“Drifting Away”

Text: Hebrews 2:1-4

Grace, mercy, and peace be to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

“Therefore, we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it. How will we escape the judgment if we neglect such a great salvation?”

Imagine yourself out in a boat. It doesn’t matter what type of boat it is. You’re just a little ways off from the shore and it’s a peaceful day so you close your eyes and before long you’re asleep. You wake up after a brief but peaceful nap only to look up and realize that the shore which was first just a few yards off is now very far off in the distance. You’ve drifted away. And now you’re going to need some sort of propulsion to get you back where you need to be. A motor, a sail, paddles. Something will be required to counter the drift that’s happened while you slept. As the writer of Hebrews says, this can happen in regard to our faith as well. “Pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it.” And that’s what we’ll focus on this morning

We know that faith isn’t a decision. A baby can’t decide to come to the font, any more than Lazarus could have chosen to rise from his grave. And to that truth we offer an enthusiastic AMEN, because if it was our decision, we so often would choose poorly.

And yet, in the Christian life there is an element of decision. A path that we choose to walk. And that path is always perilous, and the narrow door an even tighter squeeze. Like Peter, we’ve seen our Lord, we’ve jumped into the sea, and we’re swimming for shore. But perhaps we didn’t figure on the fact that there’s an undertow. That the garments we forgot to take off are weighing us down. So many other swimmers around us seem to be drifting away, back out to sea. And it’s easy to see ourselves joining them.

There’s a Christian college in central Indiana called Grace College. They’re not far off the road that runs straight west from Fort Wayne to Chicago, and they have a number of billboards along the main road. As I made trips back and forth a few summers ago, I would pass these billboards for the school that read “Decidedly Christian.” I didn’t think much of it then. Or perhaps I even had the characteristically Lutheran reaction and cringed at the thought of being involved in a decision about my faith. But since then, that phrase has actually grown on me. Decidedly Christian. In a society that’s switched gears from indifference to hostility, that’s what it’s going to take. It’s not all that different from the motto of our own school right down the road. Concordia encourages students to Live Uncommon. If common is the way of the world, we as Christians are certainly called to Live Uncommon.

Indeed, there are some who are swimming against the strong current of commonness the world continues to be riding. There are Christian institutions that have instituted policies that uphold the Biblical mandate of marriage between a man and a woman and require employee adherence to this God-ordered institution. And in some of those places students are being denied positions as student teachers or the school is in danger of losing its accreditation.

In other places, Christian schools have simply drifted away. You may remember that not that long ago a Marquette professor was fired for speaking out in defense of marriage. Christian institutions, instead of fighting the good fight for what is good and right and true according to God’s Word, are folding under the pressure the culture is putting on them. Unwilling to stand up because sitting back is easier and causes less waves.

And it’s not just individuals that are getting caught up in the current. We can see the drift in churches where the bells still ring on Sunday morning, but where if we were to go inside, their creeds have turned into social statements. Their doctrine becoming totally devoid of anything that resembles God’s will for His people.

And we’re not immune from these same forces that are pulling people and churches under. We sense it in our own synod as well. In response to the backlash the church receives for its positions, the faithful post. Not on the Wittenberg door, but more likely on Facebook, the truth about the world’s departures from God’s Holy Word.

And for this, they’re Liked—by some . . . and mocked by others. Some are eager to make this sort of confession and others are much less vocal. Some will say that this is a great way to show our faith and others will shy away from these public proclamations. Whether on social media or in other places, we have to ask the question “when and where is the right place to make a confession?” The public square? A town board meeting? Across the fence with a neighbor? Some would say no to all of those places, or anywhere else for that matter. That would be impolite, discourteous, and presumptuous. Kind of like telling off the people in your hometown synagogue. Or like rebuking a host and honored guests at a dinner party. Or overturning tables at the temple—and challenging respected authorities. Some things just aren’t done.

So, when is the right time and the right place to make a confession? Our human frailty and tentativeness advise caution. We think, if we speak, we’re apt to say the wrong thing. If we speak, we might stumble. If we speak, someone might get upset, or our future might be jeopardized. So, we think that the right thing to do is to be hesitant.

