H. Michael Brewer
Crescent Springs Presbyterian
11 April 2004
THE ULTIMATE MAKEOVER
Luke 24:1-11
2 Corinthians 5:16-17
There’s a new television craze: makeover madness. You’ve probably seen some of it. For
instance, there’s “Extreme Makeover” in which people who are unhappy with their bodies receive
thousands of dollars worth of cosmetic surgery, liposuction, teeth whitening, breast implants in order
to achieve a whole new look.
And then there is “What Not to Wear”, where wardrobe consultants rummage through someone’s
closets and throw out all the fashion mistakes. After some training from the fashion gurus, the
contestant goes on a $5000 shopping spree and returns arrayed in sartorial splendor.
On a somewhat larger scale there’s “Trading Spaces”, the show where two neighboring families
are given 48 hours and $1,000 to make over a room in each other’s homes with the help of a
professional designer and construction team. It doesn’t always turn out well. Sometimes people weep
when they see what’s been done to “improve” their home. In fact, the program has released a DVD
titled, “They Hate It!”—the worst of “Trading Spaces.”
You have to wonder if having a new room in your house will really improve your home life. And
what happens to “made over” people when the implants begin to sag and the new hairstyle gets
shaggy and the pounds creep back and this year’s fashions become next year’s embarrassment. Not
that getting a makeover is a bad idea. It’s a great idea, at least when it’s a real makeover. In fact, the
whole makeover thing is actually God’s idea, an idea that came to life on the day Jesus came back to
life.
The first Easter is sometimes called “the eighth day of creation.” The resurrection of Jesus was
God at work recreating a sinful and dying world into something new and alive. This is what Paul
means when he says, “What this means is that those who become Christians become new persons.
They are not the same anymore, for the old life is gone. A new life has begun!” (2 Corinthians 5:17
NLT).
If we wanted to jump on the bandwagon, friends, we could advertise our worship service as “The
Ultimate Makeover,” because that’s what Christianity is about—being made over. Not just
transforming the way we dress or how we look or what kind of house we live in, being made over
from the inside out. Not just patching up the old, but becoming a new creation in the risen Christ.
What’s really new when we become Christians? If we’re a new creation, what does that mean?
For one thing, the “Easter makeover” offers us a new way to approach God.
George Clooney was in town a few weeks ago stumping for his dad Nick who is running for
office. Within a couple of days two different people told me about meeting Nick Clooney. One
person had attended a local fund-raiser where you pay your dues and in return you get to hobnob the
suave and handsome George. That reminds me of the Old Testament way of meeting God. If you pay
your dues—if you keep all the laws of Moses—you get to meet God. It’s a good deal, except it’s
expensive, too expensive. Nobody can afford that. Nobody can keep all the laws all the time.
Nobody can pay enough dues to Moses in order to meet God. You’ll never get through the door.
Somebody else told me about meeting George Clooney under different circumstances. They had
some acquaintance with Nick Clooney and when they stopped by the Clooney home one day, there
was the teenaged George just hanging around. That’s more like the New Testament style of meeting
God. Through our friendship with Christ we are invited home to meet the rest of the family. We could
never come to God because we are good or deserving and we can’t possibly pay our way in. But if
we have befriended Christ, then Jesus opens the door for us and makes a way for us to come in. That
door swings on the hinges of grace.
What else is new since Easter? When we are made over in Christ, we get a new inward life.
“Though our bodies are dying,” says Paul, “our spirits (our inner selves) are being renewed every
day,” (2 Corinthians 4:16 NLT).
If we had time this morning we’d take a field trip. We’d make an Easter procession and walk a
few blocks to my house and I’d show you the oak tree in my front yard, an oak tree that has exactly
three leaves left on it. The leaves are dead and brown and shriveled, but they’ve hung on since fall.
They’ve hung on through the snow and the freezing rain and the fierce winds. Actually, I’ve
nicknamed those three leaves—Larry, Moe and Curly. I’m waiting to see who is going to be the final
holdout.
If we didn’t know better, we’d think that tree was absolutely and utterly dead, but we do know
better. We know that the roots have been growing all winter and now that spring is at hand the sap is
rising, the new life is rising from within and as that new life rises and the new leaves emerge those old
leaves will just fall away, outward death giving way to inward life.
That’s a wonderful thing. This inward life from Christ always spills over into our outward lives.
The 4th Century Christian Augustine lived quite a wild life before becoming a Christian. It was
Augustine who prayed, “Lord, make me pure and chaste—but not yet!” Sometime after his
conversion—after his makeover began—one day Augustine was accosted on the street by a woman
who had once been his mistress. When Augustine saw her he turned and walked the other way.
Surprised, the woman called out, “Augustine, it is I”. Augustine kept walking, and over his shoulder
he called, “Yes, but it is not I.” You think you know me, but you don’t. You knew the old Augustine,
but he is dead and I am now a different person. I am a new creation, and I can’t go back to the old
ways. The makeover of Christ gives us a new life—a new life on the inside and on the outside.
