The Crossroads of Heaven and Hell

In Nomine Iesu
St. Luke 16:19-31
September 26, 2010
Pentecost 18/Proper 21C

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

There are so many fascinating angles to consider when it comes to the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. It’s one of the most unique and memorable parables Jesus ever told. It’s kind of tempting to consider some of the interesting issues that this parable raises.

For instance, how much thought have you given to hell recently? While it’s true that the word “hell” gets tossed around frequently in a variety of contexts and conversations these days, I suspect that hell isn’t getting all the publicity it used to. Preachers years ago used to spent lots of time describing the fire, the heat, the unending torment and tortures of the damned in hell. But for some reason, hell isn’t as popular a topic as it used to be. Today’s parable vividly describes the plight of a rich man in the agonies of hell, longing to receive even one drop of water on his tongue. Let there be no doubt that hell is a real place of real torment for those who depart this life rejecting the grace of God in Jesus Christ. But . . . today’s parable is not primarily about hell.

Another interesting issue in this parable is the idea of ghosts and the paranormal—or, at least, the idea that the dead can somehow communicate with the living. Too bad Halloween is still a month away. When the rich man in hell begins to be concerned for his five living brothers, he decides that they must be warned so that they don’t end up in hell like him. And who better to warn them than poor Lazarus? Surely a messenger from the dead would be the perfect plan—a spooky spirit to scare straight those wayward brothers—a word of warning from beyond the grave. That would certainly be an intriguing a topic for today. But . . . today’s parable is not primarily about spooks, spirits or ghosts.

Another angle to this parable is the contrast between the rich and the poor. There were few men richer than the rich man in this parable—with his expensive purple attire, his fine linens, and the sumptuous foods and wines that graced his table every day. And as for poor Lazarus, he was poverty-stricken well beyond what any of us can imagine. The rich man had everything; while poor Lazarus had nothing. Now, the time came when both men died. The rich man ended up in hell; while poor Lazarus was carried by the angels to heaven, to Abraham’s side. It’s tempting to conclude that this is a parable about the dangers of riches and the blessedness of poverty. But hear this: It wasn’t riches that brought the rich man to hell and it wasn’t poverty that brought poor Lazarus to heaven. No, today’s parable is not primarily about the spiritual effects of wealth or poverty.

Now, all of this is very, very interesting for those with inquiring minds. In this parable the curtain that encloses heaven and hell is temporarily drawn back, and we get a sneak peak at the life of the world to come. We get to see things and hear conversations that are not ordinarily available to mere mortals. But the things that might intrigue us are not the main thing. The horrors of hell and the sweet comforts of heaven are simply beside the point of this parable.

No, the words that matter most in this parable are those spoken by father Abraham to the rich man in hell. Right after the rich man proposes that Lazarus should be sent to warn his five brothers, Abraham says this about those brothers: “They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.” That sentence is the key to everything. “They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.”

“Moses and the Prophets” was simply a shorthand way of describing the entire Old Testament, from Genesis to Malachi. Abraham is essentially saying of the rich man’s brothers, “They have God’s Word. They have the Scriptures proclaimed and preached every Sabbath. They have Bibles. Let them hear those Scriptures. Let them listen to what God is saying in His Holy Word. And the Greek word translated as “listen” means to listen in faith—to take to heart—to order one’s life around what God is saying in His Word.

Poor Lazarus had listened. Poor Lazarus had heard. Poor Lazarus had taken to heart the Word of God. And through that Word of God—through Moses and the Prophets—God was at work to save poor Lazarus and make him rich—by grace alone, through faith alone, for the sake of Jesus the Christ. It’s not rocket science. It’s not theoretical astro-physics. It’s the good news of the Gospel! And it’s so incredibly simple that even little children articulate it perfectly every time they sing, “Jesus loves me. This I know, for the Bible tells me so.” We have Bibles. We have Moses and the Prophets. We have the Evangelists and the Apostles. Let’s listen. Let’s hear and take to heart God’s Word.

