A Tale of Two Temples

In Nomine Iesu
1 Corinthians 6:19-20
August 30, 2011
Karen Schulz Funeral

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus,
Dear family and friends of Karen Schulz,

Be still, my soul. That was the refrain of the hymn we just sang. It’s a simple, little sentence which expresses the quiet confidence of all those who trust in Christ. Karen’s soul possessed that quiet confidence in these last weeks. Karen’s soul departed this life to be with Christ late last Friday afternoon. And that fact is what brings a measure of quiet confidence to our souls, as well. You probably expected to hear something about the soul as a part of this evening’s service.

But to speak of the soul only tells half the story. For with every soul there is also a body. Both soul and body are important. Both are created by God. And both are destined for eternal life. One of the most astounding statements about the Christian body is found in 1 Corinthians 6: Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body. The body of every Christian is a temple—a dwelling place inhabited by God the Holy Spirit.

These words about the body as a temple made me think of Karen; because Karen had great concern for this temple—this house of God. All of us here today knew Karen in different ways—as a family member, a friend, a neighbor, a sister in Christ. But I knew Karen uniquely as the head of the altar guild here at Our Savior. As head of the altar guild, Karen oversaw that dedicated group of volunteers who care for this temple in special ways, who set-up and clean-up for our weekly celebration of the Lord’s Supper. Banners, flowers, candles, paraments, communion ware, linens—if it has to do with the area here around the altar, the altar guild is involved.

For all the years I’ve been privileged to serve as pastor here, I’ve been privileged to have Karen leading the altar guild. The work isn’t for everybody. It’s sometimes tedious and time-consuming. It often involves washing and drying, polishing and filling, cutting and gluing, cleaning and organizing. And, when you’re done, nobody gives you a standing ovation. Nobody applauds for the altar guild. Karen saw things here that others overlooked. If something was a little stained or dented, chipped or bent, worn out, wrinkled, or otherwise unworthy to be used at this altar of God, Karen noticed it. Karen told me about it. Karen fixed it, replaced it, recovered it, or found something newer and better.

This temple mattered—all of these little things mattered—to Karen because she knew that God dwells here. Here in this temple Karen confessed her sins to God and received absolution. Here in this temple the Words and promises of Jesus were placed in her ears and in her heart. Here in this temple she received the body and blood of Jesus for the forgiveness of sins. Over the years, there were baptisms, confirmations, weddings—all happened here in this holy temple.

It grieved Karen in recent years that she wasn’t well enough to make it here as often as she would have liked. But it wasn’t for lack of trying. One Saturday she came with Bob to set up Communion and I found her sitting on the steps resting. Eight stairs were more than she could handle that day. She would probably be embarrassed to have me mention that today. But it showed me just how determined she was that this temple would receive the care it needed.

This temple is pretty important. But this temple isn’t nearly as important as that temple of the Holy Spirit, the body of our sister Karen. This temple isn’t nearly as valuable, precious, and priceless as that temple. Remember our text, “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit?” Karen’s body, too, was a temple of the Holy Spirit. Karen’s body, your body, my body—temples of the Holy Spirit. God dwells here. That doesn’t mean that you and I are God, far from it. But it does mean that these frail, fragile bodies have been claimed by Christ the crucified. You were bought at a price, the Bible declares. Not with gold. Not with silver. But with the holy, precious blood of Jesus, that you might be His own.

And all this is true of Karen’s body too. All the care and attention she gave to this temple is nothing compared to the care and attention that her body received and will receive from the Lord Jesus Christ. Karen’s body was not a random collection of DNA or a product of evolution. Karen’s body was carefully and lovingly knit together in her mother’s womb by God Himself—the giver of life. Karen was born into this world (body and soul) on January 11, 1942. And then Karen was re-born in the waters of Holy Baptism later that year. In those cleansing waters, Karen’s body became a temple—a dwelling place of the Holy Spirit. Her sins were washed away. She became a child of God. Her body became a precious, priceless piece of real estate, purchased and paid for by the blood of Jesus Christ, her Savior.

Karen needed a Savior. We all do. For rather than honor God with these bodies of ours, we so often choose to dishonor Him. We abuse our bodies, misuse our bodies, as if our bodies were our own private property—rather than temples of the Holy Spirit. The good things that we ought to do with our bodies often don’t get done. And the bad things that we ought to avoid with our bodies—well, those are the very things we end up doing. It’s called sin; and it runs death deep in every human body. You can try and deny that awful truth—hide it, run from it, blame somebody else. But no matter how you slice it, the wages of our sin is always death. And that’s a payday that none of us can avoid for long.

