The Lord will Provide

In Nomine Iesu
Genesis 22:1-18
February 26, 2012
Lent 1B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

If you want to know why Abraham is regarded as a man of great faith, today’s reading from Genesis makes it clear.

Way back when God had first called Abraham, God stripped him of his past. Back when Abraham had worshipped the moon and the stars—back when Abraham was living far away in Mesopotamia—back when Abraham was just Abram, God said, “Leave. Leave your country, leave your people, leave your father’s household and go to the land I will show you.” And at the age of 75, Abraham left it all behind. His identity, his security, his status—everything he had worked so hard to achieve—Abraham released his grasp on everything and placed himself into the hands of the living God. Stripped of his past, the only thing Abraham had was a future—a future shaped by the promises of God.

In today’s reading God called Abraham again—this time to strip him of that future. At least thirty years had gone by since God called Abraham to leave his settled life and go to the land that God would show him. When Abraham was one hundred years old, God kept His promise and gave Abraham a son—Isaac. Isaac was the son on which all the promises of God hinged—the son by whom Abraham’s descendants would become as numerous as the stars in the sky—the son through whom God would one day cause His Son to be born. Isaac was the subject of decades of dreams and prayers. He was Abraham’s one slender thread of a future. But now God was asking Abraham to cut that slender thread: “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I shall tell you.”

This was a test. This was only a test. But what a test it was. God wasn’t tempting Abraham to sin. God is not in the tempting business. God doesn’t dangle sin in front of our eyes and then dare us to disobey. That’s the work of the devil, the world, and our own sinful flesh. But God most certainly does test us. He was testing Abraham—taking his faith and putting it through the refining fire to make it better, stronger, and purer. God isn’t into breaking faith, but building faith. And this is why God tested Abraham.

But that doesn’t necessarily make this account any easier to swallow. This is a difficult passage. It raises all sorts of difficult questions—questions for which only God knows the answers. To be sure, you will never be tested by God in the way that Abraham was tested. The lesson to be learned here is not that God might one day ask you to do a terrible thing, and then stop you right at the last minute. No, we take these words of God just like all the rest. As Paul wrote to the Romans, “whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope” (Rom. 15:4). The ultimate purpose of these words is to give you encouragement and hope. May God grant it.

There’s so much that’s so remarkable in this narrative. After God tells Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, notice that Abraham doesn’t argue—doesn’t utter a word asking God to reconsider. This from the same Abraham who pleaded relentlessly for God to spare Sodom and Gomorrah from destruction. And what’s more, Abraham sets off with Isaac very early on the very next morning. No attempts to delay or detour or drag his feet. As they approach the place of sacrifice, Isaac is called on to carry the wood—the same wood that would be used in the sacrifice of his life. It reminds me of how Isaac’s most famous Descendant (Jesus) would also one day carry the wood of His sacrifice on the way to Golgotha.

But at the heart of this narrative is a question and its answer. The question comes from Isaac: “Father, we’ve got the wood. We’ve got the fire. We’ve got the knife. But father, where’s the lamb? Where’s the lamb of sacrifice?” It was a logical question. And it must have been a terrible question for Abraham. Abraham’s answer was a loving and faith-filled answer. And it still echoes today in your heart during every terrible test that comes your way: “The Lord will provide.” Faithful father Abraham said to his one and only Son, “The Lord will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” Only it hadn’t been provided yet, and wouldn’t be provided until the last possible moment. Only after the boy was bound and the knife was raised did the angel of the Lord call out to Abraham, and put an end to that terrible test. But there would be a sacrifice—a substitute sacrifice. The Lord did indeed provide the animal for sacrifice—a ram instead of Isaac. One life in place of another life.

