Something More Sure

In Nomine Iesu
2 Peter 1:16-21
February 26, 2017
Transfiguration-A

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

Do you have witnesses? Did anybody else see what you saw? Is there someone who can corroborate the details of what transpired? Can they provide an accurate description? If you’ve ever witnessed something extraordinary—something paranormal or supernatural or otherwise inexplicable—it really helps to have someone standing right next to you, seeing what you see and hearing what you hear, ready to verify and testify and corroborate every last detail.

So it was that when Jesus ascended to the top of a very high mountain, He didn’t go alone. Nor did He only bring along one

disciple. But He took with Him Peter and James and John. And that trio of disciples beheld with their own eyes and ears something paranormal, supernatural, and inexplicable. They saw Jesus in all His dazzling glory—or, at least as much glory as they could handle. They saw the Savior shining like the sun—God of God, light of light, very God of very God—Godhead, humanity, union supernal—shining brighter than all the angels in the sky. And not only that: They saw Moses and Elijah, key Old Testament figures who had been dead for centuries, but who are apparently alive and well in the presence of Jesus. And they heard the Father’s voice thundering from the cloud of glory: This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.

There on the mountain Peter, James and John came to know that there’s much more to Jesus than meets the eye. They saw it. They heard it. And they wrote about it. John wrote about it in the prologue to the Gospel that bears his name: “We have seen His glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (1:14). Peter also wrote about it in today’s epistle from 2nd Peter: “We were eyewitnesses of His majesty. For when He received honor and glory from God the Father, and the voice was borne to Him by the Majestic Glory, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased,’ we ourselves heard this very voice from heaven, for we were with Him on the holy mountain.” John wrote about it. Peter wrote about it. We don’t hear from James, but only because he didn’t live long enough to write much, thanks to the sword of Herod.

What Peter, James and John saw on the mountain was unlike anything else, before or after. It was nothing at all like the so-called visions of Jesus or of the Virgin Mary people sometimes see in the clouds or in water stains on the wall. The jury is permanently “out” on that kind of thing. But to have three otherwise sane, sensible, rational men see exactly the same vision—to have two of the three write about it years later—it tells you that they actually saw what they claimed to have seen: Jesus’ face shining like the sun, His clothes shining with dazzling light, and special guest appearances by Moses and Elijah.

What happened that day on the mountain was literally the high point of Jesus earthly ministry. Jesus was preparing the disciples for the road ahead. For the next mountain would be Calvary, and it would be anything but glorious. Instead of light, there would be darkness. Instead of life, there would be death. Instead of glory, there would be defeat. Instead of a voice from heaven, there would be stone-cold silence. Immediately after the Transfiguration, after descending from the holy mountain, Jesus began to teach that He must suffer, die, and rise again. The glory of the Transfiguration pointed ahead to the hidden glory of the cross—where Jesus would defeat sin by becoming sin, where He would conquer death by dying.

Wouldn’t it be grand if we could have been there to see Jesus shining? Don’t you kind of wish you could have been standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Peter, James and John so that you yourself could see the glory of God in the face of Jesus? Don’t you think that if you could hear and see what happened on the mountain that day that your faith would be strengthened? Wouldn’t it give you hope and encouragement when doubt threatens to derail you, and when life threatens to overwhelm you? Peter seemed to think so. Peter wanted to linger as long as possible: Lord, it’s good to be here. I can make three tents if you’d like, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah. But to this God the Father essentially said, “Be quite and listen—listen to my Son.”

Yes, there’s no doubt—it would have been nice to be there on the mount of Transfiguration; but it’s better to be here. Good to be there; better to be here. This is your “mountain.” This is the holy place where Jesus reveals Himself to you—where your faith is strengthened, where your sins are forgiven, where you receive hope and encouragement. This is where Jesus changes your heart. It’s good to be here—here in the Divine Service—here where heaven and earth intersect. Here the very Son of God draws near to you personally in the water of your baptism, in the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood, in the absolution that follows your confession—where two or three are gathered in His name and around His Word.

So, which would you choose? Being here this morning, or seeing Jesus’ glory on the mountain with Peter, James, and John? Honestly, if given the option, I think these pews would be empty. Why? Because we view what goes on here as purely predictable, as monotonously mundane, as utterly ordinary, unworthy of our absolute attention. We despise preaching and God’s Word as surely as we fail to hold it sacred and gladly hear and learn it. Here the glory is hidden—hidden like it was on Good Friday—hidden, but nonetheless certain and sure—in fact, MORE certain and MORE SURE than Jesus shining on the mountain. And if you won’t take my word for it, then listen to Peter.

