Reverse Obsolescence: Admit the Need, Accept the Gift, Embrace the Path

Psalms 51:14-17, Romans 3:21-24

​Planned obsolescence—a wonderful phrase that encapsulates our extreme frustration with technology.

One of my great joys twenty years ago was unboxing my very first iPhone. Suddenly, I had this device that could give me directions, pay my bills, text my friends, surf the internet, go shopping at virtually any store, and, by the way, I could even make phone calls with it!

But there was something strange about this phone and all the ones that followed. Over time, the ease and the joy turned to frustration.

There were no longer any updates to allow me to surf the web. The GPS no longer tracked properly. The battery ceased charging. Despite the fact that there was not a single thing broken on the phone, I couldn't do anything with it.

Bit by bit, month by month, an object that had been something marvelous became completely useless.

Contrast this with a human baby. Babies are born into the world completely helpless and utterly useless. They can't move on their own. They can't eat on their own. They can't talk. They can't even smile.

But bit by bit, month after month, year after year, decade after decade, that infant becomes something marvelous.

This does not happen all at once. And I don't just mean the baby's ability to speak and to walk and paint pictures. No, there is something else that is deficient in the human creature when we are born.

We have built-in error codes, bugs, and glitches. This is evident most clearly when that infant becomes a toddler.

We've all seen it at the grocery store. A child looks up to Mom or Dad with big eyes and a meek request:

“Can I have some candy?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No!”

“PPPPLLEEEEEEEASSSSEE!!!”

The next thing you know, the child is writhing on the floor screaming in existential agony. And to them it's real—the pain. They're not faking.

And the parent has no really good escape route except to snatch the child up off the floor and walk out!

Over time, the child grows sufficient coping mechanisms to find other ways to get what they want. But in reality, there is still something broken inside each one of us.

The Apostle Paul struggled with this reality. He said, “I do not do the things I know I ought to do, but the very thing that I know I shouldn't do, that's what I do.”

It is that inherent weakness and brokenness that Christianity refers to as sin. And so, in our passage this morning, Paul says, “All have sinned and fallen short.” There's no distinction. We're all human. We're all broken. And we all need the exact same thing.

With that brand-new iPhone, when you open it, it's perfect. But human beings are born with something missing, with a hole in our heart.

And here is the good news: God has a plan for me and you that is the opposite of that for the iPhone. The iPhone is built to work when it comes out of the box, but purposefully to become less useful over the months and years until it's only ready to be thrown out. Human beings come broken, but the plan is that over the weeks, months, years, and decades we become something greater. Had we not been born with that hole—something more than we ever could have been without the struggle, without the pain, without the heartache.

Let's call it reverse obsolescence. We start off useless, but over time we become perfected, or in Christian parlance, holy, righteous, noble. And there is a pathway to this journey.

The first step on this path to reverse obsolescence is to admit this need.

Whether you are Jew or Gentile, Sikh or Muslim, all need to recognize that only God can bring wholeness.

The fact that we need God is not a unique concept to Christianity. And so Paul takes us deeper into his argument.

We are now “justified” (that is, made right, made whole) by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.

And it is here that Christianity has a unique answer. We become whole not through acts of penance. We become whole not through climbing some great mountain, pushing a boulder up a hill. We become whole not through screwing up our will and avoiding every possible sin we can imagine.

Paul tells us this process happens apart from the law—that is, apart from works.

This is the monumental shift that Christianity makes. And Paul ultimately is not simply referring to the laws of Judaism that had become unwieldy over time, but to the kind of law-based religion that Martin Luther excruciated over. He was in utter despair because he thought that he had to perfect himself through endless rituals, and he realized he couldn't do it. He could never be good enough.

Sadly, it's the same kind of despair that leads people to do tragic and self-destructive things. The law, for Paul, represents that innate part of us that fools itself into believing that striving is what makes us worthy and valuable.

And the solution that Paul provides can hardly be believed. He tells us it's free—that it is a gift. It costs us nothing because it is too valuable for us ever to be able to buy it.

We know the saying: if something seems too good to be true, it is. When that Nigerian prince wanted to give me $1 million, I wanted to believe him!

But it's not only the Nigerian prince who's trying to fool us.

There are endless things in this world trying to lure us into believing that they are the solution for repairing what's broken inside of us. Whether it is an amazing new car, a perfect complexion, financial success, straight A's in school, getting into an elite college, landing that enviable job at the law firm—it doesn't come from correct political views. It doesn't come from genuflecting to the latest political fad, whether liberal or conservative. It doesn't even come from belonging to the right religion.

No, the one offering you this gift is not a madman—or rather, an ad man—on Madison Avenue.

Paul tells us the character of the gift-giver: Jesus of Nazareth.

And we can trust him because he came not to be served but to serve; because he embodies forgiveness and love; because he gave everything for us—even his own life—to make us whole.

It comes through accepting that there is nothing that we can do to make ourselves whole.

Nothing that I can do. Nothing that Mother Teresa could do. Nothing that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. could do. Nothing that Gandhi could do.

We are of infinite value simply because God declares it.

Let me show you how.

I think in New York City we should understand this better than anywhere else in the world.

The current value of Bitcoin is about $60,000 per coin. Some might argue it is worthless because there is nothing backing it up. But there are people willing to give me real money for this ethereal thing. And in turn, I can take that $60,000 and buy food and clothing, and so there is tangible value in it.

Where does that value come from?

Belief.

There are people who believe in it.

It is all about what others believe about Bitcoin. And because they believe in it, they will take real risks on this ephemeral digital coin. It has made billionaires.

Bitcoin has become fantastically valuable because people invest value into it. It is nothing more than that.

Here's the crux of the argument:

If a person on the street can turn something intangible into $60,000 simply because they believe in it, what value do you have when God attributes to you infinite value?

God believes in you.

God invests in you.

God risks everything for you.

The path to reverse obsolescence begins by admitting the need. And now we have our second step: accept the gift.

Accept the gift because the giver is trustworthy.

Believe it, for we have seen how belief in zeros and ones can create billionaires. Don't you think God can make something of you?

Finally, we are called to embrace the path.

This is the journey that never ends in this life, and it is the true joy of following God.

Paul is less concerned—I believe this truly in my heart—that Paul, and especially Jesus, are less concerned with a person having the right religious affiliation and doctrine, less concerned with having the right head knowledge, and more concerned with knowing that kind of love in your heart.

Paul tells us two chapters before this that God doesn't judge what's on the outside but what's on the inside.

Embracing the path means accepting that we are going to make mistakes. That as we take two steps forward, we're going to take one step back. It is inevitable.

So it takes courage.

But there is a roadmap: Jesus' life.

And as we embrace this path, unlike that Bitcoin, we actually become that thing of infinite value that God has declared us to be.

Admit the need.

Accept the gift.

Embrace the path.

The way to move from a rather hapless and helpless infant to a being of purpose, promise, and perfection.

Amen.