Monday, February 10, 2025

Close Encounters

Jesu Juva

Lk. 5:1-11; Is. 6                                             

February 9, 2025

Epiphany 5C                    

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        Today’s Holy Gospel is famously known as the call of St. Peter.  What we learn right away is that Simon Peter was a fisherman—but not in the way some of you might call yourselves “fishermen.”  Fishing was Peter’s business, his livelihood.  He was a pro.  He was as much at home on the water as on dry ground.  His crusty, opinionated personality was perhaps a bit more pronounced than usual that day when Jesus showed up. 

        Peter and crew had been fishing all night long—fishing when the fishing was supposed to be best.  But as the day broke, they had nothing to show for all that work.  You probably know how that feels.  You show up at work bright and early with your thermos full of coffee, ready for a day of solid productivity.  But at the end of the day you’ve got nothing to show for all your time and effort. 

        As Peter and crew were calling it quits, Jesus just showed up.  Jesus first borrowed Peter’s boat, and made that boat a pulpit from which the crowds could see Him and hear Him. He first borrowed Peter’s boat . . . but then He set out to borrow Peter himself:  Simon, put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.  This is the exact moment captured in the artwork on the cover of today’s bulletin.  Take a look if you’ve got a copy handy.

        That’s Jesus on the left:  humble, gentle, earnest.  He’s got His hands on Peter.  That detail isn’t in the text.  But do you know the kind of people Jesus made a habit of touching?  The sick, the fevered, and all those in need of healing (4:40).  Perhaps the artist wants us to see this moment as a moment of healing for Peter.

        That’s Peter in the center.  Look at his face.  You can almost hear him say something like: You want me to do what?  That’s probably the same look you would give me if I showed up at your office and started telling you how to do your job.  Peter knew that nighttime was the right time to catch fish on the Sea of Galilee, and that venturing into deep water at mid-morning was a complete waste of time.  Listen, Master, we toiled all night and caught nothing!  But at some level, Peter knew.  When Jesus speaks, it pays to listen.  Ok.  Alright.  Whatever you say!  At your word I will let down the nets.  Because you say so, I will do as you say.  This is the key to understanding this entire episode.  Trust the word of Jesus.

        Will you do that?  Will you trust Jesus, and take Him at His Word, even when His word seems unreasonable and illogical—even when it makes no sense?      Jesus works this kind of trust-building in us all the time.  Will you take Jesus at His Word?  Do you believe that God is for you, even when it feels like all things are working against you?  Will you do your best work even when it feels pointless?  Will you speak a word of forgiveness to that person who has hurt you, even though every cell in your body screams out for revenge and retribution?  Will you treat your marriage as something holy and sacred—as a union created by God—or will you dishonor and despise that gift by your words and actions?  Will you believe Jesus?  Will you trust Him?  Will you do what He says?  Will you follow His Word even when it feels like a huge waste of time—or worse?

        That’s what Peter did.  Peter let down the nets in deep water, in broad daylight—and the result was a net-busting, boat-sinking load of fish!  In fact, it took two boats to haul in the schools of fish that apparently swam to their ultimate demise at the command of Jesus.

        But for Peter, the thrill and the euphoria of the catch quickly gave way to a far different feeling.  Peter fell down at Jesus’ feet: Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.  And this, too, is the voice of faith.  Faith recognizes when we stand in the presence of the holy God.  Faith recognizes that in Jesus the holy God has become one of us and stands in our midst—that He is the Lord of creation, who the wind and the waves (and even the fish) obey.  Peter recognizes this moment as a close encounter with God Himself. 

        Faith leads us to know and confess that we are sinful men and women.  Can you confess that your problem isn’t just a curse word here and a little bickering there and an occasional moment of lust or greed or whatever?  Can you confess that you are by nature—down to your core—sinful and unclean?

        Peter sounds a lot like Isaiah did when he came face to face with the Lord in today’s OT reading.  It’s another close encounter.  Isaiah knew what it meant for someone like Him to be standing before the holy God:  Woe is me!  For I am lost.  I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips.  But Isaiah quickly learns that the God who is perfect and holy is also gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.  A burning coal from the altar is applied to Isaiah’s lips and Isaiah is purified:  Your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for.