Decades after Peter saw the Transfiguration, he wrote the words of today’s epistle. And hidden away in that paragraph is a remarkable phrase that makes it clear that you have something better—something even MORE SURE than a front row seat for the Transfiguration: We were eyewitnesses of His majesty, Peter writes, We ourselves heard the voice from heaven, for we were with Him on the holy mountain. AND we have something more sure, the prophetic word, to which you will do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place. Peter points us to the Word. He tells us that the “prophetic word” is “something more sure” than what he saw on the mountain with James and John.

Now, a lot of Bible translators and theologians struggle with what Peter wrote. He wrote that the “prophetic word” is “something (even) more sure” than the Transfiguration! He’s telling us that what scribes have scribbled on scrolls—including the dry dusty words of our Bibles—these printed pages are something more sure—more beneficial—more powerful—than what transpired at the Transfiguration. Bible scholars admit that’s what Peter wrote, but add that he couldn’t possible mean that. Let’s assume that Peter and the Holy Spirit mean what they say . . . and say what they mean.

Beloved in the Lord, you—YOU—have something more sure than what Peter saw on the mountain of transfiguration. It may have been “good” for Peter to be there; but it is “better” by far to be here, where the Word of God is preached and proclaimed. “This” is even “more sure” than “that.” It is “more sure” to hear the word of forgiveness proclaimed by your pastor than to see Jesus shining on a mountaintop. It is “more sure” to remember your baptism into Christ than to see Moses and Elijah conversing with Jesus. It is “more sure” to eat and drink His body and blood in His Holy Supper than to see His face shining like the sun—more sure to seek Christ in the Scriptures than to fly to Israel and stand on the exact mountain where the Transfiguration took place.

You have something more sure—something better. You have the power and presence of Jesus the Christ here and now to bring you life that lasts forever. It’s good to be here! And, part of what we do here is listen, as we are invited to do by the Father: This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to Him. Listen to Him when life overwhelms you. Listen to Him when sin has you entangled. Listen to Him when your hope is almost gone. Listen to Him. He has the words of eternal life. Only Jesus can save you. Only Jesus bears your sin, your death, the punishment you deserve. Only Jesus can mediate between God and man . . . because He is BOTH God and man.

That’s what the transfiguration tells us: Jesus is both Son of God and son of man. But His crucifixion and resurrection tell us more. Jesus’ dying and rising tell us who Jesus is for you—your Lord, your Redeemer, your Savior, God’s sacrificial Lamb who dies for the sin of the world. You will see it all for yourself one day. You will see Jesus shining soon enough. For He has promised to appear again in glory and to raise you from the dead. You will see Moses and Elijah and all the saints of God.

This week the mountain of transfiguration gives way to Mount Calvary. Alleluias will give way to ashes. But year in and year out, through every month and every season of life, it’s good to be here. For here we have the Word. And something more sure you will not find anywhere else. Amen.

Leveled by the Law

In Nomine Iesu

St. Matthew 5:21-37
February 12, 2017
Epiphany 6A

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

Today we are three Sundays into the Sermon on the Mount. And what started off with blessing and benediction has taken a turn into troubling territory. The Sermon on the Mount began with such good news for sinners: Blessed are the poor in spirit. But today we learn just how “poor” we are. Today Jesus unleashes the Law of God in its full fury; and no one is left standing.

The Law of God can make for interesting discussion. To talk about the Law isn’t so bad. We like to engage in all

kinds of discussion and debate about what’s right and what’s wrong—about how the fine print might apply in various circumstances and situations. A Bible study on the Ten Commandments is usually much more titillating than a study on Baptism. Why? Because the Commandments highlight who’s naughty and who’s nice (and all the different ways to be naughty and nice). And besides that, studying the Law of God at arm’s length is safe. It’s like encountering a labradoodle on a leash—yeah, sure, she’s got teeth and claws, but she’s not dangerous and she certainly won’t bite you (especially if you’re willing to give her some belly scratches).

This morning Jesus unleashes not a doodle, but a Doberman—a fearsome, fanged beast who just might chew off your right hand or pluck out your right eye, or whatever body parts might be causing you to sin. The Law of God that Jesus lets loose this morning pursues you relentlessly. It always accuses you. It always amplifies and magnifies your sin. It always shatters your excuses and exposes your evil. It uncovers your corruption. It trumpets your transgressions. It never quits picking away at your iniquity. Jesus unleashes the Law this morning in order to drive you to despair of your own goodness and righteousness. And, ultimately, He unleashes His law because He loves you.

