The Church Rendered Red

Jesu Juva

St. Matthew 11:12-19                                   

October 27, 2024

Reformation Sunday         

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        I grew up in the Bible belt where Lutheran churches were few and far between.  Baptist churches were a dime a dozen; but we Lutherans were a rare and exotic breed in those parts.  One year, my little flock of Lutherans decided to paint the exterior of the church.  And they chose to go with a radically different color—a color that would stand out—a color that would set apart the Lutheran church from every other church in town.  They painted the church red—and by red I mean Wisconsin dairy barn red—Badger red.

        It was a bold choice—admittedly, a little strange to look at.  But from a theological standpoint, they nailed it!  Red is the perfect color for any church.  Red gets it right where the church is concerned.  This is why on the last Sunday of October, as we celebrate the Reformation of the Church, the color of the day is red. 

        Why red, you ask?  Why does the church look so appropriate in red?  Well, it’s not because red stands out so much, or because red complements the fall foliage outside.  No, red is right for Reformation—and red is right for other days when we remember the church and her apostles, prophets and martyrs—because red is the color of blood.  Red is a reminder of the violence the church has suffered—and still suffers around the world.  Red is a reminder that the church of Jesus Christ has always been—and will always be until the Last Day—a target for violence.

        I know, I know, when you think of church, violence is the last thing to cross your mind.  Church is a place of peace that passes understanding.  But when you take a look at the long history of the church, starting with Cain and Abel all the way to John the Baptist—and if you look at the lives of Paul and Peter and the other Apostles—what you DO NOT see is peace and security and good times.

        Prophets, apostles, martyrs, reformers—as these men preached down through the centuries, the kingdom of heaven suffered violence and the violent took it by force.  That’s the unusual phrase Jesus uses in today’s Holy Gospel.  It means that violence and persecution are the church’s constant companions.  The church does indeed have the peace of Christ—which it offers and proclaims and bestows (and you know that peace); but that peace is NOT necessarily the absence of violence. 

        Behind the church a trail of blood always trickles.  She is whipped by the world when she refuses to yield to the demands of contemporary culture.  Wolves in sheep’s clothing rip and render her flesh.  Persecution is nothing new.  Let the color red remind you that life in the church militant is not about stained glass and padded pews and pipe organs.  Let the red you see be a warning:  the Christian church is—and has always been—a target for violence.

        The church suffers this violence not because she is violent—the church is made up of holy people who are filled with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control.  But the church suffers violence because of her Husband—because of her Bridegroom—because of her Lord, Jesus Christ.  As the world has hated Him, so it hates His bride, for we bear His name. 

        His truth we dare to declare day after day, year after year.  John the Baptist preached it.  Luther preached it.  And on what Sunday do you not hear it preached?—that your sins are forgiven in the blood of Jesus Christ—that the gates of heaven stand open for you by grace, for Christ’s sake, through faith?  All the prophets prophesied this.  All the apostles taught this and preached it.  All the martyrs went to their deaths in the sure and certain confession that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, but are justified freely, by grace, as a gift, by the blood of the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world.  He is true God and true man.  He has defeated death and now reigns at the Father’s right hand so that one day you—you will stand before Him in resurrection glory.

        But before glory comes suffering—and quite possibly violence.  Martin Luther is on a very short list—a list of faithful preachers who proclaimed the truth in the face of the lie—and lived to tell about it.  Remember, Luther was a marked man—a fugitive—for much of his life.  Luther thankfully had a few friends in high places. That meant he could bear witness not just in death, but in his life and preaching.  Luther was an exception.  For as Jesus reminds us, “The kingdom of heaven suffers violence . . . and the violent take it by force.”

        Let the blood-red paraments today remind you of all that you have been given—how when you hunger and thirst for righteousness—how when you are burdened by sin and grief—you can freely come here to receive the life-giving gifts of Jesus, our Savior. 