        This is the only way sinners can stand before God and live:  Your guilt must be taken away.  Your sin must be atoned for.  Your debt must be paid for you.  That Jesus standing on the lakeshore—that humble, gentle man with His hand on Simon Peter’s shoulder—He’s the one.  He’s the atoning sacrifice.  He’s the guilt-bearer.  He’s the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.  He’s the one who washes you white as snow in His bright red blood.  He’s the one who died—more than that—who was raised to rescue you, and lift you up from your knees, and put you to work.

        We are all people of unclean lips and lives—sinful down to our DNA, sinful from when we were conceived.  And when it comes to that sin, all we can do is follow the lead of Isaiah and Peter:  admit it, own it, confess it.  Don’t pretend otherwise.  Don’t say, “Well, I’m not so bad.”  You know it’s not right with you—whether on your lips or in your life.  And no matter how hard you try, you can’t make it right.

        Today we all enjoy a close encounter with God.  Today we kneel next to Peter on the seashore; and we tremble with Isaiah in the temple.  Isaiah’s sinful life and lips were purified by a burning coal taken from the altar.  And from this altar the Lord Jesus purifies your lips and life with His body given into death to save you, and with His blood, shed for you as the atoning sacrifice for your sins.  Through the lips of His called and ordained servant, He puts the forgiving words of absolution into your ears and heart:  Do not be afraid.  Your guilt is taken away.  Your sin is atoned for.  I forgive you all your sins.

        Peter and his fishing buddies received a whole new vocation that day:  “Don’t be afraid,” Jesus said, “from now on you will be catching men.”  They used to catch fish in nets, but now they will catch men and women in the nets of Jesus’ death and resurrection.  In fact, if I could persuade you to take just one more look at the sketch on the bulletin cover, notice that there are no fish in the sketch.  But look at the net.  Are Peter and his crewmate merely holding onto the net?  Or is the net rising up to catch them?  Are they about to be caught by Jesus?  Either way, Jesus was at work to snag Himself some new disciples, creating faith in the hearts of crusty, grumpy, skeptical fishermen.

        We too have been caught in the net of Jesus—baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  But unlike the thousands of fish who lost their lives that day in the Sea of Galilee, to be caught like us in the net of Jesus—is actually to live forever in Him.  To live is Christ; to die is gain.  Whoever loses his life for Jesus’s sake will certainly find it.  In your baptism you were caught—you died a watery death to sin.  And then you were dragged out of the depths of that sin and right into the boat of Jesus—this boat we call the church.  You’ve been caught by Jesus.  And that’s the best of news on this 5th Sunday after the Epiphany in the year of our Lord 2025.

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

 

Monday, February 3, 2025

Depart in Peace

 Jesu Juva

St. Luke 2:22-35                                            

February 2, 2025

The Presentation of Our Lord

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        Do you remember what you ate and drank forty days ago?  Do you remember what you wore forty days ago?  Do you remember who you were with—and where you were—forty days ago?  I suspect you do recall at least some of that information, because forty days ago was Christmas Day. 

        Forty days also happens to be exactly how old Jesus was when Mary and Joseph brought Him up to the temple in Jerusalem.  On this day—the fortieth day—the Holy Family went to the temple to do what every pious Jewish couple did with every firstborn son:  They presented Him to the Lord.  And they offered a sacrifice, because every firstborn male was holy to the Lord.  Firstborn sons had to be redeemed—had to be bought back, if you will—with the blood of sacrifice.  By bringing their little baby boy to the temple, Mary and Joseph were faithfully confessing that this little one belonged to God—even as they knew and believed at some level that this little one was God in human flesh.

