Monday, December 18, 2017

A Witness to the Light

In Nomine Iesu
St. John 1:6-8, 19-28
December 17, 2017
Advent 3B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

Hark! A thrilling voice is sounding. John the Baptist is back once again this Sunday as our guest preacher. And it’s a good thing, too. I’m not sure I would have been up to the task—not sure I would have known what to say. It’s been a horrible week for most of us. But John knows just what to say. John does what He does best. He walks with us in the wilderness. He leads us to the Light. He
takes us from tragedy to triumph. He points the way to Jesus. And that is all we need. That will be enough.

Nearly all of us were touched by tragedy last week. It wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. Tragedies come in all shapes and sizes: Some are public; while others are private. There can be one victim or hundreds. There can be a motive that makes sense, or no motive that makes sense. Tragedy can be self-inflicted, or inflicted upon others. Sometimes tragedy is anticipated; but more often it comes with no warning.

Last Sunday we heard about the huge crowds that were making their way out into the Jordan River wilderness to listen to John preach, and to be baptized by John with a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And I think it’s safe to say that the vast majority of those people were hurting people—people whose lives had been touched by tragedy to some degree. Lots of outcasts, tax-collectors, and prostitutes. Somewhere along the line their lives began to trend downward. And who’s to say why? Where did things go wrong? Bad decisions? Risks taken or not taken? Poor impulse control? Whatever the case, tragedy had taken a toll on them, and they were looking to John for answers.

Today, however, we don’t hear so much about the crowds as we do about one very small contingent of priests and Levites. This blue-ribbon task force wasn’t touched by tragedy as much as by jealousy and curiosity. It seems that the church bureaucrats at the home office in Jerusalem wanted to know more about this locust-eating, leather-wearing preacher out in the wilderness. They went to John the Baptist with a simple question: “Who are you?” Or, perhaps, more to the point, “Who do you think you are?”

John proceeded to tell them who he wasn’t. John told them that he wasn’t the Christ. John told them that he wasn’t Elijah. John told them that he wasn’t the Prophet whose coming had been foretold by Moses. Now, by this time, the stuffed shirts from corporate were likely getting a little impatient. They needed something substantial to include in their report. They wanted facts, answers, data, details, explanations, flow charts, pie graphs. Because, armed with the right information, then they could start to make sense of what was happening. “Who are you?” they demanded. “What do you say about yourself?”

But John would not indulge their curiosity. Never once did John give in to the temptation to “tell his story,” or to “give his testimony” about how he came to be known as a “great” man of God. I mean, we all know that John had impeccable ecclesiastical credentials. He had a religious resume that was unparalleled. You know how his parents, Elizabeth and Zechariah, were childless and well into their golden years—how the angel Gabriel appeared to Zechariah in the temple—how Zechariah didn’t believe it and couldn’t speak until the day that John was circumcised. John had a back-story that could have been a made-for-tv motion picture for the Hallmark channel. But John didn’t speak about any of that.

John refused to give them what they wanted; but he gave them what they needed. Whether he was dealing with people who were hurting—whose lives had been touched by tragedy—or those who were just casually curious—John gave them Jesus. And that’s why I’m so glad to have John as our guest preacher this morning. He doesn’t come to entertain us or to explain away the tragedies that confound us and overwhelm us. He comes to give us what we need. He comes to give us Jesus. And that is all we need. That will be enough.

John came as a “witness.” That’s a very important word. He came as a witness to the Light. He doesn’t talk about himself; it wouldn’t be right. He doesn’t engage in speculation. If you are called as a witness in a trial, you aren’t called to talk about yourself, but about the facts—to tell the truth—so help you God. That’s what a witness does.

Sometimes the truth and the facts are unpleasant and horrible. But we don’t have to be afraid of the facts and the truth. If John were really standing here today as our guest preacher he would give you the hard facts of God’s Law. He would remind you that to intentionally hurt or harm yourself or someone else—no matter how sincere your motivations may feel to you—is a sin against God and against all the people God has given you to love.

John, of course, would make the law personal. He would single you out and remind you that—even on your very best days—you, yes you, are one bad decision away from triggering a tidal wave of tragedy that will forever alter the landscape of the world as we know it. John would remind you that even your most honorable and noble instincts are laced with satanic poison—the antidote for which you neither possess nor control. There, but for the grace of God, go you and me. Those are the facts—the unpleasant reality—the inconvenient truth—that stands behind one of the first phrases you spoke in this service: I, a poor, miserable sinner. And John’s message for poor, miserable sinners: Repent!

John is a witness. He’s all about the facts—all about the truth. Now, if all we had were the hard facts about our sinful condition, then we might try to re-frame the truth to make ourselves look a little better. But we don’t have to do that. We don’t have to be afraid of the truth about ourselves (or the fact that our sin runs death deep) because John also gives us the truth about Jesus Christ—who is the way, the truth, and the life.

