Several years ago, and in another congregation, I preached a sermon titled "Chutes and Ladders and the Kingdom of God." It was based upon a game we played countless times when our children were small, so as a family, it was great! But looking at that game as a preacher — as a theologian trying to proclaim good news to a hurting world — I came to recognize that "Chutes and Ladders" held a terrible theology. I would be the first to admit that the point of the game is not to teach theology, but pastors are always on the lookout for sermon illustrations, and my observation provided that for me.
For those not familiar with the game, players shake the dice and move their pieces along an S-shaped path. As with all these games, reaching the top is the goal. But in "Chutes and Ladders" there's a catch. Of course! If you land on one of the spaces with a ladder, you get to climb past many spaces (and many opponents) to a higher place. But if you land on a space with a chute, you will tumble all the way down the path, and you are likely to be the loser.
My sense is (and the point of that sermon was) that many people perceive life in the very same way. Life is about getting ahead, about accumulating wealth and fame and achievement. We use the phrase "Climbing the ladder of success" and it is what drives many of us in this world, including pastors! Conversely, we desperately avoid the chutes. Failure of any kind in this world sends us backward down the path of wealth and success and notoriety. When we tumble, we lose ground on our opponents, and in the eyes of the world, we are losers. In short: ladders = success = good, chutes = failures = bad.
In the greeting line that Sunday morning, there were several of the obligatory compliments; "Nice sermon, pastor." "I really enjoyed your message." "You really made me think today." Blah, blah, blah. Then one member came through, and made this remark rather abruptly: "Thanks a lot, Steve. You have ruined that game for me and my family forever." And I never saw him again.
Someone once said, "If you throw a stone into a pack of dogs, the one that comes out yelping is likely the one that you hit." To this day, I try to remember that when someone tells me they absolutely hated my sermon.
Today, I don't want to preach about chutes and ladders. I don't even want to offend anyone, though I can't promise anything! I want to talk about another board game, and how it imitates life. If you play chess, you may take a nap; you are way too sophisticated and enlightened for what I am about to say. But if you play checkers, you will likely understand.
Checkers is a game about moving forward; advancing toward a goal. The way you get there — the way you succeed in checkers — is to conquer your opponent. Jump them and they no longer exist. Double-jump them and they disappear faster. I love checkers, though I hardly ever win. It is not that I am too kind to win; I am, in fact, ruthless! So I must be too dumb to win! Whatever the reason, I always seem to lose at checkers.
The game changes dramatically when one of the players reaches the opposite edge of the board. When we land on that far side, we say to our opponents, "King me!" They stack one of our conquered pieces on top of the piece that landed on that far side, and now we are king. Kings are to be feared, you know. We can go anywhere we want to go. We can do anything we want to do. Whoever is "kinged" first has power, and is likely to win the game of checkers. Understand that, and you understand human nature, which says that power is everything and wealth is everything and winning is everything — in checkers — in life.
When Jesus stood before Pontius Pilate on that first Good Friday, he disagreed. When Pilate asked him for his credentials, Jesus could have called down legions of angels and walked out of palace without breaking a sweat. If Jesus had chosen to assert his authority as the Son of God, he could have merely raised his voice and Pilate would have melted. He could have said, "King me!" and he would have won the day. But then there would have been no cross. There would have been no Easter and there would have been no forgiveness for our sins and reconciliation with God. So Jesus let Pilate interrogate him like a common criminal. This "most unusual king in human history" believed in love more than power, and that so baffled Pilate that he never recognized the king of the universe who stood directly in front of him. Don't blame Pilate; blame Jesus. He modeled the belief that power is not everything. Wealth is not everything. Winning is not everything. At least not in his kingdom.
In 1980, President Jimmy Carter lost his bid for reelection to Ronald Reagan, and he returned home to Plains, Georgia, a broken man. Even fellow Democrats distanced themselves from this embarrassment of a president. Out of the limelight, he began to quietly work on issues that were important to him as a follower of Jesus Christ. He gave time and energy to a struggling organization called Habitat for Humanity. He advocated for people of poverty. He continued to teach Sunday school each week at Maranatha Baptist Church. To this day, he takes his turn mowing the church lawn, while his wife, Rosalynn, cleans the church bathrooms. He continues to be a voice that speaks for peace in a world that is bent on war.
In 2002, Jimmy Carter was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. And when he was asked by author, Phillip Yancey, to reflect on his life as an engineer, a Naval officer, a successful farmer, a governor, and a president, which phase did he enjoy most? President Carter thought for a moment and then said, "Now." How ironic, that Jimmy Carter was once considered a "loser" in this nation's eyes, and now he is one of the most admired and respected people in the world. According to Yancey, "If someone held a contest for best ex-presidents, Jimmy Carter would win hands down." It causes me to pause; if what we long for in this life is to be admired and respected and loved, why do we spend most of our time trying to be successful and powerful and feared? What does that have to do with Jesus, standing before Pilate, refusing to act like a king that the world would want to follow?
Theologian Fredrick Buechner writes:
If the world is sane, then Jesus is mad as a hatter, and the Last Supper is the Mad Tea Party.
The world says, "Mind your own business" and Jesus says, "There is no such thing as your own business."
The world says, "Follow the wisest course and be a success" and Jesus says, "Follow me and be crucified."
The world says, "Drive carefully — the life you save may be your own" and Jesus says, "Whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."
The world says, "Law and order" and Jesus says "Love." The world says, "Get" and Jesus says, "Give."
In terms of the world's sanity, Jesus is a crazy as a coot, and anybody who thinks he can follow him without being a little crazy, too, is laboring less under the cross than under delusion. "We are fools for Christ's sake," the Apostle Paul says. "Ultimately the foolishness of God is wiser than the wisdom of men, the lunacy of Jesus is saner than the grim sanity of the world."1
I am about to ask you to do a very insane thing. Flying in the face of the "king me" mentality of the world in which we live, I am going to suggest that we pay homage to another king. In a world that unashamedly proclaims, "Me first!" I will ask that we adopt a credo that says, "Others first." Though it may offend some, I am going to invite you to process to the altar and lay your tribute to this king we worship in this place. If you have a gift to share, you come forward. If you have no stewardship card filled out, you come. If you have no gift to bring but yourself, you come forward. I recall a stranger in a former church processing forward on another Stewardship Sunday, dressed in very humble clothing and worn shoes. He laid no gift on the altar, he had no pledge card to lay there. He bowed — and I thought to myself, That man knows the king! When the music starts, you come and offer whatever you have to give. And the Savior will receive it as a gift fit for a king. For so it is. Thanks be to God. Amen.
1. Fredrich Buechner, The Faces of Jesus (New York: New American Library, 1969), p. 171.