife tells me, one kid spilled his drink. Then his older sister spilled her drink. “Then,” my wife said, “I spilled my drink.” Next, my wife says that my daughter looked at her and said, “Mom, I think there’s something wrong with the table.” Well, that’s one way to look at it, isn’t it.
Maybe the table needed to be re-sanded. Maybe the table was not level. Maybe there were huge divots in the table that made glasses unstable. But maybe the problem was not the table.
Around our house, as innocent and sweet and fun as it is to remember that story, maybe the story is really telling—or I should say replaying—a much older story, a story as old as Adam and Eve. It’s a story that plays out every day of your life, both in your life and even in the entertainment we have. Some of you will have been watching the show Stranger Things. And a huge part of the show, you find out, is this dark part of the city of Hawkins where they all live. They call it the upside down. It’s a place just like Hawkins, the place just like what everyone can see, except the upside down is dark and scary; it’s the place where evil lives. It’s from the upside down that bad things—otherwise unexplainable things—keep happening.
This passage we have before us, short as it is, is part of this old story. And it’s at once both an odd passage and, I believe, wonderful. It’s odd because it speaks to a part of us we might prefer to ignore. We don’t like to look at the darkness in our hearts, let alone be told that God sees the impurity of our motives. It’s also an odd passage because, in the first reading, the passage seems to present Jesus in an odd way, as though he’s aloof or not welcoming those who seem to want him. What’s that about? It’s odd. But at the same time, when we read this passage in the larger context of the gospel and the person and work of Jesus, it’s a wonderful passage, a passage that preaches good news.
1. Believing biblical anthropology is good for you.
We’ll look at this passage in two parts. First, we’ll talk about why believing biblical anthropology is good for you. I’ll give you the second point later. Let me say the first point again: believing biblical anthropology is good for you.
Now, as a general rule, I’d typically try to avoid such phrasing. But this week I thought I’d just use the big words and explain them. When I say anthropology, I mean who we are as people and what does it mean to be human. In short, I mean what are people like. Our passage speaks to a part of what it means to be human. And that’s what I mean by believing biblical anthropology; I mean for us to see what the Bible has to say about us and value the Bible’s view of us as true, even as good for us. I’ll read the passage again.
Now when he was in Jerusalem at the Passover Feast, many believed in his name when they saw the signs that he was doing. But Jesus on his part did not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to bear witness about man, for he himself knew what was in man. (John 2:23–25)
So far in John’s gospel, we’ve met John the Witness. He’s out in the desert baptizing people and witnessing to Jesus. Then we met a few disciples: Philip, Andrew, Peter, and Nathanael. Then we saw Jesus do his first sign, turning water to wine at a wedding. Then Jesus travels south to Jerusalem during Passover. Passover was a giant celebration of God’s deliverance of his people from Egypt. As one pastor put it, “Passover is like Christmas and Easter and Independence Day all rolled into one week-long holiday.” And Jesus is there in Jerusalem, along with likely a few hundred thousand people. In last week’s passage we heard about Jesus cleansing the temple, taking a whip driving out those who had made the temple a circus. So there has been plenty of action, plenty of, what John calls, signs. And there have been even more than John lists. Let me read the first verse again.
Now when he was in Jerusalem at the Passover Feast, many believed in his name when they saw the signs that he was doing. (v. 23)
These people believe in Jesus. And in the gospel of John, believing is a big deal. The theme verse of the book tells us that everything that was written in this book was written so that people would believe—that you would believe even (20:30–31). So, here, we read that many are in fact believing. That’s a great thing, right? Look at vv. 24–25.
But Jesus on his part did not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to bear witness about man, for he himself knew what was in man. (2:24–25)
This is odd, right? These people believe, but Jesus doesn’t believe their belief? There’s a deliberate play on words in the Greek. We have the translation “[they] believed” and Jesus “would not entrust himself to them.” But we might more woodenly translate that they are believe in him, but Jesus would not believe in them.
Some of you will remember, as I do, with mixed feelings about baseball in the late 90s. In the late 90s a number of key players were hitting home runs like nobody had ever hit them, and to this day, no one has since. It was fun to watch. I remember going early to a St. Louis Cardinal game with my friend Aaron. We were there for batting practice to see Mark McGuire crush the ball. Several players in those years were chasing 70 home runs in a single season, which in baseball is a ton of home runs, almost, you might say, an unbelievable amount of home runs. And that’s why some of us are conflicted as we think about that era. It was too good to be true. Those players were cheating. And as if the amazing results weren’t enough to question the purity of it all, there was the physicality of the players, which was changing before the eyes of the fans. Their forearms looked like the thighs of football players.
A similar thing happened with Lance Armstrong. There was this mystic of a cancer survivor who came back to life and went on to win the Tour de France seven times, and, well, it almost seemed too good to be true. In hindsight, not only have they taken away his winning titles, but they couldn’t give the title to any one of the top riders in that era because the top riders were all cheating. In short, there was something about that era, even as you watched it, that wasn’t to be trusted.