        But would you still come here if protestors were gathered along the front sidewalk, shouting and jeering because of what we teach about marriage—the lifelong union of one man and one woman?  Would you still come if someone from the government was here taking attendance, checking IDs, jotting down license plate numbers?  Would you still come if we lost our non-profit status—if we were persecuted with fines and financial penalties, and had to give up this beautiful building and worship some place not so nice—perhaps in a big red barn?  What do you treasure more, the gospel of our Savior, or your own comfort—your own status—your own security?

        The Lord Jesus gives us so much whenever we gather in His name . . . but we treasure it so little.  We’re not that different from the generation of Jesus’ day.  Jesus compared them to picky little children.  They didn’t like John the Baptist because he was too strict and too conservative; but neither did they like Jesus because He was too loose and too liberal, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.  That generation could find fault with anyone and anything.  And so can we.  It’s so easy to criticize the church—to point out her flaws and failings.  It’s so easy to be complacent.  It’s so easy to point out the problems in the church rather than be part of the solutions to those problems. 

        It’s a good thing the church has a Savior who has made all of your problems His own.  It’s a good thing the church has a Savior who has taken your sins and made them all His own.  It’s a good thing that you have a Savior who is never complacent, but always active, serving you with His gifts.

        If the red you see today is a reminder of blood, let it also remind you of the Savior’s blood shed for you.  For you were redeemed, not with gold or silver, but with His holy, precious blood and His innocent suffering and death that you may be His own.  All the violence that could ever befall you is just a fraction of the violence that rained down upon Jesus on Good Friday.  All your bad Jesus bears away; and all His good He freely gives to you.  That good comes to you in the splash of your baptism, in the comforting cadence of Holy Absolution, in the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood, in the preaching and proclamation of His Word. These things are gifts.  These are treasures.  These are for you.

        The color red tells the whole story on Reformation Sunday.  This world is a violent place for Christ and for His Christians.  But through faith in Him, we have access to a better world—to the life of the world to come.  That’s where we are headed.  And the promise of that world is what sustains us in times of trial and persecution.  For there we will see our Savior face to face. 

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

 

Lacking, but Loved

Jesu Juva

St. Mark 10:17-22                                         

October 13, 2024

Proper 23B                    

 Dear Saints of Our Savior,

        What do you think of the Ten Commandments?  Can you remember all ten?  Do you view them as an irritating inconvenience?  Or do you view them with thanksgiving—as a helpful guide along life’s way?  And perhaps more importantly, do you know why God gives us the Ten Commandments?  I’ve asked that question in many and various ways over the years.  And I’ve received many and various answers.  But behind every good answer lies the best answer:  God gives us the Ten Commandments because He loves us.

        The Ten Commandments figure prominently in today’s Holy Gospel.  Those verses center on a man who is traditionally known as “the rich, young, ruler.” Given that title, he seems to have it all.  He’s rich.  He’s young.  He’s a ruler—he’s got power.  What more could a person want? 

        Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?  He has everything you could want in this life.  But he’s not so sure about the life of the world to come.  He’s got a great life, but something’s missing.  There’s an emptiness.  There’s something troubling him that his wealth, his youth, and his power cannot address:  It’s his mortality—the unavoidable truth that death comes to all. 

        And so he seeks out someone who can help him.  Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?  And before you critique his question too severely, let’s acknowledge that he’s making a good move here.  He’s coming to Jesus for help.  Note the man’s sincerity.  He comes running and kneeling before this good Teacher.  His question is genuine—from the heart.  He’s not out to trap Jesus or trick Jesus.  He really wants to know:  What must I do to inherit eternal life?

        Jesus takes him to the Ten Commandments.  Do not murder.  Do not commit adultery.  Do not steal.  Do not bear false witness.  Honor your father and mother.  It’s tempting to think that Jesus is just setting him up to fail—using the Ten Commandments as a trap—taking him to the Law just to show him how bad he is—to show him his sin.  Certainly the Law does that.  It has that effect at times.  But let’s not forget why.  Why does God give us the Ten Commandments?  God gives the law for reasons of love—because He loves us and wants the very best for us.

