So we’re in the second week of our series called “War & Peace” and the question that is driving the whole series, the question that we’re all wrestling with for the next month, is this: when it comes to war and peace—to conflict and violence and hostility and justice and forgiveness—what sort of story does Christianity tell? Over and against everything the world has to say, what does the Bible have to say about war and peace? And so last week we started that conversation with this: the very first and last thing the Bible has to say about war and peace, is peace. Period. Violence was not in the beginning and it will not be in the end. We find violence fascinating, but God doesn’t. We find peace boring and naïve, but God doesn’t. The universe has always, does always, and will always revolve around the wild and unpredictable peace of God. That said, we live in a world that sure does seem to revolve around violence. So how do we explain that? And perhaps more importantly, what does God’s peace do when it’s confronted with a world at war? Let’s turn to Genesis 3 and we’ll read 3:22-4:16. East of Eden Genesis 3 and 4 tell us the story of how God’s world of peace becomes a world at war. Adam and Eve have been cast out of the garden and they travel east of Eden—that’s an important phrase. In the Bible, to move east of Eden is to move away from God. Humanity has moved east of Eden, and the very first thing that happens is this. Adam and Eve have two sons, Cain and Abel. And if Adam and Eve are the primal, archetypal husband and wife, Cain and Abel are the primal, archetypal brothers. Cain is the firstborn and he’s a farmer. Abel is the younger and he’s a shepherd. And one day they bring their offerings to God, and for some reason, God accepts Abel’s offering and reject’s Cain’s. This rejection makes Cain very angry—with God and with Abel—and what happens next will reverberate down the halls of history. Faced with conflict and needing to resolve it, needing to find a way forward, Cain sacrifices Abel. In order to secure his own future, Cain takes somebody else’s blood. Cain lures Abel out into a lonely field and murders him. And immediately, God’s ears are filled with a terrible sound, a sound he’s never heard before. It’s the sound of Abel’s blood, crying out from the ground—and it cries out for vengeance. So God marks Cain and sends him even further east of Eden and in the stories that follow, more and more blood is shed, and more and more vengeance is called for. And we’re left wondering: how is God going to deal with the world’s cry for vengeance and justice? Nuremburg The courthouse in Nuremburg, Germany is sight of the most famous trials of the 20th century. In the aftermath of WW2 and the fall of the Nazi regime, it was clear to the world that justice had to be served for the atrocities of the Holocaust. The blood of many Abels, millions of Jewish men, women, and children cried out for justice. Even now, so many years later, our hearts can hardly bear to hear the stories of the gas chambers and death marches and grotesque experiments. And so faced with so much spilt blood, the Allies dealt with the cry for justice with Nuremburg, a series of trials where prominent Nazi leaders were tried and given a punishment that fit the crime—a number were sentenced to life in prison and twelve were sentenced to death by hanging. And I don’t know about you, but few things bring me more satisfaction than seeing justice served by revenge and retribution. When I see pictures of a pile of shoes a mile high—shoes stolen from the feet of Jewish victims—and I think about all the little bitty shoes that are in that pile, there is nothing I’d like more than to tie the noose around the neck of every single person responsible. Because that’s what they deserve. Just a few months ago, three teenagers were arrested in New Mexico for beating two homeless men to death. When asked why they did it, they answered that they were bored and one of them was angry about a break-up with his girlfriend. They beat two homeless human beings to death because they didn’t have anything better to do. And so help me God, when I hear stories like that, everything in me calls for Nuremburg—for justice via revenge and retribution. I can think of nothing more just than spilling the blood of someone who has spilt somebody else’s blood. I like Nuremburg. I like giving people what they deserve. I like justice by means of revenge and retribution. But here’s the problem with Nuremburg. You Are the Man! In 2 Samuel, we’re told the sickening story of David and Bathsheba. King David sees Bathsheba, the wife of another man, bathing, and lusts after her, has sex with her, gets her pregnant, and to avoid a scandal has her husband (Uriah) murdered. And David thinks he has gotten away with it. Time passes when one day a wild, old prophet named Nathan comes knocking...