What's Your Work Ethic?

Jesu Juva

2 Thessalonians 3:6-13                             

November 16, 2025

Proper 28C     

 Dear Saints of Our Savior~

        What’s your work ethic?  Are you working hard? . . . Or hardly working?  And what difference does it make, anyway?  What do faith and religion have to do with work and vocation?

        In 1904 a sociologist coined the phrase:  Protestant Work Ethic.  He noted that while religion is usually otherworldly, the protestant reformation taught that religion is to be lived out in this world.  Medieval Catholicism taught that spiritual achievement was to be found in celibacy, poverty, and by escaping from the world to convents, cloisters, and monasteries.  But Martin Luther and the other reformers emphasized the deep connection between Christian faith and Christian vocations.  Our faith bears fruit in the work we do at home, at the office, at church, at school, and in the neighborhood.

        Since it was Martin Luther who championed the great value of work in relation to faith, I say that “Protestant Work Ethic” is a misnomer.  We ought to call it the “Lutheran Work Ethic.”  But before we take a victory lap, we need to ask:  Are you living up to the Lutheran Work Ethic?

        The value and significance of work goes all the way back to the Garden of Eden.  God placed Adam and Eve in the garden with the intent that they were “to work it and keep it” (Gen. 2:15).  There was work to be done, even in paradise.  We so often think that our work-a-day existence is a result of living in a sin-filled, God-forsaking world, but no!  God gave work to our first parents even before the fall into sin.  This means that work is intrinsically good and God-pleasing.

        It’s not hard to imagine what this work in paradise might have looked like.  There were likely fruits and vegetables to be harvested, cows that needed milking, cheese that needed making.  And that beer wasn’t going to brew itself.  (My version of paradise sounds a lot like Wisconsin, doesn’t it?) 

        But unlike Adam and Eve, we live in a fallen world.  And that fact makes our work much more difficult and far less rewarding.  “Cursed is the ground because of you,” the Lord told Adam, “thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you.”  This is why work never works out the way you want it to.  Screws get stripped.  Batteries give out.  Muscles get pulled.  The leaves you rake into the street today, can get blown right back into your yard tomorrow.  But none of this changes the fact that work is a good gift from God—that God has given all of us important work to do.

        There was also work to be done among the Christians at Thessalonica.  Like us, they had been called by the Holy Spirit to trust in the saving work of Jesus Christ for their rescue and deliverance from this dying world.  But some of them apparently thought that faith in Jesus was a good excuse to take early retirement and check out of working all together.  They decided it was okay to take a permanent vacation from their God-given vocations.  Their motto was, “Take this job and shove it!”

        We don’t know whether these idle brothers were simply lazy deadbeats who were merely milking the charity of other, well-to-do believers, OR whether they were so devout and so eagerly anticipating the return of Christ that they quit their jobs like lottery winners, and engaged in a life of leisurely prayer as they awaited the return of Jesus.  But whatever their motivation, Paul makes it clear that their work-free lifestyle was contrary to the word and will of God.  The rule was this:  “If a man will not work, he shall not eat.  Get to work!  Get busy!  Take this job and love it.”

        Now, I don’t usually call people out by name in my sermons, but perhaps Pastor and Julie should rethink this whole idea of retiring down there in Margaritaville.  I’m joking, of course.  We’ve been blessed by their work among us for 13 years.  And if you know Pastor and Julie, then you are familiar with the Wohlrabe work ethic.  Their devotion to work and family, to church and country is an example for all of us.  Theirs is a well-deserved retirement—although we know the work will continue from a new place of deployment.

        I can summarize the sermon up to this point in two sentences:  Work is good.  And work is hard.  It’s difficult.  We rarely get it right.  But don’t use that as an excuse to shirk your work.  When it comes to our God-given work and vocations, the temptation is always there to say, “That’s not my job.  Let someone else do it.”  The temptations are always there to cheat, to cut corners, to be lazy, to get complacent, to do as little as possible.  And even when your work is good and God-pleasing, there’s the constant battle against discouragement and despair, when your work feels meaningless, when it seems like you’re just spinning your wheels.  St. Paul says:  Do not grow weary in doing good. 

        The problem concerning work at Thessalonica was primarily a congregational problem.  It was a problem in the church.  We know that because Paul warns them about any “brother” who is idle—brother denoting a fellow believer.  Apparently, there were plenty of “busybodies” in that congregation, people who were “busy” with gossip and meddling in other people’s business.  I don’t think that “busybodies” are a big problem here at Our Savior.  But I do think that God’s Word today should lead each one of us to ask:  As a baptized child of God and a member of this congregation, am I doing everything I can—am I working with the energy and wisdom God supplies—to strengthen our life together, to build one another up, to never grow weary of doing good for these, my brothers and sisters in Christ?  If you don’t do that work, who will?

