The Savior of Skeptics

In Nomine Iesu
St. John 3:1-17
May 27, 2018
The Holy Trinity B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

Today is Holy Trinity Sunday—a day devoted to confessing the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, concerning our great God—the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. This day is also a reminder that we can’t put God in a box. We can’t fit God neatly inside

our heads. He doesn’t conform to any of our usual categories.

On most Trinity Sundays we pull out the Athanasian Creed with all of its “coeternals” and “incomprehensibles.” But today, instead, we used Luther’s creedal hymn: We All Believe in One True God. It’s a hymn so lively, so robust and meaty, that it sometimes takes seven musical notes just to sing one syllable of text! And when you finally make it to the “amen” you still feel like you haven’t quite said enough. And that’s good. For if we could fully comprehend the mystery of the Holy Trinity, then the Holy Trinity wouldn’t be much of a God.

All we can do is to confess what God has revealed to us—no more and no less. And that’s really the point of it all. God tells us who He is. God reveals Himself in the Scriptures. And by the grace of God we aim to confess exactly what God has revealed. And when all is said and done at the end of this day, we might not be any closer to understanding God or explaining Him. But we will have confessed Him, and worshipped Him, and received His gifts—and you can’t do much better than that.

Talking about the Trinity also has a way of stirring up the skeptics. Skeptics are those people who have to question almost everything. Skeptics are those people who can’t accept any ambiguity or inconsistency or mystery. If you can’t line up all your ducks in a row, the die-hard skeptic won’t be satisfied. Skepticism isn’t always a bad thing. There’s nothing wrong with asking questions. But there is also a cynical skepticism—a toxic, sinful skepticism that can be both self-justifying and faith-destroying.

We all know people who are skeptical when it comes to Christianity. They are everywhere these days. They seize on what they perceive to be some inconsistency in the faith we confess, and use that inconsistency as an excuse to check out of the faith and, in some cases, to ridicule us for being so gullible. Their train of thought often begins with the love of God: If God is so loving, then why is there a hell? Why doesn’t this loving God save everyone? Or, If God is so loving, then why is there so much evil in the world? Why doesn’t God do something to protect the innocent? This skepticism about God’s love provides the skeptic with a handy excuse to justify his unbelief and to live life on his terms and according to his rules.

Serious skeptics have been around for a long time. In fact, in today’s Holy Gospel Jesus encounters a skeptic named Nicodemus. But don’t write-off Nicodemus too quickly. If Nicodemus were alive today, living in the Milwaukee metro area, he would fit right in to one of our North Shore neighborhoods (and not just because he was Jewish). Nicodemus was a prominent and successful Pharisee. He was well-educated. He was respected and affluent. He was a tax-paying, law-abiding citizen—a man you’d be glad to have for a neighbor—a man who fits the bill for zip code 53217.

Nicodemus was also a skeptic. Notice, first of all, that he came to see Jesus at night. In the darkness, it was “safe” to visit the Savior. None of his fellow Pharisees would see him. He wouldn’t have to take a stand for or against Jesus since he came privately at night. And yet, Nicodemus was drawn to Jesus. And Jesus did not rebuke him or refuse to see him or answer his line of questioning. But those questions allowed Nicodemus to keep Jesus at arm’s length—allowed Nicodemus to be in control—to keep things on a theological level and to avoid getting too personal.

Nicodemus begins his conversation with Jesus with a little small talk and flattery. But Jesus has no time for that. His concern is bringing people into the kingdom of God—including skeptics like Nicodemus. Jesus goes right to the heart of the matter: “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.” Nicodemus attempts to steer in a different direction by launching the skeptic’s favorite question: How? “How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?” Jesus clarifies: “You must be born of water and the Spirit,” pointing Nicodemus to Holy Baptism. Once again, the skeptical Pharisee asks, “How? How can these things be?” Skeptics love “how” questions because there’s no end of them. It keeps everything hypothetical and theoretical and impersonal.

Sometimes we’re more like Nicodemus than we’d care to admit. Sometimes we too like our religion hypothetical and theoretical. It’s “safer” that way; because it doesn’t require anything from us—no repentance, no faith, no forgiveness for those who sin against us. It’s “safe” to be skeptical—always to be asking questions like, “How can this be? And how can that be?”

