Here Comes the Bride

Jesu Juva

Revelation 21:9-14, 21-27                                  

May 25, 2025

Easter 6C         

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        The Bible begins with marriage; and the Bible ends—with marriage.  In Genesis, in the beginning, it was not good for the man to be alone.  So, from the man’s rib, God created woman—a helper—an ally who was perfectly suitable for the man in every way.  Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh. 

        Now jump ahead from the beginning to the ending, from Genesis to Revelation, from the dawn of time to the end of time.  Empires have risen and fallen—what is mortal has given way to immortality—the “happily ever after” which every soul longs for has now commenced—but still—still—as the final chapter of earth’s history is revealed and everything is made new, marriage—a marriage—endures for all eternity:  Come, I will show you the Bride, the wife of the Lamb.

        If God’s revealed Word begins and ends with marriage, then it stands to reason that marriage matters—that marriage has eternal significance.  Marriage isn’t referred to as Holy Matrimony for nothing.  The relationship between husbands and wives is a reflection of our Lord’s love for His Bride, the church.  As such, marriage is worth protecting and preserving and defending—both the institution of marriage and your own marriage if you happen to be a husband or wife.  As our Lord’s love for His bride, the church, is without limit, so the love between husbands and wives is to be tended and nurtured until death parts them.

        Today’s text from Revelation 21 is primarily about our Lord Jesus and His bride, the church.  The Wedding Day for Christ and His Bride was Good Friday.  That sounds strange, I know.  Good Friday, the day Jesus died, seems about as devoid of wedding imagery as you can get.  But just as Adam’s bride was formed from a rib taken from his side, so was the Bride of Christ formed from His wounded side.  For the water that flowed from that wound is the same water that fills the baptismal font.  And the blood that flowed from that wound is what fills the chalice and cleanses us from all sin.  If, then, the wedding of Christ and His Bride took place on Good Friday, then what we read about in Revelation—the “marriage feast of the Lamb in His kingdom which has no end”—that’s not the wedding per se, but the party—the reception—the celebration where Christ shows off His Bride in all her radiance and splendor.

        As a pastor I occasionally get to marry people.  I get to officiate.  It’s one of the perks of being a pastor.  And about the best thing I can say about that experience is that I have the best view in the house.  I’ve got this beautiful bride right in front of me in high definition, hanging on the arm of her dashing groom.  I see their smiles.  I see the hope in their eyes.  I hear the promises they profess before God and witnesses.  Most wedding photographers would kill to get to stand where I stand—to get my courtside view of marriage in the making.

        I mention the importance of the view because knowing your viewpoint is critical when you are looking at the Bride of Christ, the Church.  Right now, our view of the Bride of Christ is from below.  It’s an earthly view of the Church.  And what we see of the church here below is not always a pretty sight.  We see divisions and scandals and false teaching—flaws, failures, and sins.  We see corrupt clergy and power struggles and money problems.  It’s such an unpleasant sight at times that it causes some people to turn away in disgust.  You’d think the Bride of Christ would be more glorious.

        That’s our view of the church from below—that’s how we see the church as it appears here and now; but that’s not God’s view of the Church.  His view is the view from above.  And viewed from above, the church is glorious.  Her sin is washed away.  She is without spot or wrinkle or blemish.  She has been clothed by Christ; and she looks regal, royal and radiant.

        That’s the view of the Bride from above—the view that John received in Revelation which he wrote down for us.  Only the Bride of the Lamb isn’t just one person, but a whole city of people.  The Bride of Christ is the New Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God.  Now, I’m making a quick shift here because the text makes a quick shift here; and I don’t want to leave anyone behind.  The Bride of the Lamb is now also pictured for us as a city. 

        And the details of this city are astounding.  It has the radiance of a rare jewel.  And it is clear as crystal.  This clarity means that there’s nothing to impede the light of Christ shining through the city—no shadows to dim and darken the holy city.  Everything is “transparent as glass” in God’s city.  Even those well-known “streets of gold” have a glassy clarity.  Nothing, nothing gets in the way of the light of Christ in heaven.  God’s love and mercy are as bright as a Lake Michigan sunrise. Such clarity defies our imaginations.  We talk about “transparency” in business and government, but this is a transparency that only God can achieve.