When we become a new creation in Christ, we also get a new attitude, what the New Testament
calls the renewing of our minds (Romans 12:2). Long ago in days of illness and pestilence, there used
to be a custom in some parts of Russia. Many villages had a “grieving hut” on the outskirts of town.
Whenever an infant died, the bereaved mother would go to the grieving hut, where she could mourn
her loss for several months. When the other women in the village agreed that the grieving had gone on
long enough, they’d gather at the hut and set it on fire. Inside the hut, the grieving mother had to
decide then whether or not life was worth living. She could remain inside the burning hut and die,
consumed by her loss. Or she could emerge, rebuild the hut for the next grieving mother, and go on
living.
We Christians have never denied that there are tragic events in life. What we do deny is that life
itself is tragic. We refuse to believe that. Life in this world is a gift from God, and God is at work in
the midst of our living. By God’s own decree, life is stronger than death and sooner or later
resurrection overcomes crucifixion. In the words of the letter to the Ephesians, Christ grants you “a
spiritual renewal of your thoughts and attitudes. You must display a new nature because you are a
new person…” (Ephesians 4:23-24 NLT).
And along with this new attitude that life is worth living, we also receive a new power for living.
This power is the presence of the Holy Spirit working in us and through us. Paul says the same Spirit
that raised Jesus from dead is empowering us for fullness of life. Don’t make the mistake of thinking
that real power is vested in wealth or technology or government or military prowess. That’s not real
power.
I remember one overcast morning standing in a field in northern England, looking at the ragged
remains of Hadrian’s Wall, a wall built long ago by the Roman army to solidify their holdings in Britain
and to keep their enemies at bay. In ancient times that wall represented the pride and power of the
Roman Legion, a stone bastion spanning Britannia, punctuated with garrisons and guard towers. At
that moment in history Rome ruled the world. At that moment no army on earth could match the
Roman Legion. At that moment people like Peter and Paul were being put to death in Rome and the
young Christian movement looked as if it might soon be crushed beneath the armored heel of the
Empire.
Twenty centuries later Rome is a memory and a cautionary tale. The years have nearly swallowed
up Hadrian’s great wall, leaving behind a few yards of stonework here and there. If you visit some
remnant of that once-mighty wall on a Sunday morning as I did, you won’t hear the commands of
Roman centurions ringing through the air, but you will hear the church bells proclaiming the reign of
the victorious Christ and calling his legions to prayer and praise. God is the great power. God is the
supreme power. And as unbelievable as it may sound, God grants that power to you and me to use in
everyday life. The Spirit within us is infinitely mightier than the world around us.
There’s one more piece of this Easter makeover that we’d better mention. Along with a new way
of approaching God, and a new life inside and out, a new attitude and a new power for living, Jesus
also gives us a new mission.
“Spread the word,” Jesus says. “Tell your friends and tell the nations that I am alive and I am
Lord.” The Gospel of Mark ends on an odd, jarring note. The women visit the tomb of Jesus and find
it empty. An angel assures them that Jesus is alive, and the women flee from the tomb too scared to
say anything to anybody. (I have sometimes joked that those women were obviously the first
Presbyterians.) The other gospels tell a more complete story, and they show the first believers running
everywhere to tell everybody that Jesus is back. That’s how it’s supposed to work.
There’s a story about Milton Erickson who was a well-known family therapist. A friend asked
Erickson to look in on an elderly aunt who was suffering from depression. So Erickson dropped in on
the woman. She showed him around her little greenhouse where she grew African violets; then she
brought him into the sitting room and began to complain about her miserable life. Erickson cut her off.
“You’re problem isn’t depression,” he said. “You’re problem is that you aren’t a very good
Christian.”
The lady said, “I go to church every Sunday!”
“That may be,” said Erickson, “but you’ve clearly got a knack for growing violets and you’re
keeping it to yourself. You must have fifty or sixty violets in your greenhouse. There are all sorts of
people who could use one. Why don’t you spread them around?”
The woman thought about it after Erickson left, and with some fear and trembling she took a violet
to a friend whose husband had recently died. Then she took one to a neighbor with a new baby. And
that was the beginning of her ministry.
Ten years later Erickson opened a letter from his friend and in it was a newspaper clipping. The
headline read: “African Violet Queen Dies—Mourned By Thousands.” The story described how this
woman had given away literally thousands of violets and cuttings, touching the lives of countless
people.
One person can touch a lot of people for Christ. And we’ve got something better to share than
violets; we’ve got Easter lilies—we’ve got Easter good news. I’m glad you’re here this morning. I’m
glad we’re here together this Easter morning to celebrate what God has done and is doing. But I miss
the folks who aren’t here. I miss the folks who would love to be made over if they knew how. What
God has done for you and me is too wonderful to keep to ourselves.
After all, Easter is the promise of our makeover. Not some external change that will fade in a few
years or a few weeks, but a real, lasting change—a transformation—a new relationship with God, a
new life, a new attitude, a new power for life and a new mission in life. That, friends, is a makeover.
That is the ultimate makeover!
Soli Deo Gloria!