"Their Angels"

Jesu Juva
St. Matthew 18:1-11
September 29, 2019
St. Michael & All Angels

Dear Saints of Our Savior~

Listen, I tell you a mystery. A wonderful and glorious mystery is hidden in plain sight today. The catechism teaches us to pray concerning this mystery—every morning and every evening: Let your holy angel be with me that the evil foe may have no power over me. What are we asking for in that mysterious sentence? I asked the young people in my confirmation class about that sentence last

week. They came up with a handful of thoughtful and creative interpretations—but not the simple, plain and obvious meaning.

The simple, plain and obvious meaning is provided by Jesus in today’s holy gospel. There Jesus—almost as an afterthought—lets us in on a profound mystery concerning His holy angels. In Matthew 18 Jesus isn’t even teaching about angels. He’s teaching about the importance of humility—the importance of having a faith that is child-like and “giveable to.” Then He says: 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.

Did you catch that? Concerning those little ones with a child-like faith, Jesus used the phrase, “their angels.” “Their” is a possessive pronoun. It often implies possession or ownership. But that’s not what it means here. These little ones with a child-like faith—they don’t “possess” or “own” angels. But rather, an angel has been assigned to each one of them. Their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven. Or, as it says in Psalm 91: He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways (91:11).

And Jesus says that this angel assignment—it goes, first and foremost, to little ones—not to those who already possess a faith that can move mountains—not to those with big, bulging with spiritual muscles—but to those who are little and weak. The disciples wanted to overlook those weak and frail followers of Jesus as being rather unimportant. But Jesus makes it clear that they are so important that each one of them has an angel assigned to them. The same angels who delight to gaze upon the face of the Father in heaven, also delight to look out for the little ones here on earth.

So be careful not to look down on those little ones in the kingdom of God. Don’t despise those who are apparently not part of the top-tier of disciples—those who are not “movers and shakers” in the church—those with special needs, the children, the poor, those who aren’t super smart, those who struggle with mental illness, the aged, the widow, the weak and the frail, those who don’t have popularity or persuasive powers or friends in high places. Don’t despise them. Don’t look down on them. Don’t make fun of them. For they are so important in the kingdom of God that they have an angel—a holy angel—assigned to them. You must learn to see them as God sees them—as so precious and so important to the King of Heaven that He has assigned one of heaven’s finest soldiers to guard them in all their ways.

But there’s more. There’s more to this mystery! For when Jesus speaks of “little ones” in Matthew 18 He doesn’t just mean children—but also those adults who have become like children in the kingdom of God. To be a child in the kingdom of God means that you depend on God as a little child depends on his parents—that you trust God like a child—that you expect God to tend and care for you—and that you are gladly and joyfully ready to receive whatever God gives you.

Listen, I tell you a mystery. You became such a little one—you became such a child—when you were baptized into Christ. Baptized, He forgave you all your sins. Baptized, He gave you His Holy Spirit to fill you with joy and peace. Baptized, He clothed you in His own perfect righteousness. And yes, baptized, He has assigned to you an angel to watch over you and keep you—to guide you and guard you in all your ways. Angels are no myth from the world of fiction, but a solid promise of Jesus: Their angels always see the face of My Father who is in heaven.

And this, beloved in the Lord, is why we pray: Let your holy angel be with me that the evil foe may have no power over me.

Your angel is as real as “the evil foe” is also real. The evil one wants to destroy your child-like faith in Christ by drawing you into his hatred for God and railing against how unfair He is. The evil one wants you to share in his misery not just here in this life, but eternally in hell. He hates you with a passion because God thinks you are so important that He has assigned His holy angels to guard and protect you—because God sent His own Son to earth to be like you—to become a humble and weak human being—frail flesh and blood—to bear your sin and be your Savior. The evil one rages and rails at the thought that you—a sinner like you!—are so precious and valuable to the God of heaven. In truth, he is jealous of you!

