Peddler of Purple: Woman of Faith

In Nomine Iesu
Acts 16:9-15
May 26, 2019
Easter 6C

Dear Saints of Our Savior~

If you’ve travelled to Europe, then you know there’s no other continent quite like it. One of our members—Deaconess Kim Bueltmann—lives in Europe, serving as a missionary to refugees in Leipzig, Germany. From Portugal to Poland, from Finland to Italy, Europe has much to see and experience. Churches are among the chief sights to see in Europe. Steeples, stained glass, gothic gargoyles and flying buttresses are everywhere. (The world stopped and wept a few weeks ago when Paris’s Notre Dame Cathedral went up in flames.)

For many of us, our ancestors came from Europe. And as Lutheran Christians, our ancestors in the faith came from the land of Luther and Bach—regions of the Reformation, where the Gospel was rediscovered and purified.

But, in all of this, it’s easy to forget that Christianity didn’t originate in Europe. Christianity’s continent of origin is Asia. Today’s first reading tells the tale of how the faith once delivered to the saints was first proclaimed on European soil—and it has everything to do with a peddler of purple goods named Lydia. There’s much to learn from Lydia.

It was no fluke—no random coincidence—that Lydia was converted to Christianity. For the mission trip that led to her conversion was orchestrated and directed by the Holy Spirit. Paul had a vision in the night of a man in Macedonia urging him and saying, “Come over to Macedonia and help us.” Paul concluded that this was a message from the Lord and immediately made plans to sail to Macedonia. Wouldn’t it be nice if all of our evangelism efforts were so clear cut and definitive—God not only telling us to go, but also where and when to go—with perfect clarity?

Some of you might have trouble locating Macedonia on a map; others would at least know it to be a region of modern-day Greece. But, for our purposes this morning, all you really need to know is that Greece is located on the continent of Europe. Today’s reading from Acts tells of the very first time the gospel was being preached on European soil. And Lydia just happened to be the first person to be converted and

baptized in Europe—perhaps at the very spot pictured on the front of today’s bulletin cover—on the “Lydia River” outside the city of Philippi.

Lydia probably wasn’t the typical woman of the First Century. Luke tells us that she was a dealer in purple cloth. Purple cloth is nothing extraordinary today. But in those days, purple dye was a costly color that could only be drawn from a tiny drop extracted from the shell of a snail that lived on the coast of Canaan. This is why purple was considered the color of royalty—because only royalty could afford it.

This is also why it’s safe to assume that Lydia was a woman of means—a wealthy woman—a business woman whose home was big enough that the church at Philippi would eventually gather for worship in her living room (16:40).

But when Paul first showed up at Philippi (in Macedonia) there was no Christian church at all. There wasn’t even a Jewish synagogue. Lydia and her household were Jewish. Unfortunately, it took a minimum of ten Jewish men to establish a synagogue. Apparently that threshold couldn’t be met. That’s why Lydia and her posse, along with other women, had to gather at the river for worship. But Paul began to speak to the women gathered there—telling them the good news about Jesus—that He was crucified for our offenses and raised again for our justification—that Jesus was the Lamb of God long foretold, in whom there was life and salvation for all. That good news had its way with Lydia. The Lord opened her heart to respond to Paul’s preaching of Christ crucified, and she and her entire household were baptized right then and there. “If you consider me a believer in the Lord,” she said, then “come to my house and stay.”

Let no one tell you that women are second-class members of the Christian church. Close your ears to all that hogwash about sexism and patriarchy pervading Christianity. Oh, there have been individual men in the church who behaved badly; but learn from Lydia that in the church of Jesus Christ no one—male or female, father or mother, single or married—no one is a second class citizen. Under the Old Covenant rules of Judaism it took ten men to start a synagogue. (That is patriarchy!) In the church of Jesus Christ it took one determined, devout woman down by the river to open up her heart and her home so that the good news of Jesus could begin to cross a new continent and make its way to the ends of the earth, and eventually into your ears and into your heart, here and now.

Doesn’t our own experience show this to be true—that it’s often the devout and devoted women of the church who work the hardest—who are most eager to share the faith with others—who recognize the importance of faith in the family, and who most readily teach that faith to their children and grandchildren through songs and Bible stories? Lydia’s love for the Lord lives on today—lives on in the women of this congregation and in many of our own mothers and grandmothers.

