Zechariah 3:4

I begin this message by giving credit to God for the gifts He gave to Pastor Walter Wangerin, Jr, for it was his modern-day metaphor published in a magazine called, “Christianity Today,” that was the story which gave birth to this message.

I saw a strange sight. I stumbled upon a story most strange, like nothing my life has ever prepared me for. Listen now, and I will tell you. It was before dawn on Friday morning. I noticed a young man, handsome and strong, walking through the alleys of the city. He was pulling an old cart filled with clothes both bright and new, and he was calling out with a clear, tenor voice, “Rags! Rags! New rags for old. I’ll take your tired rags. Rags!”

Now this is a wonder, I thought to myself, for the man stood six foot four, and his arms were like tree limbs, hard and muscular. His eyes flashed with intelligence. Could he find no better job than this, than to be a ragman in the inner city? I followed him though, and my curiosity drove me, and I wasn’t disappointed. Soon the ragman saw a woman sitting on her back porch, and she was sobbing in her handkerchief, sighing, and shedding a thousand tears. Her knees and elbows made a sad sight…and her shoulders shook…and her heart was breaking. The ragman stopped his cart and quietly he walked over to the woman, stepping around the tin cans and the dead toys and the Pampers. “Give me your rag,” he said so gently, “and I’ll give you another.” He slipped the handkerchief from her eyes, and she looked up and he laid across her palm a linen cloth so clean and new that it shined. Then as he began to pull the cart again, the ragman did a strange thing. He put her stained, snotty handkerchief to his own face, and he began to weep, to sob so grievously as she had done. His shoulders were shaking like hers were shaking, and yet she was left behind without a tear.

This is a wonder, I breathed to myself, and I followed the sobbing ragman like a child who could not turn away from mystery. “Rags! Rags! New rags for old.” In a little while the ragman came upon a girl whose head was wrapped in a bandage, whose eyes were empty, and blood soaked her bandage, and a line of blood ran down her cheek. Now, the tall ragman looked upon this child with pity, and he drew a lovely yellow bonnet from his cart. “Give me your rag,” he said, “and I’ll give you mine.” The child could only gaze at him while he loosened the bandage, removed it and tied it to his own head, and the bonnet he set on hers. And, I gasped at what I saw—for with the bandage went the wound. Against the brow it ran a darker colored blood—his own.

“Rags! Rags! I’ll take old rags,” cried the sobbing, bleeding, strong, intelligent ragman. The midday sun hurt my eyes, and the ragman seemed more and more in a hurry. “Are you going to work?” he asked a man who leaned against a telephone pole. The man shook his head. The ragman inquired, “Do you have a job?” “Are you crazy?” sneered the other. He pulled away from the pole, revealing the right sleeve of his jacket. It was flat, the cuff stuffed into his pocket. He had no arm. “So,” said the ragman, “give me your jacket, and I’ll give you mine.” Such quiet authority in his voice. The one-armed man took off his jacket, and so did the ragman, and I trembled at what I saw…for the ragman’s arm stayed in the jacket, and when the other man put it on, he now had two good arms, thick as tree limbs, but the ragman only had one. “Go to work,” he said.

After that, the ragman saw a drunk lying unconscious beneath an Army blanket…an old man, hunched and sick, and he took that blanket and he wrapped it around himself. But for the drunk, he left a new suit of clothes. And now I have to run to keep up with the ragman. Though he was weeping uncontrollably and bleeding freely at his forehead, and pulling his cart with one arm, and stumbling for drunkenness, falling again and again exhausted, old and sick, yet he went very fast. He rushed through the alleys of the city, this mile and the next, until he came to its limits, and then he rushed beyond. I wept to see the change in this man, and I hurt to see his sorrow. Yet I needed to see where he was going in such haste, perhaps to know what drove him so.

The little old ragman came to a landfill, came to a garbage dump, and there I wanted to help him in what he did, but I hung back, hiding. He climbed a hill and with tormented labor he cleared a little space on that hill, and there he sighed and he laid down. He pillowed his head on a handkerchief and a jacket. He covered his bones with an Army blanket. And, he died. And oh, how I cried to witness that death. I slumped into a junked car and wailed and mourned as one who has no hope because I had come to love the ragman. Every other face had faded in the wonder of this man, and I cherished him, but he died.

I cried myself to sleep. I did not know—how could I know—that I slept through Friday night, Saturday and its night too, but then on Sunday morning I was awakened by a violence…light—pure, hard, demanding light, slammed against my sour face, and I blinked and I looked, and I saw the last and best wonder of all. There was the ragman, folding the Army blanket most carefully; a scar on his forehead, but alive. Besides that, he was healthy, and there was no sign of sorrow nor of age. All the rags that he had gathered shined for cleanliness. Well, then I lowered my head, and trembling for all that I had ever seen, I myself walked up to that ragman and I told him my name was Shame for I was a sorry figure next to him. Then I took off my clothes in that place and I said to the ragman with yearning in my voice, “Dress me,” and he dressed me. He put new rags on me. I am a wonder beside him.

The ragman…the ragman…it’s Jesus!