“You have heard that it was said.” That’s how Jesus introduces each new topic in this section of His sermon. “You have heard that it was said to those of old, but I say to you.” Here Jesus interprets and proclaims the Law on the basis of His own authority. He doesn’t need footnotes with sources cited. He doesn’t need to list His references. It’s His law and this is how He applies it. He amplifies the Law—turns the volume way up. He takes the focus off of actions and, instead, puts our inner attitudes under the microscope. He gives us the true intention of the Law which, in most cases, was quite different from what the Scribes and Pharisees of Jesus’ day had been teaching.

Take the fifth commandment, for example: You shall not murder. Do you think you’ve kept this commandment because you haven’t plunged a knife into someone, or sent a bullet sailing in someone’s direction, or laced someone’s supper with poison? Think again. You can murder someone in your heart and with your words. Unchecked anger and indulging in bitter insults can just as easily lead you down the road to eternal damnation as can strangling someone with your own bare hands. And it’s an especially serious matter when a disciple of Jesus treats a fellow disciple (a “brother”) in these murderous ways. Repent!

To pretend that you can be in a good relationship with God while, at the same time, refusing to be reconciled with a brother or sister in Christ, is just that—pretending. You cannot love God AND hate your brother. You can’t engage in anger or hatred against someone and think it’s no big deal. And by the way, these rules against hate and insults also do apply to the comments you leave and post on all forms of social media. If anger is your idol—if hatred has hemmed you in—then repent of your idolatry and, yes, your murder. Jesus says, first drop everything, leave your gift in front of the altar, go and be reconciled to your brother; then come and offer your gift to the Lord.

Jesus knows all about the hurt and harm that gets exchanged between brothers. For Jesus came to be your brother. Even as He preached so eloquently against hatred and bitter insults, so did He Himself endure hatred and hear bitter insults hurled at Him. He heard the angry shouts of those who called for His crucifixion. He willingly submitted to the hurt and harm that pierced and lacerated His flesh on Good Friday. Such violence was the payment for your sin. It was the cost that had to be paid to reconcile you with the Father. He did it so that sinners like us could be received and welcomed into the family of God, where all are brothers and sisters—forgiven and forgiving.

Jesus quickly moves on to the sixth commandment: You shall not commit adultery. At first blush that doesn’t sound too difficult. I love my spouse. I haven’t been unfaithful. And then comes Jesus’ “but I say to you.” “Everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” One stray look will nail you—whether you’re online, or on the beach with bikinis as far as the eye can see. Do you think you’ve kept God’s law because you haven’t taken into your arms someone other than your spouse? Think again. You can commit adultery with your eyes, your brain, your heart. Lust and fantasizing—imagining and envisioning and considering and desiring directed at anyone other than your God-given marriage partner—these all can lead down the road to eternal damnation.

Lust is not identical to the physical act of adultery, in every respect. True enough. But lustful leering at someone other than a spouse always dishonors marriage—always dishonors your spouse—always dishonors God’s gifts of marriage and sex. Divorce, too, always dishonors marriage. Divorce always separates what God has joined together. Even when one spouse has been unfaithful—even when divorce is “allowed” and “permitted”—even then divorce is not God’s desire or God’s intention.

Sins against the sixth commandment have much to do with our bodies—with our eyes, our brains, our hands, our hearts. The dangers of these bodily sins are so great that Jesus uses hyperbole to suggest that a better option might be to cut off our hands or gouge out our eyes. But such an extreme approach forgets something very important: your body is not your own. Your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit—paid for and redeemed with the blood of Jesus, claimed and inhabited by the Holy Spirit in the splash of Holy Baptism, destined for resurrection. As one who follows Jesus in faith, your body is designed to glorify God—to lead a sexually pure and decent life in what you say and do. Living by that Spirit, you can confess your sixth-commandment sins and receive full forgiveness. Jesus bore our every sin in His body, when He suffered on the cross. He refused to divorce His bride, the church, despite our unfaithfulness. He died to rescue us from all the ways we have taken His gift of marriage and used it for our own selfish purposes.