In fact, it’s far easier to stand around asking theological questions all day than actually to do what God requires and to believe what God promises. It’s easier to ask questions about when divorce is permissible than it is to actually love and honor the spouse God has given you. It’s easier to discuss adultery than it is to actually lead a sexually pure and decent life in what you say and do. It’s much easier to talk about God in the abstract than it is to fear Him, love Him, and trust Him as YOUR God—the God who created your body and soul—the God who redeemed you with His precious blood—the God who sanctifies you and shares His holiness with you so that you might be holy as He is holy. It’s so much easier to play the skeptic and ask, “How can this be?” than it is to speak from the heart and say, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” That sin has the power rightly to prevent us from ever entering the kingdom of God.

This is why you must be born again—born of water and the Holy Spirit. On your birthday you were born dead—stillborn in sin and separated from God. You may have topped the APGAR charts and been the best baby in the nursery. But flesh gives birth to flesh and you inherited your father Adam’s sin. You can’t fix it. You can’t compensate for it. You must be born again. And this is God’s gracious work in you. You didn’t get to decide when to be born the first time, and neither can you decide to be born again. God the Holy Trinity does it all.

What Christ accomplished for all the world in His cross and resurrection, He gives to you personally in the water of Baptism. Your baptism means that Christ was lifted up on the cross for you and for your sins—and in Him you have been lifted up to resurrection life. He doesn’t want your skepticism. He wants you to trust Him—to take Him at His Word.

Jesus came to be the Savior of all—to be the Savior of skeptics like Nicodemus. For all the diversions and all the objections that skeptics may raise, there is one perfect answer: “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through Him.” Let that sink in for a moment. In the face of a thousand questions, this we know for sure: God gave His Son for you—gave Him to bear your sins and to open the kingdom of heaven to all believers. The Triune God will stop at nothing to bring even you into His eternal kingdom.

Jesus Christ is the Savior of skeptics. Somewhere along the way, Jesus’ words and the Holy Spirit had their way with old Nicodemus—for Nicodemus shows up again at the end of John’s gospel. But this time He comes not as a skeptic by night; but He comes boldly as one who loved the Lord Jesus—who cared for the corpse of Jesus and laid Him to rest temporarily in the tomb. This was not the same Nicodemus. This was a new Nicodemus—a Nicodemus who knew what it was to be born again. Keep Nicodemus in mind when it comes to the skeptics you know and love. Commend them in prayer to the Holy Trinity. Always be prepared to give them an answer for the hope that you have in Jesus.

There was a time in my life when I would have been numbered among the skeptics—a time when I questioned even the most basic teachings of the faith—and did so with a spirit of pride and arrogance. But God, who is rich in mercy, rescued me from that hell of my own making. And as Jesus shows us today, that’s just what our God delights to do—to deliver us from always asking “how?” to confessing what we cannot explain—to believe that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ.

And, if you have questions, ask them. Ask them not as skeptics, but as sinners forgiven in the blood of the Lamb. Ask your questions as those who trust that the Holy Spirit will indeed lead us into all truth. Let’s keep asking our questions, but ever believing and always rejoicing that Jesus Christ is the Savior of skeptics.

Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit. Amen.

When the Helper Comes

In Nomine Iesu
St. John15:26-27; 16:4b-15
May 20, 2018
The Day of Pentecost B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

There are a lot of moving parts on this Pentecost Sunday—pieces of Pentecost are scattered all over the place. Today’s Scripture readings give us a dizzying swirl of details: We began in a valley of dry bones with the Prophet Ezekiel—bones eventually brought to life by the Word of God and the breath of His Spirit. In Acts chapter 2 we get a cacophony of fire and wind, and sermons spoken simultaneously

in a multitude of languages. And today’s Holy Gospel takes us to the night when Jesus was betrayed—when Jesus gave details about the work of the Holy Spirit, whom He called the “Helper” and the “Spirit of truth.” There’s a lot of good news to digest this day.

Two events in Milwaukee this past week can actually provide some clarity for us on this Pentecost Sunday. If you’ve traveled down I-94 through Oak Creek at all during the past year, then you’ve probably seen that big, blue building coming together. Ikea has come to Milwaukee. I’m sure you saw some of the coverage of their grand opening on Wednesday. In fact, I saw photographic evidence that some of you were there. A grand opening is an event designed to draw in big numbers of people, to generate interest and excitement, to make an impression on as many people as possible. Great deals, giveaways, balloons, live music, and media coverage are all part of the grand opening hoopla.