Abraham believed that the Lord would provide, and the Lord provided, and Abraham called the name of that place “The Lord will provide.” And if you really want to connect the gospel dots this day, then consider this: The place where all of this happened—the place where God provided a substitute sacrifice for Isaac was the same place where two thousand years later your substitute sacrifice—Jesus the Christ—was crucified. Abraham called the place “The Lord will provide,” and at that same terrible place the Lord provided for you—provided His own dear Son as the Lamb of sacrifice for your salvation. The region of Moriah would one day be developed as the city of Jerusalem. And right outside those city gates on a dark day the Lord provided His Son in your place. And this was no test.

In the midst of his terrible test, Abraham believed that the Lord would provide. Do you believe it? When your faith is tested, do you believe the Lord will provide? When you’re caught between a rock and a hard place—when your faith is under fire—can you calmly confess with faithful Abraham, “The Lord will provide?” When the money’s all gone, when the doctor’s prognosis is all bad, when friends and family turn against you and you seem all alone, do you believe that the Lord will provide? Or do you give up, give in, and despair that God is against you?

Or what about when the “test” is of your own making—a perfect mess that you have crafted by your own sinful actions? What about when your faith is faltering beneath the weight of your own shame and regret over the bad that you’ve done, and over the good that you’ve failed to do? What about when your greatest need is absolution? Do you dare to believe that then—under those sinful circumstances—that the Lord will provide for you?

Beloved in the Lord, God Himself has indeed provided the Lamb for sacrifice, and it turns out to be His own beloved Son. Where is the Lamb? God Himself has provided the Lamb—conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried. The terrible test that Abraham faced—the possible sacrifice of his one and only son—was but a preview of the terrible deed which God would require of Himself. Isaac was spared, not sacrificed. Jesus was sacrificed, not spared. The Lord will provide. In Romans chapter eight Paul connects the dots for us: “He who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will He not also graciously give us all things?” If God was willing to sacrifice His one and only Son for you, how can you not believe with all your heart that the Lord will provide—come hell or high water?

And don’t think for a minute that God being all-powerful and all-knowing was somehow impervious to the pain of seeing His beloved Son suffer and die. Don’t dare assume that God the Father was immune to the loss of His Son. His loss was more than any father. His grief was greater than any parent who has ever lost a child. For God is love. And the more you love someone, the more you are vulnerable to pain. The more deeply you feel it. Therefore, the God who is love must have known the deepest pain—a Father’s pain—on Good Friday.

He knows your pain too. He knows what you need, and He will provide. Jesus is the guarantee of that. When you are tempted and need a way out, the Lord will provide. When you are covered in the filth of your own sin, the Lord will provide cleansing and forgiveness. When you feel like giving up and giving in to the weight of despair, the Lord will provide hope and a future. When earthly life is ending and death draws near, again, the Lord will provide. The Lord will provide life that lasts forever and resurrection glory. That’s where the tests of today are taking you. The difficulties God allows into your life are shaping you and strengthening you for an eternity of fellowship with all the saints including Abraham, and unending joy in the presence of Jesus. In Him, today and always, the Lord will provide. Amen.

Why This Waste?

In Nomine Iesu
St. Matt. 26:1-16
February 22, 2012
Ash Wednesday

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

How do you feel about waste? Are you ever a little wasteful? Generations of Americans—especially those who lived through the Great Depression—would tell you that waste is a dirty word. Waste not, want not. Out of poverty and necessity many people have learned to let nothing go to waste. Are you one of them? Have you ever eaten food past the expiration date so as not to waste it? Do you own a large assortment of plastic food containers you just can’t bear to part with? Are there fast food ketchup packets in your fridge? Do you re-use saran wrap and aluminum foil? Have you been known to “rescue” items from the trash can that others saw fit to throw away? If you answered “yes” to any of the above, then you probably don’t like to waste anything (and you might benefit from some professional help). But on this Ash Wednesday I want you to learn that not all waste is bad—that waste is not always the worst thing to be accused of.