        Work is good.  Work is hard.  And, best of all, your work has eternal value in Jesus.  No one has ever worked harder, or more faithfully, than Jesus.  No one has ever labored as lovingly as He.  Jesus was there at creation, and all things were created by Him.  But when sinful rebels needed redeeming—when a fallen world needed to be re-created—Jesus willingly took that job and loved it.  He did not cheat.  He did not cut corners.  He came into this world and He went to work.  He labored against all the frustrations that you and I face every day, amidst blood, sweat, and tears.  For busy, hard-working sinners, and for idle, complacent sinners, Jesus took on the dirty job that no one else could do.  He became the servant and slave of all.  He humbled Himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross.

        Jesus quite literally worked Himself to death to save you.  He labored and toiled beneath the weight of all our sins.  He worked and worked until they nailed Him to the cross.  There’s an old saying:  Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.  That’s true in my experience.  But if idle hands are the devil’s workshop, then the nail-scarred hands of Jesus spell the devil’s demise.  For those hands are the hands that bless you and forgive you.  Those hands are the hands that will embrace you in love when you depart this life in peace, and finally find rest from all your labor.

        Work is good.  Work is hard.  But your work has eternal significance and value in Jesus.  He magnifies your work and honors it.  In fact, Jesus says that whatever you do for the least and the lowly, you are doing it unto Him.  Ultimately, all of your work, all of your labor and toil on behalf of others, Jesus receives it all just as if you did it for Him.  Your labor in the Lord is never in vain.  The work of your vocations is wonderful work.  God Himself receives your meager, little loaves and fishes—and uses it all for the life of the world.

He who began a good work in you, in baptism, is working still—and He will surely bring it all to completion on the Last Day—the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. 

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

 

God of the Living

Jesu Juva

St. Luke 20:27-40                                       

November 9, 2025

Proper 27C                   

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        They say there are no dumb questions.  If you don’t understand something, just ask.  But not all questions are genuine.  Not all questions flow from an honest desire for knowledge and understanding.  You know what I’m talking about:  loaded questions, trick questions, gotcha questions, hypothetical questions that border on the absurd.  These questions are designed to make you look like a fool as you try to answer.

        The Sadducees approached Jesus with just that kind of question in today’s Holy Gospel—a trick question primarily designed to trip Jesus up.  A man with six brothers dies without any children.  Now, according to the OT Law, the dead man’s brother was obligated to take this widow as his own wife and bear children on his brother’s behalf.  But that brother also died.  And then another brother stepped in; but he also died—as did every last brother, all without fathering any children.  Now, after a grand total of seven husbands, the woman also died.

        But the all-too-clever question of the Sadducees is this:  In the resurrection—in the life of the world to come—whose wife will this woman be, since all seven brothers had her as a bride?

        It’s all hypothetical, of course.  There was no such woman—no such brothers.  You’d be hard pressed to find such a case in the entire history of Israel.  In fact, the people asking the question—the Sadducees—didn’t even believe in the resurrection of the body.  And yet, here they are—these resurrection deniers—asking Jesus about whose wife this unfortunate widow will be in the resurrection.  It’s an absurd question taken to the extreme.  Assuming there’s a resurrection, what an awkward mess this woman will have on her hands, sorting out who’s her real husband. 

        You can almost see those smarmy Sadducees smirking as they trot out this loaded question—hoping Jesus will deny the resurrection or deny marriage or deny the Laws of Moses.  They were expecting Jesus to freeze up like a deer in the headlights.  Instead, He slices and dices their silly hypothetical question with just a few sentences.

        Jesus points out that marriage is only for this age—only for this side of the grave.  The sons of this age marry and are given in marriage.  Until death do us part.  Death marks the end of a marriage.  Marriage belongs only to this temporal life.  That fact doesn’t diminish its importance, of course.  Marriage should be honored by all—the lifelong union of one man and one woman.  Marriage celebrates and guards the sexual union of a man and a woman as one flesh.  Anything added to that equation constitutes adultery.  The woman in the hypothetical story is not an adulteress, but seven times married to seven brothers—following the Law of Moses.  Technically, her first husband was her husband. The brothers that followed were only surrogate or stand-in husbands.