And so it is with Pentecost. The wind, the tongues of fire, the miracle of languages—these things were all ingredients of the Church’s great grand opening—the balloons and fireworks that marked the public opening of Christ’s end-times embassy on earth. That’s what the church actually is—a foreign embassy—in the world but not of the world—an outpost of heaven on earth, proclaiming the reign of Jesus, the King of kings and Lord of lords. And the Holy Spirit is the Divine Ambassador of this embassy sent to preach Christ crucified, to bear witness about Jesus, and to guide you into all truth.

But not every day can be a grand opening. Go to Ikea six months from now and there won’t be live music or giveaways or helicopters circling overhead. So, too, with Pentecost. The ongoing work of the Holy Spirit is not in the wind and the fire, or even the miraculous languages. That was for the grand opening. But the Spirit’s work continues among us today in ways both predictable and precious: in the Word, in Holy Baptism, and in the Holy Supper. Or as St. Luke summed things up post-Pentecost: “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ doctrine and the fellowship, to the Breaking of Bread and the prayers.” Those things are the enduring legacy of Pentecost; and we have them here today.

The Ikea grand opening had been scheduled and planned for a long time; but our pre-Pentecost week was also punctuated by the unexpected and devastating fire at Old Trinity on Tuesday. It was both terrifying and tragic to see that majestic edifice engulfed in flames—especially for those of us who have been there for special events in recent years. Now all that remains is a shell—bare bones made of masonry. Can those bones live again? Only the Lord knows.

But what we do know for sure is that the church—the one, holy, Christian and apostolic Church—has nothing to do with a church building, and everything to do with the Word of God enlivened by the Holy Spirit. As you read the account of Pentecost and the early church, there was no church building. The temple in Jerusalem was quickly becoming an Old Testament relic in a New Testament world. Church buildings are a wonderful convenience—a destination specially designed for preaching and singing and praying.

But for Christianity’s first three centuries there were next to no church buildings because Christianity was illegal; and those who trusted in Jesus Christ could only gather secretly, often in private homes. The fire at Trinity is a salutary reminder that we could lose the roof over our heads right now; and yet, led by our Good Shepherd, we would lack nothing. It’s a salutary reminder that this building won’t last forever—or that it could even be taken away from us at some point in the future by unfriendly forces. But Jesus will continue to build His church and the gates of hell will not prevail against it.

On this Pentecost Sunday we remember that Jesus has a “Helper” when it comes to building His church. And concerning this “Helper,” the Holy Spirit, Jesus made this amazing claim: “He will convict the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgment,” Jesus told them. “Concerning sin, because they do not believe in me; concerning righteousness because I go to the Father, and you will see me no longer; concerning judgment because the ruler of this world is judged.” Sin, righteousness, and judgment—these are the main concerns of the Holy Spirit.

He will convict the world concerning sin. Notice that it’s “sin,” not “sins.” The Holy Spirit isn’t at work simply to admonish us for our discreet faux paus of thought, word and deed. The Holy Spirit is working to convict and expose, not just individual sins, but to expose the total corruption that goes to the very core of our humanity. It renders everything we do sinful, no matter how good it may appear to us or to others. The Holy Spirit is not some heavenly principal into whose office you get called when you’ve broken the rules. The Spirit doesn’t deal with the symptoms as much as He diagnoses the disease called “sin.” We sin because we are sinners. That’s what the world needs convicting of, and we do too. Otherwise, we will begin to justify ourselves—which is the very thing that renders Jesus’ death and resurrection useless for us. Because if you can justify yourself and justify your sins, then what point is there in being justified for Jesus’ sake?

The Holy Spirit will also convict the world of righteousness. Sin is what we have; righteousness is what we lack—and we are naked without it. We need to be clothed—covered in a righteousness that is not our own. Our own righteousness won’t cut it—like when Adam and Eve tried to cover themselves with fig leaves. But self-stitched fig leaves are about as effective as the fig leaves of our own works.

