Show Me the Way by Bill Hybels Text: Romans 6:23 Topic: Why we need to accept Jesus' offer of salvation Big Idea: All of us have fallen short of God's standard of perfection, although not all of us know it. Keywords: Accepting Christ; Apathy; Conversion; Evangelism; Gift of righteousness; Justification; Receiving Christ; Salvation; Salvation, assurance of; Salvation, need for; Witnessing Introduction • Illustration: Hybels was trying to decide between entering the A or B level of a racquetball tournament until an older man from the C league beat him handily. Transition: Athletics isn't the only area in which people overrate themselves. Most people overrate how good they are in the eyes of God. • Nobody thinks they are operating at the lowest levels of morality (the C league). • Few people are actively looking for a benchmark to see where they stand in terms of God's moral expectations. • Illustration: For the rest of the sermon, Hybels paraphrases a conversation he had on a plane with a non-Christian. • Most people believe that God wants us to live a decent life and not do anything really bad. • Illustration: Hybels drew a vertical line on a napkin, labeling the top "God's standard of goodness." After showing where Mother Theresa, Billy Graham, and himself would rate themselves in comparison to God's standard, Hybels asks the nonChristian to rate himself against God's standard of goodness. Most people underestimate the seriousness of their sin. • Human beings have the amazing capacity to commit acts of rebellion against God and then just say, "Oops;" we think it's no big deal. • Illustration: Hybels draws up a makeshift golf scorecard, and questions the man about various aspects of his life. He then puts an X on the scorecard representing the man's sins. • The Bible says that every sin is a big deal in God's eyes, because he is a holy God. • All of us deserve eternal condemnation for our sins. God provided a way for us to be saved. • Because God is holy, he can't ignore our sin; someone had to take the hit for our shortcomings. • When Jesus died on the cross, all of our sins were transferred over to him; he took our punishment and died in our place because he loves us. • The Bible says that we must all make what Jesus did for the world a personal covenant between ourselves and him. • Illustration: Hybels drew a line on the napkin and asked the man if he wanted to sign up to receive Jesus' forgiveness.

Conclusion • Do you feel like your good enough to meet God's standard of perfection? • Have you taken a moral inventory to see how many Xs are on your scorecard, really? • If you ignore Jesus' offer of forgiveness and salvation, you will be in trouble on Judgment Day; don't let it happen to you.

Show Me the Way All of us have fallen short of God's standard of perfection, although not all of us know it. by Bill Hybels

About ten years ago, I decided to take up the sport of racquetball. One game was all it took for me to get hooked. I just loved it. I started playing regularly, then frequently, and before I knew it I was playing four or five times a week. In those days court time was cheap—about four bucks per game—and so I'd invite a friend to split the cost. He'd pay three, I'd pay one, and then we'd go at it. (Once a Dutchman always a Dutchman.) But after only a few months, I found myself winning almost every single game I played. Of course, I screened my opponents very carefully so that I mainly played the elderly and the infirm, but there was no question in my mind that I had finally found a sport that I could really play well. One day I saw a poster announcing that there was going to be a tournament at the club where I played. I was new to the sport and didn't know how these tournaments worked, so I had to read the poster very carefully. It said there would be three skill levels in this tournament. There would be the C level for those who were recreational novices, people just starting out in the game. The B level was for serious racquetball players and experienced athletes. And from what I could discern, the A level was for guys that lived at the club and slept with their racquets. So I remember standing in that locker room, staring at that tournament poster and asking myself, what skill level should I sign up for? And because I was a minister and a teacher of the Bible (and the Bible promotes virtues like sober-mindedness and humility), I said to myself: Admit it, Bill. You've only played the game for a couple of months. You might not win the A level. Just use sober-minded judgment now. Maybe you ought to sign up for the B level, and if you win the B level, then you can enter at the A level next month and maybe win that. But one thing was for sure: I wanted no part of that C league. I was way past being a recreational novice. As I was finalizing my decision between the A and B level, an older gentleman walked up to me and said, "Are you thinking of entering the tournament?" I said, "I'm thinking about it." And I could tell he was checking me over, trying to determine what league I might enter. And so I started checking him over, too, trying to determine how good he might be. I noticed he was in his mid-fifties and had a little potbelly—short guy, no reach, with stubby, little arms (you look for different things when you're playing different sports). To me, he looked like a friendly pharmacist—no threat. Then he said, "I played in last month's tournament." I asked, "What level?" He said, "C." I thought, Figures. And then he said with a proud smile, "I came in tenth place." I thought to myself: And he's proud of that! If I came in tenth place in C class, I'd want to crawl in a hole and die. But he's admitting it right out here in public.

