Buried Treasure

Jesu Juva

St. Matthew 13:44-52                                                           

July 26, 2020

Proper 12A                                                                 

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          If it’s Monday evening, at around seven o’clock, well, you know what that means don’t you?  It’s time to turn on PBS and watch Antiques Roadshow.  That’s the program where people bring in their antiques and heirlooms to see whether they have trash or treasure—something that’s worthless or worth a lot.

          For people like me, with an untrained eye, it can be really difficult to tell whether an item is trash or treasure.  What may look like a beautiful vase dating from the “Mingh Dynasty” might actually have been made in New Jersey.  And what looks like a painting of a desert landscape done “by the numbers” might actually turn out to be a one-of-a-kind masterpiece valued at over six figures.  It’s exciting to think that something you own—something boxed-up in your basement or sitting in your attic—might actually be an extremely valuable treasure.

          Jesus knew that this kind of hunt for treasure is hardwired into most human beings; and perhaps that’s why He told two quick parables that build on the basic instinct to search for and seek out things of great value:  The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up.  Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.  In a day before there were 

banks and safety deposit boxes, it was quite common for people to bury things of great value.  Especially if an invading army was on the way, or if you were about to embark on a long journey, burying your treasured possessions was often the most effective way to protect them.

          The next parable concerns a pearl—but not just any pearl:  Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it.  In First Century Palestine pearls were just as valuable as gold.  If you were lucky enough to find one of great price, you would do all you could to acquire it.

          So, now that we know the earthly stories, what’s the “heavenly meaning” of these parables?  The prevailing interpretation of these parables down through the centuries has been that they are about discipleship—that the buried treasure and the priceless pearl correspond to the truth of the Gospel—that we are saved from the power of sin and death through faith in the crucified and risen Christ—that He who knew no sin became sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.  And, yes, this is pure gold!  This is a priceless treasure!  Just as the people in the parables sold all they had to acquire that treasure and that pearl, so should we spare no expense in following Jesus and acquiring the gold of the gospel.  Nothing in this world—not family, not money, not career—should compare with our regular reception of Christ’s gifts to us in Word and Sacrament.  Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness.  When it comes to Jesus and His gifts, we should bear any burden, make any sacrifice, and pay any price to have that treasure as our own.

          There’s only one problem.  Our sinful natures prefer trash to treasure.  God’s Word tells us in a multitude of different ways that our salvation in Jesus Christ is our most treasured possession.  It says in 1 Peter that your faith is “of greater worth than gold.”  The First Commandment proclaims our priorities perfectly:  You shall have no other gods.  We should fear, love and trust in God above all things.  We “fear” a lot of things.  We fear the disapproval of others.  We fear the virus.  We fear losing our jobs and incomes.  But we do not fear God as we should.  We do not love Him or trust Him as we should.  We do not treasure Him above all else.  We are certainly not like the treasure hunters in the parable who gave up everything—all that they had—to acquire the treasure.  Have you given up everything for the faith?  Would you give up everything?

          If we take this interpretation to its logical conclusion, it’s not very satisfying.  If our faith and discipleship hinge entirely on our pursuit of heavenly treasure—if it’s all about our quest for holiness—then all we are left with is our sin and our failure and our disobedience.  We are left with all trash and no treasure.

          But there is another interpretation of these parables—one that centers on Jesus, and not on us.  For the thing that the treasure hunter and the pearl merchant have in common is that they “sold everything” in order to “buy” their desired treasure.  There was an exchange.  There was a purchase made. There was a quid pro quo, a this-for-that.  Only one man actually gave up everything—including His very life—to acquire the object of His desire.  That man was Jesus.  He alone came to give His life as a ransom payment for the many (Matt. 20:28).

          In this Christ-centered approach to the parables, Jesus is the treasure hunter and you—you are the treasure.  You are holy to the Lord your God.  He has chosen you as His treasured possession.  You, dear baptized believer, are priceless and precious in the eyes of Jesus, who purchased and won you from all sins, from death, and from the power of the devil; not with gold or silver, but with His holy, precious blood and His innocent suffering and death, that you might be His own and live under Him in His kingdom and serve Him in everlasting righteousness, innocence and blessedness.  You aren’t trash; you are treasure!  You aren’t worthless; but worthy to be called a child of God though faith in Jesus.

          Without Jesus and without faith, we are lost.  When sin is the center of our lives, then we are not only lost, but dead.  We are, in fact, dead and buried, just like the treasure in the parable.  But we who once were lost have now been found.  Our sin has been answered for.  A loving Lord has rescued us from the trash heap and claimed us as His own.  You are not your own; you were bought at a price (1 Cor. 6:18-20).