In tonight’s reading from the Passion of our Lord, St. Matthew sets the stage for the final days before Good Friday. Jesus for the fourth time predicts that He will be crucified. The chief priests begin plotting and planning in earnest as to how they can arrest Jesus and kill Him. Judas Iscariot, one of the twelve, goes to the chief priests and, for thirty pieces of silver, agrees to betray Jesus. That’s how the passion begins. We know the story well.

But in the midst of this well-known account, an unidentified woman showed up—a wasteful woman no less. She barged right into the place where Jesus was staying with a flask of very expensive perfume. She proceeded to pour that pricey perfume on the Savior’s head. She anointed the Savior with sweet-smelling oil. St. Matthew tells us nothing of the woman’s identity. We don’t know whether she was old or young—whether she was a woman of purity and virtue or a perhaps a prostitute. We don’t know whether she was poor, and the perfume represented everything she had, or whether she was wealthy with closets full of perfume flasks waiting for her at home.

But the one thing we can be certain of about this woman is that she was wasteful. At least, that was the verdict quickly reached by Jesus’ disciples. St. Matthew says that they were indignant—which is a nice way of saying that they got angry. And their angry question was: “Why this waste?” Why waste this precious, priceless perfume in a way that fed no hungry, clothed no poor, and housed no homeless? What could justify the spillage of this aromatic oil? When you squander something for nothing, that’s wasteful! And the woman was roundly condemned. They shamed her for her wasteful act.

On this Ash Wednesday it’s good to remember that there are wasteful acts for which we should feel shame. There are wasteful acts for which we need to repent every day. There are times when the Savior could look at our lives and with righteous indignation ask each of us, “Why this waste?” Just think of all precious things we squander. Think of the body God has given you—a body designed to serve others and glorify God. But we waste our bodies in acts of adultery and sexual immorality. We waste our bodies in shameful, destructive acts. In fact, when you drink too much, and become intoxicated, the slang term for that is “getting wasted.” To which our God rightly asks, “Why? Why this waste?”

Why do we waste God’s gift of time, living as if money and possessions are the top priority? Why don’t we instead live each day in the sober recognition that this world in its present form is passing away? And why do we waste so many opportunities for witness? Why do we waste those chances to tell the good news about Jesus—to give an answer for the hope that we have in Christ? Why this waste? And—even worse—why do we waste God’s grace and forgiveness? Why do we claim the precious, priceless, blood-bought grace of God for ourselves, but then go right back to the same old sinful patterns? God’s forgiveness is never the permission to keep on sinning. But that’s exactly how we take it. That’s exactly how we waste it. Why? Why this waste? We are sinners. And being a sinner means that we are the worst of wasters. We waste in all the worst ways. We sinfully squander what God so graciously gives us. And the ashes on my forehead remind me of that—remind me of my need to repent. God, be merciful to me, a waster—a waster of all that You give.

But let’s go back to the house where Jesus was anointed by the wasteful woman. Because there we learn that not all waste is bad. For what the disciples so quickly condemned as a shameful act of waste Jesus declared to be “beautiful.” “Why do you trouble the woman?” He asked. “For she has done a beautiful thing to me. In pouring this ointment on my body, she has done it to prepare me for burial. . . . Wherever the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will also be told in memory of her.” What everyone else saw as wasteful, Jesus saw as beautiful. What everyone else saw as foolish and ridiculous, Jesus saw as a lovely, faith-filled act of devotion. So too, whatever you do for Jesus in faith is lovely and beautiful. The praises you sing, the offerings you give, the sacrifices you make, the truth that you speak—Jesus declares that everything you do for Him and for your neighbor in faith is beautiful.