Jesus didn’t avoid it either. Jesus came to save His people from their sins—came to save Karen Schulz, body and soul. Jesus lived a perfect life as your sacred substitute. As a true man, Jesus always honored God with His body. That means so much more than that Jesus was always a good boy. For all His good counts for you who trust in Him. His perfect obedience counts for sinners like us. His holiness is your holiness by grace, for Christ’s sake, through faith. A gift! Jesus takes all our bad and gives to us all His good.

And all His good includes victory over death—victory not just for the soul, but also for the body. We confessed it in the Apostles’ Creed just moments ago: I believe in the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Of course, these bodies of ours aren’t yet outfitted for eternity. Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God. But we await the resurrection—the sure and certain hope that because Jesus lives—that because Jesus’ body was raised from the dead—He will transform our lowly bodies to be like His glorious body.

I told you a moment ago how Karen could spot what needed fixing and replacing in her work on the altar guild. Little flaws that didn’t seem important to anyone else caught her attention. And at home too, Karen had an eye for things. She was a collector. Beanie babies, knick-knacks, animals of various kinds, collectables too numerous to mention.

But I mention it because our God is a collector too. I mention it because our God, like Karen, has an eye for what needs fixing and replacing—namely, our bodies, His human temples. We know by experience that these bodies are weak, frail and fragile. They wear out and break down. They are susceptible to all kinds of sickness and disease, including cancer. But I tell you with confidence that in a flash, in the twinkling of eye, at the last trumpet, we will be changed. Our bodies will be raised, restored and resurrected. Today it’s dust to dust and ashes to ashes. But on that day our God will collect and resurrect these bodies of ours. God the Father created these bodies. God the Son redeemed these bodies with His blood. God the Holy Spirit made these bodies His temples. We are not our own. We belong to Him. We are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. And nothing can separate us from that love.

Be still, my soul. The Lord is on your side. May those words give confidence and peace to all of us who today mourn the loss of a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a friend. You are here today, in a sense, because you were one of Karen’s collectables. You caught her eye, and she was glad to have you along for the ride. You were the ones who mattered most to Karen. If she had a story to tell—if she had an opinion to share—you were in on that. You are also one of those collected by Jesus the Christ, along with Karen. That means you are in on all Jesus has to offer—and that is everything. Let not your hearts be troubled. If God is for us, who can be against us? Be still, my soul. The Lord is on your side. Amen.

Who do you say I am?

In Nomine Iesu
St. Matthew 16:13-20
August 21, 2011
Pentecost 10-Proper 16A

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

Will you marry me? Would you like fries with that? Do you promise to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God? Paper or plastic? Radiation or chemo-therapy? Are you pregnant? Not all questions are created equal! Are they? Some questions are matters of life and death; others are so routine that we don’t even think about the answer. But of all the questions ever asked or answered, none is as critical as the question posed by Jesus at the heart of today’s Holy Gospel.

Jesus asked the question: “Who do you say I am?” Peter spoke the answer: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” And for once, Peter got it right. He nailed it! Peter—who had a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time—gave the perfect answer with perfect timing. Peter couldn’t have given a more perfect answer if God Himself had revealed it to him. Oh . . . wait. That’s actually what happened. “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by man, but by my Father in heaven.”

Peter had some heavenly help with his answer. Peter could confess Jesus as Christ and God not because he was super-duper spiritual or incredibly smart. No, the answer Peter gave came straight from heaven. To know and believe and confess who Jesus is cannot be calculated by human intelligence. As it says in 1 Corinthians, “No one can say, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ except by the Holy Spirit.” Or as it says in the Small Catechism, “I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ my Lord or come to Him.” To know who Jesus is—to confess Jesus as your Lord and Savior—is a gift.

Lots of people think they know who Jesus is. Still today, Jesus has very good name recognition. Jesus has a favorability rating that most politicians would love to have. The people—the crowds—thought that Jesus was John the Baptist or Elijah or Jeremiah—all very flattering and favorable ideas. But all of them wrong. Dead wrong. People still have lots of flattering and favorable things to say about Jesus—that He’s a good example to follow, an inspiration who stood up to corrupt institutions, a champion of peace. That may be true. That may sound nice. That may garner favorable ratings. But it’s not enough--not nearly enough.

Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God. He came to save His people from their sins, to seek and save the lost. He came to destroy death, that you might have life and have it abundantly. He came as the one mediator between God and man. He loves you and He gave Himself for you. He became obedient unto death—even death on a cross. This is Jesus! Our Savior! This is the Jesus revealed to us in the pages of the Scriptures. And if we don’t know that—if we don’t believe that—if we have the wrong answers about who Jesus is, then we don’t even know who we are. Get Jesus wrong; get yourself wrong—and others too. But get Jesus right and get yourself right too. Know Jesus and know yourself.

Who are you? Who do you say you are? Are you just a random collection of DNA, a product of evolution? Are you just a very smart animal? A product of society? Are you defined by your grades? By your career? Your income? The car you drive? This isn’t just an exercise in existentialism: Who am I? Who are you? What are we doing here? For if you know that Jesus is more than just a nice guy—that He is the Christ, the Son of the living God—then you know who you are too. You know the truth about yourself—that you are a sinner who deserves death and hell; but that in Jesus you are loved. You are redeemed. You are forgiven. You are not your own. You were bought at a price. And you will live forever with Jesus. That’s precisely who you are.

If you know who Jesus is, then you know yourself as well. And if you know yourself, then you also know those around you—who they are. If you can confess Jesus correctly, then you have the proper perspective to view the whole world, starting with the teeny, tiny baby. In fact, you know the truth about babies still in their mothers’ wombs. The unborn child cries out, “My father says I am an accident. My mother says I am a problem—a terrible inconvenience. My doctor says I’m a risk. But what about you in the church of Jesus Christ, who do you say I am?” And we know. We have the right answer—the revealed truth. We know that the unborn are human beings in the sight of God—lovingly created and fashioned by Him, fully deserving of our protection, our help, our love, our sacrifice.

If you know Jesus—who He is—then you also know yourself and those around you. It means knowing the sick, the disabled, and those confined to centers of care. The sick and disabled person cries out, “My doctor calls me a hopeless case. My insurance company says that I’m not worth the money. My own children say that I am a burden to them. And sometimes I think they’re right. But what about you in the church of Jesus Christ, who do you say I am?” And we know. We have the right answer—the revealed truth. We know that the disabled, the dying, the infirm—that Jesus calls them His very own brothers, promising, “Whatever you do for the least of these brothers of mine, you have done it unto me.”

Jesus unites Himself with the weak and vulnerable to such an extent that when you show mercy to such a person you are really serving your Savior, Jesus the Christ, the Son of the living God. Some view these people burdens. But we have the right answer—the revealed truth. We know that those who follow Jesus Christ are in the burden-bearing business. Bearing the burdens of others is what we do, because bearing the burdens of others is what Jesus did. And we know Jesus to be the Christ, the Son of the living God.

I suspect that many of you have known that truth about Jesus and carried it around in your heart since the day you were baptized. Oh, perhaps you weren’t able to articulate it just as perfectly as Peter did. But in that miracle of water and the Word, God the Holy Trinity declared, “Blessed are you.” From that day on, you’ve known Jesus by faith as your Savior. And that knowledge—that faith—it was revealed to you as a gift.

The Jesus revealed to you in baptism is continually being revealed to you in new and wonderful ways—every time you read your Bible, every devotion, every sermon you hear, every time you come to this altar to receive the body and blood of Jesus for the forgiveness of sins, the Savior speaks to you just as He spoke to Peter: “Blessed are you. Blessed are you.” He reminds you that even though the gates of hell are set to swallow you up, yet you are safe and secure—you are on rock-solid ground when you can believe and confess that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God.

Jesus warned His disciples at the end of this scene not to tell anyone that He was the Christ. Keep it a secret. But don’t worry; He’s not talking to you. You can tell anyone and everyone that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God. They just had to wait until Jesus died and rose again—until the stone was rolled away from the tomb and Jesus was revealed as the living Lord. That’s the rock solid proof that changes everything. It sharpens our vision so that we can know Jesus, know ourselves, and know what’s good and true in this dark and dying world. The very doors of heaven have been unlocked for you by Jesus Himself. And He says, “Blessed are you.” Amen.