John came as a witness to the Light. John came to tell the blessed truth about Jesus of Nazareth—that He is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. Jesus came for sinners. Jesus stands shoulder-to-shoulder with sinners. Jesus took on our human flesh in a virgin’s womb and was born into our world of terrible tragedies. Remember what King Herod did to all the baby boys in Bethlehem? Christmas isn’t just a cute story about motherhood and childbirth—it’s about the Son of God taking on our human flesh to redeem us by His blood. Jesus comes to us in the midst of tragedy to offer us the remedy of His redeeming love and the forgiveness of our sins. In His wounds—the wounds He suffered on the cross—we can find healing for our wounds.

John came as a witness to the light—to point us to the only one who can save us from our sins. I’m pretty sure if John were here he would point that finger of his at the crucifix and say: Do you see that? Do you see God’s Lamb bleeding and dying? That was no accident. That was no tragedy. That crime scene was God’s plan from the before the world began to save you, to deliver you, to love you, to be with you in your darkest days in this world—and for eternity in the life of the world to come. Oh, and one more thing. That Lamb of God—He lives. On the third day he rose again. He destroyed death. And in Him you, too, will rise and live forever. See how loved you are. See how precious you are to Jesus. See how valuable your life really is. God is for you. And if God is for you, who can be against you?

If you think otherwise—if you feel unloved, abandoned, or hopeless—if you feel worthless and in despair of your life—then your thinking and your perception are impaired. Let someone know. Ask for help. Bring your burdens to Jesus. Talk with one of His witnesses. For those witnesses have light and life to share.

For I am looking at a room full of witnesses—witnesses to the light. You, like John, are witnesses to the light of the world, Jesus Christ. You are a voice like his in today’s wilderness of sin and death and tragedy. No, you don’t have all the answers or just the right words or even the power to convert one person. But you do have a finger and voice like John. You don’t need flow charts or PowerPoint slides. You can point people to Jesus. You can say, “There’s the One for you. In Him is forgiveness, life, and salvation.”

The Divine service is where you get your credentials as a witness. This is where the Risen Christ comes to serve you and give you the facts of His love. This is where He locates Himself for you, in tangible, observable ways that you can taste and see and hear. There is Jesus, in the water of your baptism. There is Jesus, speaking through the mouth of your preacher, declaring you absolved, forgiven, and free. There is Jesus in the bread and wine of His Holy Supper. These are the facts. This is the blessed truth to which we are so privileged to bear witness. Look! Jesus! He died bearing your sins. He rose again, holding your precious life in His nail-scarred hands. He now reigns and in Him you reign too.

There is so much we don’t understand. But we do know this: God is stricter than we are. And He is more merciful and forgiving than we are. The death and resurrection of His Son embraces and encompasses all things. He is the remedy for tragedy. He is our joy on this third Sunday in Advent.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Monday, December 4, 2017

Borrowed by the Lord

In Nomine Iesu
St. Mark 11:1-10
December 3, 2017
Advent 1B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

When the season of Epiphany begins next month, it’s entirely possible that it might escape your notice. And, also, when season of Lent gets underway in mid-February, you might miss it. Sometimes we can be oblivious to the changing seasons of the church year. It happens. But Advent escapes nobody’s notice. No one can claim to be clueless as to the arrival of Advent. There’s an oversized wreath with candles dangling in the front corner! You can’t help but see it—and smell it—along with all the other greenery that graces the nave.

But in addition to the seeing and the smelling . . . what matters most in Advent is the hearing. And what we hear in Advent has everything to do with the coming of the Christ. Christ came in humility as the babe of Bethlehem and the Son of Mary. He comes among us today—here and now—in the means of grace. And He will come again with glory to judge both the living and the dead. Advent is one complex season—so much more than just a countdown to Christmas.

Advent always accents the coming of the Christ. This is why the Triumphal Entry of Jesus into Jerusalem always sets the table for
us on the First Sunday of Advent. Jesus comes into Jerusalem in humility, riding a borrowed donkey. He comes to die—to bow His sacred head in submission to the Father—to bear the sins of the world on His crucifixion cross.

Did you notice the Lord’s mode of transportation? That donkey would seem to be kind of important as Saint Mark tells of the Triumphal Entry. It was a borrowed donkey—a never-before-ridden donkey. And did you notice just how that donkey was acquired? Jesus told two disciples to seek it, find it, and take it. It would be as if Jesus told you to wander through the parking lot at Bayshore and look for a nice, new 2018 model with the keys in the ignition—and take it. And if anyone should ask just what you’re up to, just say, well, “The Lord has need of it.” (I don’t recommend trying that.)

These details about the donkey don’t make a lot of sense to us. We wouldn’t have scripted things out like that. But that’s how the Savior scripted it. Those are the orders He gave. And amazingly, that donkey was acquired in just the way Jesus had directed. At the very least, this is a gentle reminder to us that the all-knowing Lord is also at work in the strangely scripted details of our lives—that He has a plan and purpose for His people which isn’t always pretty and neat (like the packages that will soon start piling up beneath your Christmas tree.)