How can sinners who squander God’s gifts be—at the same time—beautiful to God? It’s only because of Jesus, of course. You are beautiful to God because you have a wasteful Savior. Yes, Jesus is wasteful—wasteful in all the right ways—the best ways—wasteful as in generous, as in extravagant. That’s Jesus—generous and extravagant when it comes to love and grace and mercy and forgiveness. He gives it away for free! To sinners like us! Over and over again! It was a wasteful, generous Jesus who willingly went to the cross to bear your sins and be your Savior. Nothing could justify the bloody beatings He endured. What a waste. Nothing could justify the thorns, the nails, the blood He shed. What a waste. Nothing could justify the execution of this innocent man—nothing except His love and devotion for you—His deep desire to give you life that lasts forever and forgiveness for every sin. God made Him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.

The love of the Lord is wastefully generous; but it’s not wasted on you. It gets amazing results in your life. It leads you to love others in lavish, wasteful ways, just like your Savior. And the lavish love of Jesus is served to you again tonight in the bread that is His body and in the wine that is His blood. That love has come to you in the waters of your baptism. That love is served to you again tonight in the words of this sermon, and in the cleansing cadence of Holy Absolution. That love is not wasted on you; for that love is what makes you nothing less than beautiful in the eyes of God. Amen.

How Can Water Do Such Great Things?

In Nomine Iesu
2 Kings 5:1-14
February 12, 2012
Epiphany 6B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

How can water do such great things? And in particular, how could the water of the Jordan River do such great things for Naaman—a valiant soldier who suffered from leprosy?

Perhaps because the Jordan River flows through the Holy Land it contains certain beneficial properties that other water doesn’t have. After all, you don’t have to read too far in your Bible before the narrative takes you down to the banks of the Jordan. Jesus Himself was baptized in that river. And if you ever travel to the Holy Land you can be sure that the Jordan River will be on your itinerary—offering plenty of places where you’ll have the opportunity to get “re-baptized” in the holiest waters of the holiest river on earth. Just make sure your pastor doesn’t find out because (I’m here to tell you) there are no do-overs when it comes to baptism. There’s no re-doing what God has already done. “One Lord, one faith, one baptism” is how Paul lays it out in Ephesians 4.

How can water do such great things? Well, let’s first of all dispel the notion that it’s the waters of the Jordan that possess all the power. Not true. Angels don’t bathe in it. It doesn’t contain run-off from heaven. In fact, from the footage and photos I’ve seen, the Milwaukee River would actually be a close cousin of the Jordan. Not too big. Kind of dirty. A little smelly and stagnant in the summer heat. It wouldn’t be the kind river I would want to wash in seven times.

But then again, I don’t have leprosy. I’m not desperate for healing like Naaman was. Naaman enjoyed power and prestige and influence as the commander of the army of Syria. But all that power and prestige was useless against his debilitating, painful disease. You can be sure that he had tried everything to halt the horrible progress of his leprosy—but it was all to no avail.

In the Bible, leprosy is always a reminder of sin. Like leprosy, our sin has no cure. Like leprosy, our sin isolates us and makes us miserable. Worst of all, it makes us unclean before God. We inherited this disease called sin. It goes all the way back to Adam. “Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me.” That was David’s lament in Psalm 51, and that’s our lament too—“sinful from the time my mother conceived me.” There is no cure on earth for the leprosy of sin. Only the cleansing touch of God Himself can make us clean. But it’s how God chooses to cleanse us that’s so surprising.

Naaman thought he knew how the God of Israel would cleanse him of his leprosy. His wife’s servant girl suggested that Naaman should see the prophet Elisha back in Israel. So Naaman started packing for a trip to Israel. Toothbrush, check. Clean underwear, check. 750 pounds of silver, check. 150 pounds of gold, check. (Obviously, the idea of free, nationalized health care hadn’t caught on quite yet in Israel.) Naaman naturally assumed that it would cost a small fortune to be cleansed of his leprosy.

After a few detours Naaman and his entourage finally arrived at the door of Elisha’s house. Now, Naaman was accustomed to being treated with a great deal of honor and respect. He was an important guy, after all. He figured that Elisha would come out to greet him, that they would exchange pleasantries, that he would hand over the silver and gold, that Elisha would summon the powers of his god, and Naaman would be healed—a made-to-order miracle.