In the context of our passage, Jesus is saying something similar—not of one era, but of all anthropology. There’s something not to be trusted, something cracked and flawed about us. Jesus has a healthy suspicion about our loyalty and our purity.
Later in John’s gospel, after Jesus feeds the five thousand in chapter 6, we read a key verse. We read that the people wanted to come and make him king by force (6:15). Instead of letting them, he withdrew. Why would Jesus do a sign, see people follow him after he did the sign, and then withdraw from people who want to make him king? Why would he not trust those who are trusting in him? I’ll read v. 23 again.
Now when he was in Jerusalem at the Passover Feast, many believed in his name when they saw the signs that he was doing. (v. 23)
People were supposed see the signs and believe in his name. So what’s wrong? There’s something about their belief, as there was something about hitting 70 home runs in one season and as there was about Lance’s tour victories, that is not to be trusted. That’s what Jesus is saying about our humanity, our anthropology. An Old Testament prophet named Jeremiah once put it like this: “The heart is deceitful above all things” (Jer. 17:9). Theologians sometimes use the phase “total depravity” to describe this view of humans. Total depravity is often misunderstood. Totally depraved can make it sounds like humans are as bad as we could possibly be, that we are totally bad. That’s not what it means. Total depravity means that everything about us is tainted. Our corruption is total in that some corruption taints all that we do. It means that even our best works are built on a foundation with a crack.
This passage in John, as it points to the flaws and cracks and darkness, can be offensive. It points out the dangers of embracing the “follow your heart” view of life. If there is something wrong with our hearts, something ugly within us, we ought to be careful about doing whatever our hearts want. We should cultivate humility and accountability rather than shirking it off. I’ll give you one example of this for me. We have a sermon debrief meeting at this church with nine people (about half are volunteers and half are staff). We meet each week to talk about the sermon. And we all have different opinions about what makes a good sermon, and so sometimes it’s hard to agree, but we do it because I don’t want to become a lead pastor, or any of our pastors to become pastors, who assume everything we do and say is right. We want accountability.
You are probably more affected by this “follow your heart” mentality than you think. I’ll give you two examples, one about church and the other about prayer.
To put it very concretely, most of you will come to this church, and most of you will leave this church without ever bringing the pastors into that conversation of whether you should come and stay and whether it’s time to go. I say this on the experience of tons of people leaving this church over the last decade. And what I can say is that most people make the decision to come and leave without talking to the pastors of the church. I’m not trying to take away your agency in choosing what church you go to. Of course you should make that choice. You should make a choice. But should you make it by yourself? Should you assume that you have all the resources within yourself to make decisions without consulting those who, presumably, you were looking to for spiritual counsel each Sunday morning? What I’m saying is that that very few people will involve their pastors in the choice to stay or leave a church. I think, as you can tell, that’s a bad move. But I’m saying this is a symptom of something deeper. It’s one manifestation of “follow your heart” that shows up in our church. Our unwillingness to seek the counsel of others communicates that, deep down, we trust our trust too much.
I’ll give another example. I think of the way this affects our culture of prayer, or maybe I’ll say lack of prayer. Across the board, we do not have a vibrant culture of desperate prayer. Why don’t we have this? There are several reasons. For starters, after more than eight years here, this church reflects some of my strengths and some of my weaknesses. And if I’m not great at desperate prayer, the kind of prayer that relies on God for wisdom and strength and healing, and that lack on my part is probably contagious. That’s one reason. Also, as a church leadership team we’re not the best at creating venues for people to pray and promoting those times and venues. That’s on us too.
But here’s another reason. We don’t think we need God. We are all, you and I included, in an environment and a country where we’re preached to follow our heart. Your heart will guide you; your heart can’t be wrong, we’re told. We’re told this in nearly every show, every movie, every news channel, and in so much of our educational system and from self-help gurus. Yesterday I was reading the marketing on the yogurt cup sitting on the breakfast table, and it was preaching, essentially, a “follow your heart” sermon. In the church we might not think we’re affected by this, but I’m telling you that we are. It’s so hard to build a culture of desperate prayer when we don’t see ourselves in desperate need. If, instead, we saw ourselves as weak, wounded, and wayward—if we saw ourselves the way Jesus sees us—we might be people who prayed.
All of this is underscored in the passage we’ll come to next week. In fact, we’re supposed to see our passage this morning as vitally connected to the passage next week. Look at how our passage ends and how the next one begins.
Now when he was in Jerusalem at the Passover Feast, many believed in his name when they saw the signs that he was doing. But Jesus on his part did not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to bear witness about man, for he himself knew what was in man. (2:23–25)
Now there was a man of the Pharisees named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews. This man came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with him.” (3:1–2)
Nicodemus seems to believe in Jesus. He sees the signs. But there’s something wrong, as we’ll find out, with his belief, with his witness. Nicodemus, we’ll see, needs more than a moral improvement program. His anthropology is so bad, he needs to be reborn. He needs a new heart. You’ll have to come back next week to hear Pastor Ben preach.