But all of us—women and men—have even more to learn from Lydia. For once Lydia came to believe in Christ as her Savior, she immediately did what she could to support the work of the church. Without hesitation she opened up her home to Paul and Silas—and later to all the new Christian converts in Philippi. For Lydia, there was an urgency—an intensity—about her faith in Christ. Her faith didn’t take a back seat to anything—to school or sports or career.

Beloved in the Lord, we need that urgency and that intensity when it comes to our faith today. Our membership in the Christian church comes with more privileges—and more responsibilities—than any other vocation we have. Lydia was a woman of means who fully utilized and leveraged those means to benefit the work of the Lord. We have a congregation that is filled with people of means—talented, gifted, generous people. But where is the intensity? Where is the urgency? Too often what we hear in the church is, “It’s not my job. It’s not my job to teach Sunday school. It’s not my job to greet visitors. It’s not my job to fix this or repair that. It’s not my job to solve that problem or play the peace-maker.”

Why the hesitation? Why keep our baptismal life in Christ boxed in and under wraps—carefully contained and camouflaged? It’s our own sinful nature that deadens us—drawing us downward into apathy where all of our God-given callings are concerned. As parents and family members—as citizens and neighbors—as Saints of Our Savior—we are constantly pulled to abdicate our high and holy callings—to let someone else do it—to give up on good works, while leaving plenty of time for soul-deadening, faith-destroying sin.

But not Lydia. The Lord opened Lydia’s heart and led her to say “yes” to the challenges faced by the church, and to invest herself in the life of the church. You and Lydia have so much in common—things like one Lord, one faith, one baptism. It was the Lord who opened Lydia’s heart. That same Lord is working and knocking on the door of your heart. Are you looking and listening and answering? Will you say yes? Will you invest yourself like Lydia? Will you follow Lydia’s lead? And don’t say to yourself, “Well, nobody’s asked me to do anything.” Nobody asked Lydia either. She was smart enough to see what the needs were; and she told Paul and Silas, “You’re coming to my house.”

The thing that made all the difference for Lydia is the same difference-maker for you. You might have missed it in the fine print of today’s reading, but it’s right there in black and white: “Lydia and the members of her household were baptized.” It sounds so routine—so ordinary. But that baptism brought life and liberty to Lydia. It freed her from her sins—washed them away in the cleansing water of Christ’s forgiveness.

Your baptism is a reminder that your life is rich with God’s plans and purposes. He’s always knocking, always guiding, always inviting. No, you may not receive a vision telling you to leave tomorrow for Macedonia. But tomorrow you may cross paths with someone who is hurting, and you can listen with the compassion of Jesus. You can tell them that your church is place of hope and invite them to come along. No, you might not be asked to open your home to missionaries like Lydia did, but when the offering plate comes your way in a few minutes, you’ll have an opportunity to provide housing for missionaries, to educate pastors, and to take your place in spreading the kingdom of God to the ends of the earth—just like Lydia.

Lydia was loved by the Lord; and that love had its way with Lydia. That same love can have its way with you too. It’s a love that stretches from the manger to the cross to the open tomb of Easter—all the way to the New Jerusalem with streets of gold where the light of the sun and moon is simply not needed. That’s where you’re headed by grace, through faith, for Jesus’ sake.

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

Shepherds of the Good Shepherd

In Nomine Iesu
Acts 20:17-35
May 12, 2019
Easter 4C

Dear Saints of Our Savior~

On this day we remember a very special person in our lives. This person has cared for us in special ways—comforted and encouraged us, corrected and disciplined us. We’ve been fed by this person. We’ve been taught by this person. And yet, strangely enough, none of us got to choose this special person to be a part of our lives. God Himself chose this person for you. God gave this special person to each and every one of you.

Yes, today is the special day when we celebrate shepherds—pastors—the men God has placed in your life to care for you in special ways. (Pastors rank right up there with mothers!) Today is “Good Shepherd Sunday,” but today’s reading from Acts 20 puts the spotlight squarely on the shepherds of the Good Shepherd—on the pastors of our Lord Jesus Christ. But I suspect you knew we would be celebrating the shepherds of the Good Shepherd today, because you’ve given your shepherd the best gift he could hope for: you have come here to receive the gifts your shepherd has been called to give you.

