Not Divided, but Died For

Jesu Juva

1 Corinthians 1:10-25                                    

February 1, 2026

Epiphany 4A                  

 Dear saints of our Savior~

We conducted a lot of business at our first voters’ meeting of the year last Sunday.  We debated, we discussed, we nominated, we addressed issues of money and finance.  We voted; and then we voted some more.  And despite some differences of opinion, we somehow emerged from it all unscathed, with our unity intact—our oneness preserved.

It doesn’t always work out that way.  Unity is a precious gift in the life of every congregation; and it is precisely at this point that the devil likes to unleash his favorite weapon: division.  Drive a wedge between Christians.  Divide congregations.  Divide the church.  “Divide and conquer” is Satan’s strategy against the saints of God. 

The devil wants to divide and isolate Christians.  He’s a wolf looking to attack and scatter the flock.  And there’s nothing more vulnerable than a solitary sheep, divided from the flock and isolated, all alone.  To be a Christian in that position makes you an easy mark—a tasty morsel for an enemy with an insatiable appetite for the faithful.  “Divide and devour” is what he does best.

When reports about divisions in the Corinthian congregation reached St. Paul, it likely sent a shiver down his spine.  He had founded that little congregation a few years earlier.  It was still a congregation in its infancy, filled with “baby Christians” and new converts from paganism.  To make matters worse, the Corinthian Christians didn’t consider themselves to be rookies in the faith, but regarded themselves as paragons of wisdom—seasoned sages who could smartly sample the latest fads and philosophies.

St. Paul realized the situation at Corinth was a dumpster fire in the making.  The report he received from Chloe’s people described the congregation as a hotbed of quarreling and dissension and disagreement and division.  They reveled in church politics and a party spirit: I follow Paul some said.  I follow Apollos said others.   I follow Cephas said some, insinuating that they were on a friendly first name basis with Peter, the foremost of the Twelve.  Some even dared to boast, I follow Christ, as if they were the only ones who did.  Division in the church is always dangerous, especially among those who pride themselves on being more spiritually mature than everyone else.

Into all this nasty division and party pettiness, Paul fires the first arrow of His Apostolic epistle:  I appeal to you, brothers, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree, and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same judgment (v.10).  Paul leaves no doubt that the way of Christ and His Spirit is unity; while the way of the devil is division.  In a long laundry list of problems that needed correcting in Corinth, restoring unity was job number one.  With the help of the Holy Spirit, these sinful divisions would be fixed first of all.

Corinthians chapter one is a great reminder that we need to see the congregation as God sees it.  We need to see our congregation through the lens of God’s Word.  And seeing things through the Word always requires an adjustment in our thinking.  When Paul pleaded with the Corinthians for no divisions and for unity in the “same mind and the same judgement,” he wasn’t demanding a bland conformity among Christians.  It’s okay to acknowledge that we are, indeed, many individuals of differing opinions, ages, skills, temperaments, perspectives, and demographics.  Paul elsewhere compares us to different parts of the body of Christ.  We are as different as eyes, ears, and pinky toes.

But we are united as members of the body of Christ.  We share the same baptismal bath.  We eat the same bread which is the body of Christ.  We drink the same cup which is the blood of Christ.  We share together in one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all (Eph. 4:5-6).  We are united in Christ, in a unity that surpasses our individuality. 

And this unity is not something we achieve.  It is God’s doing.  It is God’s gift.  It is the work of the Holy Spirit, calling, gathering, enlightening, sanctifying, and keeping the whole church with Christ in the one true faith.  God works unity; the devil sows division.

This means that division in the church is much worse than just “not getting along” or “not playing nice.”  Divisions are not merely believers sinning against believers; divisions are sins against the body of Christ—the very body that was nailed to the cross for our salvation—the body once crucified for the sin of the world and now preached from pulpits like this one. 

Consider yourself warned: to actively perpetuate division in the church—to be an agent of discord—is to offer yourself up as a tool in the hand of the devil.  You don’t want to be in that position, I assure you.  Far better to be a blessed peacemaker, for the peacemakers shall be called sons of God.  If ever you find yourself actively engaged in sowing division in the church, stop, drop, and repent.  You’re playing right into the devil’s hands.

The solution to sinful division is not compromise.  Nor is it some version of just “playing nice” and “getting along.”  The solution is always—and only—the cross of Jesus.  Paul squares up the divided Corinthians to the cross of Christ.  He preaches nothing but Christ and Him crucified.  He literally holds before their eyes Jesus Christ on the cross, taking away their sins, delivering them from sin, death, and the devil, as if to ask them with apostolic authority:  How do all your divisions stack up against this?  How do all your cliques and quarrels look when viewed against Christ crucified?