But Naaman’s expectations were quickly dashed when Elisha the prophet didn’t even come to the door when Naaman knocked. In fact, Elisha and Naaman never met that day. Elisha sent a messenger to meet mighty Naaman. And before Naaman could even get his 900 pounds of precious metals unloaded, Elisha’s messenger delivered this message: “Go and wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored, and you shall be clean.”

And while that may sound like good news to you, Naaman thought it preposterous and ridiculous. Seven times? In the Jordan river—that murky cousin to the Milwaukee River? Weren’t there cleaner, fresher, purer and bigger rivers that were flowing freely back home in Syria? And why seven times? You don’t get to be the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff like Naaman by wasting your time with inefficient exercises like dipping yourself in dirty river water over and over again for a grand total of seven times. It was beneath Naaman to do such a thing. It made him angry to think about humbling himself like that.

Turns out Naaman had one other big objection to the whole plan: Where was the excitement? Where were the spiritual fireworks? Why didn’t Elisha come out and wave his arms and summon lightning from heaven? Naaman had been hoping to hear angels sing, to see a shaft of light descend from heaven, to have an unforgettably emotional experience—a moment he would never, ever forget. But Naaman got none of that.

Instead, all he got was the Word of God. He got nothing—nothing but a promise from God, transmitted through Elisha to some lowly messenger, and then spoken to Naaman in its truth and purity. Turns out it wasn’t the water of the Jordan river that would do such great things. It was the Word of God in and with the water that would do such great things. Naaman didn’t need his silver and gold to pay for his healing. Naaman simply needed faith to trust this Word of God in the water. For without God’s Word, that water was just plain water. But with the Word of God, that water was a life-giving water, a cleansing water, a fountain of health and healing, a sparkling spring of salvation.

Eventually the Word of God had its way with Naaman. Eventually this general humbled himself like a lowly private. He believed the Word of God, washed himself seven times, and was cleansed. And not only that, Naaman of Syria, Naaman the unclean, gentile unbeliever—that same Naaman became a child of God. For in the verse immediately following today’s reading, Naaman confesses his faith in the God of Israel.

Naaman is your name too. Naaman’s story gets replayed in your life on a regular basis. You’ve come here this morning to be healed from the leprosy of your sin. You’ve come here because you need to come here—because you’re debilitated and dying. We all need healing. We all need forgiveness. We all need our dirty, filthy hearts to be made perfectly clean. We need cleansing that no amount of silver and gold can buy. And so we come here—to where God’s messenger preaches and proclaims God’s Word. But too often we think like Naaman, “Bo-o-oring! This is boring!” We want excitement. We want emotion. We want spiritual fireworks and entertainment. But God chooses to give you what you need. God gives you what He gave Naaman—His Word delivered by His messenger. And when you believe those simple, unadorned words, you are cleansed.

In today’s Gospel reading we heard about Jesus—the Jesus who can cleanse the leprosy of your sin, and who wants to do just that! Jesus is the best friend a leper could have. That leper said to Jesus, “If you are willing, you can make me clean.” Was Jesus willing? No doubt about it. Jesus joined the leper. Jesus reached out His hand and touched that rejected, rotting man. Jesus became unclean with the leper’s uncleanness. Jesus joined the leper at his point of greatest pain and bore it with him.

You too have sin; you too have uncleanness. But Jesus comes to join you there. He bears it all for you to the cross at Calvary. Jesus was there for the leper. He is here for you too. Here Jesus reaches out to touch you and cleanse you. That cleansing began for you in the water of your baptism. How could that water do such great things? Not just the water, of course, but the Word of God combined with that water. That baptismal water worked forgiveness of sins, rescued you from the power of the devil, and gave you eternal salvation. The cleansing continues today in the preaching of this sermon, and in the meal of Jesus’ body and blood for the forgiveness of sins. It’s not spectacular or entertaining. It’s not meant to be. But what happens here in Word and Sacrament is precisely how God has chosen to heal you and cleanse you of your sin.