Someday what happened to the rich man and Lazarus will happen to you and me. Someday you and I will depart this world to tread the crossroads of heaven and hell. And the path on which we will be ushered will depend completely and entirely on what God has told us in His Word—and whether we have received that Word in faith.

Between now and then (I’m here to tell you) there will be no one appearing from the dead to scare you straight. There will be no spooky voices sounding. Don’t be looking for any messages written in the clouds, any apparitions, visions, or special revelations to light some kind of a spiritual fire beneath you to spur you on in the faith. You don’t need any of that! For between this moment and the moment when you die, you already have all that you will ever need to depart this life in peace and joy, in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection. You have Moses and the Prophets. You have the inspired, infallible Word of God. You have the whole story from Genesis to Revelation—how Jesus died bearing the sins of the world and your sin—how He made Himself the least of all, like Lazarus. He who was richer than any man made Himself wretched and poor for your sake, to save you. Jesus loves you—this you know—for the Bible tells you so.

Everything that God could possibly do to save you He has already done—and He is doing it right now as His blessed Word—His strong Word that once cleaved the darkness at creation—now cleaves the darkness of human hearts with the glorious gospel that Jesus Christ has destroyed death and brought life and immortality to light. All of God’s power to love you—all of God’s power to save you—all of God’s might to deliver you from sin and death is found in the preaching and proclamation of the Word. As it says in Romans 10, “Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God” (Rom. 10:17).

Are you hearing that Word? Are you taking that Word to heart when you come here, or are you just taking up pew space and enjoying the free coffee? When was the last time you opened your Bible at home? When was the last time you attended a Bible study? When was the last time you shared something from the Word of God with someone in need—some poor, desperate person like Lazarus in the parable?

The Word of God takes us to the crossroads of heaven and hell. And what you find standing there at that crossroads is Christ the crucified. His holy cross is the sure and certain sign that the way to eternal life has been opened for you—that the gates of heaven are ready to receive you—that your sins have all been forgiven in the cleansing blood of Jesus. Your heavenly Father loves you for Jesus’ sake. And today He is waiting for you to take your place with all the other poor beggars at Abraham’s side—beggars who are now fully satisfied—who have been given life to the full.

That full life has come to you in Holy Baptism, where God lovingly washed and healed all the stinging sores of your sin. That full life comes to you this morning—not as mere crumbs from the Master’s table—but in the bread that is Jesus’ body and in the wine that is Jesus’ blood. These good gifts of Baptism and Communion are called the “visible word” in our Lutheran Confessions. In these good gifts we can taste—we can see!—the goodness of God which we hear about in the audible Word. In short, we’ve been given everything we need to join with Lazarus at the Savior’s side in everlasting glory.

For now, “We are all beggars.” That’s what Martin Luther said as he himself was about to die. We are all beggars. We are all Lazaruses—each of us—begging, hungry, helpless, sick and sore. And the good news is that Jesus Himself, the Son of God, has joined us there among the dogs, the outcasts, the losers. Jesus became a beggar to save the beggars. You can hear all about it in the Word of God. So hear what it says: Your sins are forgiven in Jesus. Your death is undone in Jesus. Because of Jesus, hell has no power over you. Amen.

God and Money

In Nomine Iesu
St. Luke 16:1-13
September 19, 2010
Pentecost 17/Proper 20C

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

There are photographs of money on the front of today’s bulletin. I have to say, there was a part of me that was uncomfortable with having money so front and center. After all, money is such a worldly thing. It’s an idol for so many. A part of me thought it was just a little crass to feature money so prominently—an intrusion of the secular into this sacred space.

But then it hit me, there’s nothing wrong with money. Money is a good thing. It’s God who gives us our money. The love of money is the root of all evil. Idolatry is evil. Greed is evil. But money itself is a good gift from our good God. Money—viewed rightly and managed wisely—is always a blessing for the Christian, not a curse. In fact, a good chunk of the Bible is devoted precisely to matters of money and finance.