The cross sounded so foolish to the Corinthians who were infatuated with human wisdom.  The cross sounds so foolish to modern ears.  The cross defies all common sense and worldly wisdom.  The message of the cross is the message of how sinners nailed their Savior to a piece of wood so that He might bleed and die for our salvation—so that He might pay the debt of our sin.  It is the message about a Man who was also God—about a Lamb who was also a Shepherd, about a defeat which was also a victory.  That is our message.  That is what Paul preached; that is what we preach—Christ crucified, the power of God and the wisdom of God.

The answer to division in the church is the cross—not merely the “symbol” of the cross, but the fruits it produces by God’s power in us—the members of the Body of Christ.  The power of the cross comes to us in our baptism.  There we die to self and are raised up as children of God—members of one body.  That power comes to us in the preaching of Christ crucified.  That power comes to us in the Holy Supper of Christ’s body and blood, which is made up of many grains, but one loaf—of many grapes, but one cup.  There are many members, but one Body.  And this blessed unity is entirely the loving work of our Savior.

Our oneness comes from the Word.  So let’s rejoice in that unity.  Let’s nurture and nourish that unity right here at every opportunity.  For here, by the grace of God, we preach Christ crucified.

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

 

Follow Me

 Jesu Juva

St. Matthew 4:12-25                                      

January 25, 2026

Epiphany 3A                    

 Dear Saints of Our Savior~

        There’s a lot going on in today’s holy gospel—so much so, that it’s easy to overlook the ominous note in the very first sentence: Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew into Galilee.  John the Baptizer had been arrested by King Herod.  The voice of one crying in the wilderness had been silenced.  And it wouldn’t be long before John’s head would be served up as a party favor.

        You may recall that what landed John in jail was that he publicly criticized the immorality of King Herod.  Herod had taken up with his brother’s estranged wife; and John called him on it.  Everybody knew it was wrong.  Everybody still knows that adultery is wrong.  Even if you were never taught the sixth commandment; yet the moral law, written on every human heart, screams out that marriage is holy—that what God joins together man must not separate.  Everybody knew it was wrong, but only John had the courage and conviction to speak the truth publicly about Herod’s sin.  And for that, John died a martyr’s death.

        God’s truth is rarely tolerated in this world.  In our nation today the truth about abortion cannot be tolerated.  Thank God for the thousands who marched in Washington on Friday.  Those Christians are the conscience of our country.  Everybody knows that murder is wrong—that taking the life of a helpless human being flies in the face of all that is good and right.  Even if you were never taught the Fifth Commandment; yet the moral law, written on every human heart, screams out that killing the living but unborn is an outrageous act of evil. 

We Christians have been entrusted with the truth.  Not only the tragic truth about abortion, but we know God’s glorious truth that every human life is sacred—that God loves life—that God sent His Son into this world (first) as a fetus in the womb of a virgin—a holy embryo—and then to die a sacrificial death as the Lamb of God for every precious human life.  That’s the truth we are called to speak.  But learn from John not to expect applause, but rejection.  You may even lose your head.  That’s how it goes for God’s kingdom in this world:  It suffers violence.  It appears vulnerable and weak.  It always comes with a cross.

There’s a subtle shift underway in today’s Holy Gospel.  Our Lord is launching His public ministry.  Jesus is establishing a beachhead from which the Gospel will eventually make its way to the ends of the earth.  Offensive operations are commencing:  Jesus begins preaching.  Jesus begins teaching.  Jesus begins healing those afflicted by disease and tormented by demons.

        As all this is going on, Jesus relocates.  He moves from Nazareth to Capernaum on the Sea of Galilee.  The population of Galilee was both Jewish and Gentile.  It was a backwoods kind of a place—not where you and I would have chosen to start a movement, much less a religion.  But then again, we’re not in charge.  The Kingdom of Jesus is upside down compared to the kingdoms of this world.  The last are first.  Those who walk in darkness get to see the dawning light first of all.  And so, Galilee becomes ground zero; and Capernaum, a little fishing village, becomes Central Command.

        Meanwhile, Jesus just gives away the whole plan.  The plan that will propel Jesus all the way to Calvary’s cross is plainly revealed.  Jesus lays all his cards on the table.  His strategic priority—what He’s really after—what He will stop at nothing to acquire—is followers.  Not power.  Not money.  Jesus just wants followers.  He wants people to follow Him in faith.  As His first order of business—at the top of His agenda—Jesus says: Follow Me.

        Jesus calls four fishermen to discipleship with that simple invitation, follow me.  Peter and Andrew, James and John.  With a word Jesus calls them away from their nets and their boats.  Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.  They used to catch fish in their nets.  Now they would be sent out to catch people for the kingdom in the net of Jesus’ death and resurrection, by making disciples, baptizing and teaching in His name.  These four men were called not only to be the first disciples, but also the first Apostles.  Even as Jesus called them to follow, He would soon be sending them out.  Not everyone is called to leave everything behind for Jesus’ sake. These four men began a new calling, a new vocation.

