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Introduction I was reading an article in the New York Times about the abundance of new wealth in Khartoum, Sudan. The article featured pictures of well-dressed, laughing young people eating luxurious meals in air-conditioned cafes and buying $165,000 BMWs. Meanwhile, a mere 600 miles away in Darfur, the world is watching one of the worst crises of the past decade. Thousands of people are being starved, persecuted, and murdered. I felt outrage as I read the article, saying to myself, These are exactly the kind of people described in Genesis 4. These people are just like Cain. Then, a few days later, I was driving by Port Jeff Station where there's a tiny storefront Hispanic church. For nearly four years, I've driven by this simple, poor church and felt a little nudge from God saying, "Stop and check it out. They might need some help." I'd think about trying to eke out a living on Long Island as an immigrant family. I'd think about the families that live in the woods three miles from my house and the Hispanic teenagers lost in gang life. But then I'd always say, yeah, sure, maybe later, God. But on this day, I finally stopped at that storefront church and looked in the window. There were empty boxes and garbage strewn on the floor. The church was obviously closed, and the pastor had left town. I don't have a nice moral to this story except to say this: maybe life isn't as simple as I thought. Maybe I have more in common with those well-dressed, rich young people in Khartoum. And maybe there's more of Cain in my heart than I'd like to admit. Perhaps that sounds depressing, but I want to jar us out of the common view that Genesis 4 contains a simple, flat, moralistic tale about good guys and bad guys—Abel is the good guy, and Cain is the bad guy. We hear the story and insist we're not like Cain, making us good guys. And because we're the good guys, we can go home a little more smug and secure. But now I find this story much more messy and disturbing—and more hopeful and joyful—than I ever dared to imagine. As we walk though this story, we'll repeatedly find two realities that exist side-by-side: on one side there's human sin; on the other side there's God's grace and power of redemption. Almost every story in the Bible—and, really, our own story—boils down to those two things: sin and grace. But here's the hope for us today: it's precisely out of the mess of human sin that God brings the glory of redemption and grace. When God confronts us about our attitudesLook at how sin and grace intertwine in Genesis 4: Scene #1: The story begins in 4:1–2 where right away, we pick up a few clues that there's something wrong with the dynamics in this family. When Cain is born, his mother cries out a note of praise and triumph: "With the help of the Lord I have brought forth a man." The name Cain means "to get" or "to create." Then, almost as a footnote, we read in verse 2: And by the way, later she also gave birth to his brother Abel. We soon learn that Cain enters the family business, becoming a farmer like his father. Apparently, Cain was raised as the family's shining star. Cain begins to act like a spoiled brat. Scene #2: In Genesis 4:3, the two brothers show up for a worship service. Each brought an offering appropriate to his job, but we're told that "the Lord looked with favor on Abel and his offering, but on Cain and his offering he did not look with favor." There's nothing wrong with the material—an animal offering isn't better than a basket of fruit and vegetables—but there was something wrong with Cain. His response will reveal the heart behind his worship. Do you see how easily worship (which is all about God) can become manipulation (which is all about us)? Worship is no longer a public way for us to lay our lives down in love, adoration, and joyful service; it's just another avenue to get my way. This isn't just Cain's story; at times, this is the state of our hearts, too. In our text, God confronts Cain about his bad attitude. This is a perfect opportunity for Cain to grow up and allow God to change his heart. God tells Cain: Look, it's a beautiful basket of apples and gourds, but your heart isn't into worship. I'm giving your brother an A, and I'm flunking you in Worship 101. But here's the good news: you can retake the course. I'll give you another chance. Cain has a choice: he can listen to God, learn, change, and grow up, or he can throw a pity party and stay in his anger. He chooses the pity party. There's an underlying lesson for us here: don't come to Jesus if you want to stay stuck in your bad attitudes and behaviors. He loves you as you are, but he won't let you stay that way. Jesus will "mess" with you. It's God's idea to make life a long, hard, delightful, exhilarating journey of spiritual transformation. It's part of our sinful disposition to demand that we stay stuck. God wants to "un-stick" us, and sometimes that only happens through pain. God graciously confronted Cain with the painful truth about his heart condition, and it pierced like a knife. Sometimes we hear the hard truth about ourselves and it hurts. About six months ago, my oldest son came to me and told me something about my role as a father that pierced my heart. It took a great deal of courage on his part. I initially thought, Where did this kid get so much courage, truth, and love? Then I resented the truth about my heart condition. But behind his words, I saw God's invitation to wake me up from sin. Sin is like a cozy bed on a very cold Saturday morning; you want to stay under the covers and sleep a little longer. Sin lulls us, and when someone comes to rip us out of our cozy place where we get our way, we resent it—even when it's God that does the pulling. Some of the most important questions in life are: How will we respond when God starts "messing" with our lives? How will we respond when God starts yanking us out of our comfort places—our places of stuckness and security—and issues us a summons to grow up? God comes to Cain in the midst of Cain's pity party and drills him with questions: Why are you angry? Why are you so unhappy? Then God says something very interesting about sin: "Sin is crouching at the door and it desires to master you, but you must master it." Here, sin is pictured like a wild animal (the same word is used for a crouching lion ready to pounce on its prey). Sin is an aggressive force ready to pounce on us. The New Testament picks up on this theme and presents its own powerful picture of sin. Sin is not just "bad stuff" we do; sin is a power. Sin makes us slaves. You may wonder: Why do I keep going back to that bad habit or that sin? You keep going back because it's your master! But here's the key: you must master it. We're still responsible for our sin. We're still moral, responsible human beings. Some of you have been truly victimized by life: rape, sexual abuse, physical abuse, the divorce of your parents, or a hundred other things that have wounded your hearts. God has a special place in his heart for victims and the brokenhearted, but the Bible also says—and this applies to everyone—you are not first and foremost a victim of life. You are a fugitive from God, a sinner. None of us will stand before God and say, "It was my wife's fault or my husband's fault or my parents' fault. That's why I couldn't love and trust and obey you." That's what sin does. It attacks us and turns us into slaves. Scene #3: Cain is at the crossroads now. He can cry out to God and ask for help in the battle against sin, or he can stay stuck in his bitterness, anger, pity, and grousing. Cain decides to keep grousing. In Genesis 4:8, Cain asks his brother to go in the field. Their being "in the field" implies they will be out of range of help. In other words, this is a premeditated act. They've offered their best to God—Cain even heard God speak directly to him—but he leaves the worship service and makes plans to murder his brother.
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