The parable Jesus told in today’s Holy Gospel is a prime example. Nowhere in this parable does Jesus indicate that we should avoid money or that money is evil—quite the opposite, in fact. This parable tells us how we should use money and we should invest money—prudently, wisely, and shrewdly—for the good of our gracious Lord and Master. This parable teaches us that heaven and hell can have a lot more to do with our checkbooks than with our hymn books.

The parable focuses on a manager whose behavior is not all appropriate. This manager’s job was to oversee his master’s money and investments. But as the parable begins, this manager is in deep trouble. Instead of managing his master’s funds wisely, he’s accused of wasting them. He had squandered his master’s money. And when you squander something that isn’t yours to squander, that’s known as stealing. And for that reason this manager got himself fired.

Let me pause here to say he’s lucky he only got fired. You see, this manager had a merciful master. His master fired him, it’s true. But his master could have pressed charges. His master could have prosecuted his manager to the full extent of the law, which would have resulted in a lifetime prison sentence. At the very least, his master could have demanded that the wasteful manager pay back all that he had squandered. But instead, all the master did was fire his dishonest manager. Think of the woman here in Milwaukee who’s been accused of embezzling millions of dollars from the Koss Corporation. I’m sure she would love to trade places with the fellow in today’s parable who only got fired for his misconduct. This manager had a merciful master.

Now, back to the parable, where things start to get interesting. At the very moment when the dishonest manager should have been cleaning out his desk and heading down to Human Resources for an exit interview, he wises up and starts thinking shrewdly. He spins the rolodex and starts calling up everyone who owes his master. He applies a discount to each bill, and he successfully brings in nearly every outstanding debt his master is owed. Chaa-ching. Chaa-ching. Not only that, he makes both himself and his master look good and generous with that discount he applies to each account. At the end of the day, the man’s merciful master commended his manager for this wheeling and dealing because he had acted shrewdly.

Now, the point of all this is NOT that we should go and be just like this manager in every respect. No, he’s clearly got some flaws and failings, and some of his business practices are questionable at best. But, we ARE managers—all of us. God has entrusted each of us to manage a portion of all His wealth. Our money, our possessions, and all we have—all of these things have been entrusted to our management, but only for the short season that we spend in this life.

Clearly one of the reasons Jesus gives us this parable is that we should pause to evaluate our own management of the wealth He has placed into our hands. And let me just say that while there’s more to stewardship than money—while it’s true that God also wants us to manage our time and our talents wisely—yet, God’s Word in this parable focuses clearly on our management of money. The olive oil and the bushels of wheat in the parable were really functioning as a kind of currency—just like dollars and cents.

So how are you doing at managing the money God has entrusted to you? Would you say that you own your money, or does your money own you? Is your money working for you, or are you just working for money? It’s not unusual for the average American to be carrying tens of thousands of dollars in credit card debt alone. It’s not unusual for the average American to be a slave to money—a slave to paying off piles of debt and interest.

When money becomes our master, that’s not just a problem—that’s a faith problem. Because Jesus says we can’t serve two masters. We can’t serve both God and money. And by the way, it’s not just a matter of “putting God first” as we so often say. God doesn’t simply want to be first among our many gods; He demands to be our only God—at the center of every part of our lives, including the financial part.

Perhaps the best way to evaluate our faithfulness as God’s managers is to consider the portion of our money that we give back to God—out of love and thankfulness. Let’s be clear right away that when you place a gift in the offering plate, that is first and foremost your gift to the Lord. Period. What it eventually may get used for is ultimately beside the point. And let’s also be clear that God doesn’t view our gifts solely according to the amount we give. It’s the percentage of our income that matters. Two people may each drop a five dollar bill into the offering plate, but that doesn’t tell the whole story. If one of those people is Bill Gates and the other is a six-year-old girl who just received twenty dollars for her birthday, then those “identical” offerings are really not “identical” at all. God asks that, as His managers, we return a percentage of everything back to Him. He also asks that we take that percentage from off the top—or, in the language of the Bible—that we give Him our first fruits.