        We can’t imagine it because we live in a world darkened by sin.  Our own hearts are darkened by sin.  Jesus once said, “You are the light of the world; let your light shine!”  But what keeps that light from shining is the dark and greasy smudge of sin that covers us inside and out.  Our egos, our actions, our words—it all has a way of obscuring the light of Christ.  Even our best efforts in this life—our church attendance, the mercy we show to those in need, the offerings we give—even our best efforts have the greasy fingerprints of our Old Adam all over them.

        But hear this:  In God’s city the dark stain of sin is washed away forever.  Light shines perpetually there as through windows that never get dirty and never need washing—impervious to even the smallest smudge of sin.  How can this be?  Because the Lamb was slain.  The Lamb laid down His perfect life for His beautiful bride.  From heaven He came and sought her to be His holy bride.  With His own blood he bought her; and for her life He died.  For your life, He died.  Your punishment He endured.  The ugliness of your sin He took upon Himself.  But now, in the heavenly light of His resurrection, you look radiant—more beautiful than any bride ever looked.

        God’s city is also a gated community—twelve gates in all.  Our gated communities are designed to keep people out.  Think about how much time you spend each week locking doors and windows, doing what you can to keep the outsiders out.  But in God’s city, the gates are designed to let the outsiders in.  These twelve pearly gates—these gates are always open, never shut, never locked, open to the whole world and to all of redeemed humanity—all whose names are written in the Lamb’s book of life.

        Our cities are built on the rubble of the past, on the destroyed civilizations that went before.  If you travel to the actual city of Jerusalem today, you’ll find this is literally true.  The new city rests atop the rubble of the old city.  But God’s city—the heavenly Jerusalem—it is built on twelve foundations—each foundation bearing the name of an apostle.  The foundation of the church is apostolic.  We believe in one, holy, Christian, and apostolic church.  We teach and preach here today what the apostles taught and preached in the First Century.  The Apostles’ doctrine is foundational and fundamental.  They lost their lives for the gospel; but their teachings endure forever. 

        In God’s city there’s no temple—no church—which sounds strange to us.  Milwaukee is known for its churches.  I love that view of the south side after you make it through the Marquette interchange heading south on I-94.  As you scan the horizon there are dozens and dozens of church steeples.  But in heaven you won’t find a single steeple.  How can this be?  Well, when you’re standing in the immediate presence of God and of the Lamb, you don’t need a temple.  Just like you don’t need sun, moon, or stars.  The glory of God gives it light and the Lamb is its lamp.

        Beloved in the Lord, you will rise on the last day; and with your resurrected body you will enter those pearly gates.  You will stand on those apostolic foundations.  You will walk on those streets of gold.  You will see the light of Christ in all His glory.  By His death and resurrection Jesus has overcome the world.  And, in Him, we will overcome.  The tribulation of today is temporary.  Death and the grave have an expiration date.  Until then, come, and I will show you the Bride, the wife of the Lamb. 

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

 

Pregnant with the Promise of Life

 Jesu Juva

St. John 16:12-22                                               

May 18, 2025

Easter 5C             

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        When it comes to birth and death, it seems like death gets all the attention.  Death gets all the headlines.  When was the last time you saw a birth notice published?  When was the last time you saw an obituary?  Any news story about any disaster would not be complete without providing the “death toll.”  It’s the death toll that conveys how serious things are.  It’s the death toll that helps us put each disaster in the proper perspective.  There was a tornado in St. Louis on Friday . . .

        Thankfully, today’s gospel directs us away from death and the end of life, to think about birth and the beginning of life.  Jesus wants us to ponder pregnancy.  Contemplate life.  Be mindful of your birth.  You know, it’s possible to die alone.  But when you’re born, you’re never alone.  Another person gave birth to you, without your asking and without your doing.  Life is a gift because you are given life from another life.  That’s the only way it works.  Life begets life. 

