St. Luke 3:1-14
December 9, 2018
Advent 2C
Dear Saints of Our Savior~
You know you’re right in the heart of Advent when John the Baptist shows up. John stands guard along the border of Advent. He’s an army of one on patrol. He’s determined to hold back the forces of Christmas—to keep the seasons of Advent and Christmas separate. He wants to make Advent great again. He’s determined to build a wall around Advent; and he’s going to make Santa and the elves pay for it.
Just when you were about to have a holly, jolly Christmas with roasting chestnuts and sleigh bells—along comes John. And suddenly all the fun seems to drain right out of the season. John is the great buzz-kill of holiday cheer. He’s Kryptonite to the Christmas spirit—the Scrooge who bah-humbugs all the silly sentimentality of the season. He’s edgy, unkempt, and hopelessly out of fashion. Undomesticated, uncivilized, and untamable—John is a figure right out of the Old Testament. He sure looks the part—dressed up like Elijah in camel’s hair and leather. He is the fore-runner, the way-preparer, the messenger who goes before the Lord to fill the valleys and level the mountains.
John sounds almost mythical—like the Paul Bunyan of the Bible. But while John might seem larger than life, he’s the real deal. He came at a particular time and place. Luke records the moment with absolute precision: In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judea, and Herod being Tetrarch of Galilee, and his brother Philip the Tetrarch of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias Tetrarch of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas. Wow, that could all be a really tough category on Jeopardy: Alex, I’ll take “famous figures from First Century Palestine” for $100. But this is history, my friends. Luke is giving us the facts—not some legend that happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. He tells us when, where and who. Human history was positively pregnant with God’s promise of salvation. John came at precisely the right time to prepare the way for the Lord.
But how, exactly, do you prepare the way of the Lord? How do you make Advent great again? In one word: REPENT! Turn away from your sin. Turn away from yourself. Repent and turn to the Lord. You were going along the wide and broad path to destruction; now go the other way—the Lord’s narrow way. Lose the notion that you’re somehow better than most people, or that you can somehow bribe God and butter Him up and get on His good side with your prayers and offerings. Repent of who you are, and what you’ve done, and what you’ve failed to do. Repent. See yourself as the sinner you are.
But right there, together with repentance, is also baptism. John preaches a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. Up to that point, baptism had been unheard of in Israel. There were ceremonial washings, yes; but none that were done to you by another person. The Lord was preparing to do something new, and His people needed to be cleansed of their sin—bathed in forgiveness—washed with the promises of God. Repentance and baptism go together: You repent by being baptized, and you live as God’s baptized child by daily repentance.
But John wasn’t so tactful in his proclamation of this. He was like a bull in a china shop. He minced no words. He wasn’t warm and winsome. When the crowds came out to him for baptism, John didn’t take attendance and pass the offering plate. He called them a bunch of slithering snakes. “Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Who do you think you are? And don’t try to pad your religious resume by saying, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ God could care less.” The ax, John declared, was already at the root of the Israelite tree. The fire was already kindled. “Any tree that doesn’t bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.”
But John also taught the people exactly what repentance looks like. Turns out, repentance isn’t just a guilty feeling. John didn’t say, “You’re a terrible sinner so don’t even try to do the right thing.” Nor did he say, “You’re justified by grace through faith, so forget about needing to do good works.” No, John taught them exactly what this new life of repentance should look like: You share. Share your clothing with those who have none. Share your food with the hungry. Do your jobs and serve in your vocations with honesty and integrity. Be fair. Be content. It’s simple stuff that most of us learned from our mothers or in Kindergarten. It’s simple; but it’s not easy.
I like to imagine what John would say to us gathered here this morning. We wouldn’t enjoy it very much. Repent, you brood of slithering Lutherans. Repent of your complacency, your excuses, your laziness and your hypocrisy. And don’t you dare say, “We have Martin Luther as our father, for God is able from these lifeless, wooden pews to fashion all the Lutherans He wants. Repent of your shallow thankfulness, your complaining and whining, your ingratitude for the Word of God and for Jesus’ body and blood. Start living like the baptized children of God—like the holy people God has made you to be in Christ. John would make it clear that God’s highway runs right through the middle of our being—right through our hearts and minds. And that’s why this Advent encounter with John is so uncomfortable and awkward. It’s personal. We see the truth about ourselves; and we don’t always like what we see. This is what it means to make Advent great again.
And right about at this point—just as we’re ready to say with St. Paul that nothing good dwells in this flesh of ours—just then, Jesus comes. His way into your heart has been prepared. He who began a good work in you through baptism and repentance will surely bring it to completion. Jesus specializes in saving broken sinners. A broken and contrite heart He cannot and will not despise.
It turns out that all the fire—all the brimstone—all the judgment that John proclaimed—it wasn’t just an empty threat. It wasn’t just hyperbole either. For this, also, is why Jesus came. The axe that was laid at the root of Israel—that axe fell upon Jesus. The wrath of God that threatens our damnation—that wrath also fell upon Jesus. The fire of God’s judgment—that judgment was aimed and discharged against Jesus. Jesus’ crucifixion cross became like a barren, fruitless tree; and so God cut it down together with Jesus. “He who knew no sin became sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.” We do the crime, but Jesus gets the punishment. Jesus lives the perfect life, and we get the credit. And all this, by grace, through faith in Jesus.
All that Jesus accomplished in His death and resurrection—that river of blessings and faith and forgiveness—it has all come pouring into your life through the miracle of your baptism. Watered by that baptism, you have become a good tree bearing good fruit, for the life of the whole world. And if you’re not feeling all that fruitful, then repent—confess the ways you’ve fallen short. Make Advent great again! And then come to Supper. Come to be fed and nourished. Come to where the Savior’s body and blood are given for your healing.
It’s Advent. Time to prepare the way for the Lord. So let’s make Advent great again. Don’t be afraid of John or his harsh preaching or his baptism. He’s a good and faithful preacher who wants the best for you in Jesus. To Jesus he points us—in the Word, in the water, in the bread and wine. Get ready. Prepare the way. Jesus is coming.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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