Through these precious means the Holy Spirit takes what Jesus accomplished on Good Friday and Easter Sunday and applies it to you personally—touches you as Jesus touched the leper. The death of Jesus becomes your death. Your sins were paid for in full. And one day your body will be raised from the grave, completely cleansed and disease-free forever.

Naaman went back to Syria cleansed and cured, and full of faith and hope in the living God. And you can have that same faith and hope as you leave here today. For the Word of God has done great things for you—in the water, in the wine, in the bread, in my voice and into your ears and heart. Jesus is able—and willing—to give you cleansing. Amen.

The Mother-in-Law Miracle

In Nomine Iesu
St. Mark 1:29-31
February 5, 2012
Epiphany 5B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

If I were to take a poll, asking people to name their favorite miracle performed by Jesus, I wonder which miracles would rate most favorably. Which miracles are most meaningful to modern Christians? The raising of Lazarus, walking on water, water into wine, and a multitude of healings would probably crack the top ten, I suppose.

But now, turn the question around. Which miracles seem to be more minor in nature? Which seem to be less significant? And which miracles would most Christians fail to mention—or even to remember? I suspect that the “Mother-in-Law miracle” we heard about today is one of those events which barely rates as a blip on the miracle radar. But St. Mark saw fit to tell us. The Holy Spirit saw fit to inspire St. Mark to devote three sentences to the miraculous healing of Simon Peter’s feverish mother-in-law. And I, for one, am glad.

Simon Peter had a house in Capernaum and that’s where Jesus and four disciples headed immediately after Jesus healed the man with the evil spirit in the synagogue. They went from the synagogue to Peter’s house immediately. “Immediately,” by the way, seems to be one of St. Mark’s favorite words. He uses it forty-five times in his sixteen chapters. With Mark we are always “immediately” into the next event before finishing the last one. Mark puts the pedal to the metal, always speeding onward to Calvary and crucifixion.

Peter’s mother-in-law was sick. Probably a touch of the flu. And you know how that goes: running a temperature, coughing, congestion, aches and pains. You feel miserable for a while, and staying in bed is probably your best option—along with some vitamin C, chicken soup and a few aspirin. It’s really not a big deal—especially when compared to that diseased and demon-possessed crowd that was starting to follow Jesus wherever He went. And yet, there is Jesus, in Peter’s house, making His way back into the back bedroom where grandma is napping with no make-up on, no dentures in, a stale piece of toast on the nightstand, with some little mutt barking in the background. (At least, that’s how I picture it.)

Jesus is there for her and her alone. She—who probably doesn’t matter that much to that many—she matters to Jesus. And Jesus has come to make that abundantly clear. Jesus who battles with devils and demons—Jesus who raises the dead and preaches with divine authority—the Son of God, the Savior of the world—He also bends down at an old lady’s bedside, takes her by the hand and lifts her up. The fever disappears without even a word from Jesus. Simply a touch and the fever is gone. Grandma’s feeling good enough to do what grandmas do best—she puts the coffee on and sets out some sandwiches and cookies—maybe some celery sticks with cheese whiz. (At least, that’s how I picture it.)

Now, as miracles go, this is rather unremarkable. Almost not worth reporting. In fact, it’s almost more astonishing to learn that Peter was married and had a mother-in-law. People recover from fevers all the time, big deal. Yes, big deal. From that day on that dear old mother-in law was never the same. For she came to know that day that she—yes, she—was precious to Jesus. She with her arthritic joints and missing teeth and thinning gray hair—she was precious to Jesus. The kingdom of God had come to her in the man her son-in-law was following around lately, Jesus of Nazareth.