Caution is a virtue. As are courtesy and kindness. We truly must be eager to listen, and slow to speak. But if speaking up is dangerous, silence can be deadly. Do we really believe that the devil can be felled by one little word, or is that just a line in a hymn that we sing? If we wait too long, we might just end up saying nothing. And we might very well polite ourselves, and others, to death. And what credit is it to us if we say nothing wrong, when, finally we’ve said nothing right. Really what’s happening is that our hesitancy to speak the truth is masquerading as caution.

And so, we join groups of the like-minded. We’re bold among our friends. But if we’re confessional only among the confessionals, what credit is that to us? Are we ready to make a confession before friends, neighbors, governors and kings? Peter pledged to go to prison, even death, rather than deny his Lord. Three denials later, our Lord turned him around, and Peter ended up doing just that.

As we watch the world around us paying little to no attention to what we’ve heard from God’s Word, it makes it all the more important that

WE HOLD ON TO WHAT WE HAVE HEARD,

LEST WE DRIFT AWAY FROM GOD’S GREAT GIFT OF SALVATION.

This is as true for each one of us as it is for everyone else. Drifting away from what we’ve heard, from the faith instilled in us by the Holy Spirit is almost never a matter of immediate detachment as much as it is the slow drifting off. It’s the peaceful nap on the boat that leaves us further away from the shore than we ever thought we’d be. And the longer we allow that to happen, the further removed we get, and soon enough, that peaceful nap becomes a coma.

We’re saved by grace through faith, completely apart from works, so don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that without our works, without our confession, that our faith isn’t genuine. But that kind of faith won’t last, won’t endure, unless it’s fortified, nurtured, and called to mind. And a confession isn’t much of a confession if it’s just words in a book or a box to be checked. A true confession has to be sung; it has to be spoken and prayed. And not just within the confines of our sanctuary. Our confession needs to be a light in the darkness, a shout from the rooftops.

As Christians, we’re certainly called to be optimists. Not because we’re hoping for a brighter future here on earth, but rather because we’re convinced of the brightest future being prepared for us in eternity. But when it comes to our immediate future, I have to say that I’m a bit of a pessimist. Because I can see the persecution that’s coming. But that’s hardly news. You don’t need a meteorologist to tell you it’s raining. Plus, we have the many words of Jesus which clearly tell us that the world is going to hate us.

So, what do we do? I suppose, we start by praying for the wisdom of Solomon and the courage of the prophets. We certainly don’t need to dress in camel’s hair and live in the wilderness declaring at the top of our lungs that the kingdom of God is at hand. It doesn’t work for those who do that in Times Square. But we can’t sit idly by. We need to, as our text tells us, pay much closer attention, hold fast all the more, to what we have heard, lest we drift away. “For since the message declared by angels proved to be reliable and every transgression or disobedience received a just retribution, how shall we escape if we neglect such a great salvation?”

So great a salvation, for sinners, like us. A salvation won by Christ, who Himself braved the stormy seas, and calmed them. Climbed the highest mountains and conquered them. Who paid the greatest price the world has ever known.

So today, I propose that we do just what the writer of Hebrews says and hold on to that which we have heard, lest we drift away. For what the Bible tells us is our creed. We don’t make up our own creeds to suit the day, or the situation. We hold to only what God has said. And we start with the things we’ve heard from our readings today.

“He created made them male and female.” It might not be a popular confession today, but it’s the truth. “What therefore God has joined together, let man not separate.” Again, not a popular confession, but the truth. “Let the little children come to Me, for to such belongs the kingdom of God.” Perhaps less unpopular, but still countercultural today. And most importantly we hold to this. “Jesus, crowned with glory and honor because of His suffering and death, so that by the grace of God He might taste death for everyone.” That’s the message we need to pay the utmost attention to, lest we drift away from it.

And when you find that you’ve fallen asleep in the boat, because it will happen. When you wake up and see the shore so far off that you can’t imagine a way back to it. Remember that the only source of power and strength to bring you back to that faith you’ve been called to is the work of the Holy Spirit, which reminds us that it’s not our own strength that can save us. It’s the power of the work done by Christ on our behalf. That’s what will return you to the safety of the shore, the fold, to which God has called you. Amen.

The peace of God which surpasses all understanding guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.