Then, out of the blue, the guy said, "I've already played a couple of games this afternoon, but if you're looking for a game, I'd be happy to play you." I said okay, and I asked him for three bucks. He didn't bite on that, but I thought a game with him would be a good gamble because I could use it as a benchmark. I could gauge how well a C guy played, and then that would help me decide if I should enter at the B level or jump right into the A level. You smell it coming, don't you? What happened in the next few minutes was agonizing for me. This potbellied, stubby-armed, 50-year-old pharmacist beat me 21 to zip in about 7 minutes. I had never seen a racquetball hit so hard and so low. It seemed like I needed a spatula instead of a racquet. He annihilated me. Afterward, I sat alone in the locker room and thought to myself, How deceived can a person be? Twenty minutes ago I was going to win that A league, or at least be in the hunt. I didn't even want to mess with B league, and it was out of the question to enter the tournament at the C league level. In other words, I had vastly overrated my racquetball ability. And that 50-year-old pharmacist became my benchmark and made me face reality.

Most people overrate how good they are in the eyes of God. Unfortunately, athletics isn't the only arena where people tend to overrate themselves. It can happen in the political arena. It can happen in the business arena. But nowhere does the problem of overrating oneself happen more frequently than in the spiritual arena. Let me just come right out and say it: most people vastly overrate how good they are in the eyes of God. Most people walk around firmly convinced that they're capable of competing at the A level of morality in God's sight—and if not at the A level, then certainly high in the B league. But nobody thinks they operate at the C level of morality. Nobody. Not you, not me. Friends, I have to tell you that mindset is rampant in our society. And nobody seems to be looking for a benchmark to help them find out the truth about whether they're just fine or in deep trouble. I want to help you come to terms with this subject matter today. I want you to know exactly where you stand in God's eyes before you walk out those doors in a few minutes. Maybe the best way I can achieve that objective is by paraphrasing a conversation I had with a guy who happened to sit next to me on a commercial flight. This guy was the quintessential business traveler—carry-on bags only, leather briefcase, aisle seat, scotch and soda. Our conversation went the normal course. As we took off, we covered the stock market, politics, and professional athletics. Later on, after we reached cruising altitude, he asked me what I did for a living. When I told him, he handled it all right. In fact, he told me that he had gone to church when he was a child. He had dropped out during adolescence, but now attended church once or twice a year because he had gotten married

and had a couple of kids, and kids "need a little religious orientation because the world has gone nuts." But somewhere over Kansas, after the meal had been served and collected, I decided to spice things up a little bit. So I poked him and said: "Say, suppose someone from the back of this plane walked up the aisle, tapped you on the shoulder, and asked you how they could get into heaven? What would you tell them they'd have to do?" He said, "Are you talking to me?" I said, "Well, just a few minutes ago we were talking about religion and all that. I just wondered what you would say to a guy who asked you how to get to heaven?" He thought a minute, then said, "I guess I wouldn't know what to say to him." I appreciated his honesty. I waited for a second before asking, "Are you planning on going to heaven when you die?" And he said, "Well, of course." His face said: what a stupid question. So I said, "Why don't you tell me how you're planning on getting there, and then we can figure out what to tell the other guy." He was still a little confused about my line of questioning, and so he said (with a little exasperation in his voice): "Bill, listen. The business world is full of crooks, but I've made it a practice throughout my whole career to shoot straight with people—customers, suppliers, and employees. I shoot straight with people. Also, a lot of guys are fooling around behind their wives' backs, but I want you to know that I have done pretty darn good on the marriage thing. I even doled out a few bucks to my wife's church last Christmas…I might do it again someday." Then he said: "I guess what I'm trying to say is that, in my own mind, I think I'm living a pretty decent life. And that's basically all God's after, isn't it? I looked him right in the eye and said, "Do you really want to know what God's after?" He said, "Yes, I do." And so I decided to take a risk and draw a picture on his leftover dinner-napkin. I wanted to put it down in writing so that he'd be able to visualize it and hang onto it, because I knew how important the subject matter was that I was going to diagram for him. To start, I drew a vertical line from the bottom of the napkin all the way up to the very top. And at the top of the napkin, I wrote in dark, black ink the word "GOD," and I put parenthetically "God's standard of goodness." Then I said to the guy, "I'd like you to put an X on this vertical line at the place representing where you are in terms of being good in God's eyes." I was just about to give him the pen when I thought of something else. I said: "Before you do that, maybe a benchmark would help. Who do you think is the best person living on planet Earth right now?" He thought for a second, then said, "Mother Teresa." I said, "I wouldn't argue that; let's say that she's the best."