Just to be clear: “Pastor” and “Shepherd” are synonyms. Pastor is the Latin word for “shepherd.” And today’s reading from Acts 20 is a beautiful commentary on the relationship between a pastor and his flock. In this reading, St. Paul is preaching to pastors from the city of Ephesus. But you might not have realized that since the word “pastor” never appears. Instead, they are called “elders” and

“overseers.” And these men are told “to shepherd” the church of God. Elder, overseer, shepherd—in the New Testament these titles are used interchangeably for what we today call “pastors.” And interestingly enough, this “sermon” from Paul to pastors is the only address of his in the entire book of Acts which is directed at believing Christians. Every other address of St. Paul’s is lovingly aimed at those outside the church—always with the hope of bringing those outsiders inside the church.

These words to pastors are important words for all of us—for the whole church. Paul described how his own work as a shepherd had been characterized by tears and trials. Most pastors I know would echo that to some degree. There are few callings more humbling than this one. Every day pastors are reminded that they don’t have what it takes—not the wisdom, not the intelligence, not the charisma, not the energy—to be shepherds of the Good Shepherd. Our own weaknesses and shortcomings are ever before us. Yet, in the midst of our weakness, we also experience the power of God. We discover that His grace is always sufficient.

Paul reminded those pastors of how he had declared to them “the whole counsel of God.” Everything that the Lord had delivered to Paul, Paul had faithfully delivered to them. Not just the highlights. Not just a few bullet points or Powerpoint slides. But all the doctrinal details—the whole counsel of God—in a variety of times and places, sometimes one-on-one.

This seems like as good a time as any to remind you—the sheep I serve—that I’m here to apply the Word of God to your life—not just as I stand in the pulpit—but at other times and places throughout the week. Do you have a problem? Is something keeping you awake at night? Are you fighting depression? Is your conscience troubled? Are you struggling to do the right thing—or even to know what the right thing is? You have a shepherd on stand-by—ready and willing to listen, to encourage, to correct and comfort, to pray with you, to advise you, to carefully apply God’s Word to your particular problem, for your eternal good. Call. Email. Text. Let’s set something up. Let’s talk, sheep to shepherd.

Now, some of you might be asking, “Who does this guy think he is? Why does what he says have any authority in my life?” Good questions. The answer is found in today’s sermon for shepherds. St. Paul reminded all of those pastors from whence their authority came—that the Holy Spirit had made them overseers, or pastors. That’s terribly important. It’s a reminder that pastors are pastors—that they serve where they serve—because they have a divine call—because the Holy Spirit has orchestrated the whole thing. This congregation has two pastors with a divine call. That means that when you get weary of hearing our voices you can at least take comfort in knowing that these pastors and this congregation are nevertheless a match made in heaven. And likewise for the pastors, it’s comforting to realize that whatever tears and trials we may face here at Our Savior—we’re supposed to be here—come hell or high water.

It’s not always easy to appreciate the shepherds God sends. Every pastor has strengths and weaknesses. As one man told me many years ago, shortly after I arrived here: “Pastor, we’re so glad you’re here. We could have done so much worse.” A colleague in the ministry once had a lady tell him that each one of his sermons was “better than the next,” which, when you think about it, isn’t all that encouraging.

In Acts chapter 20 Paul also reminded the Ephesian pastors of precisely why God had made them pastors. This is the bottom line: “Be shepherds of the church of God, which he obtained with his own blood.” The church doesn’t belong to pastors—not to me and not to you either. It is the church of God. You, my dear sheep, have been bought and paid for with the blood of Jesus Christ. In that blood you have everything: sins forgiven, heaven opened, life everlasting. As sheep of the Good Shepherd, you are precious and priceless. No one else may ever tell you that—how valuable and treasured you are in Jesus—that no matter how much fear and failure you may encounter in this life, you can let it all go, and live each day in the quiet confidence that Jesus Christ is risen from the dead and that in Him you too will rise. You’ve been washed in the quiet waters of Holy Baptism. A meal of Jesus’ body and blood has been prepared before you. You are a child of God—a sheep for whom the Good Shepherd laid down His life, only to take it up again. And I, as a shepherd of the Good Shepherd, have the high and holy privilege of giving you that sure and certain encouragement and hope—week in and week out.