        But as the poor family from Bethlehem made their way through the temple courts, someone was watching and rejoicing.  Simeon’s heart must have skipped a beat as the Holy Spirit revealed to him that this baby was the Messiah, the Christ.  Simeon had been told that he would not die until he had seen the Christ.  How surprised Mary must have been when Simeon took her baby in his arms and began praying:  Lord, now lettest thou Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy word, For mine eyes have seen Thy salvation!  His eyes had seen the Savior.  His hands had held the Savior.  And now, he was ready to depart in peace—ready not merely to depart from the temple and go home; but ready to depart this life—ready to die—in peace.

        You don’t hear that sentiment very often these days—people openly confessing and singing about the fact that, in Christ, they are ready to depart this life in peace.  It’s just not something you hear expressed—well, except for the fact that I hear all of you singing those words nearly every Sunday.  I hear you singing the song of Simeon, right after receiving the Lord’s Supper—singing with faith that you have seen and heard and tasted the Lord’s salvation, and that you are ready—ready to depart this life in peace, to live with Christ forever.

        Simeon went on to tell Mary that her Son was a “sign.”  In the Bible, a “sign” always tells us something about what God is doing and giving.  But at the same time, a sign is usually hidden under what appears to be its opposite.  At Christmas, the angel told the shepherds, “This shall be a sign unto you:  You will find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.”  The sign was a poor newborn in an animals’ feeding trough; but what that sign revealed was quite the opposite: “a Savior, who is Christ, the Lord.”

        Simeon now says that Jesus Himself is a sign—that Jesus will bring about the “fall and rising of many.”  What does Simeon mean by this?  Well, look at how Jesus impacted Simeon’s life.  Look at the “fall and rising” Jesus caused Simeon.  When Simeon saw Jesus in the temple that day it was a sign—a sign with two messages for Simeon:  “Now you are going to die,” and “this is the Savior in whom you will live forever.”  Simeon’s death and Simeon’s salvation—his fall and his rising—were set in motion by the baby Jesus.  It was a sign.

Simeon also spoke specifically to Mary—about her fall and rising—about how a sword would one day pierce through her own soul.  If you think being the mother of Jesus was a glamorous role to have, think again.  Mary had to learn that she had a son; and yet, she did not have Him.  He really had her.  Or, think of it this way:  Everyone comes into this world with a mother.  And you will never be able to do more for your mother than she did for you.  But things were different for Mary and Jesus.  Jesus would do more for Mary than she could ever do for Him.  Mary can claim no honors or accolades for her mothering of Jesus.  In the end she could only lay claim to Jesus in the same way you and I do:  by believing in Him, and by receiving from Him.

Simeon’s words about a sword piercing Mary’s soul take us all the way to the cross.  Mary could fall no lower than to be awash in tears at the crucifixion of her Son.  It would not be an exaggeration to claim that she felt her Son’s wounds in the depths of her own soul.  Few things surpass the pain of a mother’s grief.  In my own limited life experience, I have witnessed it too many times. 

What Jesus brought both to Mary and to Simeon, he also brings to you—to all those He loves:  falling and rising, being humbled and being exalted.  Part of our fall—part of our being brought low and humbled—has to do with our sin.  This is why Jesus was born, after all.  This is why God sent His Son:  to save His people from their sins.  This is also why we die:  The wages of sin is death.

Simeon told Mary that part of Jesus’ saving work was that “thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.”  When Jesus would come back to the temple, decades later, the thoughts of the Scribes and Pharisees would be revealed.  The thoughts of their hearts were exposed.  And in their hearts they rejected Jesus.  They had no use for a lowly, weak, beggarly Messiah. 

It’s also true that when God deals with us in Jesus, the thoughts of our hearts are revealed:  Our selfishness, our lust, our jealousies, our addictions and our idols, our refusals to forgive, the gossip and hatred we wield like a sword to pierce and hurt those who stand in our way.  That and so much more of our sin is not hidden; it is revealed and known by God.  If we cling to those sins and refuse to give them up, then there will only be a “fall” for us—falling and judgment.  Only falling; no rising.  But if the thoughts of our hearts are revealed, and we come clean in repentance—then we receive the gifts of salvation, and we are raised up.  We fall in repentance as the sword of God’s Law pierces our hearts; and then we are raised by forgiveness—raised to new life in Christ.