Then I added: "There's something you need to know about Mother Teresa. I've heard her give some talks on audio and video tapes, and I've heard her say that she feels terrible about how far short she has fallen from God's standard of goodness and perfection. So I don't know for sure, but I would think that Mother Teresa would put herself about here." And I drew an X about two-thirds of the way down that vertical line. Then I said: "Maybe we can go at it another way. Who do you think is the best person this country has to offer right now—the best person in the United States?" He said, "Billy Graham comes to mind." I said: "I wouldn't argue that either. I've also heard Billy give some talks. In fact, I've had some personal conversations with Billy. And I feel I could say, without fear of him contradicting me, that he would probably place himself a little south of Mother Teresa." Then I said, "Now you don't know me from Adam, but for the last 18 years I've given my life to serving and honoring God. I started a church, a youth group, and a bunch of other ministries. Right now I'm doing the very best I can to help people come to know God and to help marriages come back together. And if you asked me to put an X on that line, I would be well south of Billy." And I put my X down below the other two. I gave him the pen and said, "With that as a frame of reference, why don't you just put your X anywhere you want to on that vertical line." He rolled the pen in his fingers for a little bit and then put his X just south of mine. I looked at that and said: "Man, that's low. You're in trouble. You're down there dangerously close to the bad guys, and you've got this goodness differential that is going to be very hard for you to make up for with the time that you have remaining in your life." Then I added: "Now, you need to know that Mother Teresa's in trouble and she knows it; Billy's in trouble and he knows it; and I'm in trouble and I know it. But I think you've been in trouble and you haven't known it." Boy, the wheels were turning.

Most people underestimate the seriousness of their sin. I asked him if I could have his pen back. He gave it, and I said: "Now, this particular drawing emphasizes man's tendency to overrate his goodness if he doesn't have some benchmarks. But man also has the uncanny ability to underestimate the seriousness of his own sinful deeds. It's really an amazing thing. Human beings can commit acts of rebellion against God and then just say, "Oops." They think God just winks at it. They don't really think it's a big deal. And after a while they don't even think they have a tarnished record, morally speaking." He had told me that he was a golfer, and so I drew up a little caricature of a golf scorecard and put some dates on it. I said: "Could I ask you a couple of questions pertaining to the conversation we had earlier? I just want to illustrate this point." He said I could, so I went on: "You said to me that the business world is full of crooks, but you have shot straight throughout your whole career. Do you mean to tell me that in all your

years of business you have never exaggerated a product you were trying to sell? You never jacked around an employee? You never made a promise that you had no intention of keeping? You never said 'the check is in the mail' when you knew that it wasn't?" And he said, "Never is a big word." I said, "So you've done it some?" He said, "Okay, I've done it some." I said, "Do you think you've done it annually?" He said, "I've probably done it annually." So I said, "Let me just mark that down, then. Annually, you have tripped up ethically in the business world…annually." He said, "All right." I said: "I also remember you saying that a lot of guys fool around behind their wives' backs, but you've been 'pretty darn good' about the marriage thing. Does 'pretty darn good' mean that you are as pure as the driven snow?" He said, "Well, I didn't mean that." I said, "What did you mean?" He said, "Well, a couple of years ago we had a bad year in our marriage." I said, "Well, all right. Then we'll just put a few more Xs across there." And then I just wanted to leave that subject area. I didn't feel like I had to pry there any further. And I said, "What about profanity? Have you ever lost your temper and cursed God?" He said, "For cryin' out loud, everybody's cursed God at some time in their life." I said, "I'm not talking about everybody; I'm asking if you have." He said, "Well, yes, I have." I said, "Have you done it annually?" He said, "Yes, annually. I've done it annually." I said, "Okay, I just want to get that down." And I handled a couple other areas as well. In fact, at one point he said, "I get what you're driving at." And so I took that scorecard that had all those Xs on it, slid it right in front of him, and said: "Boy, your scorecard is graphic. But mine reads a lot like that. Most people's scorecard would read a lot like that. But do you know what most people do? They wink at it. They really don't think it's a big deal in God's eyes. But you've got to know that the Bible says every single X is a big deal in God's eyes, because he's a holy God." Then I said: "Looking at the ladder—you being all the way down near the bottom of the goodness scale—and then looking at your scorecard, I have to tell you that you're in trouble. But a lot of us are." And he said, "So are you telling me that everybody goes to hell?" And I said, "Well, the Bible says everyone who falls short and fouls up and sins deserves to go to hell. That's what the Bible says, even though people don't like to hear it anymore. The Bible says 'there is none righteous, no not one.' It also says in Romans 6:23, 'The wages of sin is death.' And that applies across the board to Mother Teresa, Billy Graham, Bill Hybels, and you." And might I also add at this point, Willow Creek, it applies to you as individuals. If your X is somewhere south of Mother Teresa and Billy, and your scorecard looks something like that, friends, you're in trouble. And the Bible says because of the choices you've made—because of the rebellion that you've been party to, because of how many times

you've shaken your fist in the face of God—you deserve eternal condemnation. You deserve it.