        Too often, we think that, because we cannot keep God’s commandments perfectly, we’re somehow free to view them as ten strong suggestions—or as ten helpful options to consider.  No, God gives the Ten Commandments because he loves us.  Things will go immeasurably better for you if you don’t hurt or harm your neighbor in his body—and if you lead a sexually pure and decent life—and if you do not despise or anger the authorities in your life.  The Ten Commandments are serious business.  God is serious about you obeying them.  Anyone who chooses to “opt out” of these divine requirements—or views them as “optional,” that person is answerable to God.

        And speaking of answers, the answer of the rich, young ruler sounds surprising:  Teacher, all these [commandments] I have kept from my youth.  Now, I don’t think he’s claiming to have obeyed all the commandments perfectly.  The verb “to keep” has a broader meaning—as in, to observe.  In fact, I think it’s possible that the rich, young ruler is a lot like you.  He knows the commandments of God.  He honors them.  He observes them.  He takes them seriously.  And given that you are here this morning—that you are listening to the words of this sermon—I suspect and hope that you, too, observe and honor and take seriously all of God’s commandments.

        But . . . you lack one thing.  That’s what Jesus said.  You lack one thing.  Go, and sell all that you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.  Jesus isn’t making a new commandment here.  He’s not preaching poverty as a prerequisite for all who would follow Him.  No, this is a precise and personal prescription for the rich young man who knelt before Him.  In love, Jesus uncovered and exposed the man at his weakest point.  Jesus was applying the Law at the point of greatest resistance—which, for this man, was his love of money and possessions.  And he went away sorrowful.

        What’s your “one thing?”  What do you lack when it comes to following Jesus?  What’s your point of greatest resistance to God that prevents you from following Him more closely?  What’s your favorite idol?  At what one point do God’s will—and your will—clash and collide? 

        What’s your “one thing?”  Do you honor and obey all the authorities in your life—your parents, your boss, your teachers, your pastors?  Or do you despise them, treat them with contempt, and delight to point out their shortcomings?  Do you honor marriage by avoiding adultery and other sexual sins that separate sex from marriage?  Do you give in where gossip is concerned—delighting in the downfall of others?  Or do you do the hard work of defending your neighbor, speaking well of him, and explaining everything in the kindest way?

        Jesus wants you to see the sin that separates you from Him—not to embarrass you—not to shame you—not to delight in your discomfort—not to drive you away.  Jesus exposes your sin for reasons of repentance—so that He can forgive your sin—so that He can draw you even closer and use you more effectively—so that you can have your share of treasure in heaven.  Jesus does the difficult work of diagnosing our sin with but one motive—love.  In fact, it was so obvious that St. Mark wrote it down.  One little sentence.  Right before Jesus skewered the rich, young ruler for his love of money, Mark writes this simple sentence:  Jesus looked at him and loved him. 

        You, too, can know that look of love from the Savior.  The love of Jesus is patient and kind.  Jesus is at work in you for the long haul.  Jesus looked at that rich, young ruler and loved him.  But make no mistake, this love is a tough love.  Jesus allowed the man to walk away with sorrow and sadness.  Jesus allowed the law to do its work.  We don’t know what happened with this man—whether the law Jesus spoke eventually drove him to despair, or to repentance and faith.  Did he go home and continue to delight in his possessions?  Or did he look at all his stuff and conclude, “This isn’t worth it, nothing can compare with following Jesus in faith?”

        Jesus doesn’t make it easy to follow Him.  His love is a tough love—a love that is as tough as nails.  Jesus works to expose our sin because He delights to forgive our sin.  He demolishes with His Law so that He can resurrect with His Gospel.  He doesn’t want any “one thing” to separate you from Him.  In fact, He’s already paid the penalty for your sin by the nails that pierced His hands and feet—by the blood He shed on His holy cross.  That is tough love.