        Things will be different in the resurrection.  In the resurrection, those who rise are neither married nor given in marriage.  They are more like angels—in that they will never die again.  “Sons of the resurrection” is what Jesus calls them.  Marriage is God’s good gift for this earthly life.  That good gift gets despised and dishonored in a multitude of ways.  That good gift of marriage is dishonored whenever two people live together as husband and wife—even though they aren’t husband and wife.  That good gift of marriage is dishonored by adultery and by the use of pornography.  And so-called same sex marriage is not marriage at all, but a judicial construct that dishonors God’s intention for this good gift.  There are so many ways to “mess up” God’s gift of marriage.

        On the other hand, there are some people who treasure and esteem marriage so highly that they are genuinely troubled by the thought that they won’t be “married” in heaven.  They depend on their spouse so deeply that it becomes a source of grief to think that they won’t be sporting wedding rings in eternity.  On the other hand, there are many marriages that struggle on earth—messy marriages where not all the memories will be good.  What will heaven be like for them?  What becomes of the bad memories?

        It goes without saying that whatever your marital status may be, in the life of the world to come, you won’t be disappointed with the arrangements (trust me).  But more importantly, we dare not forget that our citizenship is in heaven because we have a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave His life to bring you into eternal fellowship with God.  You have been reconciled by the blood of Jesus—restored to God by grace, through faith in His Son. 

        But let’s take it a step further.  This grace of God—this reconciliation that makes all things right between you and God—it also has the power to make all things right between you and you and you, and you and me, and between him and her, between mister and missus.  In heaven it won’t be the least bit awkward between you and those you’ve squabbled with here on earth—for every relationship will be set right by the power of Jesus’ death and resurrection.  No matter how messy our marital record may be—or how we’ve messed up other relationships in this life—in the life of the world to come we will look back on it all through the lens of Jesus’ death on the cross. 

        There we will be able to see the good that God is doing in us and through us right now—though right now it is sometimes hidden.  And what’s more, all the tragedies of this life—tragedies like being widowed multiple times—it will all make supremely good sense in the resurrection.  For there it will be abundantly clear that the Son of God—all along the way—has been for you, not against you—that the Son of God loves you and gave Himself up for you—that life’s losses and crosses have really only served to prepare you for bigger gifts which are yet to come.

        And by the way, as long as we’re talking about the resurrection, did you note that God is the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob?  Not WAS, but IS?  He is the God of the living, not the dead.  Jesus took the Sadducees back to Exodus chapter three—back to the time when God called their hero, Moses.  Jesus dug down deep into the text to show that while Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob are—to us—dead and buried—long gone.  Yet to God, they are alive and well forevermore. 

        And so it is with you.  Having raised you up from the death of sin in the waters of your baptism into Christ, God views you like Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—alive and well forevermore.  Baptized into Christ, you are already sons and daughters of the resurrection.  In Christ, you are already “like angels,” living even though you die—children of God for whom eternal life is a present possession, all thanks to Jesus Christ, our Savior.

        Saint Luke tells us how the Savior’s answer put a sock in the Sadducees, such that they “no longer dared to ask him any question.”  And that’s how it will be in the resurrection.  That’s how it will be at the marriage feast of the Lamb in His kingdom:  No more absurd questions—but only amazing answers.  Only praise and worship of the great “I AM,” who revealed Himself to the world in His Son, Jesus, and who reveals Himself to you in your baptism and in the Supper you are about to receive.  No more questions.  Only gifts received by trusting hearts, and “amens” and “alleluias” echoing into eternity. 

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

 

The Family of the Faithful

Jesu Juva

Revelation 7:9-17                                      

 November 2, 2025

All Saints’ Sunday   

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        As a young seminarian I used to dream of being the pastor of a big church—preaching to multitudes at multiple services every weekend.  But the Lord had different plans for me; and my entire ministry has been spent serving congregations of this size.  And for that I thank God. 

        I have learned to love congregations of this size.  One of those reasons is that this church is a family.  It feels like a family.  Whenever we talk about the “Our Savior family” it rings genuine and true—not like in one of those bigbox mega-churches where any talk of “family” sounds like some slick slogan from the marketing department.  We are a family indeed—brothers and sisters in Christ. 

        On this All Saints’ Sunday it’s worth noting that this family was not diminished by death during the past year.  This is the Sunday when we always toll the chimes for all those who departed in peace during the past twelve months.  But in this family—among these members—there’s been not one such departure.

        But this day also reminds us that the Our Savior family is not nearly as small as it seems.  What we learn about our Christian family today is similar to what I used to learn in the family gatherings of my youth.  My immediate Henrichs relatives were a small group indeed.  In fact, I’m down to three first cousins.  But every so often in my childhood there would be a family reunion—at which all manner of relatives would seemingly emerge from the woodwork—people I had never met or seen or heard of before—people to whom I was related—a whole clan of kin.  Suddenly, I felt strength in those numbers.  My little family had hope—a lively history and a promising future.  My only question was, “Who are all these people; and where did they come from?” 

