The End . . . and the Beginning

 Jesu Juva

Daniel 12:1-3                                            

November 17, 2024

Proper 28B              

 Dear Saints of Our Savior~

        The leaves aren’t messing around anymore.  Even the mighty maple right outside these windows has started letting go of leaves at a rapid rate.  Those leaves are always the last to go—the sure and certain sign that the end of the growing season is upon us.  

        It’s probably no coincidence that the church uses these darkening days to remind us that the end of all things is near.  The day is surely drawing near, we just sang.  The Holy Spirit led prophets and apostles to spill a lot of ink to tell us about the end times—the last days.

        Today we hear from the Prophet Daniel.  Much of Daniel is tough sledding—especially the second half of the book—which contains lots of symbolic imagery, dreams and visions.  But the three verses at the center of our attention today are clear and comforting, sure and certain.  If you’re wondering what the end of the world will be like, Daniel is definitive.  Daniel declares nearly everything we need to know.

        At that time shall arise Michael, the great prince who has charge of your people.  The Michael here called a “prince” is better known as Michael the Archangel.  The archangels are the five-star generals of the armies of heaven.  Michael the Archangel is best known for slaying the satanic dragon in Revelation chapter twelve. His name implies that Michael is “like God.”  And at the end of days, this mighty warrior archangel will be fighting for and protecting the people of God.

        This mention of Michael is a great reminder that all the angels are at work for you—and for the benefit of the whole church—already here and now.  The Bible tells us, for instance, that angels are here among us this morning, in this place, as we gather around the Lord Jesus and His gifts.  The words of the proper preface remind us of the unseen guests who join us for every Divine Service:  angels, archangels and all the company of heaven.  Martin Luther suggests we should begin and end each day with this petition, “Let Your holy angel be with me that the evil foe may have no power over me.” 

        But because the angels often work in unseen ways, we tend to forget about this gracious dimension of God’s care for us.  When tragedy is narrowly averted—when we walk away unscathed from twisted wreckage—when we turn away from shameful sin and vice at the last minute—does it even cross our minds that the holy angels of God may be at work on our behalf?  Or are we more likely to conclude that dumb luck and random chance simply fell in our favor?

        Dumb luck and chance will get you nothing when it comes to the end of the world.  You’ll be glad for the assistance of the angels at that time.  Just how bad will it be?  Daniel declares:  There shall be a time of trouble such as never has been since the first nation was founded.  Unprecedented trouble.  Just think of all the troubling times we read about in the history books:  wars, famines, pandemics, natural disasters, revolutions, ethnic cleansing and mass murder.  Did you see the post-hurricane footage from western North Carolina?  Large-scale destruction everywhere.  But Daniel seems to say, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” 

        Trouble is coming—and even your government will not be there to rescue you.  Forget FEMA.  Like every other idol, the gears of government will grind to a halt in the last days.  Federalism will fail.  Bureaucracy will break down.  Ideologies will implode.  Those who fear, love, and trust in princes and presidents will be panic-stricken.   

        Daniel would say, “Don’t bow down to those idols.”  Daniel himself had been a citizen of Jerusalem—the capital city of God’s holy nation.  But God used the Babylonians to destroy it and burn it.  And this is why Daniel found himself in Babylon.  God’s people will be delivered, even as earthly kingdoms rise and fall.  In fact, Daniel reminds us that it’s not your earthly citizenship that matters.  Instead, “Everyone whose name is found written in the book will be delivered.”  That’s a reference to the Lamb’s book of life, mentioned many times in the Bible. 

        There’s a great multitude of people whose names are in that book, who are saved by grace through faith for the sake of Jesus.  It’s comforting to me that it’s always referred to as the “book” of life.  The names of those who belong to the Lord are written down in a book.  I like this metaphor because books have staying power.  I routinely write things down on post-it notes and scraps paper.  You should see all the “notes” on my phone.  It’s really not a good system.  Sometimes I lose important information.  Passwords pass away.  But books—books have a little more staying power, don’t they? 

        In God’s book, the names of those who trust in Jesus are written down, recorded, preserved.  It shows that God means business when it comes to your salvation.  He will never forget the promises He first made to you in your baptism.  It doesn’t mean “once saved, always saved,” but it does mean that your salvation has been in the works since before the world began.  And when your days in this world are winding down—or when this world itself is flaming out—what comfort it will be to know that your name is inscribed in the Lamb’s book of life.