Dogged Faith

In Nomine Iesu
St. Matthew 15:21-28
August 14, 2011
Pentecost 9-Proper 15A

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

What do you do when you’re desperate? What do you do when you’ve got trouble with a capital T—when you’re past the point of panic, strangled by fear, spiraling downward into despair? What do you do? Have we trials and temptations? Is there trouble anywhere? We should never be discouraged—Take it to the Lord in prayer. Prayer, of course, is the natural thing for Christians to do in times of trouble.

But what do you do when your prayers seem to fall on deaf ears? What do you do when your trials, temptations and troubles don’t seem to subside—even after you’ve taken it to the Lord in prayer time and time again? What’s a faithful Christian to do when his or her prayers seem to do no good—seem to be met with only the stony silence of God? The Canaanite woman in today’s Holy Gospel provides us with answers to all of these questions.

Jesus happened to be in her town. Her town wasn’t in Israelite territory; it was a Canaanite neighborhood. But this Canaanite woman was desperate. She had trouble with a capital T—panic, fear, and despair. Her little daughter was suffering from demon-possession, and there was nothing she could do about it. How helpless she must have felt—forced to watch her lovely daughter suffer so.

But this woman did the very thing that you and I would do. She turned to Jesus for help. She went running to Jesus and cried out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me!” She called Jesus the “Son of David,” which wasn’t the way most Canaanites would speak. She started talking like an Israelite—like a Jew. Talk like an Israelite. Speak like a Jew. Was it a clever strategy to get Jesus to do a favor for her? Still today some people do that when they pray. They pile on the religious phrases—try to sound like someone they’re not. Or they pray in King James English: “O Thou great Jehovah, we dost thank Thee for Thy great bountiful goodness . . .” It sounds impressive, but perhaps less than authentic.

But whatever the case, Jesus met the woman’s prayer with stony silence. “He did not answer her a word.” Nothing. Silence. Strike one. But the woman kept on pleading, over and over again. “Lord, have mercy.” (Just like we pray here nearly every Sunday.) The woman’s desperate pleas start to get on the nerves of Jesus’ disciples and they ask Jesus to send her away. When Jesus finally opens His mouth, He doesn’t even speak directly to the woman. He simply reminds everyone of who she is, and who she isn’t: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.” In other words, “Sorry, I’m not here primarily for Canaanites like you. Sorry, you’ll have to go somewhere else.” Strike two.

What would you have done if Jesus had treated you this way? First He’s silent. Then He slams the door in your face and tells you to get lost. And then, strike three: He calls her a “dog.” “It’s not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to their dogs.” Israelites often called Canaanites “dogs,” and it wasn’t meant as a compliment. What would you have done after striking out with the Savior—after discovering only a dead end with the Son of David?

Some people simply give up. Some get angry. Some leave the church. Some walk away from Jesus, because they believe that Jesus walked away from them. As a pastor, I’ve encountered a lot of people like this. At a time of crisis and desperation in their lives they turned to Jesus—they prayed for help, for mercy—but their prayers only seemed to be met with silence. And so they stopped praying, stopped going to church, and many stopped believing. Sometimes they will tell you why—about the terrible time when Jesus let them down—when Jesus didn’t come through for them. If you know someone like this, don’t try to defend Jesus and don’t be too quick to dismiss their complaint as petty. But do learn from this Canaanite woman about how to handle the seeming silence of God in times of trouble.

This entire episode hinges on dogs. Dog lovers, take heart. Every dog has his day and today dogs are man’s best friend. For when Jesus calls her a dog, she didn’t run away. She didn’t get angry. She didn’t give up. She took the very words that came out of Jesus’ mouth and used those very words to take her prayer to a whole new level. Jesus called her a dog and she said, “Amen to that. Yes, Lord,” she said, “but even Canaanite dogs like me get to eat the crumbs that fall from the table, and I’ll be delighted with whatever crumbs you would throw my way.”

This is faith: she takes a hold of the words of Jesus and hangs on for dear life. She accepts Jesus’ words—harsh words with no sugar coating—that she’s nothing more than a yapping dog hassling Him on His way, even though He really wasn’t sent for the likes of her. This is faith. And this is how the faithful pray: We base our prayers on the words of Jesus. We wrestle an answer out of Jesus by using the very Words He Himself has given us. Jesus called the woman a dog and she latched onto that word like a terrier latches onto a soup bone.

