Well, it’s summertime, and the living is easy. So let’s talk about something lighthearted, something fun. Something like, oh, I don’t know — sin.

Yikes! Ushers, bar the doors! Don’t let anybody out of here. ‘Cause I know that when I say we are going to talk about sin, some of you want out. Now. Especially the former Baptists and the former Roman Catholics. Well, actually, there are lots of folks who are former lots of things who don’t look forward to a discussion of sin, and neither do many "cradle" Episcopalians.

And that’s understandable, because most of the time, when preachers get wound up about sin, the objective is to make you feel terrible about yourself, and to make you feel very, very guilty about what you’ve done. And that, of course, is the perfect time to pass the collection plate. Bar the doors, ushers, there’s no better way to increase sagging summer revenues than a fire-breathing discussion of sin to a captive audience.

But, at the risk of financial ruin, let’s see if we can have a different kind of discussion about sin. Because I find that what St. Paul has to say about it to be very liberating.

Now, before we get in to what Paul has to say about sin, let me tell you what I think sin isn’t and what I think it is. First, what it isn’t. Most of us were taught as children that sin means breaking the rules. And grownups got to make the rules, and the biggest grownup of all, God, made the Ten Commandments. The Ten Commandments were supplemented by all kinds of rules parents and teachers added on: "Don’t hit your sister." "Wear clean underwear." "Keep your hands to yourself." "Eat your vegetables (there is a child starving in China)," etc. Lots and lots of rules, and sin was when you broke them. So sin was controlled by something external, the rules, and if you didn’t break the rules, you were sinless.

Well, that’s not such a bad system for trying to coerce children into behaving by use of guilt and threats of punishment and hell. The religious implications (which are pretty horrifying) aside, this approach to sin can be a pretty effective way to control children and even adults as tens of millions of fearful, guilt-ridden Christians can attest. But I don’t think that view of sin is adequate. Because I don’t think anyone, even if you follow all the rules all the time, is without sin.

I think sin is this: anything we do, or say, or think that does not promote perfect, loving relationship. That relationship could be with God, or other people, or ourselves, or the creation. And lots of times we want to fudge a little here, you know, say, "We’ll, it was pretty good," or, "I do a lot better than this other guy I know," but that doesn’t get it. God’s standard is perfection, perfect loving relationship, and that is the standard we have to use.

So, sin is anything we do, or say, or think that is not part of perfect, loving relationship. Woe! Now everybody wants to head for the doors! Now folks are thinking, "You know, just trying to follow the rules, as impossible as that was, wasn’t so bad compared to this." Well, hang on. Let’s look at what Paul has to say. No, first, let’s look at Paul.

You know, Paul is sort of the hyper "Christian’s Christian." Never at a loss for an opinion, Paul often comes off as pretty self-righteous, and when you read about his exploits and the way he devotes his whole life to spreading the gospel, the way he takes journey after journey to cover most of the known world, the way he suffers prison and beatings and illness to spread the gospel, the way he is so sure about what is right and wrong, the way he almost single-handedly saves Christianity after the fall of Jerusalem, well, I find it a little intimidating. I find myself thinking about him, the way I sometimes think about other giants among religious leaders, like he’s not cut from the same cloth as I am. He seems so much better. Surely he doesn’t sin. He doesn’t break the rules. He probably doesn’t even think any of the bad thoughts that I think all the time. I bet he’s not tempted to gossip, or think of someone as an object, or wish they would go away, or resent them for doing well. I bet he never says things that hurt people, or reacts defensively, or thinks that it is more important to win an argument than to care for the other person. I do all those things, and it just seems to me that I’m some sort of a different species than Paul or the "Saints."

So, let’s listen to what Paul has to say about sin. It’s not all in our reading this morning, and it’s not at all the kind of sin that means just breaking the rules. Paul says,

I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. . . . I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. . . . So If I find it to be a law that when I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, that dwells in my members." (Rom. 7: 15-16, 18b-20, 21-24).