        Daniel’s words about the end of time are clear and comforting.  How’s this for clarity?  Those who sleep in the dust of the earth will awake:  some to everlasting life, others to shame and everlasting contempt.  On the Last Day God is going to raise up you and all the dead.  Please note that all will be raised—believers and unbelievers—no exclusions.  The believers in Christ will awaken to everlasting life; the unbelievers to shame and everlasting contempt. You know that I’m not what you might call a “fire and brimstone” preacher.  But make no mistake.  Those who foolishly reject God’s gracious gift of salvation—those who walk away from Jesus and His Word to embrace some alternative ideology—they will face an eternity of shame and regret.

        But those who are wise will shine, Daniel tells us.  In the Bible to be “wise,” has nothing to do with test scores or IQ.  Those who are “wise” are those who hear the Word of God and keep it.  Those who are wise believe that Jesus is their Savior—that His blood has cleansed them from all guilt and sin.  Those who are wise view Jesus as their substitute—who kept God’s law perfectly on their behalf, and took the punishment they deserve. Those who are wise will enjoy an eternity in God’s presence.  They will shine like the sky above.  You are wise because you’ve got your eyes fixed on Jesus. 

        Daniel’s last word about the last day concerns righteousness:  Those who turn many to righteousness [will shine] like the stars forever and ever.  Note carefully what Daniel is telling us about righteousness:  Sinners can’t become righteous on their own.  You can’t decide to become righteous.  You can’t earn righteousness or achieve righteousness.  You must be led.  You must be turned.  Someone from the outside must make you righteous on the inside.  Who on earth can do that?  Who can lead you and turn you to righteousness?  Well, as the end approaches, stick close to your pastor.  For your pastor has been called by God to turn you (and many others) to righteousness.  He does that by the forgiveness He speaks, by the Word he preaches, by the gifts he applies to you in water, bread, and wine.  Your pastor delivers Jesus to you—and in that divine delivery, many are turned to righteousness.  You are made righteousness, cleansed of all sin, prepared for judgement, and for the thrill of eternal victory. 

        Of course, today you might be feeling the agony of defeat more than the thrill of victory.  Today you might feel the need for rescue and deliverance acutely. But that’s not the last word.  In the end, God gets the last word about the Last Day.  And according to Him, for all eternity you will shine like the heavens above.  The one who endures to the end will be saved.

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

The Widow's Might

 Jesu Juva

St. Mark 12:38-44                                     

November 10, 2024

Proper 27B                                              

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        In just a few minutes we will take the offering.  Taking an offering is, admittedly, old fashioned.  Ours is quickly becoming a cashless society.  Dollars change hands through electronic transfers, debit cards, and Venmo.  Even your checkbook is going the way of the dinosaurs.  The offering is an anachronism.  It’s the rotary phone of the Divine Service.  It’s the folded paper map in the glove compartment—a vestige of simpler times.  Nevertheless, the offering is here to stay.  And today’s text concerning a widow’s offering is a big reason why.

        From a business standpoint, the widow’s offering didn’t really matter.  The two tiny copper coins she tossed into the temple treasury amounted to barely a penny.  It was an offering so small that it almost wasn’t worth the trouble of counting.  The widow’s offering would do nothing to help pay down the temple debt.  It would do nothing to impact work on the mission field.  It would feed no hungry and clothe no poor.  It would do nothing to help meet the annual temple budget.  To the eyes of the world, that widow’s offering was probably the least significant thing that transpired that day at the temple.

        But to the eyes of Jesus—to Him who sees deep into the heart—that poor widow’s penny-sized offering meant more than all the gold in King Herod’s treasury.  It is a little-known truth of the Scriptures that God sees the gifts of His people not based upon the amount that is given, but based upon how much remains, after the offering is given.  Truly I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box.  For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.  The rich put in big amounts; but even bigger amounts remained in their pockets.  The widow put in a microscopic amount; but the amount that remained in her purse was zero.  Her gift totaled one hundred percent.

        Most people—even most believers—would have said that the widow’s offering was foolish, risky, and unreasonable.  As an investor, you’re never supposed to put all of your eggs in one basket.  But she put all she had into the offering basket.  And what return would she ever get for that investment?  She would never see those two copper coins again.  What would she live on?  How would she eat?  What was she thinking? 

        But Jesus saw things differently.  Jesus praised her gift.  Jesus memorialized her gift.  Her gift mattered to the Master.  It’s because of Jesus that we’re talking about her offering today, two thousand years later.  Today rich philanthropists get all the headlines—millionaires who give big bucks to revitalize neighborhoods and build arenas and libraries on university campuses.  But the legacies of the Pettits and the Bradleys and the Kohls and the Cudahays won’t last forever.  The brick and mortar that bear those names will crumble.  But the sound of that widow’s two copper coins will echo on forever.