What does this mean for you? Well, of course, Jesus hasn’t called you a dog. He calls you His brothers and sisters. God calls you His children. And so we base our prayers on that. We use God’s own words in the Bible to launch our prayers. O God, You command that children should honor their parents and that this pleases You. Help me to love and honor my parents, and help my own children to love and honor me. O God, you command that husbands should love their wives as Christ loved the church and that wives should submit to their husbands. Help me, then to love my wife with a Christ-like love, and grant that I might lead our marriage in such a way that she will be glad to follow. O God, you invite me to cast all my anxiety on You because You care for me. Help me to do just that—to let go of all anxiety and fear that all my words and deeds might bring glory to you.

Do you get the idea? Do you hear this pattern for prayer? You take whatever words Jesus gives you, and run with them. That’s what faith does. This woman had great faith because she clung to Jesus even when Jesus seemed not to care. Faith clings to Jesus even when He calls you a dog. Faith hears “yes” even when our eyes and ears hear “no.” Faith trusts the words of Jesus despite all appearances to the contrary. “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed from that very hour.

Some daughters aren’t healed. Some sons aren’t healed either. Sometimes the answer to our prayers is “no.” Sometimes we hear the same answer that St. Paul heard from Jesus, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” And the answer you get has nothing to do with how strong or how weak your faith is—or how well-crafted your prayers may be. For all sons and daughters, all mothers and fathers, live like little dogs beneath the table of our Father who art in heaven. He sent His own dear Son into this dog-eat-dog world of sin and death. Jesus carried all that sin and death in His body which was nailed to a cross as the payment for our sins. On that dark Friday afternoon Jesus Himself suffered the terrible silence of God. Jesus prayed, “Father, forgive them.” Jesus prayed, “Why have you forsaken me?” Jesus prayed, “Into your hands I commend my spirit.” But His prayers were met only with stone cold silence. But as your sacred substitute, Jesus continued to pray, continued to trust, continued to speak and act with perfect faith.

Those prayers, that trust, that perfect faith—it all counts for you. Everything that Jesus did, He did for you. You may feel dog-tired this morning, weak and weary of waiting patiently for the resurrection. But even dogs like us are privileged to feed on crumbs from the Master’s table. And this morning those crumbs turn out to be the finest and richest of fare: “Take eat, this is my body, given for you. Drink of it all of you, this cup is the new testament in my blood, shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.” Dogs never have it so good as when we are welcomed to this Master’s table. In this case, man’s best friend is . . . the Son of Man. What a friend! What a friend we have in Jesus. Amen.

Man Overboard!

In Nomine Iesu
St. Matthew 14:22-33
August 7, 2011
Pentecost 8-Proper 14A

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

Jesus walking on the water—and Peter joining Jesus on those waves in the nighttime darkness—has got to be one of the most memorable scenes in all of Scripture. But before we go any deeper, we need to highlight a few facts about this amazing scene. First, you need to know that the wind and waves were not a life-threatening problem that night. Yes, the wind was strong and the waves were a force to be reckoned with; but there’s no hint in the text that the disciples’ boat was in any danger of sinking. It’s nothing like that time when Jesus was in the boat sleeping as the disciples were on deck preparing to abandon ship. Only the words of Jesus, “Peace, be still!” were able to keep their boat afloat that night. But their boat was certainly not sinking on this night.

The second thing we need to get straight is that Peter’s words and actions demonstrate foolishness, not faith. The “moral” of this account isn’t “be bold and courageous like Peter.” At no point does Jesus say, “I’m so proud of you, Peter, for boldly stepping out of the boat.” We never hear, “Blessed are you, Peter, for being so gutsy.” There’s not even an “atta’ boy” or a “You da’ man!” Peter stepped out of the boat because he lacked faith—because He doubted Jesus—not because he had great faith. In fact, remember what Jesus said to Peter when it was all said and done: “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”

To put it bluntly, the problem in this whole scene is Jesus! Jesus is the one who suspends the laws of physics so that He can catch up with His disciples. Jesus is the one who triggers the terror. Jesus facilitates the fear. Jesus is the one who dances on top of the deep waters as though He owned them and managed them. Jesus—not-so-subtly and without warning—gives an unforgettable late-night lesson that He is the Lord of all creation.