When it comes to Jesus, there is either faith or unbelief.  There’s no middle ground when it comes to the Lord’s Christ.  You can’t refashion Him or reinvent Him.  You can’t claim Him as Savior while ignoring His words and staying complacent and comfortable in your sinning.  You must receive Him as He is—the Savior of sinners—or you must reject Him in unbelief.

Jesus had His own fall and rising which He underwent for you—whatever the thoughts of your heart might be.  He humbled Himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross.  That death on the cross was a sign—a sign of God’s love for you—a sign that your sins have been dealt with and paid for—a sign that God is for you and not against you—that nothing can separate you from His love.  This Jesus is now risen from the dead.  He lives and reigns to work all things for your eternal good.  Jesus has been raised; and in Him you also will be raised.

If you believe that—then receive the Savior today as dear Simeon once did.  Simeon embraced the Savior who was a sign of both his death and of his salvation.  And you can embrace the Savior as you receive Him in the Lord’s Supper.  The very body and blood Simeon once held are here given to you under the signs of bread and wine.  And in this meal is your rising—as you are joined even more closely to Jesus—to share in His life which lasts forever.  And all this we confess every time we join to sing the song of Simeon:  Lord, now lettest thou Thy servant depart in peace. 

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

Sunday, January 26, 2025

The Perils of Preaching

 Jesu Juva

St. Luke 4:16-30                                            

January 26, 2025

Epiphany 3C   

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        It’s not very often that a sermon makes the news.  What we preachers preach rarely grabs the headlines.  So my ears did perk up last week when a sermon preached at the National Cathedral in Washington suddenly became headline news.  What struck me as a preacher was how one sermon could generate such vastly different reactions.  Some hearers were inspired by that sermon—or at least by the soundbites—concluding that the preacher had courageously spoken “truth” to power (like the prophets of old).  Other hearers concluded that the sermon was political and not spiritual—heresy from the mouth of a heretic.

        A similar range of reactions can be found in today’s Holy Gospel, following a sermon preached by Jesus in His hometown.  The First Century Fox News Nazareth Bureau likely would have provided wall-to-wall coverage.  Jesus was a local boy now beginning to make a name for Himself.  You likely could have heard a pin drop in the synagogue as Jesus read from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah:  The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.  This is the Word of the Lord.  So far, so good.

        But then Jesus sat down and began the sermon:  Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.  Wait.  What did He say?  This Scripture—these words of Isaiah about the Messiah—this Scripture has been fulfilled in Jesus?!  Today?!  This is Joseph’s kid!  They were carpenters.  They built a deck in my backyard!  Who does this guy think he is?

        Jesus went on to point out Israel’s long history of rejecting and killing the prophets God sent to them—and how those people with genuine faith were often not even Jews, but Gentiles—like the widow of Zarephath and Naaman from Syria.  You name the prophet—Isaiah or Jeremiah, Elijah or Elisha—these prophets of God were rejected by the people of God.  And any eight-year-old Israelite could tell you that.  It’s in the Bible, after all. 

        Jesus was just pointing out the inconvenient truth that He Himself would be rejected, just like all those who came before Him.  Fast forward five minutes, and Jesus’ hearers were filled with wrath and rage, ready and willing to throw Jesus over a cliff.

        Jesus’ sermon at Nazareth shows that preaching can be perilous.  You probably don’t think of my line of work when you think of risky occupations.  We preachers don’t handle high voltage power lines, or engage in high speed chases, or wield scalpels or bone saws.  We simply handle the Word of God, which is living and active, sharper than any double-edged sword.  And if preachers handle that Word of Truth properly, then there will be times when the Word will sting and hurt and even offend.  It hurts to hear the truth about our sin.  We would each prefer a thousand pats on the back to one word of correction or rebuke.