        You can see the Savior’s love for you not only in His dying, but also in His living.  From His mother’s womb to Joseph’s tomb, Jesus of Nazareth kept all of God’s law perfectly.  We all fall short when it comes to commandment-keeping, but Jesus—He gets an A+.  And He earned that A+ on your behalf.  He was your substitute.  His perfect record of commandment-keeping counts for you, and for all who follow Him in faith.  None of us is perfect.  We are all found to be lacking—lacking, but loved by Jesus.  He shares His perfection with you in the waters of your baptism, in the comfort of absolution, and in the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood.  With a Savior like this, who gives gifts like these, you lack nothing.  You are perfectly positioned to inherit eternal life. 

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

 

What God Has Joined Together

 Jesu Juva

Mark 10:2-16                                                  

October 6, 2024

Proper 22B             

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        I really wish those Pharisees had come to Jesus with a better question.  Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?  What an awful question.  What a telling question.  How different things might be if they had asked:  Jesus, what are the five keys to a successful, happy marriage? Jesus, how can we love and serve our wives better?  Jesus, what can we do to avoid the tragedy and trauma of divorce?  If Jesus had just answered one of those questions, wow, we would have a ready-made sermon text for every wedding.  Husbands and wives could review our Lord’s answer every night before going to bed and at the beginning of every new day.  What beautiful answer might Jesus have given to a more earnest question about marriage?  We will never know.

        Instead, what we’re stuck with is:  Jesus, is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?  It was a question not prompted by faith or by a love for God’s gift of marriage.  No, they were testing Jesus—tricking Jesus—trying to get Him off-message.  It was just days before Palm Sunday, holy week, Good Friday.  The Pharisees were looking for creative ways to charge Jesus, to try Jesus, and to kill Jesus.

        We love Jesus.  We rightly view marriage as His gift—His institution.  Marriage is holy; and we must keep it holy.  Marriage should be honored by all—even if you happen to be single.

        Yet sometimes our approach to marriage—sometimes our take on God’s gifts and God’s Law—leaves us sounding a lot like those faithless Pharisees.  They knew divorce was not God’s will; but they wanted to explore the legal loopholes.  What are the exceptions?  What are the exclusions?  What does the fine print in Deuteronomy say?  Where’s the wiggle room?  Is this really a black and white issue?  Isn’t there some contradiction in the by-laws that we can exploit so as to maneuver around God’s will and God’s ways and God’s Words?

        We all do this.  Our sinful nature is pre-programmed to do this.  I know we’re supposed to forgive those who sin against us; but . . .what’s the limit?  Seven times?  Or, what sins are so bad that we can be justified in not forgiving them?  “Love your enemies,” Jesus says, “pray for those who persecute you.”  But this is just hyperbole, right?  Loving your enemies is for losers.  Love the one who has hurt you—lied about you—cheated you—cheated on you?  Surely, there’s another way—a way that allows me to do my will rather than God’s will.  With our carefully crafted questions we’re very good and waffling and schwaffling and evading and avoiding what is true and right and salutary.

        But Jesus doesn’t let terrible questions prevent amazing answers.  Jesus took His terrible questioners back to the beginning—back to Genesis chapter two—back to male and female and the two becoming one flesh.  But to this ancient history, Jesus adds a new and timeless insight concerning marriage:  What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate.

        With that phrase, “what God has joined together,” Jesus tells us a glorious truth—a truth we might not otherwise realize.  If you are married, it wasn’t the preacher who joined you together—or the justice of the peace.  You may have wooed, and wowed and dated and proposed and bought the dress or rented the tux.  But God Himself has joined you to your spouse.  In, with, and under the engagement and the ceremony, God was at work.  Backing up your vows and your commitment to have and to hold until death parts you—there stands Jesus.  And this truth makes marriage—your marriage—precious and valuable and holy.  Not perfect, but holy.