The disciples were afraid, and rightly so. Fear is a natural reaction when our safety and security appears to be threatened. Had you or I been on the boat that night, I don’t think we would have reacted much differently. Perhaps we’re not as superstitious. Perhaps we wouldn’t have assumed we were seeing a ghost. But the sight of Jesus walking on the water would surely make us afraid too. The fear of uncertainty. The fear of the unknown. It’s the same fear we have when waiting for the results of medical tests. It’s the fear of knowing that you aren’t in control—that what happens next is entirely in the hands of someone else. We know that fear.

What calms the disciples’ fear—and what calms our fears too—are the words of Jesus: “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.” Jesus doesn’t allow their fear and trembling to continue. Jesus speaks. Jesus comforts them. And Matthew reports that Jesus spoke these words “immediately” in their presence. The message is clear and calming—soothing and straightforward: “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.” Those words were more than enough to give the disciples everything they needed.

But those words of Jesus were apparently not enough for Peter. Peter needed something more before He would trust and believe that the midnight water-walker was Jesus. “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Peter wants proof. Peter wants more than words. The same Peter who doubts the words of Jesus is now making demands on Jesus. Show me. Prove it. “I double-dog dare you to let me waltz on the waves too—if you are who you say you are.” Those aren’t words of faith. Those are words of weakness.

Amazingly, Jesus responds to poor Peter with one simple, unexpected, undeserved word: “Come.” And with that one word ringing in his ears, Peter did what no mortal man had ever done before or since. He walked ON the water. He defied the immutable laws of physics. He didn’t sink! How can Peter do such great things? Well, it wasn’t Peter, but the Word of God, that did this great thing. Peter shares in this miracle because Jesus simply said the word, “Come.” When Jesus first spoke, Peter didn’t believe it. When Jesus said, “It is I,” Peter said, “I’m not so sure.” But now, standing on the waves, the message is unmistakable: When you are afraid—when you are threatened by things beyond your control—when fear has wrapped its coils tightly around you—when you have doubt and despair—you can trust the Words and promises of Jesus Christ, come hell or high water. When Jesus says, “Do not be afraid,” you can let go. You can know the peace of God that surpasses all understanding. You can take Jesus at His Word.

But poor Peter. Even after he got what he asked for—even after doing what no mortal man had ever done—he doubted yet again. He saw the wind. He saw the waves. He forgot about the Word of Jesus. And he started to sink like a stone. That’s our problem too. One pastor I know has called it “spiritual ADD—attention deficit disorder.” Our attention quickly shifts away from Jesus and His Words to all the dangers, toils and snares that surround us. Our little faith won’t focus firmly on Jesus, but is always distracted—always bouncing from one threat to the next, and before long we start to sink. We’re in over our head. And there’s only one thing left to do . . . .

“Lord, save me.” That’s what Peter screamed as he sank. Peter deserved no rescue, and neither have we. Peter doubted, and so do we. Peter didn’t take Jesus at His Word, and neither have we. Peter’s sin is our sin too. But Peter’s rescue is also our rescue. Jesus doesn’t let Peter get what he deserves; and you don’t get what you deserve either. No, it’s like we heard from Romans chapter ten today: “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.” Everyone who cries out in faith, “Lord, save me,” (even if it’s just a little faith like Peter’s) will be saved.

Jesus can and will save you—despite your little faith and despite your doubts. Jesus took your sin. Jesus took your doubt. Jesus died in your place so that you won’t get the punishment you deserve. Jesus is now the resurrected Lord of life. All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to Him. He has destroyed death and everything else that threatens to destroy us. In Jesus you will not sink, but you will rise to live with Him on high.

Nothing can separate you from His love—not even the laws of physics! And speaking of the laws of physics, are you prepared to see them broken again today? For the same Jesus who defied the laws of the natural world by walking on water defies those same natural laws every time we gather here. Jesus isn’t walking on water today; that wouldn’t do anybody any good. But the living Christ is here in the bread that is His body and in the wine that is His blood. Every Lord’s Day in every Lord’s Supper, the Lord Himself is present: “This is my body. This is my blood,” He says. When you come to Communion today, here Jesus says to you what he spoke to that boatload of fearful disciples: “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid. Your sins are forgiven. I have come to save you.”