        It’s easy for any Christian to misuse the Word of God.  It’s tempting (especially for preachers) to use the Word as a tool in our hands—to achieve what we want—to manipulate and mobilize the masses.  Want to start a program?  We have a Bible verse for that.  Want to raise money?  There’s a Bible verse for that too.  Want to trumpet a righteous cause?  Just take something from Corinthians out of context.  We look for what the Word can do for us, rather than what the Word does to us.  Ask not what the Word can do for you!  Don’t become critics and connoisseurs of the Word.  Don’t measure the Word based solely on whether it achieves the results you desire.

        But the Word remains the Word of the Lord.  And when the Lord’s Word goes forth from mouth to ears, and into hearts and minds, it does things.  It kills and makes alive.  It kills the sinner and raises up the saint.  It drowns the Old Adam and absolves the New Man in Christ.  It knocks us right off of our thrones and lifts us up from our knees.

        The Catechism reminds us that we should fear and love God so that we do not despise preaching and His Word, but hold it sacred and gladly hear and learn it.  Today’s OT reading from Nehemiah shows what this looks like.  The returning exiles were glad and eager to hear the Word.  They listened in faith for six hours straight.  Ezra blessed the Lord and the people filled the air with their “amens.”

        Faith doesn’t look at the clock and say, “Is it time to go yet?”  Faith says, “Give us more from the Word.  We can’t get enough of it!”  The returning exiles stood on their feet in the hot sun with no shade, no padded pews or pipe organ.  They held the Word of God sacred.  They bowed their heads and bent their knees.  The joy of the Lord was their strength.

        The reaction to the Word was quite different that day In Nazareth when Jesus was the preacher.  It just goes to show how the Word allows no one to be neutral.  You either hear the Word in faith with joy—or, you try to throw Jesus off the cliff.  I’m not quite sure how our Lord managed to slip away from the wrath of those rioters; but I do know why:  His hour had not yet come.  This little episode was but a foretaste of the rejection to come.  Jesus was destined to be rejected by men—a man of sorrows, not success.  He came to His own but His own did not receive Him.  He is the rejected and rejectable Messiah who will not force His gifts on anyone.  Three years later they would lay hands on Jesus again—and He would allow it.  And He would be crucified.  And in that crucifixion He answers for our sin and for the death we poor sinners deserve.

        Though Jesus was rejected by His own; He stands ever ready to welcome you.  In Holy Baptism He places His Spirit upon you.  And by that Holy Spirit you now have a heart that responds in faith and repentance to the preaching of His holy Word.  No matter how terribly you have tampered and tinkered with God’s truth in your own life—no matter the shame and guilt that follows you around like your own shadow—Jesus Christ stands ready to forgive you and love you.  For He was rejected in your place—sacrificed as your substitute.  He now reigns and rules at the Father’s right hand—readying you for a resurrection life that has no end.  And He brings all of this to you personally through the foolishness of what we preachers preach.  How humbling to preach that.  God, have mercy on me, a preacher.

        So listen up, dear saints of our Savior.  Hear the Word of the Lord.  Today the Scriptures are fulfilled in your hearing.  Your sins are forgiven.  You stand justified before God in Jesus.  You have a place at His table.  The joy of the Lord is your strength.  Hear it and believe it.

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

Monday, January 20, 2025

The Wine Sign

 Jesu Juva

St. John 2:1-11                                              

January 19, 2025

Epiphany 2C                               

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        I’m old enough to remember when Orson Welles would pop up on television, reminding us that Paul Masson would “sell no wine . . . before its time.”  Unfortunately, the “time” for “wine” has come and gone in my opinion.  Wine has fallen on hard times.  Turns out, it’s really not good for you.  Some California wines contain traces of Round-Up herbicide.  Wine’s effect on brain and body is all bad. 

        But why whine about wine today?—when we commemorate how our Lord Jesus once served up 180 gallons of the very finest wine ever tasted?  Well, our Lord’s wine is more than just wine.  His wine is a “sign.”  A “sign” stands for something more than meets the eye.  In fact, Saint John tells us that this transformation of water to wine is the very “first” of our Lord’s “signs.”