God Himself must provide the clothing. God Himself—the Holy Spirit—must clothe us with the righteousness of Christ. Last week in Sunday school the children learned about how Jacob disguised himself to feel like and smell like his brother, Esau, and so obtain the blessing from his father, Isaac. When we are covered with the righteousness of our brother, Jesus, only then can we obtain our heavenly Father’s blessing.

This is the beating heart of what was proclaimed at Pentecost. This is why all the special effects were employed for that grand opening. Jesus Christ became our sin so that we might be covered in His righteousness—as a gift that we receive through faith. This is what Luther called the “great exchange.” And the engineer of that exchange—the Person who actually seals the deal for each of us personally—is the Holy Spirit. Our sin in exchange for the righteousness of Jesus. By this (and only this) you stand justified before God. Your sin is covered. Christ’s righteousness is yours.

The Holy Spirit will also convict the world concerning judgment. The collision of human sin and God’s righteousness is leading up to a moment of judgment for each of us. “It is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment” (Heb. 9:27). And as we regularly confess about the Christ, “He will come again with glory to judge both the living and the dead.” There will be a division—a separation of sheep and goats, of believers and unbelievers. This world in its present form is passing away. The devil would love to convince you otherwise, or to lead you to believe that you’re good enough and smart enough to face whatever the future may bring without help from anyone else—least of all the Holy Spirit.

Sin, righteousness, and judgment. These three things the world does not believe or even understand. These three things the Holy Spirit seeks to convict and convince the world of. And the Holy Spirit uses but one tool to accomplish this: the Word. Not tongues of fire or any other miraculous special effects. He does it all through the Word—through the gospel—the good news that Jesus Christ died for our sins and was raised again for our justification. By that good news the Holy Spirit has called you, gathered you, enlightened you, and sanctified you. He has made you a member of Christ’s holy church—the Communion of Saints. And on the last day He will raise up you and all the dead, and give to you and all believers in Christ eternal life. This is most certainly true. Happy Pentecost!

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Eleven Plus One

In Nomine Iesu
Acts 1:12-26
May 13, 2018
Easter 7B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

To fully appreciate and understand today’s sermon it’s necessary that you know a little math. It’s nothing too complex. You won’t need a calculator. All you need to know is this: Twelve minus one equals eleven; and eleven plus one equals twelve. And that’s it! No square roots. No numbers to borrow or carry over. None of that new math. Just twelve minus one equals eleven. And eleven plus one equals twelve.

During Jesus’ earthly ministry there were twelve—twelve men who were known as apostles—men who were called and sent by the Lord. Can you name all twelve? Some are quite memorable; others not so much. But what’s important is that there were twelve. Why twelve? Well, think back to the Old Testament, to the twelve sons of Israel, who eventually became the twelve tribes of Israel. Names like Reuben, Judah, and Benjamin should at least sound a little familiar. Back in the day, those twelve tribes constituted God’s chosen people—God’s kingdom on earth.

Could it be that in the New Testament Jesus chose twelve apostles because He was making a new Israel—a new kingdom, full of men and women who would live together under a new covenant that would be sealed with His blood shed on the cross? That number—twelve—signified completeness and perfection—the totality of God’s kingdom on earth. Through those twelve men called apostles—through their doctrine, through their preaching, through their baptizing and in the Breaking of the Bread—the Holy Spirit would bring people to faith in Jesus Christ and cause the one, holy, Christian and apostolic church to grow and blossom to the four corners of the earth. And it would all start with the Twelve on the day of Pentecost. But Pentecost is next Sunday.

Today as we pick things up in Acts chapter one, there are not twelve. Today’s first reading takes place during those ten days between Jesus’ Ascension and the coming of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost. And what we learn, first of all, is that there were not twelve, but eleven—eleven apostles. St. Luke spells out for us in rather graphic detail just what became of Judas—Judas who betrayed Jesus. The Twelve minus Judas equaled only eleven. And eleven simply would not do.

So the believers (there were about 120 of them) did what the Old Testament Scriptures directed them to do—they held a call meeting through which God would call a new man to take the place of Judas. A short list of two candidates was put forward. It was between Joseph and Matthias. First, they prayed. And then they cast lots. And the Lord chose Matthias. The Twelve minus Judas equaled only eleven. But the eleven plus Matthias equaled twelve. The Lord Jesus is not going to not have Himself a twelve! Matthias became apostle number twelve . . . and we never, ever hear of him again.