        No perfect husbands.  No perfect wives.  Just a relationship rooted in repentance.  Just two sinners drinking deeply every day of the forgiveness Jesus earned when He carried our sins and sorrows to His crucifixion cross.  No more playing the blame game—looking for loopholes—seeking to skirt the clear commands of God.  Instead of excuses, instead of blaming and shaming, marriage is marked by confession and reconciliation:  I’m sorry.  I forgive you.

        In the Scriptures God gives us a perfect picture of marriage.  In this picture, Jesus is the groom and His church is the bride.  We are the bride of Christ.  But it could have been otherwise.  For Jesus could have divorced us.  God could have sent us away for good—with just cause—for our countless adulteries and idolatries.  Instead, Jesus bore our sin on the cross.  Our sin was joined to His body.  His body was joined to the cross.  Whatever the ways you have sought to separate and undo what God has joined together—see that sin buried in the tomb with Jesus.  Feel it washed away in the cleansing splash of your baptism.  Taste and savor the forgiveness that comes to you when our heavenly Bridegroom gives His body and blood to eat and drink.

        There’s a strange twist in today’s holy gospel—a rather abrupt transition.  Perhaps as a foil to the Pharisees—to counter-balance their malicious question on matrimony—the scene suddenly shifts:  They were bringing little children to Jesus that He might touch them.  These children—like all little children—had no agenda—no sly, clever questions—not looking for loopholes to evade and equivocate.  These children, like all children, were simply “givable-to.”  They were glad to receive what Jesus had to give.  That’s why the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.  Our newest, youngest member—little Colter—he’s totally helpless.  He’s completely dependent.  But moments ago, through water and word, this little one was joined to Jesus.  The holy cross left its mark on Colter, marking Him as one redeemed by Christ the crucified.  The kingdom of God belongs to such as Colter.

        Beloved in the Lord, be like Colter.  Channel your inner child—whatever your age may be.  Be givable-to where the gifts of God are concerned.  Believe and receive the blessings Jesus earned for you.  Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved.  The kingdom of God belongs to such as you.

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

Something Terrible & Wonderful

Jesu Juva

Revelation 12:7-12                                   

September 29, 2024

St. Michael & All Angels

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        A few years ago you sent me on sabbatical to Germany.  There I quickly learned that to journey through Germany is to be confronted by things both terrible and wonderful.  At first the cobblestone sidewalks seem quaint.  But then you notice how some of the little stones are inscribed with names—marking an address where German Jews were arrested in the dead of night, never to return home again.  Look closely at the monuments and you’ll see how bullet holes still scar those structures from when the Russians arrived in 1945 to exact vengeance.  A sign next to a nondescript parking lot tells that beneath your feet was Hitler’s bunker, a little suburb of hell which housed demonic evil.  It’s terrible—terrible tokens of evil.

        But right next to the terrible . . . is the wonderful:  the ruins of the Berlin wall, relegated to the ash heap of history, cathedrals with spires that stretch into the heavens, museums housing the finest artworks ever created.  It’s wonderful and beautiful and inspiring.

        My little pilgrimage through things both terrible and wonderful—this vision of violence and beauty—it changed me.  It reconfigured my view of the world as I continue down the path of my earthly pilgrimage.

        This Sunday—on which we give thanks for St. Michael and all the angels of God—is like a journey through Germany.  All the Scripture readings direct our attention to things both terrible and wonderful—on a cosmic scale.  The reading from Revelation 12 in particular gives us a vision of heavenly violence—of terrible trauma—of a war in heaven.  St. Michael and the angels fight against the dragon who is called the devil and Satan—the deceiver of the whole world.  We’re familiar with war on earth.  We see the images from Ukraine and Israel.  But war in heaven is unimaginable—angels and demons—a dragon and a Lamb—terror and violence on a cosmic scale, where victory comes only by blood—the blood of the Lamb.  However you picture it, it is both terrible and wonderful.  And this vision changes us as it leads us to ponder things unseen.