This is Jesus--our Savior. He is among us here to save us. Our work is now simply to worship Him and confess His holy name. That’s what the disciples did after Jesus and Peter rejoined them in the boat. “Truly you are the Son of God,” they confessed. That scene is a picture you and me here this morning. We’re in the boat with Jesus. The space where you’re seated is called the nave. Nave is the Latin word for “boat.” You are in the boat with Jesus. Our job isn’t to walk on water, but to make room for more souls in the boat—in the church—with Jesus. There is no better place to be. And by faith in Jesus you have a place in this sailing ship, and a guaranteed safe arrival in the life of the world to come. Amen.

From Meager to Miraculous

In Nomine Iesu
St. Matthew 14:13-21
July 31, 2011
Pentecost 7—Proper 13A

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

“The devil is in the details,” someone has said; but I beg to differ. At least where God’s Word is concerned, there’s good news in the details—abundant good news, overflowing good news, with at least a dozen basketfuls leftover. You know the account of Jesus feeding the five thousand. It’s recorded in all four gospels. It’s also the perfect place to go digging in the details for some genuine, 24-karat good news.

Let’s start with some detailed numbers: five loaves and two fish. We are told exactly what kind of food and what quantity of food was on hand in that desolate place where a crowd of thousands had managed to track Jesus down. Five loaves and two fish. Those details really aren’t necessary. It’s not something we absolutely need to know to appreciate the miracle that Jesus performs. I’m always a little surprised that the evangelists thought it so important to tell us that there were precisely five loaves and two fish.

In fact, it’s even more surprising when you stop and consider that Jesus didn’t need them. Jesus didn’t need any loaves or any fish. Jesus could have miraculously fed that hungry crowd out of thin air. Simply by saying the word or snapping His fingers or blinking His eyes or raising His hands to heaven Jesus could have conjured up a bounty of bread and a feast of fish. After all, as the Son of God, Jesus was there way back at creation fashioning all the fishes in the sea and giving all the grains that go into making bread. No, Jesus needed neither five loaves nor two fish to fashion a feast in the wilderness.

Yet those details are right there ready to jump off the pages of our Bibles: five loaves and two fish—unexpected, unnecessary, uncalled-for details. I think we need to dig a little deeper into those details. I think the Holy Spirit is calling attention to those loaves and those fish. I think there’s good news in those loaves and fish.

It was getting to be evening. The day had begun when Jesus was told about the execution of John the Baptizer, His cousin. That solemn news led Jesus to withdraw to a quiet, remote place of solitude. But the crowds followed Him. And when Jesus saw the crowds He was filled with compassion and healed their sick. Five thousand men were there; but add in the women and children and you’ve got yourself a Whitefish Bay-sized crowd. The disciples were tired and they dropped a not-so-subtle hint that Jesus should send the crowd home for supper and call it a day. But Jesus wasn’t ready to call it a day: “You give them something to eat,” He told His disciples.

The disciples protested with the facts—with hard numbers. You can’t argue with hard numbers. Five loaves and two fish were all they had. It wasn’t enough. But follow those two fish. Look at those loaves and watch what happens. Jesus said, “Bring them here to me.” And the disciples did just that. They took their meager, paltry provisions and placed them into the hands of Jesus. Exactly five loaves and two fish were placed into the Savior’s hands.

And you know what happened next. Those meager portions were miraculously multiplied. Jesus then equipped His disciples to do the very thing that had seemed impossible only seconds earlier. The disciples gave the people—all of them—something to eat—generous portions that fully satisfied every last man, woman and child. In the hands of Jesus what was very little—what was obviously insufficient—became more than enough. Paltry provisions became plentiful. Scarcity became abundance. The meager became miraculous.

This isn’t just a nice story about Jesus feeding a crowd of hungry people. Nor is it some kind of a lesson for us to go out and feed the hungry. No, these details declare that in Jesus Christ the meager becomes miraculous. These details delineate what happens when we take our paltry possessions and our measly monies and our trivial talents and—in faith—place them joyfully into the hands of Jesus.