        To put it in simple terms, a “sign” is something we see which causes us to take action.  You probably encountered a “stop sign” on your way to church this morning.  You saw the sign; and you took action—you hit the brakes.  Wine as a “sign” stands for things like: fellowship and Gemütlichkeit and good cheer and “here’s to you” and “here’s to you.”  The wedding wine made by Jesus meant all of that and more.  This “wine sign” manifested His glory.  This “wine sign” led the disciples to believe in Him.

        This first sign occurred at a wedding.  Wedding feasts at that time were often week-long affairs to which the whole town was invited; and food and drink were expected to be provided for all the guests.  Toss in a few unexpected guests, a handful of wedding crashers, some cousins from up north—these could quickly put a dent in the food and wine.  Running out of either would have been a big embarrassment for both families.

        Since weddings are family affairs it should come as no surprise that Jesus’ mother, Mary, is also at this wedding.  It’s Mary who first tells Jesus that the wine had run out.  And at first, Jesus doesn’t seem eager to do anything about it:  What does this have to do with me?  My hour has not yet come.  Jesus’ “hour” was a reference to His death on the cross.  That was why He came.  That’s also why the artwork on the cover of this morning’s bulletin has a wooden cross hidden in the background.  Did you catch that?  Jesus seems almost irritated at his mother for hinting that He should make things right.

        But Mary is a model of faith; and she forges ahead in faith, confident that Jesus will act.  She says to the servants: Do whatever he tells you.  Those happen to be the last recorded words of Mary in the Scriptures.  And we really can’t go wrong listening to those words of Mary:  Do whatever [my Son] tells you.  After all, He’s the one who died on the cross and rose from the dead to save you.  If Jesus says to love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, then we should do it.  If Jesus says to forgive those who sin against us, then we should do it.  If Jesus says give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, then we should pay our taxes.  Do whatever He tells you.

        It starts to get interesting when Jesus tells the servants to fill up six stone water jars.  Now these big water jars were used for Jewish rites of purification.  And that fact is important.   In other words, the Jews washed with this water for reasons of godliness, not cleanliness.  By washing with that water they thought they could make themselves more acceptable to God (more on that in a minute).  Well, you know what happens next.  The master of the feast takes a sip of the new wine and immediately calls the groom over.  Listen, he says, someone’s made a mistake here.  You’re supposed to serve the fine wine first.  Then, after everyone’s senses are a little dulled, then you slip in the cheap stuff.  But, “you have kept the good wine until now.”  You have saved the best for last!

        Now, remember, this text is like fine wine.  So let’s savor what’s going on here.  When Mary says, “They have no more wine,” she might just as well have been talking about the Jews of the Old Covenant.  Their time was just about up.  They were hopelessly mired in the law—in keeping rules and regulations and ceremonies—with nothing to show for it but six stone jars of water.  That’s about as far as the law of God can take you.  At best, it can give you clean hands; but it can’t purify the heart of a sinner.  And that’s where the problem lies for us.  “The law came through Moses,” St. John writes, “but grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.”

        In Jesus the old has gone, and the new creation has come.  Jesus brings a new and better purification.  In Jesus, Old Testament bath water becomes New Testament wedding wine.  Jesus fills up the commandments of Moses with His own perfect obedience.  That’s why He came—to fill it up to the brim with Himself, and then to die an innocent death on the cross, to pour out His blood like fine wine from heaven to make glad every heart with the joy of His forgiveness, life and salvation.

        When the bartender says, “You’ve saved the best until now,” that’s more than a comment on the wine.  It’s a comment on Jesus.  God has truly saved the best for last in His Son, Jesus Christ.  In many and various ways God spoke to His people of old by the prophets, but now in these last days He has spoken to us by His Son.  The promises, the prophets, the priests and the ceremonial laws of the OT—they were good gifts of our good God.  But something far better comes our way in Jesus.  He is truly the best vintage, God’s private reserve, set aside from before the foundation of the world and appointed to be poured out generously in the fullness of time.