        Thus began three years with Jesus, listening to His teaching, watching the wonders He did.  These men would see Jesus through His crucifixion and resurrection.  They would see His physical presence disappear into the cloud at the Ascension.  And they would go forth until they themselves followed Jesus into paradise, being fishers of men, gathering men and women into the church to confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

        But as you back things up to that day on the lakeshore when these four fishermen left their nets and followed Jesus—do you think they knew what they were getting into?   Did they know then how God’s plan for the salvation of the world would unfold?  Did they have any idea what the months and years ahead would bring?  How could they?  Of course, we know all the twists and turns.  We know how the story turns out.  But those four men, at that moment on the lakeshore—they had no idea what was coming.  All they had was faith to trust Jesus—faith to follow where He led.  Faith to trust His Word.  And that is everything.

        It’s not so different for us.  We too have heard that gracious invitation from Jesus.  We hear it echoing in every sermon: Follow me.  We have felt it in the cleansing splash of our baptism: Follow me.  We taste it in the bread that is His body and wine that is His blood: Follow me.  What Jesus wants more than anything are people to follow Him in faith.  What Jesus wants . . . is you.

        Do you know what you’re in for?  Do you know how God’s plan for your life will unfold?  Do you have any idea what the years ahead will bring for you?  How could you?  Twists and turns, tears and triumphs, valleys and mountain peaks, drudgery and surprise, sin and grace.  And through it all, this invitation echoes down to the depths of your soul: Follow Me.  You have no idea what is coming.  All you have is faith to trust Jesus—faith to follow where He leads.  And that is everything.

        You may wonder, sometimes, if you are of any use to Jesus and His kingdom.  (Or worse, there may be times when you don’t care—times when you don’t give a thought to God’s kingdom and your place in it.)  You may think that you don’t have the skills, the aptitude, the personality to make a difference.  You may think that you don’t have the guts to speak the truth in love, about life and death. 

When you begin to wonder such things, remember Peter and Andrew, James and John.  They were fishermen.  Theirs was a low-tech job in a low-tech world.  But God used them to change the world.  God used them—used their preaching and their witness and their teaching—to make sure that you—and other fish like you—would be caught up in the net of God’s grace and mercy. 

That’s right, think of yourselves not as fishers of men.  Think of yourself as a fish.  And don’t pretend for a minute that you’re a good, Lutheran fish—that you’re so smart that you jumped right into Jesus’ net of Justification by grace.  It doesn’t work that way!  I’m no expert, but I have never, ever, encountered a fish that wanted to be caught.  No, against your natural will and instincts, you’ve been caught.  And you’ve been cleaned—made holy through faith in Jesus—to go out and do holy things—not knowing where you go, or what tomorrow may bring—but only that you are, indeed, following Jesus, that you will go where He has gone, that you will live and reign with Him forever. 

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

Look to the Lamb

Jesu Juva

St. John 1:29-42a                                           

January 18, 2025

Epiphany 2A                 

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        Epiphany is a season of wonder and witness.  Each week of Epiphany we learn something more wonderful about Jesus.  Each Sunday the Word of witness goes forth:  Jesus is the King of Jews and Gentiles, who is both God and man, who is the Father’s beloved Son, who is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, who is the long-awaited Messiah.

        Today we hear the unique witness of two men: St. John the Baptizer, and St. Andrew the Apostle.  We hear how these two men lived as witnesses to Jesus, so that we might consider how we live as witnesses to Jesus, our Savior.

        Jesus had no better witness than John the Baptizer.  Witnessing was why he came.  He came as a witness to the Light.  He prepared the way for Jesus, filling the valleys and leveling the mountains with a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.  And once Jesus arrived and began His public ministry, John’s witness soared to new levels of greatness.  Today we hear John as he points his prophetic finger at Jesus and declares the glorious gospel in one simple sentence:  Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!

        Consider the wonder of John’s witness.  John points the world to Jesus.  To “behold” someone is to look—to see.  You can’t behold a myth or a legend or a fictional character.  John invites us to feast our eyes on a real man who left real footprints in the dust of history—whose death and resurrection is the pivot point of all human history.

        John calls Jesus the lamb—and not just any lamb, but “God’s lamb.”  In the Bible, “lamb” means but one thing—sacrifice.  Remember when Abraham was taking his little boy, Isaac, to sacrifice him?  Remember little Isaac’s question as they were walking along: Where’s the lamb for sacrifice?  And remember Abraham’s response?  God will provide the lamb for sacrifice. And now we know, thanks to John’s spectacular witness, Jesus is that Lamb—the Lamb of the Lord’s providing.  Jesus is the Passover Lamb whose blood marks our door—our substitute who gives His life in exchange for you.  (But not only for you!)