That scene from the seashore in today’s Holy Gospel gets repeated every time the offering plate passes your pew. There is an unseen reality going on every time you place a gift in the offering. If you want, you can think of your offerings as loaves and fish. Now, from an earthly standpoint, those loaves and fish will be used in a multitude of ways. One of every five loaves and fish given here at Our Savior gets sent straight out the door for mission work in Milwaukee and around the world. Other loaves and fish are used here—for utilities, for salaries, for office equipment and the like. That’s what you see; but here’s what you don’t see: every offering you give is just like loaves and fishes placed directly into the hands of Jesus, where something truly miraculous happens. You can’t see it; you can only believe it. But unless you believe it—unless you believe that the offerings you give are given right into the Savior’s hands, you will never know what it means to be a joyful giver. You will never be able to marvel at how Jesus multiplies the meager into the miraculous.

By nature we don’t believe it; and that’s obvious. For if we truly believed that our offerings were direct gifts to Jesus, well then, then preachers would have to preach about limiting your giving to ten percent and not getting carried away with what you give. “Be careful not to add an extra zero as you write out the offering check.” I have neither preached nor heard a sermon like that. That’s because most of us are too busy counting our loaves and fishes, admiring them, investing them, drawing hope and safety and security from our loaves and fishes. And when it comes to our loaves and fishes we always want to do what’s sensible and reasonable and logical. But remember the sensible, reasonable suggestion of the disciples was simply to send everybody home—to call it a day. But Jesus had a better idea: “Bring those five loaves and two fish to me . . . and watch what happens.”

What will you do with your loaves and fishes—with your dollars and cents? As you ponder that question, don’t forget that those dollars and cents are in your hands because the Lord Himself put them there. He’s the Giver of every good and perfect gift. As you ponder that question, don’t forget what Jesus does with those offerings you return to His hands. In the Savior’s hands, our meager offerings are multiplied for the good of the whole Christian church on earth and for the life of the whole world. And in the end, there’s even more left over.

What will you do? What will you do with your loaves and fishes—with your dollars and cents? Will you do what’s reasonable and logical and keep them close so you can be sure there’s food on your table and a roof over your head? Or will you—in faith—place a generous percentage of those dollars and cents back into the hands of Jesus—full of faith and hope and love—trusting Him to put food on your table and a roof over your head?

Of course, you can’t place your offerings into the hands of Jesus without also noticing those hands of His—how they are now forever scarred with the marks of the nails. Those nails were placed there for you—so that you wouldn’t get what you deserve to get for your sins. For when He was crucified, Jesus poured out His love for you in a way that did not count the cost. Jesus poured out His love for you in a way that no amount of dollars or cents could ever purchase. And with that love of Jesus, you are fully satisfied. For Jesus doesn’t parcel out His love in little increments, based upon what you deserve, or in a way that is logical or reasonable. He gives His love in ways that are prodigal, wasteful and lavish—with basketfuls left over.

The same blood that was poured out for you at the cross is also poured out for you here today in the Lord’s Supper. Jesus the Good Shepherd has—right here—prepared a table before us. Our cup runneth over. It’s a meager meal by all appearances—a meager amount of bread and wine. But with these meager portions Jesus miraculously feeds you with His holy body and blood for the forgiveness of your sins—for your eternal good. In this miraculous meal Jesus fully satisfies every heart that hungers for forgiveness.

We have a lot to learn from those five loaves and two fish. Those loaves and fish traveled from the disciples’ hands into Jesus’ hands, where they were miraculously multiplied. But the loaves and fish didn’t stop there. Jesus Himself didn’t distribute the food. No, He gave the multiplied loaves and fish right back into the hands of the disciples; and the disciples distributed the food to the people. The impossible became possible. What was out of the question one minute, was perfectly viable and do-able in the next minute. And Jesus once again used His disciples to do the un-doable.

Jesus is also using us—using this meager congregation with our meager resources to accomplish the miraculous. Jesus Christ is the reason. Jesus alone is the reason that one of every five dollars that pass through those offering plates is sent straight out the door—for the education of special needs children, for the education of pastors at our seminaries, for outreach to students at UW-Milwaukee, for expectant mothers at A Place of Refuge so that they can choose life instead of abortion. All those wonderful things—miraculous things, really—begin here—begin with you, the baptized children of God, who are unafraid to generously share your loaves and fishes by placing them into the hands of Jesus.

Those hands are the hands that blessed and healed. Those hands show the marks of His love. Those hands will raise your body from the dead on the day of resurrection. Those hands will welcome you and embrace you when you depart this meager life of loaves and fishes for the heavenly feast of salvation which Jesus Christ is preparing for you. Amen.