I have a couple of questions for you as my fellow managers of the Lord. First, do you know what your annual income is? If you filed a tax return in April, then figuring out your total income is relatively easy. Second, do you know what percentage of that annual income you are giving back to the Lord through your offerings? Some of you, I’m sure, do know what percentage of your earnings you give back to the Lord—be it 5%, 10% or 12%. But for every person who knows that percentage, I suspect that there are many others who don’t have the foggiest idea—who simply write out their offering checks based on some criteria pulled out of thin air—or based on whether it’s been a good week or not—or based on whatever seems like a reasonable amount based on the latest economic news—or because that’s just the amount we’ve been giving every Sunday for the past 30 years.

Beloved in the Lord, if that’s how you’re making decisions about the management and stewardship of the money God places into your hands, then learn from the shrewd manager of the parable to crunch the numbers. Do the math! Remember, money itself is a good thing. Christians need to be wise, prudent, thoughtful, and yes, even shrewd and calculating when it comes to money management and the percentage we return to the Lord. Too many of us just don’t take the time or give the attention that we should to these important decisions.

If our gracious and merciful Master were to audit the financial records here at Our Savior, would we be commended for our shrewdness or would we be fired? On the one hand, perhaps we would be commended that nearly 25% of all the offerings received here don’t stay here. Those funds go for missionaries, for seminarians, for the Christian education of children—including children with learning and cognitive disabilities, for pregnant women at “A Place of Refuge” who choose life over the death of abortion for their babies. On the other hand, we’ve taken on a significant debt over the past several years. We agreed to a plan for paying off that debt about a year and half ago. But so far we haven’t really made a dent in that debt. And that debt needs to be dented. Debt that goes unaddressed quickly takes over and powerfully dictates every other decision. It becomes an idol of the worst kind.

Perhaps the bottom line of today’s parable is this: If even the shady, shifty, dishonest manager in the parable, who was operating on purely selfish motives, if even he could double down and ultimately earn the praise of his master—then how much more should we be the very best money managers ever. How much more should we who have been purchased not with gold or silver, but with the holy, precious blood of Christ absolutely excel at managing the wealth we have been given. How much more should we who are blood-bought, died-for and redeemed be ever motivated and moved to manage the money God has entrusted to us with care and precision. How much more should we who have nothing to lose as children of the heavenly Father be empowered to make bold decisions about our giving—knowing that in Jesus Christ there is no condemnation—that we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us and gave Himself for us.

When it comes to the money you give back to the Lord, the only rule is, there is no rule. That giving is guided purely by freedom. Your offerings are always free-will offerings, given freely by hearts set free. No laws, no rules, no obligations or regulations. We give back to God for reasons of freedom. That freedom flows from sins forgiven in Jesus. That freedom flows from having died and been buried with Jesus in Holy Baptism. That freedom flows from Jesus’ body and blood that passes from your lips to your heart to your hands—hands that are prepared to serve and sacrifice and give back in the name of Jesus—who is our most merciful Master.

You cannot serve both God and money. But today your God is present here in the Divine Service to serve you—to honor you and commend you and remind you that you are His manager. You work for Him. And one day He will welcome you into eternal dwellings. Amen.

On the Basis of Love

In Nomine Iesu
Philemon 1-21
September 5, 2010
Pentecost 15/Proper 18C

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

The time we spend here in the Divine Service is very different from how we spend the rest of our time during the week. This time is unique and different in so many ways. Certain things happen here that rarely happen elsewhere. There’s the music of the pipe organ. There’s the pastor’s sermon. There’s the movement that happens here—standing and sitting and kneeling, bowing and the sign of the cross. These are just some of the things that set apart the divine service from the rest of life.