        John’s witness specifies how God’s Lamb takes away the sin of the world.  Notice how John says “sin” (singular), and not “sins” (plural).  In the church we talk a lot about sins (plural)—all the thoughts, words, and deeds of ours that are contrary to the Law of God.  We confess those sins.  But those many sins are really only symptoms of the original sin that has infected us to the core and runs death deep.

        Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the SIN of the world.  God’s Lamb deals with the underlying condition.  He aims at the root cause of our broken condition.  He does this by becoming sin for us.  This innocent, spotless Lamb takes up our sin and bears it all away.

        And John’s witness reminds us that God’s Lamb is for the whole world.  He takes away the sin of the world.  John makes it perfectly clear:  There’s no person so bad that the Lamb of God didn’t die for them.  And there’s no one so good and holy that they can do without the Lamb of God. 

        Who do you know who needs to hear that?  Who needs your witness?  Who do you know who needs the Lamb of God?  Who has God placed in your path so that you can bear witness like John, and point them to Jesus—so that they too can look to the Lamb in faith and be saved?

        John’s witness is so absolutely wonderful that it almost overshadows the witness given by St. Andrew just a few verses later.  Andrew was one of John’s disciples.  Andrew followed Jesus after he heard John’s witness about Jesus.  Andrew spent the day with Jesus.  After that, Andrew found his brother, Simon Peter, and said: We have found the Messiah!  And then Andrew brought his brother to Jesus.

        The witness Andrew gives is simple—bare bones, no frills.  And after claiming to have found the Messiah, and after introducing his brother to Jesus, St. Andrew basically schleps off into obscurity.  Sure, he pipes up again at the feeding of the five thousand.  But otherwise, the New Testament shows little interest in Andrew.

        But the New Testament is very, very interested in Andrew’s brother, Simon Peter—the same brother Andrew brought to Jesus—the brother who was on the receiving end of Andrew’s unspectacular witness.  Who can even count all the great (and not-so-great) episodes where Peter speaks up or stands up or sounds off?  Oh, that’s just Peter walking on the water.  That’s just Peter confessing that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God.  That’s just Peter slicing off someone’s ear in the Garden of Gethsemane.  That’s just Peter preaching to thousands on the Day of Pentecost.  Andrew seems to pale in comparison to his brother, Peter.

        And yet, it was Andrew who first witnessed to Peter.  It was Andrew who first brought Peter into the presence of Jesus.  Here’s a little thought experiment:  What if Andrew had kept the good news about Jesus all to himself?  What if Andrew had kept his famous brother in the dark concerning the Light of the World?  Could Jesus have called Peter to be a “fisher of men” even without Andrew’s witness?  Of course.  But here’s the astounding, astonishing truth: Jesus chose to use Andrew’s simple witness as a means to reel in Simon Peter—and save him, and send him to the ends of the earth.  And the rest, as they say, is history.

        If you cannot witness like John the Baptizer—preaching and proclaiming Jesus to be the Lamb of God—well then, you are invited to be like faithful Andrew.  Will you witness with Andrew?  Andrew shows how witnessing doesn’t require a PhD in theology.  Andrew likely had no idea what it really meant that Jesus was the Messiah.  But that didn’t stop Him from bringing his brother to that Messiah.

        Will you witness with Andrew?  If so, to whom will you witness?  Think and pray about that.  Andrew went to a family member—a brother and business partner.  Who do you know and care for who has distanced themselves from Jesus by unbelief?  For each one of us there’s no shortage of contacts who are not receiving what God’s Lamb wants to give them.  What might you say to them?  I have found the Messiah?  Probably not.  But you might say that Jesus has found you, and loved you (despite your sin) and that He’s given your life meaning and direction and hope and comfort and joy . . . or whatever seems right to you.  And then you do what Andrew did.  You bring them to Jesus.  You invite them to come here with you.  And maybe you extend that invitation many times.

        You see, whatever your witness looks like, the results don’t depend on you.  God gets the results!  What are you afraid of?  What’s stopping you?  What do you have to lose?  Whose life might you transform for all eternity with a simple invitation to church?  You never know. 

        You have found the Messiah, the Lamb of God.  Or, more accurately, He has found you—named you and claimed you in the splash of your baptism.  By His sacrifice on the cross we know that our sin has been answered for.  And by His glorious resurrection we know that our present sufferings don’t even begin to compare with the glory that will one day be revealed.  Sharing the hope that you have—witnessing the wonders of God’s love with Andrew and John—you just don’t know the results God may get.  And you won’t know those results—not until you’re standing with all the redeemed around the throne of the Lamb—together with Peter and Andrew and John and all the other saints of God—singing heaven’s eternal song:  Worthy is the Lamb.

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