Psalm 51:1-7
Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love;
according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin!
For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.
Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight, so that you may be justified in your words and blameless in your judgment.
Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me.
Behold, you delight in truth in the inward being, and you teach me wisdom in the secret heart.
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
You never know what small children will say.
One profound comment came from my nephew's young son awhile back. The family lives in the state of Washington, and they are very dedicated to their church. It doesn't happen to be a Lutheran congregation, but that's beside the point.
Anyway, little Levi Reed was with his family at a church service, and they sang a song which included the words "I surrender all." Levi's father (my nephew, Matt) was asking Levi later in the day what it meant to surrender. He asked the boy, "If we sing in church, 'I surrender all,' what does that mean?"
(Already I like hearing that good “Lutheran” question, “What does this mean?”)
Anyway, Levi got a quizzical look on his face. He thought about it for a minute and then he said ……
"Don't shoot??"
Levi has excellent theology.
Contrary to the teaching in a lot of churches, "I surrender" is not our gift to God. It's not the presentation of a heart we pledge to God or a dedication to which the believer obligates himself.
The only surrender which matters is the one made by Christ who surrendered His life on the cross for us all, yielding up Himself that we be shielded from the slings and arrows we deserve.
The only "I surrender" which can issue from the lips of fallen sinners is the appeal, "Don't shoot."
Kyrie Eleison, Lord, have mercy. Don't shoot me!
In essence, this was the supplication of the two blind men calling out to Jesus, "Have mercy on us, Son of David!" (Matthew 9:27) Don't shoot. The penitent cries in Psalm 31, "Be merciful to me, O Lord, for I am in distress." Don't shoot me.
It is also the desperation of Elijah, "I am the only one left, and they are trying to kill me." Don't shoot.
We put our hands high in the air (“stick ‘em up”) not because we have anything to hold out as an offering to God but in confession that there is nothing in my hands I bring. Like the prodigal son who implored his father just to make him a servant -- only just don't shoot me as I deserve.
Sinners are in the cross-hairs facing a just execution. What can we cry out except, "Don't shoot."
God's merciful answer is more than we could ever hope for. Jesus, in our place, stepped to that cross – into those cross-hairs. For us the Son of God was slaughtered. He never argued that he didn't deserve it or cry for clemency. He surrendered his life. His plea was not to be spared but to do as the Father's willed. He gave us the gift which was more than just his heart. Jesus gave us his righteous, his obedience, his kingdom and his very life. He obligated himself to sparing us by the sacrifice of his own life.
"I surrender" is false theology if it denotes an action I chose to deliver my life to God. Christian salvation is God through Christ delivering His life to us.
St. Paul was absolutely correct in making clear that even surrendering our body to the flames gains nothing without the prior and preeminent love of Christ. We have no plea but for mercy. And to that cry comes the answer in Jesus' final breath from the cross. “When Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit." He surrendered. His arms were raised.
In one of our hymns, it is not the Christian to whom the words are applied, but the Christ who humbly utters:
"My heart abounds in lowliness, My soul with love is glowing;
And gracious words My lips express, With meekness overflowing.
My heart, My mind, My strength, My all, To God I yield, on Him I call.
To God, Jesus yielded for us, surrendering his life. His surrender is our victory; and now his victory is the means by which all things are yielded to him in faith.
Should we seek to yield even our lives for God as an act of merit, it achieves nothing. Our strength and joy is God, the Son, whom the Father surrendered to the cross for us.