The devil loves to exploit the distinctiveness of the Divine Service for his own purposes. In fact, he loves nothing more than to isolate the Divine Service from the rest of life. You come to church on Sunday, get your fix of religion for the week, then go back out and live your life on your terms. Ideas like sin and grace, forgiveness and reconciliation, just become part of the Sunday morning experience—with no relevance or application for Monday through Saturday. Church and faith get safely compartmentalized so as to have no effect in real life. That’s the devil’s plan for the Divine Service.

To guard against that danger, God has given us the book of Philemon—most of which you heard read just a few minutes ago. Paul’s letter to Philemon contains both a slice of real life, with all the ugliness of sin and its effects, together with a slice of the Christian life, with all the beauty of forgiveness, reconciliation and peace-making. Philemon gives us a picture of the gospel of Jesus Christ in action, in real life, between real sinners. It takes the truths of the Divine Service and puts them into practice.

Reading the book of Philemon is like arriving late for a movie. You’re not exactly sure what’s already taken place, but eventually you’re able to make sense of the plot. There are three main players in Philemon, with St. Paul being the most well known. St. Paul was in prison somewhere when he gets a visitor named Onesimus. Onesimus had been a slave in the household of Philemon. Philemon was a wealthy Christian layman in the city of Collosae. In fact, one of the churches at Collosae met for the Divine Service in Philemon’s living room.

Philemon’s slave, Onesimus, had run away. Not only that, he didn’t run away empty-handed. No, Onesimus likely grabbed Philemon’s cash and credit cards, laptop and cell phone when he made his dash for freedom. And please disabuse yourself of whatever negative feelings you may have about slavery. Slavery in the Roman Empire of the First Century was nothing like slavery in the American south. There was nothing racial about it. In fact, it’s probably better to think of Onesimus as being a kind of household manager for Philemon. Philemon trusted Onesimus, gave him great responsibility, compensated him well—then one day Onesimus up and left, helping himself to his master’s money and possessions before hopping the bus to Ephesus.

While he was a fugitive, Onesimus came into contact with St. Paul. And while he was with Paul a miracle happened. Onesimus was brought to faith in Jesus Christ. That’s why Paul referred to Onesimus as his “son.” And now Paul is writing to Philemon, urging him to take back his runaway slave, to forgive him, and to receive him as a brother in Christ. “Welcome him as you would welcome me,” Paul wrote to Philemon.

In this brief letter Paul teaches us a thing or two about peace-making in the church. After all, that was Paul’s aim—to make peace between Philemon and the newly converted Onesimus. And the first thing to note here is how high the stakes were. There was the potential for disaster. It could have gone all wrong. What if Paul’s request didn’t go over well with Philemon? What if Paul’s request offended Philemon? What if Philemon’s desire for justice outweighed the need for mercy? If Paul were to make an enemy out of wealthy Philemon, the resulting damages to the church could add up quickly.

Did these possibilities even occur to Paul the peace-maker as he sat down to write this note to Philemon? Surely they did. And yet, when you hear what Paul wrote there’s no evidence of a quivering fearfulness—no pessimism, no panic, no nervous negativity. Paul seems perfectly confident that all will turn out well.

Have you ever attempted to play the peace-maker? Jesus calls the peace-makers “blessed” for a reason. It’s tough work to bring together the sinner and the one sinned-against—to reconcile the one who hurts and the one who inflicted the pain. Human emotions can be unpredictable in those situations. You yourself might get injured in the peace-making process. How is it possible that Paul could be so confident—so certain that Philemon would willingly take back Onesimus and forgive him?

Beloved in the Lord, learn from Paul how to navigate these treacherous waters. If your purpose is to make peace, then learn from Paul that it really isn’t your tact or your interpersonal communication skills that will save the day. Learn from Paul that it isn’t your boldness or your powers of persuasion. It is love—on the basis of love—that peace is made. Listen to how Paul puts it: “Although I could be bold and order you to do what you ought to do, yet I appeal to you on the basis of love.”