We all need that good news because we live in a fallen world—a bad-news-world of cross-bearing and struggles. You certainly get a sense for that in what Paul told those Ephesian pastors—how he anticipated imprisonment and afflictions—how he knew that fierce wolves would attack the flock—how men “speaking twisted things” would draw many away from Jesus and His church. We live in similar times, to be sure. Our culture has so twisted and distorted God’s gifts of marriage and sexuality and life that what used to seem absurd and crazy just a few years ago is now the law of the land. And you and I—we will be made to care—or rather, forced to care, forced to conform, forced to abandon and deny what we know to be good and true. Or else, we will face the consequences. And make no mistake, that day of reckoning is coming for each of us sooner than we know.

How can we in this flock prepare for that? Again, listen to Paul: “And now I commend you to God and to the word of his grace, which is able to build you up and to give you the inheritance among all those who are sanctified.” As long as I can speak, I will use this shepherd’s voice to speak to you the “word of his grace,” the good news of Jesus. I will remind you that you have a Good Shepherd who gives you eternal life. In him you will never perish, and from His nail scarred hands no one can snatch you away. I will remind you that although it seems that you are part of a tiny shrinking flock on earth, yet you will one day take your place in heaven among a great multitude that no one can number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, who stand before the throne and the Lamb, clothed in white robes, washed in the blood of the Lamb, having come out of the great tribulation, with every tear wiped away.

That’s your destiny in Jesus, your Good Shepherd. In him you lack nothing. In Him you will be safely escorted right through the valley of the shadow of death. And in him, you shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Amen.

More Easter, More Jesus

In Nomine Iesu
St. John 21:1-14
May 5, 2019
Easter 3C

Dear Saints of Our Savior,
And especially Tyler, Alexandra, Meredith, Elisabeth, Tyler and Greta,
on this the day of your Confirmation~

Just when you thought Easter was over, it turns out there’s more Easter—more Jesus. Just as the jellybeans are finally finished, and as the Easter lilies are well on their way to becoming Easter stems, it turns out we have more Easter to go—more Jesus to receive.

It would have been fine with me to wrap up Easter last Sunday. John chapter 20 would have been the perfect ending to a perfect story. There the Risen Christ appeared to His fearful disciples, showed them His wounds, breathed His Holy Spirit on them, authorized them to forgive sins or to withhold forgiveness, and sends them on their way. He comes back a week later to drag faithless Thomas into the joy of the resurrection; and Thomas confesses Jesus as “Lord and God.”

Then, at the end of chapter twenty, we have what, for all intents and purposes, sounds like a carefully crafted conclusion: Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of His disciples which are not written in this book; but these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in His name. And everyone lived happily ever after. Close the curtain, cue the music, roll the credits. It’s a great place to click “save” and press “print.” It’s the perfect place to end the greatest story ever told.

But then you turn the page and BOOM! You get more—a whole chapter more! More Easter and more Jesus! Just when you’re ready to close the book on Easter, there’s yet another resurrection appearance of our Lord. Perhaps the Holy Spirit wants to teach us that Easter has no end—that Easter continues so that it can be preached into yours ears—so that you can become part of the story as one who hears and believes—until you, like Thomas, confess Jesus as “my Lord and my God,” and take your place around the throne of the Lamb, with angels and archangels, singing, “Worthy is Christ, the Lamb who was slain!”

Confirmation Sunday is the perfect day to remember that there remains more Easter, and more Jesus. Because for the six of you being confirmed today, this all probably feels like something of an ending—a thrilling conclusion. Your whole life, beginning with your baptism into Christ, has been leading up to the events of this day. Your parents, grandparents, sponsors, and pastors have prayed for you (and prayed with you), taught you, and brought you to the Lord’s holy house—all so that you might confess your faith in the Father, Son and Holy Spirit—so that you might eat and drink our Lord’s body and blood in His Holy Supper. And today is, in many ways, the fulfillment of all those hopes and all those prayers.

A fulfillment, yes; but not an ending. Not a conclusion. Not a graduation. Confirmation Sunday is simply an invitation to turn the page—to dive into the next chapter of the life of faith—where you will be delighted to discover more Easter, and more Jesus.

