Even though we think this is new, it isn’t. People have been carrying around lots of baggage for centuries, burdened by the weight of sin, loaded down by guilt. During the next forty days, we unpack our baggage. It is something that only you can do.  Lent is an inward journey where we look at what causes us to be separated from God, an annual time to ask yourself, “What’s in the way?” It is an important question, one which can be so painful that instead of answering it, we project the question on others. We see their baggage instead of ours.  

I found myself doing this on the airplane when I saw some of my fellow passengers trying to stuff the overhead bin with bags that were clearly too full. “They have a lot of baggage” I thought.  “I don’t think that bag would fit in that little box outside the gate.” “If you need that much stuff, you ought to check your bag.”  The flight attendant finally forced one woman to check a garment bag that had half her closet in it. She protested but to no avail. There just wasn’t enough room in the overhead bin. I was smug. My bag fit. I never once asked myself the question, “Did I pack something that I didn’t need?” “Was I carrying something around that was extra weight?” In hindsight, I’d have to say, “Yes. I had something in my baggage that I needed to unpack.”

Of course I did and of course I do. It is what we do over the next forty days. We unpack our bags. During Lent, we are to unpack our bags, relieve ourselves of the burden of guilt and jettison the weight of sin. But we have to be careful about “we” because it can quickly turn into “you” at the expense of “me.” It is easy to ask the question, “How is it with you and the Lord?”  It is much harder to ask, “How is it with me and you Lord?”  Your sin is a lot easier to deal with than my sin.

There are two stories behind the traditional passage of Psalm 51. Let me remind you of them. One has a very contemporary feel to it. A powerful politician sees a beautiful young woman and decides to sleep with her. Because of his authority and personal power, she willingly participates in the affair, perhaps even becoming his soul mate. Does it sound familiar, like a South Carolina governor or a former presidential candidate from the other Carolina?  There is a scandal; there always is when someone finds out. The whistleblower in this case was a guy named Nathan who confronts the politician, not in the tabloids or with a tell-all book, but face to face, confronts him with the second story, about a rich man and a poor man.

He says, “There was a rich man who had lots of sheep and cattle and a poor man who had nothing except one little lamb which he treated like a child. One day, the rich man had a visitor and decided to slaughter the poor man’s lamb instead of any from his flock to feed his guests. The politician is outraged at the sin of the rich man.”  Of course he is because it is far easier to ask the question, “How is it with you and the Lord?”

It is just easier to judge your neighbor, to see his sinful baggage. The politician says “As the Lord lives, the man who has done this deserves to die…” (2 Samuel 12: 6). That’s a lot harsher than, “He’s got too much baggage to fit in the overhead bin. Make them check the bag and pay up!”  

The second story joins the first when Nathan says to the politician, who is King David, “Gotcha!” “You are the man!” (2 Samuel 12: 7). The result is this Psalm and the words, “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” (Psalm 51: 1-2).

One might argue, perhaps even argue persuasively, that David’s lament might not have been in scripture had not Nathan confronted him with his sexual indiscretion. Had someone not been at the airport to verify that Mark Sanford was not on the Appalachian Trail; would there have been a tearful press conference? If the aide hadn’t decided to write the Edwards tell-all book, would it have simply gone away, packed away in some steamer trunk in the attic for someone to stumble over when the house is cleaned out?

Maybe, but on both accounts David would say, the baggage is still there because they know.  He says it this way:   “For I know my transgressions and my sin is ever before me.” As a young minister, I was shocked when a man in his 70s confessed to me. “When I was your age, I had an affair with my secretary. My wife never found out. I wish I hadn’t.”  I wondered later if I was the first person he’d ever told. But what I was sure of was “his sin was every before him.” He knew and he’d carried that baggage for over 40 years.

Lest you think this sermon is solely about infidelities, let me remind you that David’s affair with Bathsheba wasn’t his only failing. In order to hide his sin, he commits a de facto murder, sending Bathsheba’s husband Uriah to the front of the line in order to get him out of the way. Indeed his transgression is plural. He’s carrying around a lot of baggage and so are we. You may not be a philanderer or a murderer but you are imperfect. It is easy to see from my point of view, to see how heavy your baggage is that you brought in with you today.  Look around the room; I’m not sure we can close the doors and take off because the baggage won’t fit. At the very least, let’s open those suitcases and see what we’ve packed.

Here is the dirty laundry of greed; there is a suit of laziness and a tie of pride. Someone else has packed a couple of books on drinking too much and eating too much. Addiction is packed in many bags.  Dig deeper in this luggage and you’ll find a pill box full of discrimination and bigotry, alongside capsules of anger and hatred. They are bitter pills hard to swallow but nevertheless swallowed regularly.  Unpack your bag and mine and you’ll find every imperfection of the human spirit that stands well alongside David’s infidelity and murder.  Sin is, after all sin; whether great or small, it packs well in your baggage. “How is it with me and you Lord?”  Not bad but it would be a lot better if I wasn’t lugging around all this baggage.

In Psalm 51, King David gives us a template on how to unpack, one which we look at each year on Ash Wednesday.  Like David, we need to come face to face with our sin and separation from God. “I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. (v. 3)

We need to realize that no matter who we have hurt or harmed, or what we have done, all sin is finally sin against God.   "Against you, you alone, have I sinned, and done what is evil in your sight..." (v.4)

We need to own and claim that release from sin isn’t a self-help exercise. God alone can cleanse us from sin. “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions" (v.1).

And we need to claim that this is what we need. We need to experience forgiveness because it brings about new life, new birth and offers us joy. “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me" (v.10)” Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and sustain in me a willing spirit” (v.12).

This instruction in unpacking bags is old, 3000 years old. But it worked for David and it can work for you and me.

In a day and time when travel was very different and less than half of the country had ever flown on an airplane, I graduated from high school. I was given a set of matching Samsonite suitcases, an overnighter and a two suiter. They were hard shells, a great improvement my father said over the old cardboard suitcases that he used to travel in his early professional life. Samsonite had a commercial with gorillas throwing the bags around. They are indestructible and they are heavy.   I still have the pair, unable to give them away because they mean too much. I’m sentimental like that.

I used them for a good ten years and then, purchased a canvas and leather bag.  It made such a difference, the difference in weight. It really was amazing when you reduce the weight of your baggage. Try it, this year. Unpack your bags. Just a little will make a difference. This is my hope for you during this season of Lent.

Try it, this year. Unpack your bags. Just a little will make a difference. This is my hope for you during this season of Lent.