Paul’s whole appeal for peace was made on the basis of love. The Greek word is agape. And agape love is first and foremost the love of God in Jesus Christ. It’s not a feeling or an emotion that comes and goes. No, God demonstrates His own love for us in this: while we were still sinners Christ died for us (Rom. 5:8). It is the sacrificial love of Jesus for sinners that kept Paul so confident that things would turn out well. It is that powerful love of Jesus that changes hearts and causes anger and animosity to melt away. Paul’s confidence was not in himself, but in the power of Christ’s love, poured out at the cross. It’s this love of which Paul wrote in Corinthians: “It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. [It] does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails” (1 Cor. 13). That love will not fail you. That love can be your confidence as you step into sticky, sin-filled situations to make peace between brothers and sisters in Christ.

If Paul teaches us about peace-making, then Philemon teaches us about forgiveness. For just a moment imagine Philemon’s anger and disappointment with Onesimus. He trusted Onesimus with everything—treated him well—and Onesimus stabbed him in the back—betrayed him, stole from him, really stuck it to the man.

Perhaps you don’t have to imagine Philemon’s feelings. Perhaps you know that same anger and disappointment. Perhaps someone you trusted has hurt you and stuck it to you. That pain is real pain—not easily forgotten or swept aside. We don’t know for a fact whether Philemon forgave or not; but we know it’s what Paul expected to happen. But how? How could Philemon forgive the one who had caused so much pain, offense and anger—the sinner, the scoundrel, the thief—Onesimus?

It would be easier said than done; and it could only be done on the basis of love—on the basis of Jesus’ love for all sinners. For Philemon to forgive, Philemon would have to give up his rights. Runaway slaves could be put to death under Roman Law. Philemon had the right to prosecute and persecute and strike back at the one who had struck him first. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. And neither can you who are in Christ. In order to forgive, Philemon would have to give up every right and every claim for justice. In fact, Philemon—wealthy, important, free Philemon—he would have to make of himself a slave, letting go of everything for Jesus’ sake. Isn’t it ironic? The slave, Onesimus, comes home a free man in the love of Christ; while the free man, his master, Philemon, makes himself a slave in the love of Christ. Philemon gives up everything, takes up his cross, and follows Jesus in the wonderful way of forgiveness.

That’s a way in which you also can go. You can deal with those who sin against you like Philemon—on the basis of love. For that’s the very approach that God Himself has taken with you. On the basis of love the Son of God was born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried. On the basis of love the holy God has named you and claimed you in the gentle splash of your baptism. On the basis of love He forgives all your sins in the cleansing cadence of Holy Absolution. On the basis of love He feeds you with the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood.

It is that calling, cleansing, feeding, forgiving love of God in Christ that makes you what you are. It defines you. It also defined Onesimus. The name “Onesimus” means “Useful.” It was a great name for a slave. But as a fugitive, on the run, living life in the shadow of his sin, Onesimus was actually useless. But in this formerly useless man God worked repentance and faith and reconciliation. God makes the useless useful; and He has done no less with you. You are valuable, precious, and so very, very useful. He has plans for you.

I said earlier that reading Philemon is like arriving late for a movie; but it’s also like leaving the movie early. We don’t actually know how things turned out between Paul and Philemon and Onesimus. The conclusion wasn’t scripted out for us. There’s no tear-filled, heartwarming embrace before the music swells and the credits roll. But that’s how it is in real-life too. You leave here this morning to go back into a world where you will sin and you will be sinned against. And how your attempts at peace-making and reconciliation will work out no one can say for sure. All we know is that as we head back out into the messiness of life, we carry the life of Jesus in our bodies. On the basis of love—His love—we can carry on with confidence and joy, knowing that our labor is not in vain—that in Christ, we are useful. We are loved. We will live forever. Amen.