        What does the widow’s offering mean for us and for the offerings that we bring to this temple?  Well, some preachers might tell you that since the widow put into the offering all the money she had, that you should put all the money that you have into the offering.  She gave one hundred percent; and so should you.  Be like the widow!  But that’s not exactly what Jesus is teaching in this passage.  So let’s dig deeper.

        Perhaps the widow’s offering leads to more questions than answers.  Questions like, how much money should I return to the Lord?  Because remember, it’s not simply the amount of the offering that matters to Jesus; it’s the amount that remains.  It’s the percentage that matters.  Are we giving to the Lord from what’s leftover, after all the other “important” bills are paid?  Or are we giving sacrificially—like the widow—in a way that challenges and exercises our faith?  Are we giving an amount that’s reasonable and sensible?  Or might your accountant raise his eyebrows just a bit at what you give?  Is our giving based on faith in the living Lord Jesus who has destroyed the power of death and the grave for us?  Or is our giving based on the church budget, or worse, based upon what other people are giving?  Do we give like the Scribes to “keep up appearances” or “for show?”  Do we announce it with trumpets, or are we so discreet that our right hand doesn’t know what our left hand is doing?  All of these are questions—questions that flow from the widow’s offering.

        But there’s also a warning that flows from today’s text.  “Beware,” Jesus said.  Beware of the scribes.  The scribes are the polar opposite of the widow who quietly gave one hundred percent.  The trouble with the scribes was that they did everything “for show.”  Their prayers, their preaching, their piety—it was all done for popular consumption.  It was all done so that other people would see it, and praise them and pay them and honor them and reward them.  Beware, Jesus says.

        Beware as you live out your faith in Jesus Christ in works of love and mercy, that you aren’t doing those things as a pretense for other people to see and admire.  The trouble is that we’re all scribes in that respect.  Our Old Adam is a first-rate exhibitionist—saying good words and doing good deeds and giving good offerings, but mostly motivated by the love of the limelight—full of fake and phony humility.

        The poor widow in today’s text teaches us to test our motives. She went to the temple and gave everything she had.  Like the Israelites who gathered only enough manna for one day at a time, she trusted that the Lord would take care of her tomorrow, and the next day.  She would get no receipt for her gift—no tax deduction the following April.  Nobody would praise her.  Nobody would applaud her.  Nobody in the world would see or recognize the incredible sacrifice she was making that day.  Nobody, that is . . . except Jesus.  For Jesus notices what we do not notice.  Jesus always recognizes faith in action.  What you and I might call irrational, illogical and unreasonable behavior—Jesus calls faithfulness.

        When you stop and think about it, it really shouldn’t surprise us that the widow’s offering caught the eye of Jesus.  The widow gave everything—all she had.  It was an act of total devotion, motivated only for reasons of love.  Do you see where this is heading?  Do you see where this poor widow is pointing us?  With her pennies she preaches a sermon more powerful than any preacher or any scribe ever could.  For her offering points us to Jesus—to the offering He Himself would give on Calvary’s cross.  He was condemned and crucified. There Jesus gave Himself for you, for your sins, in an act of total devotion, motivated only by love.  Like the poor widow, Jesus gave one hundred percent.  He held nothing back, but gave Himself up for your salvation—not with gold or silver—not with coins or currency, but with His holy precious blood and His innocent suffering and death.

        No one can hear of what happened to the sinless Son of God on that dark Friday and not conclude that the love Jesus displayed that day was unreasonable.  Nothing could justify the spillage of that innocent man’s blood.  Unless of course you see that blood as an offering—an offering to God made on your behalf—for your forgiveness.  In that offering is your redemption.  In that offering is your salvation.  Jesus gave His all so that He might make you rich.

        Do you believe that—that you are rich through faith in Jesus?  I’m here to tell you, you are.  Your every debt has been paid by Jesus.  You have a pension plan to which you didn’t contribute, which will pay you eternal dividends.  You are at least as rich as the poor widow whose offering was noticed by Jesus as the greatest gift given that day.  If you do believe that, then watch out.  That kind of faith has been known to express itself in surprisingly generous ways.  And each of those expressions is an offering—an offering done not for show, but out of love for Jesus who by His poverty makes you rich. 

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

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.