Why spill all this ink and all these words about Matthias? You can’t be much more of an also-ran than St. Matthias. Humanly

speaking he seems like second string material—almost an afterthought. (It’s kind of like being DeShone Kizer. Do you know who DeShone Kizer is? A couple of years ago he was the quarterback for Notre Dame. Last year he led the Cleveland Browns to an 0 and 16 season. And now—now he’s a Green Bay Packer, ready to start taking snaps when Aaron Rodgers gets a hangnail. You heard it here first. But I digress.) Couldn’t the miracle of Pentecost and the spectacular growth of the church all have taken place without this mystery man named Matthias? Couldn’t our Lord have gotten the job done without him? Couldn’t He have gotten by with just eleven? Well, of course, he could have, but He didn’t. Eleven plus one equals twelve. And the Lord always gets His twelve.

The selection of Matthias as the Lord’s man tells us two things. For one, it highlights the nameless, faceless, unknown servants who have been called by our Lord down through the ages to serve as His pastors. Some are well known. Some are ensconced in stained glass and iconography and statuary. But about most of these men we know next to nothing—like with Matthias. The fact that we heard everything about Matthias’s call, but nothing about his ministry just goes to show that the ministry is the Lord’s ministry. Those men called by God to fill this holy office are nothing in and of themselves—poor, miserable sinners. And yet our Lord uses them for holy purposes—to preach His Word in its truth and purity, to absolve penitent sinners, to administer the watery rebirth of Holy Baptism, and to feed those who hunger and thirst for righteousness with the very bread of life. The ministry into which Matthias was called continues today. It’s continued in this congregation for 85 years with men like Schwertfeger and Ankerberg and Wittmayer and Henrichs and Wohlrabe. These men aren’t apostles, but they are part of the "plus one" that our Lord uses to strengthen His saints and build His church.

And this is where you come in. You are the saints of the church. Eleven plus one equals twelve . . . Eleven plus one equals YOU! I said earlier that twelve signifies completeness, perfection, the totality of God’s church. And that’s you! You’re part of that twelve. You are one of the “plus ones” that our Lord has called to faith. To some, it might seem insignificant and minor that God called Matthias to get His twelve. But it was clearly important to our Lord—important enough that the Holy Spirit inspired Saint Luke to write about and record that first New Testament call meeting. And just as important is the fact that our Lord has made you a part of His perfect twelve—His holy church. Matthias also teaches us that God wants to grow His church—that His forgiveness and mercy is intended for all.

And this is all by grace. If our Lord kept a record of sins, who could stand? (Ps. 130). If our Lord counted and kept track and charged our every offense against us, then things would be far different. Instead of eleven plus one, the story of life in the church would be a story of minus one, and minus another and another and another. To each one of us the verdict would be “not good enough.” And our sentence would be separation from God and eternal death. And you do have the power to separate yourself from the Savior—to subtract yourself from the grip of His grace—by refusing to repent and by rejecting His love and His gifts.

But that’s not what Jesus wants. Jesus wants addition, not subtraction—to seek and save sinners, not to cast them out. He’s going to get His twelve. He has staked His life on getting His twelve. All of your worst—all of your sin that should rightly subtract you from the ranks of the redeemed—it was all laid upon Jesus. Do the math! Take the whole rotten load of your sin and multiply it by every human who has ever lived, and you’ll begin to see the burden Jesus bore on that dark day. They nailed Him to the cross. Jesus was cut off from the land of the living—subtracted from His Father’s presence. Jesus suffered hell as He hung derelict and damned as your sacred substitute.

But God raised Him from the dead—accepted His sacrifice on your behalf. The Bible says that Jesus is the “firstfruits” of those who sleep. That means that His resurrection is the first of many resurrections. To His resurrection will be added millions more—including your own resurrection. Our Lord will have Himself a Twelve—a new Israel—a holy church. And you will be there. Eleven plus one equals you . . . for all eternity!

