A Sermon on Michael Jackson.

In this world today, it is surprising how much of an anchor
a person we have never met, touched, or held can
become in our lives. Hearing of the death of Michael Jackson
on Thursday afternoon stirred many emotions inside of my
chest, not the least of them being sorrow.

In this western mindset, celebrities become our equivalent
to mythologies, gods, goddesses, and legends. They are
always around us, influence the ways we see ourselves and
others, and are immortal. They are flawless, live in places
the vast majority of mortals will never see nor be permitted
to approach, and they love getting into fights with each
other.

Oh yeah, and they live forever.

In keeping with this parallel, Michael Jackson was a lot
like Zeus. He was always bigger, more powerful, more
well-known than the lesser gods. He was worth more money
than some countries, and despite always being frought with
scandals or making poor decisions, he attracted followers
from all over the world who were distingushed by their
fanatacism and devotion.

 

And aside from being so successful that almost 1 in every 6 people living on

planet earth have a copy of one of his albums…

 

 

We remember him as a tragic life.

 

 

 

 

 

Brothers and sisters, Michael Jackson was no god. I say words that have been reiterated

so many times that they ring as cliche, but ponder this for a moment:

 

To those of you who subscribe to every celebrity magazine and pop culture blog

so that you can keep up with what color Britney Spears painted her toes this morning or

what type of coffee Jay-Z prefers to drink while in L.A.:

 

Michael Jackson was just a person.

 

 

He experienced pain like we do. He experienced happiness, even if the true sort seemed to

be rarely found in his life. He was the father of three children and had been a husband,

the leader of a household.  

 

You know when we walk out of a building, surrounded by our closest friends, miss a step and fall flat on our face?

That is humiliating, even surrounded by people who only care about us.

Imagine falling on your face in front of the entire world, only no one helps you up.

Imagine what kind of pain you would feel?

Imagine who you would trust?

Imagine how you would let those demonic strongholds into your life and attack you, day and night?

 

Imagine how he must have felt.

  

Now, to those of you who probably sent Michael Jackson jokes via text message mere hours after

his death, to those of you who snickered, “good riddance” when you saw it on the news, to those of you

who could never see him as anything more than a free convict with GUILTY tattooed on his

bleached and botoxed forehead:

 

 

Michael Jackson was once innocent, too.

 

 

 Once a little boy, growing up in a large, struggling-to-make-ends-meet family on the outskirts of

Chicago, all he wanted to do was sing.

 

A little boy singing. Possibly one of the most adorable and peaceful images of God’s serene love we can

find on earth.

 

Just a little boy. Fragile and sensitive – needing the same love, influence, and instruction we hope

to give to children all over the world this year – and looking to find it in places he didn’t receive it.

 

Through years of physical and emotional abuse, plus the added pressure of being

labeled as the bread-winner of the family from a single digit age, coupled with the crushing

identity loss of never having a true childhood and being a celebrity during such a young, developmental time…

 

Considering that “a child must be trained in the way that he should go”, how can we

mock the ruins of another human being, kick and spit on the wreck of a man he became when we

understand that he never even had any foundations built as a child? What alternative was there

but to fall?

 

If Christ, who loved the broken, is our cornerstone and our foundation, what kind of

house have we constructed that gives us justice in hanging out our windows,

laughing, mocking, texting death jokes, and rooting for the crumbling of our

neighbor’s house – the only thing he has – since he doesn’t have Christ?

 

 

 

 

“But I wouldn’t have abused a little boy!” you might say.

I suppose it is a great shame his own father never said those words.

 

“He deserves to be thrown in prison so those prisoners can do to him what he did to all those children.”

I’ve heard this one a lot. And it reminds me of a song by Sufjan Stevens.

 

 

The song is about another man, a criminal, named John Wayne Gacy, Jr., who, throughout the

1970s, kidnapped, raped, and murdered 33 teenage boys and buried them beneath the floorboards of his house.

The song is eerie, and tells the story in-depth, including Gacy dressing up as a clown before

the abuse and murder of his victims. It is a gruesome, devestating, and evil story. Merely

listening to the details conjur up images of demons, darkness, and evil.

 

But perhaps the most poignant illustration can be found in the very last lines of the song.

After listing how horrid, shocking, and twisted Gacy was, the songs says,

 

And in my best behavior, I am really just like him.

Look beneath the floorboards for the secrets I have hid.

 

 

At Training Camp, our speaker, Ben Messner, emphasized a

point that turned my world inside out. A statement, merely:

 

You are as sick as the secrets you keep.

 

 

What secrets have we kept?

What things do we do when no one looks?

Who are we when it is just us and our thoughts?

What evil sweeps our minds before we fall asleep?

 

This should be no secret: All sin is the same to God.

 

For whosoever keeps the Law as a whole but stumbles and

offends in one single instance has become guilty of breaking all of it.

–James 2:10

 

 

We are a society that is built on fairness. Sure, many things are not equal, neither are they ‘fair’,

but Westerners have a sense of fairness that most civilians in other countries in the world do

not necessarily get the privilege of having.

 

“All sin is the same to God,” I recently told my sister, “but not all sin is the same to man.”

 

That is why we have the right to hate our brother. He did something evil, vile, and cruel.

 

If anyone says, “I love God,” yet hates his brother, he is a liar.

For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen,

cannot love God, whom he has not seen.

–1 John 4:20

 

The truth of the matter is that if we detest our brother, whether because he has more than we do

or because we think he is a dirty, rotten jerk, we have sinned. According to the law under which God operates,

we should be in that jail cell into which we’ve been so eager to throw Michael Jackson.

 

Thanks be to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ that he wipes away the stains from our life,

making us holy and acceptable and free from all sin! Because of what He has done for us,

we do not have to suffer alone for one misguided step. The blood of Christ purifies us

from all sins – whether child molestation or pride – and all are free to come in!

 

 

So, if we are still operating under the idea that we are somehow justified in passing

judgement, remember that we are called to love, for it is the very stuff of which God is made.

 

And if we can’t accept that all sin is the same to God, best to live it up here, where we have a break.

Because sooner or later, we’re going to stand before The Only One who’s opinion matters.

 

 

 

 

As for Michael, let us pray wholeheartedly that he found Christ in the moments before his death.

My God is big and boxless and works in ways I do not understand. Who says that God

must operate in a single direction throughout time?

He is big enough to answer all of our prayers.

 

 

 

Because wouldn’t it be beautiful to find a redeemed Child of God moonwalking the streets of gold?

 

🙂