        Terrible things and wonderful things are so tightly intertwined in today’s readings that it can be tough to decipher.  Michael gets the victory, and Satan is evicted from heaven.  Jesus said: I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven.  That’s wonderful!  But without missing a beat, Revelation gives a warning of woe for those of us who dwell on earth.  Why?  Because the devil has come down to us in great wrath and rage.  And that’s terrible and terrifying.

        What the devil does best is deceive and accuse.  And we are the targets of his deceptions and accusations.  His ultimate goal is to extinguish your faith in the Lord Jesus Christ—to pull you away from your Savior by any means necessary.  He deceives and he accuses.  Some of us he draws into despair—convincing us that we are truly worthless and unforgivable—that the weight of our sins will rightly drag us down to hell.  But others of us he pulls into pride—causing us to look with contempt on others and how bad they are, while engaging in smug self-satisfaction at how righteous and respectable we are.  Worst of all, many of Satan’s accusations are dead-on accurate!  He’s not just making stuff up about us.  He’s a liar; but he can also leverage the truth to attack us:  Fickle faithlessness, greed, idolatry, adultery, drunkenness, theft.  You know which of those accusations might rightly stick to you.  Give the devil his due; even a stopped clock shows the true time twice a day. Do not be deceived.  This is our sin; and it is terrible.

        But this day holds before our eyes something supremely wonderful and mysterious.  This day declares that you are victorious in Jesus.  Even Saint Michael—that great warrior angel—even Michael is a participant in the victory of Jesus.  Think about how strange this account is in Revelation 12.  Michael and the holy angels fight a war against the devil; and that devil is evicted from heaven.  The devil gets his butt kicked.  This is wonderful, but weird.  If I were writing this story—even though my name is Michael—it wouldn’t be Michael who demotes and defeats the devil.  It would be Jesus!  Right?  Shouldn’t it be the Christ who conquers?

        But it’s Michael.  And it is Michael for this reason:  Because Michael participates in the victory of Christ.  How do I know?  Because right there in Revelation 12, when Michael casts Satan out, the heavens break into song.  Only they don’t sing about Michael, but about the Christ—about His rule, His authority, His salvation, His power, and His blood—blood that cleanses sinners, blood that silences every ugly accusation, and blood that conquers all the powers of evil.  The victory comes through Jesus.  The devil’s demise is our Lord’s doing.  Michael shows this.  Michael demonstrates this.  The Lord Jesus enables all who trust in Him—including you—to participate in His victory.

        And this ought to encourage you as you press on in your earthly pilgrimage through things terrible and wonderful.  See the wonder of God’s love for you in the terror of our Lord’s crucifixion.  See how He suffered so that you might conquer—in Him!  See how the blood that seeped from His terrible wounds has so wonderfully cleansed you of all the sin that would condemn you.  We witness His terrible death; and we watch with wonder His glorious resurrection.

        War arose in heaven.  This is true.  But you are not collateral damage in this war.  You have not been abandoned to stagger and stumble through a never-ending no-man’s land.  God has chosen you—drafted you in the waters of holy Baptism to participate in His victory over Satan.  This is why the baptized always renounce the devil and all his works and all his ways.  I do renounce them!  Because they are being born again into the victory of Jesus!

        Those little babies at the baptismal font are the perfect illustration.  There’s no way a little infant could ever defeat the devil.  There’s no way someone so helpless could ever secure salvation.  And that’s the point.  All of us—from the littlest infant to mighty St. Michael—we fight and we conquer by the strength of our Savior, who loved us and gave Himself for us.  In Him we are more than conquerors.

        I don’t know all the terrible battles you are fighting today—or what, exactly, Satan is hurling in your direction.  But let me tell you something wonderful.  We are on our way!  We are pressing on in a pilgrimage from earth to heaven.  And once in a while on this long journey God pulls back the curtain to show us things terrible—and things too wonderful for words—to stiffen our spines and speed our steps and strengthen our faith as we spy the golden horizon ahead.  We are on our way to Jesus, walking with angels, and archangels, and all the company of heaven.

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