A Saint is Just a Sinner Who Fell Down and Got Up

Scripture Lessons: Psalm 23 and Revelation 7: 9-17 Sermon Title: A Saint is Just a Sinner Who Fell Down and Got Up Preached on May 8, 2022 This second Scripture lesson from the book of Revelation makes me think of three hymns. This is the first: Oh, when the saints Go marching in Oh, when the saints go marching in Lord, I want to be in that number When the saints go marching in That’s a good song to hear Louis Armstrong play. It’s also a good one to sing at a funeral. If you’re from New Orleans, you may have heard it in a funeral procession, and that really makes sense. That’s what the song is about: when the saints go marching into heaven. Did you know that? It’s true, and as strange as the book of Revelation is, the images in this book are more familiar than we sometimes realize. Who would have imagined that a song we all know the words to was inspired by the Scripture lesson we just read? A better question to ask is, who here knows what you must do to be in that number? Lord, I want to be in that number, when the saints go marching in. That’s true. I do, but how? That’s where the second hymn that this passage from Revelation makes me think of comes in. I can’t play it on the harmonica, but you might know the words: There is power Power Wonder working power In the blood Of the lamb There is power Power Wonder working power In the precious blood of the lamb Do you know that one? If you were raised Baptist, you probably know how to sing that hymn. Its lyrics are based in verses of our second Scripture lesson: “Who are these, robed in white and where have they come from?” “These are [the saints] who have come out of the great ordeal; [for] they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the lamb.” If you want to be in that number, then you, too, must be washed in the blood of the Lamb, only what does that mean? That’s the question we must always ask when reading the book of Revelation, “Now what does that mean?” Let me try to tell you. A good friend of mine, Brandom Gengelbach, was president of the chamber of commerce in the town where we both lived in middle Tennessee, south of Nashville. Brandom decided to run for school board because the chamber of commerce recognized, as the chamber is often wise to recognize, that the economic growth of a community is linked to its ability to educate every single child, so Brandom, the chamber president, ran for a seat on the Maury County School Board, even though he had his kids in private school, and he quickly learned how difficult it is to run for public office. Going door to door, asking his neighbors for their votes, carrying around his five-year-old son Tyler, he knocked on the door of a man who asked just one question, “Have you been washed in the blood of the Lamb?” Brandom didn’t know how to answer the question, and later he called me for help. I told him that the answer is “yes,” especially if he wants that guy’s vote, but what does being washed in the blood of the Lamb even mean? It means that His victory, sacrifice, and blood change everything. When Brandom later lost the school board race, were it not for the blood, the loss might have crushed him. He tried and he lost, but he wasn’t crushed. Have you ever been there? I have and so has Coach Mark Richt of the Georgia Bulldogs. Last Thursday morning, I was honored to sit at Nancy Bodiford’s table at the Cobb County Prayer Breakfast where Coach Richt was the speaker. He said that someone asked him why he wasn’t coaching for the Bulldogs anymore. “I got fired, that’s why,” he said, and he said it laughing. Then he started talking about how after he was fired, he almost died. He was exercising in the gym and couldn’t finish the set he was on. He felt so nauseous, made it to the bathroom, but then realized he was all alone and really needed help. He called out. No one heard him. He closed his eyes and was at peace. Now, how did the saints come to be in that number? What does it mean to be washed in the blood of the Lamb? How did they, just as the Scripture lesson says, “come out of the great ordeal?” That’s like asking how Mark Richt could say, “I got fired; that’s why I’m not coaching for the Bulldogs anymore.” That’s like asking how he could close his eyes, thinking he had reached his last breath with peace in his heart? More than that, he told these stories, and the whole time the National Championship trophy, which he couldn’t win, was sitting just to the side of the stage, and I tell you, the reason he could laugh at his failing and have peace at the last was because the victory had already been won and he knew it. That’s what this is all about, and I don’t just mean our Scripture lesson from the book of Revelation, I mean our faith in general. What does it mean to be a saint? Does it mean you won the race? That you finished first? That you never made a mistake or hit rock bottom? No. A saint is just a sinner who fell down and got up. That’s the third hymn this passage from the book of Revelation makes me think of. It’s a Gospel song. You might call it a 7-11 hymn because it repeats the same seven words 11 times. It’s not a Presbyterian hymn where you need a dictionary to understand what you’re singing about it. It just repeats the same powerful phrase again and again and again: We fall down, but we get up We fall down, but we get up We fall down, but we get up For a saint is just a sinner who fell down and got up Did you hear that? So many faced their darkest nights of the soul when they fell down. They lost their jobs. They hit rock bottom. A problem came along that they couldn’t fix by being any nicer or working any harder. So many of us are walking around still feeling like a loser from the memory of falling down or being pushed down by the world. Likewise, I remember being nine or ten years old playing left field at Oregon Park when a dad from the other baseball team pointed to me and yelled to his son as he walked up to bat, “Hit it to the kid in left field; looks like he’s asleep.” I still remember how that felt. This is the kind of thing that happens, and it’s hard to forget about it. If you’ve ever been in such a position, on this Mother’s Day, I hope you had the kind of mother who would have walked over there and given that man a piece of her mind. Or the kind of mother who wiped the tears from your eyes. Or the kind of mother who looked at you and said, “That man’s words don’t define you.” Neither does how you do in this game or any other define you. Your job isn’t ever going to define you. Your height isn’t ever going to define you. Your grades aren’t ever going to define you. Where you get into college isn’t ever going to define you. You have been washed in the blood of the lamb. That’s how those saints robed in white came out of the great ordeal. Their lives on earth were a lives of persecution, famine, oppression, injustice, and slavery. There are saints in that number who watched their friends fed to lions and burned at the stake. How did they make it? How did they survive it? They kept walking through the valley of the shadow of death because they knew Who was with them. Maybe they didn’t win any trophies on this earth, but they knew they were more than conquerors because the One who loved them defeated, not just the world, but death itself. They closed their eyes and felt peace. They washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb. They have come out of the great ordeal. For this reason they are before the throne of God. They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; The sun will not strike them, Nor any scorching heat; For the lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, And he will guide them to springs of the water of life, And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes. This is Christ Jesus Who died for you. You are precious in His sight. Don’t ever forget it. Amen.