          Jesus sought you and bought you.  You are precious and paid-for—blood-bought, baptized, and beautiful.  In fact, we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us so.  Nothing in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

          On this side of heaven, however, God’s treasure remains somewhat hidden.  We are the Lord’s treasured possession, but we often feel like “buried” treasure.  We are buried beneath the world’s hatred—buried beneath the weight of our own struggles against sin—buried beneath the load of crosses that our Lord would have us carry.  But you belong to Jesus.  You are precious to Him.  And that changes everything.

          Most of the Lord’s treasured possessions are no longer with us.  We knew them once and loved them—parents and grandparents, spouses and children.  We treasured them for a time, but now they have gone to be with the Lord—with the One who treasures them so much more than we ever could.  Their earthly remains now lie at rest, buried in the earth.  But on the Day of Resurrection we know what will happen.  Those resting places—those cemeteries—will be like fields of buried treasure from which the Lord with all His angels will raise up all the dead and will claim all that is rightfully His.  You are rightfully His.  You together with all the saints are the Lord’s precious, priceless treasure.  You are safe in His keeping until that blessed day.

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

Groaning and Glory

Jesu Juva

Romans 8:18-27                                                                    

July 19, 2020

Proper 11A                                                          

 Dear saints of Our Savior~

          I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.  If ever there was a Bible verse that we should stencil on our walls—a verse we should display on our dashboards, desks and doorways—this is it.  We should wear these words on signs that hang from our necks, on T-shirts and screen-savers.  These words of God ought to be painted on

the doorway of every hospital, every funeral home, and on the gates of every cemetery.  I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

          There’s no shortage of suffering in our lives these days.  As a pastor I’m privileged to share in the sufferings of my parishioners—and it is a privilege.  I’ve sat with a woman in the emergency room whose pain was so great that she threw up every few minutes.  I’ve been called to the hospital to be with a mother whose six-month-old baby simply stopped breathing without warning.  And I’ve been to the cemetery more times than I care to remember.  But in every one of those instances, these words of God have managed to bubble up and bring me a measure of peace:  Our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

          Of course, the sufferings I’ve seen and known aren’t even the tiniest tip of the iceberg.  For in addition to every instance of suffering that is seen or heard, there is also suffering that is unseen and unheard—private, personal pain that so many people carry around.  Victims of physical and sexual abuse, people who struggle with depression and debilitating mental illnesses, those who are chained down by addictions—the singles who long to be married, and the married who know nothing but conflict—they’re all suffering; and they also need to drink in the words of this promise:  The sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

          These words mean even more when you realize that the man who first penned them on parchment was St. Paul.  We actually know quite a bit about Paul—about his life and times.  You don’t have to read too far into Paul’s letters to realize that this man knew a thing or two about suffering.  Listen to his own personal litany of sufferings:  He was imprisoned, flogged, beaten, exposed to death, five times he received forty lashes less one, three times he was beaten with rods, once nearly stoned to death, shipwrecked three times, spent a night and day floating on the open sea, in constant danger from rivers, bandits and false brothers.  He knew sleeplessness, hunger, cold, nakedness, and a mysterious thorn in his flesh.  If even one thing on that list had happened to me, I probably would have switched careers long ago.  Paul knew suffering—knew it firsthand—but also knew that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed to us.

          In today’s reading from Romans 8 our God takes our present sufferings and puts them in the proper perspective.  He shows us the big picture—that the entire creation is in bondage to decay.  The whole creation is groaning.  Your personal suffering and your private groaning is really just a part of a giant, cosmic downward spiral.  This world is a fallen world.  This world isn’t evolving and progressing into something better and better; this world is devolving, decaying, and dying.

          Of course, it has to be said that a lot of our present suffering is the direct result of our present sinning.  Let’s be honest here.  We’re not simply innocent bystanders.  We’re not merely victims of other people’s sin.  Our own sin is part of the death and decay of this world.  Our idolatries and our adulteries—our selfishness and our laziness—our sin has not only caused a good share of our own suffering; it’s caused untold suffering in the lives of others.  We have to own up to that.  We have to confess that.

          The fact is that we don’t want to hear anything about “present suffering.”  We’d much rather hear that if we played by the rules, we’d get a pass.  If God really loved us then shouldn’t violence and viruses take a detour around us?  We do a pretty good job of insulating ourselves from suffering.  We avoid it at all costs.  The air-conditioning has been broken in my office for over a week; and you better believe I’ve been much crabbier than usual.  We all complain at the slightest inconvenience, wince at the slightest pain—and when we encounter genuine suffering we are appalled by what we see, and immediately blame God for not doing something about it. 

          So how should we deal with our present suffering?  This calls for hope.  This calls for the certain expectation—a certain expectation that comes only through faith in Jesus Christ—that present suffering will be followed by future glory—a glory so surpassingly great that our present suffering in this life—it won’t even merit a mention.