God provided a way for us to be saved. Then I said to the guy: "But God made a way for hell-bound people to escape their fate and get to heaven. Are you interested in knowing about that?" I don't recall his specific answer, but his eyes said, Show me the way. And so I drew a cross in the middle of the napkin between the ladder and the scorecard. And I said: "Listen carefully. Your eternity might depend on it. God could see that people were falling short of his moral standard of perfection. God could see that people were racking up sin at an alarming rate. But because God's a holy God, he couldn't just lower his standards. He couldn't change the accounting system. He couldn't look away from our failures. Holiness doesn't work that way. Holiness demands that justice be done, that crimes be punished, that a price be paid for wrongdoing. Somebody had to take the hit for those shortcomings and sins." So I told the man on the plane: "God did an extraordinary thing. Because of his outrageous love for the likes of you and me, God commissioned Jesus Christ—the second person of the Trinity—to come to Earth in the form of a human being and live among the human race, and then to die a substitutionary death on behalf of sinners." I said: "Stick with me now because this is the heart of the matter. While Jesus, the sinless Son of God, was hanging on the cross, God arranged for the shortcomings and the sins of the world—including yours and mine—to be transferred from our shoulders to the shoulders of Jesus. And when Jesus finally died on the cross, he was assuming your death penalty and mine. Your sentence of capital, eternal punishment for your shortcomings and sins was voluntarily served out by Jesus Christ because you matter to him, because you're a much-loved man. I said: "Does that make sense to you? Did I make it clear?" And I was rooting for him at that minute. I wanted the light to go on. I wanted him to have the eyes of understanding. I could see his gears turning again, and then the guy made a very astute observation. He said: "Wait. If all human beings are sinners, and if Jesus Christ took the rap for everybody when he died on the cross, then the way I see it, everyone's in the clear." And I said, "You're close. The Bible does teach that Christ's death on the cross is sufficient for every person's salvation. But it also teaches that there needs to be a very sincere, personal transaction between an individual and God in order for Christ's work on the cross to be applied to that individual's life." I said: "So here's the deal. In a way, the Bible says that you've got to sign up personally. The Bible says that what Jesus did for the world is wonderful, but you've got to make what Jesus did for the world a personal covenant between you and him. You've got to come to a point where you say, 'I want his work on the cross applied to the shortcomings

and sin in my life, and I'm going to sign the dotted line illustrating my desire to be repentant before God and to trust in Christ for salvation.'" And I drew a dotted line next to the cross on the napkin and said: "If you sign that dotted line, your sins will be forgiven. The differential in where your X is and the standard of goodness that God requires will be made up for by Jesus Christ. He will blot out the sins on your moral scorecard. You will be adopted into his family. The Holy Spirit will take up residency in your life. You will have a brand new life, and heaven will be your eternal destiny." And I handed him his pen and I said, "Want to sign up right now?" I'll tell you, when he took that pen and had it right down by the paper, I was praying up a storm because I knew what the stakes were. I knew what was hanging in the balance. I knew that there is this incredible tendency in human beings to fall back into deception and think: This isn't really true. He's making a bigger deal out of it than it really is. I'll do it another day. But another day never comes. And I know how easy it is to think: It will all come out in the wash. Why do I have to worry about it now? That's just the way our culture works. So I was praying fervently that he'd sign up. And he had the pen right down there, right on the dotted line. But then he picked it up, rolled in the point, put it in his pocket, and said, "I can't do that." And I said: "That's all right. I understand. This is a big decision, and maybe it's hitting you kind of cold right now. Maybe you need more information." And so I gave him my name and address and told him I'd send him tapes, books, I'd come to visit him, whatever it would take. And as I folded up that napkin, I said, "Don't lose this napkin, because it shows you the way." I often wonder about that man. I wonder what he did with the napkin. I wonder if he ever signed up. I wonder if I'll see him in heaven. But people of Willow Creek, you'd probably be amazed how many times I wonder about you, too. I wonder how many of you overrate yourselves on the goodness scale. I wonder how many of you have not thought about these benchmarks and have yourselves bumping your head against God's standard of perfection. You really think you're that good. Are you? Are you really? I wonder how many of you have never taken the time to take a moral inventory and see how many Xs are on your scorecard, really. I wonder how many of you just said, "Oops, no big thing." I wonder about many of you here. I wonder how many of you are just a signature away from true salvation. I wonder how many of you are just a signature away from forgiveness and a brand new life—a signature away from heaven. But you've got to sign up someday, or else you'll stand before God in trouble on Judgment Day. Don't let it happen to you. Bill Hybels is senior pastor of Willow Creek Community Church in South Barrington, Illinois, and author of The Volunteer Revolution (Zondervan, 2004).

© Bill Hybels

Preaching Today Tape #274 www.PreachingTodaySermons.com A resource of Christianity Today International

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