John Xee is well known in his community, with a tight circle of friends and customers. He grew up in his close-knit neighborhood, went to school there, and still lives there.

He sounds like a model citizen, doesn't he?

Nah. He's a drug dealer.

In this line of work, it's critically important to be known in the community. John, you see, peddles poison to people he knows, not to strangers. His close circle of friends and customers -- so valuable in any business -- makes it extremely difficult for the police to catch him. He knows his way around the community and the community knows him. Even when he is caught, he often returns home after prison and just picks up where he left off.

What's the justice system supposed to do?

Kelly Burke, the district attorney of Houston County, Georgia, is opting for banishment. Yes, banishment.

"When the police catch John Xee," he explains, "they let my office know the history of Mr. Xee. As we discuss the possible punishment of Mr. Xee with his attorney, we tell them that banishment will be required. The entire time that Mr. Xee is on probation, he will be prohibited from coming back to Houston County."

Banishment. It sounds positively medieval, doesn't it?

So what does it accomplish? "What we are actually doing," says Kelly Burke, "is disrupting his business cycle. By pushing Mr. Xee into another community, he will have lost his 'community standing' and his 'customers' will no longer be around." (Kelly R. Burke, "Banishment from Houston County," web page of the Houston, Georgia, District Attorney, www.houstonda.org. Retrieved November 19, 2001)

Banishing criminals from their home communities has been part of crime and punishment for thousands of years, dating back to the ancient Greeks and Romans. Although once a very popular punishment, it has now pretty much vanished from the scene, except in a few states such as Georgia and Kentucky.

District Attorney Kelly Burke does it all the time, and he loves it. Many of his defendants, stuck with a choice between going to jail or leaving town, are agreeing to be banished. After they are gone, he proudly puts them all one heading: "BANNED." (Russ Bynum, "'Get out' still used to punish," The Denver Post, October 22, 2001, 2A)

When we ourselves struggle with sin, it can feel as though we are wrestling with a very devious drug dealer. You know: Someone who is well known, extremely difficult to catch and to prosecute, and likely to come home after punishment and pick right up where he left off. Sin knows its way around the community that is our body, mind and spirit -- and the community knows this sin as well.

Wouldn't it be a relief to put sin on Kelly Burke's criminal list, under the heading: BANNED!

Of course, banishment of sin is not really an option. It won't simply go away, and stay away. It's not always clear how we can stop doing evil, and start doing good.

But, fortunately for us, the apostle Paul has a few good ideas.

For starters, he urges us to decide whose team we're on, because there is no getting out of the game. The contest between good and evil is going on all the time, and there's no place to run if you don't feel like playing. Banishment from the struggle is never an option.

"No longer present your members to sin as instruments of wickedness" (v. 13), says Paul -- an awkward phrase that means we should not allow our God-given abilities to be used as instruments or weapons or tools of unrighteousness. We've each got some skills and abilities and gifts to employ in the contest we face each day, and it's up to each of us to decide if our contribution is going to help the side of unrighteousness ... or the side of righteousness.

The struggle with sin is like the war on terrorism. You've got to pick a side. There's no way to sit on the sidelines, or to escape the game.

Paul, of course, has a clear recommendation: "present yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life, and present your members to God as instruments of righteousness" (v. 13). He wants us to use our abilities to fight for righteousness in this great cosmic contest, and he reminds us that we are players who have already been drafted by God to be part of his team -- we are nothing less than "those who have been brought from death to life."

As members of God's team, it's important to get in the game and play. This means: - Serving as a host family for a child from Chernobyl, or volunteering to provide transportation or chaperoning for one of their events. You can sign up today in the narthex. - Encouraging a child to participate in the God and Country program -- or, if you are a young person in scouting, making a commitment to the program yourself. - Serving the Presbyterian Church beyond the boundaries of this community, as Fred Lokay has done by serving as a commissioner to our General Assembly. - Committing time and talent to a week on a mission trip, as our Junior and Senior Highs, and their advisors, are doing this summer.

In all these ways, and in many others, we present ourselves to God, and we use our abilities "as instruments of righteousness."

Once playing on the right team, we are given some help in our efforts to stop doing evil and start doing good. In fact, Paul is convinced that our Lord goes so far as to free us from sin, to disrupt the "business cycle" of unrighteousness, and to make us "slaves of righteousness" (v. 18). Now I know that this slave-talk sounds bizarre to our 21st-century ears, but to Christians in the first century it made perfect sense: They assumed that people would have to be obedient slaves, to a good master or a bad master. A person was going to be enslaved to SOMETHING, they figured, whether it was righteousness or unrighteousness.

You have been freed from sin and "enslaved to God" (v. 22), insists Paul. In this particular case, slavery is not a bad thing at all.

The point is: God is in control. He is our Lord and our master, the one who is responsible for us. Since we are playing on his team, he is going to take the very best care of us, offering us encouragement to do good, forgiveness when we do evil, and the wonderful gift of sanctification -- that gift which moves us closer and closer to becoming the people God wants us to be.

As slaves of righteousness, we are given tasks and duties and challenges every day -- responsibilities that help us to discover what it means to follow Christ. We may not always do these perfectly, or even well, but as slaves we'll keep doing them, day after day, and with the help of God we'll move ever closer to a life of righteousness. "The end," promises Paul, "is eternal life" (v. 22).

The best way to deal with sin is to play on the right team, with God as your coach. The best way to escape unrighteousness is to be a slave of righteousness, with the Lord as your master.

Either way, you've got to play the game. There's no bench to sit on. No place to hide. No escape from the playing field. Our struggle with sin is not going to be banned in Georgia, or anywhere.

It can only be won, with the help of God. Amen.

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