Now, if you turn to the end of the Bible—to the book of Revelation—you will discover lots of numbers which signify and symbolize many different things. But in the book of Revelation the most significant number of all is perhaps 144,000. It’s symbolic. It corresponds to all those who will be saved by the blood of the Lamb, Jesus Christ. The math isn’t too hard, but I needed a calculator: Twelve times twelve is 144. And one thousand is ten cubed—ten times ten times ten—then times 144. It all adds up to 144,000. You can’t get a fuller, more complete, more perfect number than that. The 144,000 symbolize all those who are purchased, redeemed, and (best of all) blameless through faith in Jesus Christ. Among that great number will be you and me and, oh yes, Matthias. Don’t forget Saint Matthias. He’ll be there too. The Lord added Matthias to the eleven and got His perfect twelve. And the Lord has added you to His church to get His perfect 144,000. In Jesus Christ you’ve been added. You might not be remembered in stained glass or statuary; but you will be remembered by the Lord—remembered and loved and forgiven, now and forever. Amen.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

A Beginning, Not an Ending

In Nomine Iesu
Acts 1:1-11
May 10, 2018
The Ascension of Our Lord

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

The ascension of the Lord Jesus feels like an ending; but it’s really just the beginning. It feels like the grand finale. It seems

like the glorious conclusion to our Lord’s great work on our behalf—the final chapter in a story that is even older than the Bible itself. But it’s not.

For the past six months or so we’ve been giving careful attention to the earthly life of our Lord, beginning with His miraculous conception in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary. With the shepherds, we beheld Him in the manger as bone or our bone and flesh of our flesh. We worshipped with the Wise Men. We marveled at the twelve-year-old Wunderkind in the temple, running circles around the teachers of the Law. We took our place along the banks of the Jordan River as Jesus was baptized by John, fulfilling all righteousness and standing in solidarity with sinners. From there we walked with Him into the wilderness where He did battle with the devil as our sacred substitute. We went up to the mountaintop with Peter, James and John and beheld the glorious Transfiguration of Our Lord. We watched Him working wonders, stilling storms, healing multitudes, and even raising the dead. We heard Him predict His own death and resurrection. We took our place at the table of His body and blood and then watched as the worst unfolded—as Jesus was betrayed and denied, abandoned and executed. We said with the centurion that surely, this man was the Son of God. And forty days ago today we celebrated His resurrection from the dead—we heard the angel declare, “He is risen,” and together with Thomas, we have joyfully confessed that this Jesus is “my Lord and my God.”

Jesus has done it. And He has done it all for you. His ascension to the Father’s right hand certainly feels like an ending; but it’s really just the beginning—just the preface and prologue to something quite wonderful. That’s what Saint Luke was careful to note as he sat down under the Spirit’s inspiration to write what we know as the book of Acts. The book of Acts was Luke’s second volume—the sequel to the gospel that bears his name. And what he makes crystal clear in verse one of chapter one is this: the Ascension is not an ending, but a beginning. “In the first book,” writes Luke, “I have dealt with all that Jesus began to do and teach, until the day when He was taken up.” All that Jesus did and taught in the gospels—that was the beginning. Our Lord’s earthly life—from manger to cross to ascension—that was what Jesus began to do and to teach. The clear implication being that our Lord’s work continues. The doing and teaching of Jesus Christ have not concluded, but continue here in His church. The Ascension is not an ending, but a beginning.

And this truth means everything for us who live in these gray and latter days. This is why you have schlepped off to church on a Thursday evening in May—because here, tonight, in the Divine Service, the doing and teaching of our Lord Jesus Christ continue. That means that what goes on here isn’t merely a matter of being “traditional,” or of observing certain “symbolic” rites and rituals, or of merely “remembering” things that happened a long time ago. If that’s all that drew us together here tonight, then you might’ve been better off staying home to watch the Brewers game. But thankfully what draws us together tonight is Jesus Christ in the flesh, risen and ascended, who comes to serve sinners. He has washed us in the splash of Holy Baptism, giving us faith and forgiveness. He comes to us in the preaching and proclamation of His Word, in the cleansing cadence of Holy Absolution, and in the bread that is His body and in the wine that is His blood.

The ascension feels like the end, but it surely is not. The Lord Jesus continues to act and serve and teach. The ascension is not about the absence of Jesus, but His ongoing presence for us and for our salvation. This is why we are not without hope in a world gone mad. This is why we can know contentment and peace even as the world around us seems to careen out of control. The Lord Jesus isn’t finished. He hasn’t clocked out. The Ascension wasn’t a finale. Our Lord is with us still.

