In Nomine Iesu
Ps. 103:20-22
September 28, 2017
Eve of St. Michael & All Angels
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
The catechism teaches us to pray—both in the morning when we get up, and in the evening when we go to bed. And both that morning prayer and that evening prayer contain this mysterious sentence: Let Your holy angel be with me, that the evil foe may have no powerover me. For most of us that sounds nice. Beginning the day and ending the day accompanied by one of God’s holy angels is certainly a good thing.
But if we’re being honest, it also sounds a bit quaint—a little old-fashioned. Our worldview really doesn’t have a place for angels. Oh, sure, the Catechism, the liturgy, the Bible itself—they’re all replete with angels and archangels. Whereas, our daily lives have been scoured clean of even the remotest thought or trace concerning angels.
And the trouble isn’t merely that we live in a God-forsaking, secular culture; the trouble we have with reckoning and recognizing angels begins with us and our sin. As sinners, we always aim to restrict God’s power and reduce the scope of God’s activity. We fence God in according to our designs. We go to visit God once or twice a week at church, kind of like we go to the zoo to view strange and exotic creatures, all carefully caged-in for our entertainment and viewing pleasure.
If nothing else, Luther’s morning and evening prayers should remind us to repent of our unbelief concerning things we can’t see and our attempts to box God in according to our limited view of reality. Let your holy angel be with me, that the evil foe may have no power over me.
Angels are mysterious—and, most of the time, unseen. Angels aren’t people; they are spirits; neither male nor female. Yet, Scripture speaks of them as persons—unique, individual persons such as St. Michael and St. Gabriel. Those two are the five-star generals of the angel armies. The existence of angels shouldn’t surprise us at all. God delights in creating. He never has enough creatures to love. There’s a dazzling array of creatures that have yet to be discovered, in fact, in the deepest depths of the ocean and in the remotest rain forests. What’s so unbelievable about angels?
The angels do excel in strength. They have powers that we do not. They can do things we can’t even imagine. And in Psalm 103 tonight we are told exactly what the angels do: Bless the Lord, O you his angels, you mighty ones who do his word, obeying the voice of his word! Bless the Lord, all his hosts, his ministers, who do his will! There you have it. The angels do the Lord’s bidding. They obey His voice. They do His will.
And you are never closer to the angels—you are never nearer to the angels—than when your work is aligned with their work—when you join the angels in what they are doing. When we do the Lord’s bidding—when we obey His voice—when we sync ourselves with the good and gracious will of God—well, right then and there we are working side-by-side with angels.
This happens most often and most naturally when we engage in the work of our God-given vocations—when fathers do the work of fathers and mothers do the work of mothers, and children and neighbors, and students, and citizens do what the angels do: namely, doing the will of God. Luther points out that angels most often appear to people in the Bible when they are engaged in the work of their vocations—doing the routine stuff of life (that’s what gets the angels rejoicing).
The other time when we team-up with the angels is right here in this sacred space. The highest joy of the angels is in their Divine Service—their worship. Tonight we join with them. They join with us. Together we say, “Glory to God in the Highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.” And in just a few minutes we will join with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven in saying “Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of Sabaoth.” This is the song the angels sing in the presence of God. “Sabaoth” means “host,” or “army.” God is the God of the angel armies of heaven. And He is our God too. One of my favorite features of the chapel at Concordia University are the angel figures etched into the marble on both sides of the chancel—a reminder that there are far more worshippers here tonight than you may think there are.
Do you have a guardian angel? An angel assigned specifically to you? The Scriptures don’t give us a definite answer about that. A few minutes ago we heard Jesus say this: See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven. It’s not surprising that Jesus should connect the angels with “little ones.” The little ones of Matthew 18 include not just children, but all believers whose faith is weak—struggling Christians whose hope is depleted, and for whom temptations to sin loom large. God’s good and gracious will is that not one of them should be lost. And the angels, too, align themselves with accomplishing that good and gracious will of God.
You are better than the angels—superior to them. The Son of God did not become an angel, but a human being like you. What wondrous love is this that God should become man to die a bloody death for sinful rebels like us? That same wondrous love is at work for us tonight in the Word and in the Sacrament. Here God does for us what He has not done for angels. He gives us His body and blood to cleanse us from our sins, and so draw us into a closer fellowship with the angels—so that our work and their work might become more and more difficult to distinguish.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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