        That question is not unlike the question that will be asked at the end of time when all the children of God are gathered together around the throne:  Who are these, clothed in white robes, and from where have they come?  That reading from Revelation is a beautiful, hope-filled reminder that we are—each of us—on our way to a grand and glorious family reunion. 

        St. John describes a great multitude that no one can count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb.  They are wearing white robes and holding palm branches in their hands—a symbol of victory.  And this family is not a quiet family, but in a loud voice they declare:  Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.  Together with angels and archangels, they lift their voices in song:  Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever.  Amen.  The Lamb who was slain has begun His reign. Alleluia.

        Beloved in the Lord, my brothers and my sisters, this is your family being described—your church—one, holy, Christian, apostolic.  This is the family reunion to which you are being drawn—and in which you already participate every time you gather around this altar.  Who is this host arrayed in white?  These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.  No more hunger or thirst.  No more scorching sun.  God will wipe away every tear.

        It sounds too good to be true; but it is true and better than good.  You might think of these words as a heavenly, family portrait.  Have you ever posed for a family portrait?—smiling faces, color-coordinated clothing, scenic backdrop.  A beautiful family portrait somehow manages to bring out the very best in us. 

        But there’s no better family portrait than the one in which all of us are dressed in white robes, with eyes that weep no more, and voices that sing for joy.  That’s the family portrait—that’s the family reunion—which is not too good to be true.  It’s our family.  It’s our reunion.  And all this is thanks to our Savior, Jesus the Christ.

        It’s Jesus who makes it possible for sinners like us to stand among the white-robed saints of God.  Jesus is our brother.  He shares in our humanity—bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh.  We know that when He appears we shall be like Him, because we shall see Him as He is. 

        The beatitudes that Jesus spoke in today’s holy gospel are first and foremost descriptions of Himself—the holy life He lived as your substitute.  We are not always meek, merciful, pure-hearted, peacemakers.  We are none of those things by nature.  Not in and of ourselves.  Jesus alone is the total package.  He embodies these beatitudes beautifully.  Jesus is poor in spirit.  Though He was rich, He became poor so that by His poverty you are rich.  Jesus mourns.  He weeps over our sin as He did over Jerusalem; and He weeps over our death as He did at the tomb of Lazarus.  But by that mourning He brings us comfort and joy.  Jesus hungers and thirsts for our righteousness, and out of His hunger you are fed.  Jesus is merciful, pure-hearted, peace-making.  He showed mercy by laying down His life for the sin of the world.  He made peace by the blood He shed.  He offered His pure and holy life as the sacrifice for your sins.  He was persecuted, insulted, and falsely convicted.  But by that conviction you have been acquitted, justified, declared righteous before God.  On the cross Jesus hung bloody in nakedness and shame.  But by that blood you have been washed and cleansed.  Your sins are forgiven.

        This is who you are in Christ.  You are one faith-filled family.  This is true already here and now, today!  It’s now . . . and it’s not yet.  For us who walk as yet by faith, there remains hunger and thirst and tears and the ongoing struggle with temptation and sin and death.  The wages of sin is death, and that’s a payday none of us can avoid for long.  Death is the consequence of sin.  But today and every Sunday we celebrate the fact that Jesus has done something remarkable with death.  He has taken this feared and dreaded enemy—this monster with an insatiable appetite—and He has hijacked death by the power of His own resurrection from the dead.  Death no longer gets the last word. 

        This is why it also says in Revelation, “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.”  Yes, you heard correctly, “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord.”  The Lord Jesus has gone the way ahead of them.  He Himself has gone to death and the grave; and those who follow Him, trusting Him in faith, are called “blessed” in their death.  They are blessed because those who die in the Lord are with the Lord.  There’s no waiting around at the pearly gates—no standing in line—no “yukking it up” with St. Peter.  When you close your eyes for the final time in this world you will immediately open them in paradise with Jesus.  Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord.

        Paradise is the place you are headed, with all the family of God, dressed in white, standing shoulder to shoulder with the very people you see around you this morning.  No chimes are tolled here today.  But one day that chime will sound in memory of you.  For you will have taken your place with that multitude that no one can number.  To say that you will be happy when you join them would be an understatement.  “Blessed” would be more accurate.  Blessed are you, my brothers and my sisters, my dear family, fellow children of God.  Blessed are you in Jesus, now and forever. 

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