2. Believing biblical Christology is even better good news for you.
And so here, we need to talk about the second point in this sermon. Our first point was that believing biblical anthropology is good for you. It’s good for us to know who we really are. I’ll put it like this. You might choose to buy a house that has a crack in the foundation. You might say, I see that crack, but I’ll do what needs to be done to account for that crack. But that’s a very different thing than buying a house with a crack in the basement when you don’t know it’s there. This is why it’s good to know your biblical anthropology. And not only that, but if you know who you really are, you can look for the right person to help you. Which leads to the second point: believing biblical Christology is even better good news for you. That word Christology is a big word. It just means the study of the person and work of Jesus Christ. Short as these verses are, they say much about our savior.
He is all-knowing yet without need.
Look again.
But Jesus on his part did not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to bear witness about man, for he himself knew what was in man. (2:24–25)
Have you ever thought about how good it is that Jesus doesn’t need anything? I’ll put it like this. What if he did have needs? Like what if his emotional well-being hinged upon how faithful you were today? That’s not good news.
And consider his knowledge. In a few weeks, we’ll come to chapter four. Jesus has a conversation with a woman. After that conversation the woman evangelizes her whole town, saying, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?” she asks (John 4:29). Jesus doesn’t need to see your Amazon shopping cart to know you. He doesn’t need to see your Netflix history or your Internet browsing history. He doesn’t need to see your bank statement to know you. He doesn’t need to be invited into your living room or dining room and kitchen. Doesn’t need to read your diary. He knows.
Think about the contrast that is with us. In some seasons, I fill out one pastoral recommendation letter a week. This last week, I filled out two references. Every time you all want to volunteer at some ministry or other or work with children, you ask to put my name down, and I say yes when people call or email. And I don’t mind. I love to help. But what does the asking communicate? We don’t know who people are. We have to feel it out and get references, and do hours of interviews. Jesus is so different than us, and that’s a good thing.
He is also light.
Jesus is also different from us in his essence. Where we have cracks, he is firm—through and through. Where we have some darkness, he has light, all the way from top to bottom. We are upside down; he is right-side up. Listen to these verses from chapter 1.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. (1:1–5)
The light of Jesus signs so brightly that the darkness can’t overcome it. And that’s good news for you. It means that whatever you’ve done, no matter how bad, no matter how shameful, your darkness can’t conquer the light of Christ.
And yet we need to slow down just for a bit. If all this is true, do you see a problem? We have cracks in our foundation. Jesus has no cracks. He is all-knowing and all-light, all-purity and all-moral-excellence. Isn’t a problem for us? How is that good news? If you have nothing you can do to earn God’s love because everything about us is tainted, isn’t that a problem?
Yes! It is a problem. It’s the great problem of the Bible—how can a holy God love sinful people? Which is why we need to remember he is love. He is all-knowing. He is light. And he is love.
At the start of the sermon I told you to consider drawing a picture of a heart. And then I said to make that heart as ugly as you can. We don’t see our hearts that way. But when God sees us, he can see the worst parts of us. On that very same picture, maybe you’d now consider writing this a phrase somewhere on that picture: Jesus loves me.
We don’t see this love in the passage necessarily. We have to consider where this passage fits. It fits in within a story. Jesus feeds the five thousand and then hides because the story is not merely about the Son of God who can make bread, but the story of the savior. The gospel is the story of the savior who knows the worst about you, and because of that, he dies for you, which is why I say Jesus loves you—the real you, not the Sunday you. Not the manicured and makeup you. Not the all-your-great-successes you. He knows you as you are, and he loves you.
I titled the sermon after a phrase from a passage in the book of Romans: while we were still sinners. The phrase comes from chapter 5. I’d like to read it as we close as an encouragement to you:
For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die—but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Rom. 5:6–8)
There is a story as old as Adam and Eve, the story of men and women with flaws. But there is a greater story around that story. The story of a savior who crushes the head of evil. And that story, the greater story with the greater savior, can be your story, if you want it to be. Let’s pray . . .
Sermon Discussion Questions
Did you draw a picture of an ugly heart? If so, describe it. If not, what might you have drawn to make it ugly?
Have you ever bought something but didn’t realize what you were buying was actually broken, like a house or a car or some sort of electronic device? Why would it have been better to have known about the flaw beforehand? How does this relate to the sermon and the passage?
If all of us are flawed, what ways do you seek to account for your flaws? What are practical ways you are cultivating humility and accountability in your life? Does this come easily? Why or why not?
Pastor Benjamin said the great problem of the Bible is “How can a holy God love sinful people?” What is the Bible’s answer to that question? How is it good news?