        Jesus is the fulfillment of the Law for all who believe.  He’s the end of using the law to get in good with God.  He’s the end of all hand-scrubbing religion—the end of all attempts to purify ourselves and clean up the mess of our own sin.  You can’t do that no matter how much you wash and soak and scrub.  You’ll never be pure enough.  But Jesus does it for you in His dying and rising.  He takes your sin and gives you His purity.  All who believe in Him are completely cleansed and purified—by grace.  And that’s something worth celebrating (and, I’m sorry, but grape juice just doesn’t cut it).  In Jesus you have a place at the wedding feast of the Lamb in His kingdom, where the meat is richly marbled and the where the wine never runs out.

        Have we made too much of this wine sign? No way.  In fact, there are a few drops more of this text left to enjoy.  We can’t quit until you recognize this:  that what goes on right here at Our Savior every Sunday is more marvelous and more meaningful than what happened at the wedding at Cana.  Here Jesus takes water and makes water a sign—a baptism—a sacrament of His death and resurrection life which is given to you in the splash of your own baptism.  Here Jesus takes bread and gives it as His body; here Jesus takes wine and gives it to you as His blood.  Right here every Sunday we have a wedding feast where Jesus is the groom, Jesus is bartender, Jesus is even the food and drink.  And you are His honored guests.  Here all signs point to Jesus!

        One day it will all be clear—how our God always saves the best for last.  And, He has one more vintage yet to uncork—you.  You are still aging in the bottle, so to speak.  Your hour—your time—has not yet come.  But it will come soon enough, at a time when the world’s party will have run dry, when Jesus appears in glory to raise the dead to life.  And then, with a new, resurrected body and joy overflowing, you will fully experience what today you can only believe:  God has saved the best for last; and the best always comes with Jesus. 

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

Monday, January 13, 2025

A Strange Solidarity

 Jesu Juva

St. Luke 3:15-22                                            

January 12, 2025

The Baptism of Our Lord-C      

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        Christmas came to an abrupt end last Tuesday (unofficially).  The two glorious Christmas trees which adorned our chancel came down last Sunday night.  For two days I watched as those two Tannenbaums laid out here on the curb—dead and dry.  That was bad enough.  But then the village came by on Tuesday afternoon and, within minutes, those two trees were pulverized to saw dust.  With that, Christmas concluded.

        It’s over.  It was great while it lasted.  The absence of Christmas is especially noticeable in this room. This place never looks so spacious and empty as it does on this Sunday—after the trees, the wreaths, and the poinsettias have all been removed.

        But . . . right over there . . . that little baptismal font is still there.  It never moved.  It never went away.  It will never be tossed to the curb.  The font of baptism abides.  It doesn’t look like much.  But Christmas would be rather empty without that font.  Christmas without baptism would ring hollow—because baptism takes Christmas and personalizes it.  The Christmas angel proclaimed good news of great joy for all people.  Baptism takes that good news of great joy and applies it to you personally.

        Today we hear how the Savior born in Bethlehem began His saving work.  And it began with His Baptism.  It’s a strange beginning, to be sure.  If Jesus’ baptism by John doesn’t strike you as a little strange, then you need to pay closer attention.  John’s baptism was a baptism of repentance.  Of what did the sinless Son of God need to repent?  John’s baptism was for the forgiveness of sins.  Of what did the sinless Son of God need to be forgiven?  John was the lesser; Jesus was the greater.  Yet here, the greater gets baptized by the lesser.  The sinless One gets treated as a sinner.  The sinless One stands shoulder to shoulder in solidarity with sinners like us.  When all the people were baptized, Jesus was baptized too.  This is strange.

        Baptism itself was something strange and new on that day when Jesus waded into the Jordan River.  It was new and strange to be baptized—to have water applied to you—for the forgiveness of sins.  In the Old Testament, you sacrificed an animal for forgiveness—the animal’s life in exchange for your life.  The animal’s blood was your forgiveness.  But John preached something radically new and different—not blood, but water.  Not a sacrificial death, but a cleansing bath.  Not something done at the temple, but in the river, in the wilderness.

        For Jesus Himself to undergo this “new” baptism was so strange that even John Himself objected to it.  St. Matthew tells us that John initially refused; because he believed that Jesus should be baptizing him—which would make more sense.  The greater should baptize the lesser.  The sinless One should baptize the sinner.  But Jesus said it was necessary—necessary that He be baptized to fulfill all righteousness.