Surely He has taken our griefs, and He has carried those sorrows out to that dump. Surely Jesus went to the cross being a divorced man, leaving behind his wife and children. Surely Jesus went and He took our lies, and He became a liar. And surely He became as an immoral man with bitter words and dishonest feelings. He took them to the cross. He took them from us because He is the Ragman. When He had collected every rag from every person, He laid down and He died. It was a horrible sight. Today we take a walk out to the garbage dump and the caretaker says, “He’s no longer here. He got up and walked away.”

There was a New York attorney who had asked his friend in the ministry if he really believed Jesus rose from the dead. The pastor replied, “He surely did. Can I share with you the evidence from Scripture?” After studying the passages, the lawyer said to the minister, “I’m convinced that Jesus did rise from the dead,” but he added, “I’m no more nearer being a Christian than I was before. I thought the difficulty was with my head, but I find it’s with my heart.” That lawyer put his finger right on the problem of the greater majority of people who come to church—they come; they confess and sing “Jesus is risen from the dead,” but the message hasn’t touched their hearts! It hasn’t hit home because the rags they are carrying are still the old ones from last year. Jesus says, “I give you new ones.” Jesus carries those burdens—He did not mean for us to carry them. He does the weeping. He replaces the rag of fear with hope; the rag of worry with contentment; the rag of lust with love; the rag of greed with generosity. He always replaces the old with the new. As the Bible says, “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature.” The old has gone away, and the new cloth has come.

The Ragman walked away early this morning from the garbage heap, and that sin stayed there. I have come here this morning to ask you, my brothers and sisters in Christ, then why are you still living in sin? Why are so many still walking around no differently than the unbeliever? Why are you so stuck on your past? Why has there been so little change? Because Jesus Christ changes people. My friends, it is because when Jesus came by and asked for your old rags, some of you stuck them into your back pocket, and you held them there. I have come to announce this morning that Jesus wants all of your old rags today because He’s alive now.

I talked to one young man not too long ago, and I urged him to turn away from his present sin to Jesus Christ. He said, “I know I should, and I know it’s best, but I can’t do it now.” Jesus wanted that old rag from that young man, and yet that young man decided to keep the old rag of immorality. He said, “No.”

I’ve come to announce this morning that following Jesus Christ is not difficult because He keeps replacing the problems you have with new life. This new life is in constant supply, day in and day out. It never runs dry, because sin has lost its power in the garbage dump. Sorrow has lost its grief. Worry has lost its warts. Death has lost its sting. Because Jesus left behind Him the dirty rages of despair. He left behind your financial burden, but there’s new hope. He left behind your heart trouble—there’s new life. Cancer is not a problem anymore. Strokes aren’t a problem anymore. There’s new life now that Jesus Christ has left the grave.

Why are so many of us still worried about growing old? We’ve got new life in Christ. Why are so many worried about the body that we have? We have new life in Jesus. We’re going on through the garbage dump to the other side. We’re going to live…and live…and live! We live now with Christ; we live tomorrow with Christ; we’ll live 50 years from now with Christ; we’ll live a thousand years from now with Christ; we’ll live a million years from now with Christ. Who else can guarantee that? That’s why He turned Himself into the Ragman…so we wouldn’t have to live in those rags anymore.

Oh, do you fully realize the implications of this day? Because of Easter, Baptism and Holy Communion mean everything! We have a Savior who has taken away our filthy rags of sin. A Savior who lives, not for His own sake, but for ours—who lives to give us new life—who stands in the water of the font, and rides to us on the bread and wine of Communion to give us His life; a pure life; a life dressed with clean linen cloths and rich garments. A life that is unending. A life of confidence, not fear; of hope, not doubt.

A little boy whose home was near the cemetery, had to follow a path through it to get to the store. He was only nine years old, but he never seemed to be afraid even when he walked through the cemetery after dark. When asked, “Are you afraid?” he replied, “Oh, no, I’m not afraid, because my home is just on the other side.” There’s no fear in the life that Christ gives us. I know a lot of people are afraid, but there’s no fear for us, because our home is just on the other side. Jesus, the Ragman, has prepared it, and He gives it to us in water, bread and wine.

Have you ever had the opportunity to stand at the shore of a large ocean? Out in the ocean you can watch the large ocean liners going by. You can watch to see how long you can see them before they go over the horizon. They get smaller and smaller…just a little speck…and then you can’t see that giant ocean liner any longer. I marvel at that. For just as that large ship goes out of sight and you can’t see it anymore, you know there are people on the other shore…they’re just getting their first glimpse. To us, it is gone; but to those on the other side, they can see it coming. Because Christ lives, death is no more than going out of sight. But as soon as you are out of sight from this earth, they’ll see you coming—from the other side. Some day we’re going to watch a loved one go away; some of you have done that; several times; some since last Easter. Finally the person is no more. You can’t see him because he died. But, on the other side—on the other side—they’re going to see Mother coming; and they’re going to see Dad coming; and they’re going to see Grandpa coming—and there’s going to be great rejoicing because they made it to the other side…because that’s heaven…and that’s what the Ragman, Jesus Christ, prepared for us.

Jesus took our old rags, and He went out to that hill and He died. He got up three days later, and He’s here today, to lead you there to the other side. Why? Because He’s the Ragman. He took your sorrow, and sin, and death, and He gives you new life and new hope—a magnificent, incomprehensible life awaits us. One reason: the Ragman, Jesus. Amen.

(With thanks to Rev. Walter Wangerin, Jr. and to Rev. William Richardt)