        Talking about childbirth is, of course, a delicate subject.  We must tread lightly.  We need to avoid veering into TMI territory. But we must listen carefully to the little pregnancy parable Jesus gives us today.  Jesus is probably the one man—the one male—who can speak with absolute authority on the matter of pregnancy and childbirth, labor and delivery. 

        Jesus chose to talk about pregnancy and new life on the night before His death.  Jesus had a lot to say to His disciples that night:  Now you see me; then you won’t see me; then you will see me again.  The disciples had a hard time keeping up with all of this.  But Jesus was simply giving them yet another prediction of His death and resurrection.   In a little while, by the close of that very day, Jesus would be dead and buried.  His disciples would see Him no longer.  But then, in a little while (on the third day to be precise) Jesus would rise from the dead, and they would see Him again, and their sorrow would turn to joy.

        It’s on that point of sorrow turning to joy that Jesus tells His pregnancy parable:  When a woman is giving birth, He says, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world.  So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you. 

        Jesus speaks about labor and delivery with terms like “sorrow” and “anguish.”  The old King James Version describes it with grave solemnity as a time of “travail.”  But let’s not forget that the difficulties that attend childbirth are not merely medical, but theological.  Pain wasn’t a part of God’s original plan for procreation.  But the fall into sin ruined everything, including child birth.  God declared to the woman in Genesis 3:  “I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain shall you bring forth children” (v.16).

        Modern medicine has done much to make childbirth safer and less traumatic.  But to really understand what Jesus means we first need to understand this about pregnancy:  before there were ultrasounds and epidurals and C-sections—childbirth was always risky business—quite literally a matter of life and death. 

        Luther described the woman in childbirth as being utterly alone:  “No one can help her,” he writes, “The whole creation cannot save her from this hour.  It rests alone in the power of God.  The midwife and others . . . can give her some comfort, but they cannot save her from her travail.  She must pass through it and risk her life in it.”  Her only hope, Luther concludes, is God alone (Day by Day, p.191).

        This lesson on labor and delivery is for all of us, too.  When we feel most alone—when we are terrified and afraid—when the weight of the world bears down on us—when death surrounds us—our only hope is God alone.  And He is the God of life—the God of new life and new birth.  He’s the God who sent His Son to labor on the cross for our deliverance from sin and death.  Only He can help when help is most needed.  When we are at our weakest, He is at His strongest.  When we are most alone, He is most with us to save. 

        So far I’ve painted childbirth in rather grim terms; but there’s another side to this coin.  For once the baby is born, Jesus notes, something like a miracle takes place.  During those tired, teary-eyed minutes after the baby is born comes the miracle of post-partum peace.  “When she’s delivered the baby,” Jesus says, “she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born.”

        Here’s what we need to take away from this pregnancy parable:  The Christian life with its anguish and suffering and travail will one day be forgotten and wiped away by the joy of the resurrection, the new creation, the new heaven and the new earth—which comes by faith as a gift to all who trust in Jesus.  It’s like where St. Paul says in Romans 8 that our present sufferings aren’t even worth comparing to the glory that will be revealed in us.  On that day when God wipes away every tear, there shall be neither mourning nor pain anymore.  When Jesus makes everything new, the anguish of today won’t even be worth recalling.   Now you have sorrow Jesus says; then you will have everlasting joy.

        And you get that eternal joy in much the same way that you were born.  Someone else did the labor.  Someone else did the work.  You are exclusively on the receiving end of things.  The hard work of labor and deliverance is done—and Jesus did it.  The old you with all your sins and all your death—the Old Adam with his rebellion and selfishness and lust and pride—it’s all done away with in the death of Jesus.  It is finished.  He has saved us from our sins.  The old has gone and the new has come.  And now there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

        So, here’s where we’re at:  Today, right now, we have anguish and sorrow.  And in the life of the world to come our anguish will be turned to joy.  The question is, how do we live today, here and now?  As those baptized into Christ, as brothers and sisters in Christ, how do we live in the promise of what is yet to come?  Well, even today, death is giving way to life.  We live each day as though we were pregnant.  We endure the discomfort.  We accept the inconvenience.  We expect that suffering will never be far off.  But, we live each day in the joy and anticipation of the new life that’s coming—the life that Jesus earned for us by His death and resurrection. 