        This is the key to understanding John’s baptism and why Jesus had to undergo it.  It was necessary—necessary that Jesus get wet in a sinner’s baptism—that He be treated like a sinner.  In that water He became one with us.  He declared solidarity with sinners.  He joined us in the filth of our rebellion—took a bath in our filthy, sin-filled bathwater.  He who knew no sin became sin for us.

        Was this Jesus really the Messiah?—the One mightier than John, whose sandals John wasn’t even worthy to untie?  Jesus doesn’t seem to fit with what John had been preaching.  John’s version of the Messiah has Him dishing out a fiery baptism, with a winnowing fork in His hands, ready to burn that worthless chaff with unquenchable fire.  But when the Savior calmly waded into the water, well, this was hardly the pitchfork-wielding, hellfire-and-brimstone judge John had been preaching about.  Did John get it wrong?

        No, but even John couldn’t quite fathom the strangeness of our Lord’s solidarity with sinners.  It is the strangeness of the God who loves us and wants to save us from our sins.  The baptism of Jesus and the cross of Jesus go together.  Before Jesus could judge the living and the dead, He Himself had to be judged on the cross—like a Lamb led to the slaughter.  Before the faithless chaff could be burned with unquenchable fire, Jesus Himself had to endure the full fury and fire of the Law’s condemnation.

        What we see as two separate events, separated by time and space—His baptism and His cross—they are really two sides of the same coin in God’s strange economy.  Jesus Himself liked to refer to His death as a “baptism.”  His saving work begins in the water; it ends—it is finished—on the cross.  His saving work begins with the Spirit descending and the loving voice of the Father from heaven; it ends with the Spirit departing, and the voice of the Father silent.  His work begins where He stands in solidarity with all the sinners—knee-deep in the same tepid pool as prostitutes and tax collectors; His saving work ends as He hangs suspended between two evildoers—promising paradise to the one who receives Him in faith.  His saving work begins with water; and ends with water and blood flowing from His side.  At His baptism, the heavens are opened to Him; at His cross, the heavens are opened to sinners—to us.

        This is all so strange.  This is the strangeness of God who has reached out to embrace you as His own dear child in the waters of Holy Baptism.  None of us would have scripted our salvation in the way that God scripted it.  It’s all so strange, in fact, that you might just be tempted to dismiss it—to disregard it.  You might be tempted to view your own baptism as nothing more than a quaint old rite—a symbolic ritual with no lasting significance—just an occasion for relatives to “ooh” and “ah” over a cute little baby.  Babies are, indeed, cute.  But baptized babies?  They have received the gift of faith.  They have been born again!  In the baptized, God Himself works forgiveness of sins, rescues from death and the devil, and gives eternal salvation.  Whoever believes—and is baptized—shall be saved.

        Don’t dis baptism!  By no means!  Baptism is the strange, yet beautiful, way that the story of your salvation is unfolded.  Don’t discount the strangeness of this good and perfect gift for all nations.  Jesus’ baptism foreshadows your own.  Just as the heavens were opened to Jesus, so were they opened to you in your baptism, when you were justified for Jesus’ sake.  The Holy Spirit descended on Jesus in the form of a dove; and that same Spirit descended upon you in your baptism—making your body His temple, marking you as one redeemed by Christ the crucified.  It was at His baptism that Jesus’ Sonship was first revealed—revealed by the voice of the Father no less.  And it is in your baptism that God calls you by name, and declares you to be His beloved son or daughter—and all this for the sake of Jesus, your Savior.

        At Christmas we heard the good news of great joy that a Savior has been born—that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.  He still dwells among us.  He still dwells within us.  How do you know?  How can you be sure?  Well, you are baptized.  God the Holy Trinity has exchanged your bad for His good.  In exchange for your sin, God has given you the goodness—the righteousness, innocence, and blessedness—of Jesus, your Savior.  Christmas comes and Christmas goes.  But baptism—your baptism—abides forever.

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