The final topic Jesus takes up today involves swearing and oath-taking. In Jesus’ day the Jews had constructed an elaborate system for taking oaths and making promises. We don’t do so much oath-taking nowadays; but we’re still very good at evading the truth and shading the truth and spinning the truth to our advantage. We’re very good at casting ourselves as the heroes of our narratives. We’re not afraid to re-write and edit the historical record to vindicate ourselves. We’re much more likely to tell half the truth, than to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. But Jesus cuts through our hazy cloud of half-truths. He says, “let your ‘yes’ be ‘yes,’ and let your ‘no’ be ‘no.’” Say what you mean. Mean what you say. Keep your promises. Let honesty be your policy.

In this area you can learn much from the God who loves you. He means what He says and says what He means—law and gospel, threats and promises. He tells you the truth in love. His Word is truth. God’s “yes” and God’s “no” are clear and definite. But before this sermon concludes, you need to hear the “yes” of Jesus, spoken to you. For Jesus is God’s ultimate “yes.” In Jesus and His cross God has said yes—yes to your forgiveness, yes to your resurrection. In Jesus, God has said “yes” to your adoption into His family.

The cross of Jesus tells the ultimate truth about us. The cross shows how serious our sin is—how the Law of God levels us all, and leaves no one standing. But even more, the cross shows the magnitude of God’s love for sinners like us. While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Because of Jesus, because of His suffering, death and resurrection, God says “yes” to you. In your baptism, in the Supper of His body and blood, in holy absolution, God’s yes means yes. In His Law He levels us all. Were He to keep a record of sin no one could stand. But in Jesus God raises those who are knocked down. He lifts those who’ve been leveled. He gives eternal life to all who believe. Amen.

Salt & Light

In Nomine Iesu
St. Matthew 5:13-20
February 5, 2017
Epiphany 5A

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

I wrote the first draft of this sermon on Thursday, which was Ground Hog Day. AMC was running the movie, “Ground Hog Day,” featuring Bill Murray. You’ve probably seen it. He plays a TV weatherman who gets sent to Puxatawney, PA to cover the annual Ground Hog Day festivities there. But somehow every morning he awakens there . . . it’s Ground Hog Day all over again—the very same day, the very same people and places, the very same situations, over and over again. Same ol’ same ol’. Been there, done that. No surprises. Each day just a replay of the day before.

Sometimes in real life we begin to feel just a bit like the Bill Murray character. The days of our lives become utterly predictable. The people, the places, the predicaments don’t change much from day to day. “I’m in a rut,” you hear people say. And when that happens, you begin to ask yourself some questions: Do I matter? Do I make a difference? Am I doing any good for anyone? Does my all-too-predictable life have purpose and meaning? Today Jesus weighs in with an answer to questions like these. And the answer He gives to every disciple—to all who follow Him in faith—is a resounding “yes.”

You are the salt of the earth, Jesus says. Salt seasons and preserves. Salt melts snow and ice off our streets and sidewalks. And it really doesn’t take much salt to do the trick, either. If you do much cooking, then you know that many recipes call for salt—but usually only a half-teaspoon or just a dash. How often have you taken that first sip of soup from the stovetop only to realize, “This needs salt?” And just a tiny bit of salt transforms your soup from something bland and flavorless into a savory, tasty, zesty, explosion of flavor. Behold the power of salt!

Jesus says you are salt. You are the special seasoning that Jesus has scattered around this world to make a positive difference for the benefit of those around you. As you go about your daily business at work, at school, at home, at church—as you live out your faith in Jesus, doing the important vocations He has called you to do—you are making a huge difference. Now, your difference-making is largely unseen and unnoticed. That’s how it is with salt. When salt is doing its job, no one notices. No one takes a bite of a chocolate chip cookie and says, “Mmmmm. What type of salt is in this cookie?” Salty saints of Our Savior, you season the world with the good news of Jesus Christ—baptized into His name, forgiven by the blood He shed, confessing your faith in word and deed.

If you still need convincing that you make a difference in this world, then hear what Jesus says next: You are the light of the world. Present indicative. You are light. He doesn’t say you should aspire to be light. It’s no achievement on your

part. It’s a done deal according to Jesus. As you follow Him in faith, you are the light of the world. The great difference made by light is impossible to miss. On one of these dark winter nights take a drive from the well-lit streets of Whitefish Bay into darkness of Fox Point where, apparently, street lights are an unaffordable luxury. Or just think about that long stretch of dreary, cloudy days a few weeks ago, and what a welcome sight it was when bright sunshine finally returned. Behold the power of light! Light is inherently beneficial; and so are you, dear baptized believer.