Do you know what she knew? Do you know that you are precious to Jesus? The evidence is all around us; but we tend to ignore it. For whenever we bounce back from a fever—when the flu finally subsides—we chalk up our recovery to vitamin C, antibiotics, and an immune system made durable by doses of vitamin D. But what we fail to see is the true source of all our healing. The Great Physician might as well be the invisible physician because we almost never acknowledge that He—Jesus—is the One who heals all your diseases.

Beloved in the Lord, learn from this minor miracle that Jesus Christ is behind every healing of every disease. And hear this: Even if Jesus had never set foot in Peter’s house and gone to the old lady in person, her healing would still have been the work of Jesus. For every healing, no matter how it happens, is the work of the Christ. The miracles simply leave out the middle man—be that the doctor, the pharmacist, the specialist, the therapist, the surgeon, the nurse. The miracles are intended to make it plain that Jesus is the master healer. He stands behind every medical practitioner whether they know it or not. Through them all, Jesus is working for your good. Jesus is working to keep you in good working order, so that you can be busy serving those around you—just like Peter’s mother-in-law did when Jesus healed her.

Now if Jesus stands behind every healing, then behind every disease and sickness stands our sin. Every illness, whether life-threatening or just annoying, is a mirror of our mortality, a not so subtle sign to remind us that the wages of sin is death. As sons and daughters of Adam, we are fallen people who live in a fallen world. The misery that we feel when we get sick is the misery we should feel over our sin. If only we were as careful to avoid sin as we are at avoiding germs and viruses and bad bacteria. Sickness, sin and death all belong together. But, so do healing, health and resurrection. Think about this: Every healing—every time you bounce back and get better—that, my friends, is a little resurrection reminder—a reminder that the Jesus who suffered for our sins on the cross is also the One who will give us ultimate healing on the day of resurrection.

The miracles of Jesus are important; but Jesus didn’t come to fix the world’s problems through miracles. He didn’t come to deal with demons and disease and death by means of miracles. No, Jesus came to die. On His cross, Jesus drags all our demons and diseases into the black hole of His death—swallows them all up forever. Jesus’ ultimate healing work was not to dole out band-aids, but to die and rise again. Death and resurrection is the way the Savior works.

And it’s precisely because of His death and resurrection that every prayer for healing that you’ve ever prayed will be positively and affirmatively answered on the Last Day, in the resurrection of the dead. Whenever we pray for health and healing, that prayer is always answered by God with a “yes.” We just don’t know exactly how that “yes” will come to pass. Perhaps it might happen quickly like it did for Peter’s mother-in-law, and you bounce right back to work. Or maybe you spend a whole week in bed. Or maybe the rest of your life. Or maybe you will die.

But then and there, at that moment when you die, God’s “yes” will be wonderfully revealed to you. You will not be alone; for Jesus will be there too—as He always is. He will reach down to you as He did with Peter’s mother-in-law. He will take your hand into His hand, and raise you up to be with Him forever. And then, all those prayers for health and healing will find their “yes” and their “amen” in the wonder of your resurrection. All your sighs and groaning and prayers—Jesus heard them all, and in His death and resurrection He’s already done something about them.

Let there be no doubt: you are precious to Jesus. He loves the whole world, it’s true. But that love and healing is always applied personally, individually, one at a time. Jesus never performed any mass healings—never cured a whole crowd with just a wave of His hand. Nope, it was always one at a time, with a Word and a touch from the Savior. In Holy Baptism—by water and the Word—He made your body to be a temple of the Holy Spirit. Again today Jesus comes into your messy world through the power of preaching and His Word. Whatever your aches and pains today—whatever fills you with weariness and worry—whatever sins may trouble your conscience—Jesus comes to you personally, today, with healing. “Take and eat, this is my body. This is my blood shed for you, for the forgiveness of sins.” And then you get up, back on your feet. You depart in peace and head off to serve others as you have been served—knowing and believing that by the grace of God you are precious to Jesus. Amen.