And we have work to do. Before His ascension, Jesus told His followers, “You will be my witnesses.” Empowered by the Holy Spirit and sustained by the life-giving gifts of Jesus, they would bear witness to Jesus. You too are witnesses of Jesus. This dying world needs your witness. To bear witness to Jesus doesn’t mean that you have to memorize a script and go knocking on the doors of strangers. Nor does it mean that you have to enroll in seminary. Being a witness for the Ascended Lord begins with being here—receiving here the gifts of Jesus—placing yourself directly in the path of His doing and His teaching—letting His Law and Gospel have its way with you—drawing your life from His life.

Of course, being a witness means more than merely parking your posterior in pew. Do you hold sacred what goes on here? Do you gladly hear and learn it? Do you treasure it, and keep it, and put it into practice? Or do you despise it by your lack of attention . . .or by your absence? What does it take to keep you away from the Divine Service? Sickness and bad weather are conundrums we can’t control. But what happens to our witness when we choose work over worship? What happens to our witness when we choose sports over the divine service? When we choose ease and entertainment rather than be inconvenienced by an early morning service? Being a witness means having the facts, and knowing the truth about Jesus. It means that your testimony is in alignment with the very first witnesses of Jesus whose testimony can be found in the pages of your New Testament. Come here and have your weak witness strengthened. Because here the risen and ascended Christ is at work for your eternal good. Here His deeds and words continue until the end of time. This is just the beginning.

There is, however, one thing that is finished. There is one thing concerning your life in Christ that is totally completed, concluded, and accomplished. Jesus has fulfilled and finished His most important work on your behalf—the work His Father sent Him to do: earning your salvation, bearing your sin, making peace between you and the Father, redeeming you with His precious blood. Concerning the completion of this critical work Jesus dispelled all doubt: It is finished. Jesus did it all—for you. Forgiveness, life and salvation, it’s all yours by grace, for Jesus’ sake, through faith. His resurrection and His ascension also trumpet this wonderful truth. Jesus lives and Him you too will live and reign forever. Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned. It’s just that simple.

The ascension of Jesus feels like an ending; but it isn’t. His work continues among us. His love for sinners knows no limit. His doing and His teaching are ongoing in your life. And, speaking of your life (and mine), there will come a day when it feels like the ending. There will come a time for each one of us when “earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away.” Our frail bodies will falter. Our senses will fail. It will seem like the end—the conclusion, the finale, the last chapter of your life. But things are not as they seem. What seems like the end we call “death” will actually be the beginning—the beginning of real life together with Christ. To die is gain. For the doing and the teaching of Jesus tell us just that. They will surely have their way with you. You will go where He has gone, live and reign with Him forever:

On Christ’s ascension I now build The hope of my ascension;
This hope alone has always stilled All doubt and apprehension,
For where the Head is, there as well I know His members are to dwell
When Christ will come and call them.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Love Wins

In Nomine Iesu
St. John 15:9-17
May 6, 2018
Easter 6B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

There a lot about love going on in today’s Holy Gospel. In fact, Jesus uses the word “love” nine times in nine verses. Last week we learned that Jesus is the vine and we are His fruit-bearing branches. It turns out that all the good fruit we bear can be classified and organized beneath this one, four-letter word: love.

But this love is no ordinary love. This love isn’t the fake, counterfeit love cultivated by social justice warriors. No, this love—real love—it flows from the Father to the Son to you—and, finally, from you to others. Jesus says, “Abide in my love. Stay there. Rest there. Dwell there.” Again, notice where real love begins—not in our hearts, not in our feelings, not in our decisions or choices, not by our initiative. True love—real love—begins in the heart of God the Father, from whom it then flows to the Son. It then flows to you from the Son by way of the cross, by way of the font, the altar, and the Word.

I’ve preached on this text many times over the years; but what struck me last week was how Jesus seems to intertwine His love together with His commandments. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love. . . . This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Now, a word is in order here about “keeping” the “commandments” of Jesus: It’s not quite what it sounds like. It sounds like a lot of law. Do this. Follow the rules. Obey. But “keeping” the commandments of Jesus is more than just obedience. It also means to treasure, to honor, to hold them in high esteem.