Each day we get busy living.  In one of my favorite movies, a wrongly convicted prison inmate reaches a conclusion about how to go forward.  He’s innocent, but must suffer each day in prison for a crime he did not commit.  One day he says “It’s time to get busy living or get busy dying.”  Each day we’re faced with those same choices.  We can deal with suffering and disappointment by making choices that lead to death.  We can develop crutches to help us “cope” with pain:  alcohol, anger, food, sex—we can learn to lean on such things—learn to trust such things—make such things our idols.  Or, we can get busy living—living the life we have been given in Jesus.

        With Jesus, there’s always new life—death must give way to life.  The Small Catechism teaches us that being baptized means that each day a new man emerges and arises from within us.  A new person is born from within us to live before God in righteousness and purity forever.  Your life moves onward and upward with Jesus.  Your life is pregnant with His promises.

        Today Jesus tells us what to expect while we are expecting—what to expect as we expectantly wait to be delivered to the life of the world to come:  “You will have sorrow now,” Jesus says, “but I will see you again and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.”   

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

More Easter, More Jesus

Jesu Juva

St. John 21:1-14                                                   

May 4, 2025

Easter 3C                  

Dear Saints of Our Savior,

        Just when you thought Easter was over, it turns out there’s more Easter—more Jesus!  Just as the jellybeans are finally finished, and the Easter lilies are well on their way to becoming Easter stems, it turns out we have more Easter to go—more Jesus to receive.

        It would have been fine with me to wrap up Easter last Sunday.  John chapter 20 would have been the perfect ending to a perfect story.  There the Risen Christ appeared to His fearful disciples, showed them His wounds, breathed His Holy Spirit on them, authorized them to forgive sins or to withhold forgiveness, and sends them on their way.  He comes back a week later to drag faithless Thomas into the joy of the resurrection; and Thomas confesses Jesus as “Lord and God.”

        Then, at the end of chapter twenty, we have what, for all intents and purposes, sounds like a carefully crafted conclusion:  Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of His disciples which are not written in this book; but these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in His name.  And everyone lived happily ever after.  Close the curtain, cue the music, roll the credits.  It’s a great place to click “save” and press “print.”  It’s the perfect conclusion to the greatest story ever told.

        But then you turn the page:  But wait!  There’s more!  A whole chapter more!  More Easter and more Jesus!  Just when you’re ready to close the book on Easter, there’s yet another resurrection appearance of our Lord.  Perhaps the Holy Spirit wants to teach us that Easter has no end—that Easter continues so that it can be preached into yours ears—so that you can become part of the story as one who hears and believes—until you take your place around the throne of the Lamb, with angels and archangels, singing, “Worthy is Christ, the Lamb who was slain!”

        Every Sunday is designed to be a little Easter.  Because our Lord rose from the dead on the First Day of the week, the first Christians soon began shifting from worship on the Sabbath (that is, Saturday, the seventh day) to Sunday.  Every Sunday a resurrection reminder.  Every Lord’s Day a day of more Easter and more Jesus!

        That’s exactly what seven of Jesus’ disciples discovered in today’s Holy Gospel.  They had all decided to go fishing.  But remember, in the gospels “fishing” is never just “fishing.”  It’s about much more than Walleye and Perch.  It was just at daybreak on the Sea of Galilee.  The disciples had been out fishing all night but hadn’t caught a thing.  Now this should all be sounding a bit familiar.  It ought to remind you of the day when Jesus first called many of these men to be His disciples—when, after an unproductive night of fishing Jesus sent them back onto the lake, and directed them to a miraculous, boat-sinking load of fish.  And then He told them, “From now on, you’re going to be fishers of men—you’re going to catch people.”  So also, in today’s account a “stranger” on the beach gives a few directions regarding their nets, and within minutes another miraculous catch has materialized.  And for the disciples, the light goes on:  This is the Lord Jesus!

