Over the past few months, we’ve had a lot to think about here at FPC. Adjusting to life without Carrie, while she was on sabbatical. The resignations of Andrew Dobos and Brenda Weiser. The upcoming retirement of Judy Chambers. Figuring out what it means to be a Mission-Minded, Small-Group-Centered congregation.

It’s time, I think, for you to take a break from these concerns. So let me invite you to focus on several other issues, what I would call “The Mysteries of the Universe.” For instance …Which came first, the can opener or the can?

Or, Why do snooze buttons only give you nine minutes more sleep?

And the timeless question, How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

These are tough questions, aren’t they? These mysteries are too brain-twisting and mind-boggling for most of us to solve without professional help. Fortunately, we have mental_floss … no, not dental floss. I said “Mental_floss”. It’s a trivia magazine that has unearthed solutions to these mysteries in an article titled "The 25 Most Important Questions in the History of the Universe" (November-December 2004).

Regarding cans and can openers, it can be proven that the can came first. Back in 1810, a British merchant patented the tin can, making it possible for sterilized food to be preserved in a non-breakable container. The cans were especially useful for long ocean voyages, and the British Navy ate them up. But for the first 50 years of tin can usage, the containers were opened with a hammer and chisel. The first can opener was patented by an American inventor in 1858, and home can openers didn’t appear until 1870.

Why do snooze buttons only give you nine minutes more sleep? Easy. When engineers invented the snooze feature in the 1950s, they had to mesh the snooze gear with existing gear configurations. They decided that the best gear was the 9-minute gear, so that became the standard. Although today’s digital clocks can be programmed to have a snooze of any length, most stick with nine minutes because that’s what people expect.

And the eternal question: How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? This is a tough one, since woodchucks are not particularly tree-oriented. What they like to chuck is dirt, as they burrow tunnels into the ground. Having studied their dirt-digging abilities, a New York State wildlife expert has calculated that if a woodchuck could chuck wood, he could chuck as much as 700 pounds of the stuff.

There. Don’t you feel better now?

Mysteries of the universe. They tease and tantalize us, leaving us scratching our heads as we wonder just exactly what makes No. 2 pencils so special … or, why Hawaii has Interstate Highways … or, precisely how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop. The answer to that last one, but the way, is 364, based on the work of a “licking machine” designed by engineering students at Purdue University. If you are the parents of a Purdue student, you should be proud.

Of course, none of these mental_floss mysteries really matter to us. What truly has significance to the state of our souls is the answer to the question raised by Paul in his letter to the Romans: Why is it that "I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate .... I can will what is right, but I cannot do it …. I find it to be a law that when I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand …. Who will rescue me from this body of death?" (Romans 7:15, 18, 21, 24)

That’s a mystery that matters: The problem of why we have such trouble doing the right thing. It’s a question for me, a question for you, a question for every person in this room, one that is infinitely more important than discovering the amount of wood that a woodchuck could chuck … if a woodchuck could chuck wood.

The answer to Paul’s question has to begin with sin. In Paul’s experience, sin is a power that dwells deep within him, one that corrupts his relationship with God and neighbor. This powerful sin causes him to do the things he hates, it prevents him from doing what is right, and it causes him to do evil. “Now if I do what I do not want,” he concludes, “it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells in me” (v. 20).

I can certainly relate to Paul’s inner struggle. Not a day goes by that I don’t find myself cutting a corner, shading a truth, or acting selfishly … despite my best efforts. Sin corrupts us all, causing us to gossip with our friends, to cheat on school assignments, to waste time on the job, to look at pornography on the Internet, to mislead our customers, to lust after our coworkers, to abuse drugs and alcohol. Along with Paul, we have to admit, “I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do” (v. 19). Even worse, our best intentions are often thwarted by our sinfulness. We do a good deed, and hope we’ll be rewarded for it. We work hard, and end up becoming workaholics. We make a sacrifice for someone else, and feel selfish pride about our selfless act.

“Total depravity” is the term that Christian thinkers, beginning with Saint Augustine and then John Calvin, have used to describe this condition. It means that that we are depraved in every part of our being, and that sin plays a corrupting role in every deed we perform. It does not mean that everything we do is completely sinful, but instead it reminds us that every dimension of our life is tainted by sin.

Nothing can escape the stain of sin. Not even our best efforts.

So where does this leave us? What -- or who -- will rescue us from this body of death? “Thanks be to God,” writes Paul to the Romans, “though Jesus Christ our Lord!” (v. 25). The only antidote to total depravity is the total supremacy of the grace of God – a grace that comes to us through our faith in Jesus Christ.

When I talk about grace, I’m not talking about some dry, dusty, dead old doctrine. Instead, I’m talking about a life-giving gift that has been received by sin-scarred and struggling Christians throughout the centuries. Augustine himself lived an immoral life as a young man, becoming involved with a woman at the age of seventeen, a relationship that lasted thirteen years and produced a son out of wedlock. Engaged in a battle with sexual lust, Augustine offered the famous prayer "Make me chaste Lord ... but not yet."

Augustine came to see that sin was more than a set of bad habits – it was, instead, a vicious and destructive force in human life. Like Cain, the eldest son of Adam and Eve, he found that sin was always “lurking at the door” (Genesis 4:7). Augustine also discovered that he could not control his sinfulness through human effort, but he needed to be delivered from sin through the power of the grace of God.

The solution to sin is more than just good intentions, you see. It requires a rescue.

Fortunately, God has sent a Savior to snatch us out of trouble. When God sent Jesus to save us, he was sending us grace – sending us the free and undeserved gift of God’s own self. Paul explains that there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, for God has sent his own Son to deal with sin and to condemn sin in the flesh (8:1-3). When we put our faith in Jesus -- the one who is the living, breathing embodiment of God’s grace and love -- we are rescued from the vicious, destructive, and death-dealing power of sin. Through the intervention of Christ, our inner sin is replaced by an inner Spirit – one that gives us the priceless gifts of life and peace.

Does this mean we become perfect people? Not quite. We’re forgiven, not flawless. But with the gifts of pardon, peace, and new life, we can escape our ruts and make some progress along the road to the kingdom of God.

So maybe mental_floss needs to revise its 25 Most Important Questions in the History of the Universe. More important than “Where Does Nougat Come From?” and “Why Do We Call Them Grandfather Clocks?” is a far more critical question: “Who Will Rescue Us From This Body of Death?”

The answer … for me, for you, for people of any time and place … is Jesus Christ. He died to bring us forgiveness and new life, and because of his sacrifice we can consider ourselves “dead to sin and alive to God” (Romans 6:11). There is nothing we can do to make God love us any more, and nothing we can do to make God love us any less. We are simply invited to trust Jesus Christ, accept his offer of rescue, and walk into an eternal future with the Lord.

It may take 364 licks to get through a Tootsie Pop, but it takes only one crucifixion to break the power of sin. The question of how to escape inner conflicts does not require a team of engineering students or a group of wildlife experts -- it takes only one dying and rising Savior, and the willingness of each of us to put our faith in him.

The solution to the problem of sin has been elusive for much of human history. But now, in God’s grace-filled gift of Jesus Christ, we have our answer.

Mystery solved. Amen.