          But here and now—today—don’t forget that your present sufferings have great value.  Your present sufferings are a participation in the sufferings of Jesus.  You and He have suffering in common.  This is why St. Paul also wrote that we should rejoice in our sufferings.  Your present suffering is not just the random ravages of life in a fallen world.  Your suffering is the fertile soil in which the Holy Spirit does His best work—giving growth in the faith, teaching us to live each day in total dependence upon the mercies of God in Jesus Christ.

          You see, we can’t talk about our sufferings apart from the sufferings of Jesus.  His suffering—like yours—was not pointless or without purpose.  His suffering, His death, His resurrection—it was all for you.  Jesus didn’t suffer and die so that you would be inspired to try harder, or even to set a good example.  No, Jesus went through death and resurrection so that you (and the whole creation) might follow Him through death to resurrection life.  Jesus lived a sinless life as your substitute.  Jesus died a perfect death as your substitute.  Jesus rose again and ascended in glory so that that same glory will one day be revealed in you.

          The Holy Spirit led Paul to describe our present suffering with a sensational simile.  He described our present sufferings as being like the pains of childbirth—like labor pains.  All the groanings of this present world—all the misery that you see and experience—these are but the labor pains of the new creation that Jesus will one day usher in.  Labor pains are not pointless, but lead to birth and new life and joy.  So, also, for our present sufferings.  They are pointing us ahead to the life of the world to come—a life that is yours by faith in Jesus, and by the forgiveness He alone gives.

          It’s also true that you’re not alone in your present sufferings.  You do not suffer in solitude or silence.  Did you catch the wonderful promise that the Spirit helps us in our weakness?  When we are at our worst—when our present sufferings are just about to swallow us up—when we can’t even string together two sentences of prayer—right then and there the Holy Spirit becomes your personal prayer partner.  Right then and there the Holy Spirit intercedes for you—speaks up for you—in a way that goes beyond human language.  The Holy Spirit, in fact, always packages our prayers—packages our prayers for direct delivery to the Father through the Son.  And those prayers are always heard and answered for Jesus’ sake.  It’s nice to know that the Spirit takes our imperfect prayers directly to the throne of grace, saying, “What he really means—what she really means—is this.”

          Our present sufferings . . . are real.  They are painful and sometimes heart-breaking.  But I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.  The day of resurrection—the life of the world to come—is not as far off as you might think.  Suffering is limited.  Suffering has an expiration date.  But the glory of God for which we wait—that glory will last forever and ever.

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

Where Seed Meets Soil

Jesu Juva

St. Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23                                                     

July 12, 2020

Proper 10A                                                     

Dear saints of Our Savior~

          Gardening is hard work.  Lots of people, including me, enjoy gardening; but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s hard work.  Squatting, bending, and kneeling take a toll on old muscles.  There’s the unpredictability of the weather—too much rain or too little, too cool or too hot, wind and hail—all those variables play havoc with the garden.  And then there are the pests—bunnies and birds and bugs—just to name a few.  A gardener’s work is never done, and that work is always hard work.  And maybe that’s why, for His first parable in the gospel of Matthew, Jesus takes us to the garden—to where seed meets soil.

          In the parable a gardener goes out to sow his seed; and, as we come to find out, that “seed” is the “word of the kingdom.”  That seed is the “good news” about what God is doing for sinners through Jesus of Nazareth.  Unfortunately, the thing that jumps right off the page of this parable is how “unsuccessful” the whole endeavor is.  In the meeting of seeds and soil, the rate of “failure” is astonishingly high.  Some of this good seed of the kingdom gets snatched away by the Evil One.  Some other seeds sprout up joyfully for a while, only to quickly wither because of tribulation and persecution.  Other seed sprouts up and grows for a time, only to be strangled and choked to death later on by worry and greed.  Only a tiny fraction of God’s great seeds—only the very slender portion that falls on good soil—actually grows and thrives and produces an abundant harvest. 

          What does this mean?  Well, there’s good news and bad news.  First of all the good news:  Congratulations!  The Word of the Kingdom is growing in you!  In you, God the gardener has brought together good seed and good soil.  And the result is faith in Jesus, and good works for your neighbor.  But here’s the bad news from this parable:  The ministry of Jesus—whether in the First Century or the Twenty-First Century—is not always “successful” in the ways that we measure success.  The Word of God that today is being scattered and flung and hurled to the far corners of the earth via satellite and e-mail and internet and even old-fashioned missionaries—that Word of God doesn’t always “work” in the sense that droves of unbelievers are going to repent and believe.  No, the Word of God is always “rejectable.”  God suffers Himself to be scorned and stepped-on in this world.  He reveals Himself to ridicule. 