And the commandments of Jesus are not like the commandments of Moses. Jesus didn’t come to give more commandments. Strictly speaking, Jesus’ only commandment is to love one another. The commandments of Jesus, then, are actually His gifts—the very gifts that bring His love to us: the gift of Baptism, the gift of Holy Communion, the gift of His Word, the gift of Holy Absolution. Those things are what Jesus has “commanded” us. These are His gifts that we must always keep and treasure. By keeping them and treasuring them, we abide in His love. His love then has its way with us.

To really understand the love of Jesus, consider what was going on when He taught His disciples about love in today’s gospel reading. Jesus gave this profound teaching about love on the night when He was betrayed, gathered in the upper room with His disciples. Jesus had only hours to go before His crucifixion. He wasn’t feeling a lot of love from the Twelve that night. He knew that they would deny Him, betray Him, and abandon Him. But Jesus loves them anyway. He calls them not “servants,” but “friends.” He reminds them why they are sitting at the table with Him: It’s not because they made all the right choices and chose Him. No, He chose them. He appointed them. And He would fill their lives with love.

That’s the heart of God’s love. He takes the initiative. He chooses. He loves. He does not what is easy. He does what is difficult and hard and impossible for us. He chooses to love the loveless. He chooses to love His enemies. He chooses to love sinners and calls them His “friends,” and lays down His life for them, and eats and drinks with them, and forgives them. And He withholds nothing from us: “All that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you,” He says. You’ve got full access and privilege and a seat at the table. You are a friend of Jesus. And as a friend of Jesus you’ve got love—love to bear and love to share.

You may have noticed the title of this sermon: Love Wins. Love wins has become something of a hashtag slogan in the war against natural marriage in our country. It’s a sign of our cultural decay that love has now been divorced from its source—cut off from God. Jesus said that we abide in His love by keeping His commandments. But these days, in our culture, love has more to do with breaking God’s commandments than keeping them.

When our culture crows about how love wins, love has been completely redefined. Love now means “license,” the deadly “freedom” to do whatever I want—to insist on my own way over against God’s ways. But this so-called freedom is actually a form of enslavement—enslaving people to their feelings and emotions—enslaving them to every sinful, selfish inclination. Enslaving people to a barren existence driven by lust and the need to indulge every immoral thought. Love wins? I don’t think so—at least not this so-called love. Idolatry wins. Selfishness wins. And, ultimately, despair and death win.

But learn from Jesus what real love is: self-restraint, self-sacrifice, self-denial. Sitting with His disciples late that Thursday night, Jesus let loose one last prediction of what awaited Him—one final bit of foreshadowing: Greater love has no one than this, that someone lays down his life for his friends. That “someone” was the Son of Man. And His friends are gathered here this morning to receive His love, His forgiveness, His peace. That love—the love of Jesus that led Him to lay down His life for you—that love is the love that wins. That love wins for you forgiveness for every sinful self-indulgence. That love wins for you a place in the Father’s heavenly mansion—an eternal home in heaven, gathered around the throne of God in perpetual light and love.

This victory of Christ’s love in your life can already be seen here and now in the love you show to those around you. But don’t focus exclusively on your love for others. Because the more you focus on your love for others, the less of it you’ll see. That’s because love isn’t a skill that we practice and perfect—like playing the piano. Love is a fruit. It’s God’s work in us. So what do you do to be more loving? You fix your eyes on Jesus. You dwell in His love for you. You receive it. You keep it. You cherish it and treasure it. You plant yourself squarely in that stream of water and blood that flows from His side—blood from the chalice that atones for every sin, and water from the font that washes you whiter than snow.

This is how we love others with the love of Christ: By letting His love first have its way with us, and then having that love overflow to those around us. This love is what Jesus calls “fruit that abides,” or “fruit that lasts.” What a strange phrase that is: fruit that abides. If there’s one thing we know about the fruit in the produce department it’s this: It doesn’t abide. It’s not gonna last. Bananas turn black. Apples bruise. Mangoes get mushy and moldy. That fruit has a short shelf life because it’s been severed and cut-off from its source of life. Not so with you. Connected to Christ, abiding in Jesus, receiving His love and forgiveness—the love you bear will last into eternity—just as you will abide with Jesus for all eternity. Your shelf-life is eternal. In Christ, you have no expiration date. Because you are abiding in Him. You are His friend. He has chosen you. Love wins in Jesus.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.