        The whole scene is kind of like a catechism class for the disciples.  In fact, did you catch how Jesus addressed them as “children?”  Even after years of following Jesus and listening to His teaching and witnessing His miracles—these men still had more to learn.  All disciples of every age—be they pastors or mere middle-schoolers—have more to learn from Jesus and His Word.  We’re all children in the faith in need of guidance, instruction, protection, and of course, forgiveness of sins.  We all need more Jesus and more Easter.

        One of the things Jesus is teaching His little confirmation class is that His Word gets results.  When Jesus orders the disciples to cast their nets on the right side of the boat, and then prompts 153 fish to swim to their deaths, Jesus is telling us all to trust Him.  Do what Jesus says.  It sounds so simple, so basic—but it’s really, oh, so hard!  Do what Jesus says.  Do it His way.  Trust Him.  Even when it doesn’t make any sense because you’ve been fishing all night and haven’t caught a thing—even when doing it Jesus’ way seems like a waste of time and energy—even when doing it Jesus’ way means you will suffer loss, maybe lose respect, be mocked and ridiculed—just do it.

        Jesus always invites us to take Him at His Word—to believe what He says about everything: about marriage as the lifelong union of one man and one woman, about how every human being is created in the image of God as male or female, about the importance of forgiving those who sin against us, about being content with what you have and speaking the truth in love.  Listen to what the Lord is saying.  Take Him at His Word.  Trust Him. 

        To ignore Jesus—to shut His Word out of your life—to make up your own rules—that’s the path of idolatry.  And where that path leads, you do not want to go.  And you don’t have to.  For the mystery man on the beach calling the shots this morning—He’s the crucified one, the Lamb of God.  He’s the one who died, bearing all of your sin—the disobedience, the rebellion, the idolatry, the stubborn, hard-hearted refusal to trust Him.  For all that and more, Jesus bled and died.  He did it in your place, as your sacred substitute—so that you might know forgiveness and life that lasts forever.

        When the disciples finally make landfall on the beach, guess what they find?  More Easter, more Jesus.  The Risen Christ is there waiting and He’s got more to teach them.  He’s got breakfast waiting for them.  But this is not a lesson in nutrition.  The bread and fish our Lord serves up should remind you of the time when Jesus miraculously fed five thousand—and the other time He fed four thousand.  Jesus has come to feed His people.  This is the feast!

        Jesus also wants us to think of another meal—the Lord’s Supper—when you and I are the invited guests and Jesus is the host.  Here at this altar the Lord Jesus takes our bread and wine and makes it so much more—His own body and blood—to bring us faith and forgiveness.  Jesus takes our gifts and makes them His gifts—and with His gifts there is always more—more forgiveness, more joy, more Easter.

        The results were very good that morning at the beach:  153 fish.  Someone took the time to count them all and write down the number.  That’s a lot of fish.  When we manage to get 153 people here in this room on a Sunday morning—that makes for a very good attendance. 

        Is that number significant?  One church father suggested that in the First Century there were exactly 153 species of fish known to man.  Another suggested that there were exactly 153 tribes, languages and nations on the earth.  How accurate those interpretations are I cannot say.  But, they do point us in a direction that is sure and certain:  Jesus wants to catch everybody in the good news of His death and resurrection.  He wants to let down the nets of the gospel into every neighborhood and family, every tribe and language and nation and people, because what Jesus did for us and for our salvation—He did for the whole world.

        What joy to know that among all the nations and peoples gathered up in the nets of His gospel, you have been hauled up and brought into the boat with Jesus—redeemed by Christ the crucified.  You have been baptized in His name.  You have been delivered from death to life.  You have been made worthy to receive the holy food of this Holy Supper.  That means with every new week, with every new chapter of life, with every new joy and sorrow—you can expect and anticipate more Easter, more Jesus!

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