          This is also “bad news” for our outreach efforts.  It means that we might do everything properly and prayerfully.  We might faithfully and dutifully scatter the seed of God’s Word right here in our communities and neighborhoods.  We might welcome visitors with love and acceptance.  We might speak God’s truth with love and tact and sensitivity—and do it winsomely—but, in the end, we may have little to show for it.  In fact, what we do end up with might be increasing persecution and unbelief.  But then again, Jesus didn’t invite us to follow Him and share in His success.  He invited us to take up our crosses and follow Him—to share in His rejection in this life, even as we will share in His resurrection in the life of the world to come.

          Gardeners know about failure.  Sometimes seeds don’t sprout.  Sometimes weeds take over.  I planted beans in my garden this year, as I always do.  But I accidentally bought seeds for “pole beans” instead of “bush beans.”  And I don’t own any poles.  Will I have beans to harvest this year?  God only knows.  So it is with the seed of God’s Word.  God always achieves the results He wants; His Word does not return to Him empty.  But sometimes God’s results are hidden—completely hidden—from our eyes. 

          I have to say, though, that I sow my seeds in an entirely different fashion than the sower in Jesus’ parable.  I take great pains to prepare my soil before I plant.  I measure its length and width.  I map it each spring, sketching and diagramming what seeds will go where, and how many rows and mounds of each.  I personally plow my soil one shovelful at a time.  I fertilize it with only the finest manure.  I scrupulously avoid all pesticides and herbicides.  I suffer for my soil so that my seeds have the very best chance to grow.

          But when our God scatters the seed of His Word, His approach is entirely different, as demonstrated by the sower in the parable.  He went out to sow his seed.  But that guy must have been wearing a blindfold because he sows his seed like someone who’s blind as a bat.  Look at the guy!  Recklessly, randomly, haphazardly, unpredictably slinging seed from here to kingdom come.  On cement and sidewalk, among weeds and thorns, where soil is thick or thin, rich or poor—it doesn’t matter a hill of green beans to him.  He’s prodigal in His planting—liberally letting fly fistfuls of His holy seed.

          This is our generous God, who wants all people to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth.  This is our God who has reconciled the whole world to Himself in Christ, not counting men’s trespasses against them.  This is our God who forgives wickedness and who remembers sins no more.  He sows His seed everywhere—on the homosexuals of Sodom, where only a few seeds take root while the rest fall on rocky hearts destined for fire and brimstone.  He sows His seeds on the murderous people of Nineveh, delivered through the mouth of a reluctant prophet named Jonah, and the whole city of 120,000 repent in sackcloth and ashes.  Sometimes the seed sprouts and sometimes it doesn’t.  Our God sows here, there, and everywhere, sending preachers to preach the Word in season and out of season, whether embraced or rejected, scorned or loved.

          But my dear hearers of the Word, heed this warning:  It would be a big mistake to hear today’s parable and conclude that the seed of God’s Word has sprung to life in you because you’re the right kind of person—a good person—a noble and generous person—the kind of person that God can’t help but bring into His kingdom.  That’s a lie we love to believe.  So, repent and believe the truth:  When God first sowed His seed in your heart it fell on rock-hard soil—soil already choked by weeds and thorns and thistles.  But here’s the deal we call “grace.”  God’s Word doesn’t go looking for good soil to fall into; it creates good soil for itself no matter how inhospitable your heart may be.

          Jesus doesn’t go looking for the right kind of people to believe.  He doesn’t scout out for Himself the best soil for planting.  He simply sows, and His Word has its way with you.  He waters it with water from the font.  He gives the growth in you.  And by His Word of grace and forgiveness, He makes your life fertile and fruitful, filled with good works.  It’s as if I stepped onto the fresh asphalt of Santa Monica Boulevard and there scattered my seeds on the street. . . and by sunrise the next morning, that black, oily pavement was transformed into pure, rich soil.  A hard and lifeless street becomes brimming and blooming with all things green and growing, leading to a rich harvest.  That’s what the Lord Jesus does to you and for you.  He transforms the cold pavement of your heart into a parking place for His holy Word, His Holy Spirit, His holy body and blood, His life that lasts forever.

          All this is because God’s holy Word—His seed—is packed with power.  It is packed with the life of Jesus who died for your sins and who suffered hell in your place.  In the stripes and the deep furrows of His flesh your sin was planted.  He suffered, died and was buried in the earth, like a seed, so that He might have you and keep you as His own.  The nail-scarred hands of Jesus tell the whole story as to why God’s Word is producing so much fruit and so many good works in you:  God sowed; you received.  God transformed your rocky heart into good soil; you received.  God gave growth to His seed; you received.  God keeps you in the one truth faith, grants you daily forgiveness, and opens the kingdom of heaven to you and all believers; and you—you receive that salvation as a gift from God.

          The sower went out to sow His seed.  He has sowed it in you.  And when the final harvest comes, He will find in you an abundant crop—faith, hope, and love.  He who has ears, let him hear. 

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