That’s exactly what seven of Jesus’ disciples discovered in today’s Holy Gospel. They had all decided to go fishing. But remember,

in the gospels “fishing” is never just “fishing.” It’s about much more than Walleye and Perch. It was just at daybreak on the Sea of Galilee. The disciples had been out fishing all night but hadn’t caught a thing. Now, if you know your New Testament, this should all be sounding a bit familiar. It ought to remind you of the day when Jesus first called many of these men to be His disciples—when, after an unproductive night of fishing Jesus sent them back onto the lake, and directed them to a miraculous, boat-sinking load of fish. And then He told them, “From now on, you’re going to be fishers of men—you’re going to catch people.” So also, in today’s account a stranger on the beach gives a few directions regarding their nets, and within minutes another miraculous catch has materialized. And for the disciples, the light goes on: This is the Lord Jesus!

The whole scene is kind of like a catechism class for the disciples. In fact, did you catch how Jesus addressed them as “children?” Even after years of following Jesus and listening to His teaching and witnessing His miracles—these men still had more to learn. All disciples of every age—be they pastors or mere middle-schoolers—have more to learn from Jesus and His Word. We’re all children in the faith in need of guidance, instruction, protection, and of course, forgiveness of sins.

One of the things Jesus is teaching His little confirmation class is that His Word gets results. When Jesus orders the disciples to cast their nets on the right side of the boat, and then prompts 153 fish to swim to their deaths, Jesus is telling us all to trust Him. Do what Jesus says. It sounds so simple, so basic—but it’s really, oh, so hard! Do what Jesus says. Do it His way. Trust Him. Even when it doesn’t make any sense because you’ve been fishing all night and haven’t caught a thing—even when doing it Jesus’ way seems like a waste of time and energy—even when doing it Jesus’ way means you will suffer loss, maybe lose respect, be mocked and ridiculed—just do it.

Today Jesus invites us to take Him at His Word—to believe what He says about marriage as the lifelong union of one man and one woman, about how every human being is created in the image of God as male or female, about the importance of forgiving those who sin against us, about being content with what you have and speaking the truth in love. Listen to what the Lord is saying. Take Him at His Word. Trust Him. Lean not on your own understanding.

To ignore Jesus—to shut His Word out of your life—to make up your own rules—that’s the path of idolatry. And where that path leads, you do not want to go. And you don’t have to. For the mystery man on the beach calling the shots this morning—He’s the crucified one, the Lamb of God. He’s the one who died, bearing all of your sin—the disobedience, the rebellion, the idolatry, the stubborn, heard-hearted refusal to trust Him. For all that and more, Jesus bled and died. He did it in your place, as your sacred substitute—so that you might know forgiveness and life that lasts forever.

When the disciples finally make landfall on the beach, guess what they find? More Easter, more Jesus. The Risen Christ is there waiting and He’s got more to teach them. He’s got breakfast waiting for them. But this is not a lesson in nutrition. The bread and fish our Lord serves up should remind you of the time when Jesus miraculously fed five thousand—and the other time He fed four thousand. Jesus has come to feed His people.

Jesus also wants us to think of another meal—the Lord’s Supper—when you and I are the invited guests and Jesus is the host. Here at this altar the Lord Jesus takes our bread and wine and makes it so much more—His own body and blood—to bring us faith and forgiveness. Jesus takes our gifts and makes them His gifts—and with His gifts there is always more—more forgiveness, more joy, more Easter.

The results were very good that morning at the beach: 153 fish. Someone took the time to count them all and write down the number. That’s a lot of fish. When we manage to get 153 people here in this room on a Sunday morning—that makes for a very good attendance. Is that number significant? One church father suggested that in the First Century there were exactly 153 species of fish known to man. Another suggested that there were exactly 153 tribes, languages and nations on the earth. How accurate those interpretations are I cannot say. But, they do point us in a direction that is sure and certain: Jesus wants to catch everybody in the good news of His death and resurrection. He wants to let down the nets of the gospel into every neighborhood and family, every tribe and language and nation and people, because what Jesus did for us and for our salvation—He did for the whole world.

And on this Confirmation Sunday it brings us great joy to know that among all the nations and peoples among whom our Lord has cast the nets of His gospel, six souls in particular have been hauled up and brought into the boat with Jesus. Tyler, Alexandra, Meredith, Elisabeth, Tyler, and Greta have been redeemed by Christ the crucified. They have been baptized in His name. They have been delivered from death to life. They have been made worthy to receive the holy food of this Holy Supper. What does the future hold for them? What do they have to look forward to? What will they discover in the chapters that lie ahead? May it always be . . . more Easter, more Jesus!

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