(Yes, I Know Today is Actually Holy Saturday)
“Love That’s Not Wasted”
By Pastor Aaron Kalbas
Sermon text: 1 Peter 1:14-19
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
You may recognize this poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. It describes how it is that love often begins in the smallest of moments — a glance, a word, a letter written in gratitude, a name quietly noticed, a heart truly seen. And sometimes, what begins so softly grows into something extraordinary. So it was for Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning. She was 38 when they met. Most of her life had been lived in exclusion and her father had forbidden her from ever marrying. But what began as an exchange of letters between these two poets became a love story tender, brave, and life-changing.
Many of us can divide our lives into a “before” and “after” of someone special. But for Elizabeth, that change was profound. It transformed her poetry and secured her place in literary history. And from that love came one of her most cherished poems: “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.”
As Christians, we know something of a life like this poem describes. We know the difference between our life before Christ and life after coming to know Him. We have been changed by a love that has called us out of loneliness, fear, and separation into belonging, hope, and new life. If Elizabeth’s poetry shows us the beauty of human love, then our text today from 1 Peter shows us a love greater still: the love of Christ, which gives meaning not only to our faith but to our lives.
In our text, Peter writes, “You were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your forefathers, not with perishable things such as gold and silver, but with the precious blood of Christ.” Peter’s point is not only that we inherit a sinful nature from our forefathers—you know, the fact that we are all descended from Adam and Eve, who were sinners, and that means we all are stained by sin and in need of Christ to save us. This is certainly true. But Peter says something even more searching: Christ redeems us from the “futile ways inherited from your forefathers.” In other words, not just from what is sinful and wicked, but from what is empty and futile: from lives that, though they may be very busy—we’re all so very busy—and dutiful, even respectable by worldly standards, are nevertheless unable to give us what our souls most deeply long for.
Now, let’s talk about futility for a second. This is such a significant biblical word. It’s the same word that opens the book of Ecclesiastes: “Meaningless! Meaningless! Everything is meaningless.” Some translations render it, “Vanity of vanities, everything is vanity.”
Scripture teaches that in the beginning nothing was futile. God created the world good and human life full of meaning (We were created in God’s image, for Pete’s sake!). But, when Adam and Eve turned from God and sinned against Him, everything changed. The Bible says God subjected the creation to futility and decay (Romans 8:20). Now everything is under the shadow of death. And the passing of time makes life seem so fragile and fleeting and temporary. People come and go. Beautiful things fade. Even the most celebrated lives are eventually reduced to just a few traces. Like Elizabeth Barrett Browning. What does anyone remember of her? Perhaps a few sonnets we studied in high school or college—and that’s only because she achieved literary fame. But for the most part, the rest of us, the memory of our lives will barely survive a few generations of our family.
Think of your great-great-great-grandparents. Do you know much about them? Do you even know their names? Most of us don’t. And that is part of what Peter is helping us see when he speaks of “the futile ways inherited from our forefathers.” Generations come and generations go. Some live well, others not so well. We all die. Prompting philosophers to wonder: what is the point of it all? Does any of it really matter? Is anything truly worthwhile accomplished? And in our modern age, these questions seem especially urgent. But do we have any good answers?
The philosopher Peter Kreeft once wrote, “Of the twenty-one great civilizations that have existed on our planet, ours, the modern West, is the first that does not explicitly teach its citizens any answer to the question, ‘Why do we exist?’” He says our society leaves us free to choose or create our own values. But if this is true, what foundation are we building our lives on? If it is up to us, individually, to figure out for ourselves what our purpose in life and our values are, then what answers are we collectively passing on to the next generation to the question, “Why do we exist?” In the end, our culture offers little more than uncertainty to those who come after us. We throw up our hands, shrug our shoulders, and declare to those who come after us, “Just figure it out.”
But tonight, we come and behold the cross — the atoning blood of Christ poured out for us in love—and at the cross purpose literally bleeds out: a love that changes everything saving us from a wasted life. Because of what God has done for us in Christ, we discover our true purpose: to love. That was and is the image of God. God is love (1 John 4:8). God has placed us where we are to love the people in our lives even in the most ordinary places and responsibilities of life— our parents, siblings, spouse, children, neighbors, coworkers, customers, clients, church family, leaders, friends, even our enemies. In every place and calling, we are here to give ourselves for the good of others, just as Christ gave Himself for us.
This means our lives truly matter. In Christ, the old cycle of futility is broken. Our lives now bear fruit, and Jesus promises that if we abide in Him, we will bear much fruit — fruit that will remain (John 15).
You see, in the New Testament, God promises to take up the loving works we do for Christ’s sake and use them to accomplish His wonderful purposes and everlasting plans (Romans 8:28). This means that our lives are never empty. Not one act of love is wasted. Not one act of faithfulness is ever lost. And one day, on the edge of eternity, we will rejoice to see how God used even our smallest acts of love. We will perhaps look out upon the great multitude in heaven and recognize that some are there because of the love we showed them for Jesus’ sake—God having worked through us in ways that maybe we never even recognized (1 Peter 2:12 & 5:4). This is also why the Apostle Paul can so tenderly urge us: “My beloved brothers and sisters, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.”
So, just remember, whenever it feels as though your life is going nowhere, or that all your efforts are slipping into pointlessness, remember what was said here today. And when you are tired, when you are tempted to give up, when the ordinary drudgery and endless little demands of daily life begin to wear you down, look to the cross. Gently and deliberately trace the sign of the cross upon yourself. Remember Jesus — His death for you, His love for you, His faithful sacrifice. And then keep going, dear friends in Christ. In this quiet confidence, know that your love and your labors are not in vain.
Love shaped by Christ’s own love is never wasted. Never. God has ransomed and rescued you from the futile ways handed down from your forefathers — not with silver or gold, but with the far more precious blood of Christ. He saves us not just from sins penalty. He saves us from a meaningless life. In His name. Amen.
O Lord, open my lips... 