It’s also worth noting that when Jesus gave those two disciples marching orders on just how to borrow that beast of burden, they went and did exactly what the Savior said. They may have had their doubts about the mission. There was certainly some risk involved. But they trusted Jesus and kept His Word. That’s also what you’ve been called to do—to trust Jesus and keep His Word—to do what He says even when you’d rather not—even when you have doubts about the outcome—even when others may laugh at you and mock you—even when there’s some risk involved.

What it all comes down to is a beggar king on a borrowed donkey. Back in the day, King David had always been partial to the steady, stable, dependable ride of a donkey. The pro-Jesus folks in that Palm Sunday crowd picked up on that little tribute to David and started calling out to the Christ with kingly kinds of language: Hosanna! Lord, save us! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest! That crowd had a plan for Jesus—a plan to run the Romans out of town, to reestablish the throne of David, and to revive the glory of Israel.

But that borrowed donkey reminds us that Jesus had other plans—not for an earthly kingdom but an eternal one. He was riding into Jerusalem to suffer and die and rise again—to conquer sin and death for the whole world—including you. This King would be crowned with thorns, not gold. His throne would be a cross. His victory would come through submission and suffering and death—for you and every sinner.

Those are the facts of history. That’s exactly what happened at Christ’s first coming—His first advent—which began in Bethlehem and concluded at His ascension to the Father’s right hand. But today His advent continues. The Risen Lord continues to come among His people. No, He doesn’t come here today atop a borrowed donkey (although that would be kind of fun). But He does come here to serve you and love you in ways that are no less humble and hidden.

The same Jesus who borrowed a donkey because He had need of it—well, Jesus is still in the borrowing business. He borrows our language to speak to us—to crush us with His commandments and to forgive us with the power of His promises. He borrows our water and adds His Word, and makes it a baptism—a cleansing splash for you that works forgiveness of sins, rescues from death and the devil, and gives eternal salvation. He borrows our bread and our wine and then comes to save us in the meal of His body and His blood. The same Christ who rode into Jerusalem also comes among us in His Holy Supper. This Jesus has also borrowed our humanity—permanently. He is bone of your bone and flesh of your flesh, tempted in every way just as you are, yet without sin. He became one of us to save all of us.

And so that this salvation can be delivered into your ears and your mouth and your heart, the Lord Jesus has borrowed a man named John to be His minister. And through this congregation the Lord has called John Wohlrabe to serve you with His Word and sacraments. The Lord has borrowed John—ordained him and called him to serve as a shepherd of this little flock. Now, it’s obvious to us why the Lord would want to borrow for His holy purposes a man like Pastor Wohlrabe—a man who can battle with church bureaucrats, and huddle with historians, and teach twenty-somethings at Concordia, and sail serenely through the challenging waters of Lake Michigan (not to mention he’s married to Julie.) There’s a lot to like and admire about this man.

But perhaps it’s simply sufficient to say that he’s been borrowed by the Lord. The Lord has need of him. Like that lowly donkey, Pastor Wohlrabe will bear the Lord Jesus Christ into our midst—by the words He preaches, by the sins he absolves—through teaching and catechesis and visitation He comes among us bearing the Christ, our Savior. His ministry is always an Advent ministry—for through his lips and in his hands the Lord Himself comes to serve His holy people.

We pastors wear stoles and vestments as a reminder that we are borrowed men—called and sent by the Lord—preaching not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord. Those vestments are a necessary reminder because we aren’t so different from you. We are frail and flawed sinners—with egos and ambitions and quirks that need to be reined-in constantly. The vestments help cover up that mess so that we can magnify Christ—so that He might increase and we might decrease. All that remains uncovered among those men borrowed by the Lord are lips to preach His holy name and a finger to point you to Jesus, who loved you and gave Himself for you.

The Christ who comes among us today is visible only to the eyes of faith. And just like His coming to Jerusalem on that Palm Sunday, so today He comes in ways that are humble and rejectable. Jesus doesn’t force His gifts on anyone. It is within your power to reject those gifts—to close your ears to His holy Word, and shut your mouth to His Holy Supper. You can live as if you are not a baptized child of God. And your Old Adam pushes, pulls and drags you in these directions ceaselessly. As John the Baptist will remind us next week, repent. Return to the Lord. Confess your sins and receive absolution from the pastor as from God Himself, not doubting but firmly believing that by it your sins are forgiven before God in heaven.

That forgiveness is why Jesus came in history. It’s why He comes today—to cover your sin with His blood-bought righteousness and innocence. He comes to set you free from captivity to sin and death so that sin will no longer be the boss of you, and so that you can know for sure that your destiny is not destruction, but resurrection. Jesus comes to show you God’s mercy and kindness so that you won’t be afraid to die, and so that you won’t be afraid to live.

Lastly the Lord comes this Advent to remind you that He has need OF YOU. He’d like to borrow you too. Pastors aren’t the only ones with vocations of importance. Are you a parent? The Lord has need of you. You are irreplaceable. Are you a husband or wife? The Lord has need of you. You are irreplaceable. Are you a student, a neighbor, a citizen, a voter, a worker, a baptized child of God? The Lord has need of you. You are salt for the earth and light for the world.

Christ has come. Christ comes today. Christ will come again! Happy Advent.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.