You are light shining in the darkness of this world. You light the way. You illuminate the truth. You send the deeds of darkness skittering away. You shine; and in your shining, the life of Jesus is revealed to the world. Let your light shine before others, Jesus says, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven. Note that last part carefully. The goal is not to do good works so that we get recognition and admiration and applause. The goal isn’t that people sit up and take notice of us and of how good we are. God forbid! But rather, as your light shines, people will see the Source of that light and give praise to God. As salt and light, our attitude should be like that of St. Paul when he first went to Corinth. He said, “I resolved to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.” It’s all about Jesus for us. In Him we are absolved of every sin. In Him we have the promise of resurrection life. In Him already today we are salt and light, making an eternal difference with our words and actions.

Of course, we can easily botch up the work we have been given to do. We can lose our saltiness. We can dim our light. We can stop being difference-makers and just slide right into the sinful status quo. Jesus warns against one of the ways this happens. It happens with how we handle the Law of God. Therefore whoever relaxes one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven. To “relax” one of the Lord’s commandments—to “loosen” the burden of the Law—to water down God’s Word of Law—is to contribute to the darkness.

It’s tempting to relax the commandments, especially when we want to ease the burden for someone else. It’s always tempting to water-down God’s commands to keep from hurting people’s feelings. It’s always tempting to tell people that it doesn’t matter what they say or do or think because God loves them. But it does matter. God’s commandments should always shape our words, thoughts, and actions. Part of being the light of the world is being a beacon of truth.

Back in my seminary days, I shared with a brother in Christ something that was troubling my conscience—a commandment of God that I had not kept. It bothered me greatly. So, when I confessed my sin to him, I was disappointed that his response was to tell me that he had been guilty of the same thing also. He was trying to comfort me—to let me know that I wasn’t alone in my guilt. I needed to hear that my sin was forgiven in Jesus. But he, unintentionally, watered down the law of God—in effect saying, everybody does it. Don’t worry about it. What he should have said was, “Yes, your sin is very great; but you have an even greater Savior who bears your sin away.” But he relaxed and loosened the Law of God so that I wouldn’t be so troubled. We’re all tempted to do that—to relax and water down God’s commands concerning marriage and adultery and homosexuality and you name it. It might be for the best of intentions, but it’s not living as the salt of the earth or as the light of the world.

Jesus didn’t relax the commandments. No, as you’ll hear in Bible class this morning, Jesus amplified the commandments. He made them even harder to keep. The Law said, “Don’t murder,” but Jesus said that even the one who hates is guilty of murder. The Law said, “Don’t commit adultery,” but Jesus said that even he who imagines committing adultery is an adulterer. The Law said, “Love your neighbor,” but Jesus said, “While you’re at it, love your enemies too.”

To relax the Law—to water down the commandments—is to diminish the work of Jesus Christ. He came to fulfill the Law with His perfect obedience and His death on the cross. When we write-off the commandments we are, in effect, writing off and watering down the work that Jesus came to do for us. If you water down the commandments enough—erasing dots and iotas here and there—sooner or later you don’t really need a Savior from sin. Why do you need a Savior if you have no sin? Why do you need a Redeemer if the Law doesn’t convict you of anything in particular? Let the Law do what it’s intended to do—to show you your sin. Why? Because Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.

Jesus has redeemed you, a lost and condemned person, purchased and won you from all sins, from death and the power of the devil, not with gold or silver, but with His holy, precious blood and His innocent suffering and death that you might be His own and live under Him in His kingdom and serve Him in everlasting righteousness, innocence and blessedness—so that you can live each day as the salt of the earth, as the light of the world.

All that you are is a gift from Jesus—God of God, light of light. For us and for our salvation He came down from heaven. For us and for our salvation He became man—was crucified, died, and was buried. For us He lived a perfect life of obedience. His righteousness exceeded even that of the Scribes and Pharisees. He kept the Law perfectly, every last iota—even the fine print. He was the righteousness of God. And wonder of wonders, He gives that righteousness to you. He gives you the credit for something He did. That’s how you’ve become salt and light. It’s not by what you do; it’s by what He did (and still does) for you. As you eat and drink His body and blood, He puts His life in your life. You are baptized to live each day beneath the umbrella of God’s grace, through faith in Jesus. Under that grace, you are a city set on a hill. You are the light of the world. You are the salt of the earth. You are doing good for all people, making an eternal difference, living a life filled with purpose and meaning. Amen.