Now, here’s what I find to be the good news in this. If a guy like Paul, this giant, hyper-Christian who was really anal-retentive, can say this, then there is hope for me. If Paul can say, "I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. . . . I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do," I can say, "Wow! That sounds like me." I don’t get very far into the day before I say or do or think something that is less than perfect relationship, even when I know better and try hard.

Here’s the strange good news about sin, folks: it is the common human condition; it is what we all have pretty much all the time, it is the boat we are all in.

What’s so good about that? Well, it means you are not alone. If you understand sin the way I do and the way I think St. Paul does, we’ve all got it, it is part of our character, at least our character flaw. It is part of our being. So we are all sinners. None of us gets very far into our day before we do or say or think something that is less than perfect, loving relationship. There is real comfort in knowing that every other human being in the world, no matter what kind of pedestal you have put them on, is in that boat with you and with me.

And there is great liberation in knowing that, since we’re going to acknowledge our sinfulness, we don’t have to pretend that we’re not sinners. Lots of people in church, preachers and people in the pews, say because they’re supposed to say it, "We’re all sinners," but you can tell by looking at them, by listening to the tone in their voice, that they don’t really mean it. They say, "We’re all sinners," but they really mean, "We’re supposed to call ourselves sinners, so we will, but you’re the real sinner!"

How liberating it is to know that we all do and think and say the things we know we shouldn’t. You don’t have to rob a bank or break the Ten Commandments to be a sinner, you only have to think some snide, caddie thought.

Now, you can think that that is oppressive if you want to. It’s easy to realize how much we sin and fall into despair. But I hope you won’t. In fact, I hope you’ll find it liberating. Because it gives us a chance to do something so wonderful — to tell the truth, to stop pretending that we’re good enough to win God’s love, to get off that hopeless treadmill of trying to convince ourselves that we are righteous enough to earn God’s love.

Listen to what the great reformer Martin Luther said about sin in 1521: "If you are a preacher of grace, then preach a true and not a fictitious grace; if grace is true, you must bear a true and not a fictitious sin. God does not save people who are only fictitious sinners."

So if you want God to save you, admit that you need saving. That’s not rocket science. If you fell into a lake and you couldn’t swim, would you pretend you could swim, or would you call for help? Fictitious swimmers drown. This isn’t hard, but still so many of us think that if we acknowledge how much we are sinners, it will be too ugly, and we won’t be saved. It’s just the opposite!

And that’s good news. Because God is up to the task. Luther goes on to say, "Be a sinner and sin boldly [He’s not endorsing it; he knows you can’t help it, and he doesn’t want you to be paralyzed by it], but believe and rejoice in Christ even more boldly, for he is victorious over sin, death, and the world."

Luther goes on to say, "No sin will separate us from the Lamb. . . . Do you think that the purchase price that was paid for the redemption of our sins by so great a Lamb is too small? Pray boldly — you too are a mighty sinner."

So, we start off with this heavy topic, this frightening, guilt-ridden topic of sin, and we end up in a pretty wonderful place. We don’t have to pretend that we’re not, and we can rest assured that Christ is up to it. And that enables us to do some things that, I think, are really, truly astounding, that are the real steps toward sinning less : tell the truth about who we are, about how far short we fall pretty much all the time, and laugh about it.

Nothing de-fangs evil like laughing about it. The Devil loves stern Christians. Christians who laugh at our won shortcomings, confident of God’s love, drive him crazy. So (hear me now) without diminishing the damage and hurt we can cause by our sinfulness, we can still laugh at what odd, silly creatures we are that we know what is good and do what is bad; we can laugh that God’s love is so perfect that God loves us despite our sinfulness and always encourages us to do better.

It’s summertime, and the living is easy, and we’re talking about sin. And what a wonderful, amazing thing that we can be so confident of God’s love, that in the face of that stern, frightening topic — in the full and honest acknowledgment of our deeply flawed nature — the universe can ring with laughter.

It’s summertime, and the living is easy. How sad it is that we are such sinners. What pain and hurt we cause by being such sinners. But what a gift God is to us. Leave here today knowing that you are a mighty sinner, sorry that you sin so much, wanting to do better, and so confident of God’s love for us sinners that you can look at your silly, sinful self and chuckle.