You may never see the angel assigned to you; but you can learn from your angel. See what the angels see. Look at what they look at. Gaze with them at the face of the Father. Sing with them as they sing their praise for the Lamb who was slain. Delight with the angels to celebrate the Savior’s love for us when He took on our flesh and blood in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary and came and lived among us. Stand in awe with the angels at the Holy Supper of our Lord’s precious body and blood. Remember and rejoice with the angels at how Jesus humbled Himself and allowed Himself to be crucified for us, trampled down by death, and how He rose again to destroy the power of death for all who are joined to Him by faith.

Learn from your angel to adore the Lord Jesus Christ. His is the story they delight to tell. His is the praise they delight to sing. And in Him they have found the source of endless joy and perfect peace.

Listen, I tell you a mystery.
Your angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven.
Lord, let at last Thine angels come.

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


Based on a sermon by the Rev. William Weedon

Shrewd Stewards

Jesu Juva
St. Luke 16:1-15
September 22, 2019
Proper 20C

Dear Saints of Our Savior~

It has to be one of the strangest parables Jesus ever told: The Parable of the Dishonest Manager, which you heard a few minutes ago. Last week was easy: The Parable of the Lost Sheep, featuring Jesus as the Good Shepherd seeking and saving the single, solitary lost sheep. Sheep on the shoulders and home we go, rejoicing. We get that.

But money is the topic of today’s parable. Right away, that makes some of us uneasy. But there’s nothing wrong with money. Money is a good thing. It’s God who gives us our money. The love of money is the root of all evil. Idolatry is evil. Greed is evil.

Coveting is evil. But money—viewed rightly and managed wisely—is always a blessing for the Christian, not a curse. Abraham was both rich and faithful. David was both rich and a man after God’s own heart. Rich people—both men and women—are numbered among the very first followers of Jesus.

The main character in today’s parable is, in fact, a money manager. And nowhere are we told that that line of work is inappropriate (which I’m sure is a big relief to all of you with ties to Northwestern Mutual). This parable, in fact, tells us how we should use and invest our money—prudently, wisely, and shrewdly—for the good of our gracious Lord and Master. This parable teaches us that heaven and hell can have a lot more to do with our checkbooks than with our hymn books.

As the parable begins, our money manager is in big trouble. Instead of managing his master’s funds wisely, he’s been wasting them. He has squandered his master’s money. And when you squander money that isn’t yours to squander, that’s also known as stealing. The man is terminated with cause—fortunate that he wasn’t also prosecuted and imprisoned.

Then the parable takes a strange turn. For precisely when he should have been cleaning out his desk and uploading his resume, the dishonest manager makes a rather bold decision. Before word gets out about his being fired, he calls in his master’s debtors and starts giving them generous discounts. He knocks off 50 percent here and 20 percent there, collecting what he can at a deep discount—a shrewd and risky maneuver. If his master overrules his rogue manager, and rejects the deals he made, then he’ll look like a scrooge to all his business associates. But if he takes the deals hammered out by his shrewd manager, then the shrewd manager looks like a hero and has made himself a lot of new friends. And, in the end, the master commends his dishonest manager for his shrewdness.

That’s what makes this parable so strange. Doesn’t it seem just a bit odd when a dishonest, wasteful, conniving crook ends up saving the day and coming out on top? It’s not the ending you would expect. And that’s where we come in. For we too are managers, stewards of all the wealth that our heavenly Father has placed into our hands. The money and possessions we so casually call “ours,” aren’t really “ours” at all. It’s only ours to manage and invest for the short span of years we spend on earth.

One of the reasons Jesus gives us this strange parable is so that we take time to evaluate our management of the wealth God has placed into our hands. And while it’s true that there’s much more to stewardship than just money—while it’s true that God wants us to manage our families and our church and our citizenship for the glory of God—yet God’s Word in this parable focuses directly on our management of money. The olive oil and wheat in the parable were really functioning as a kind of currency—just like dollars and cents.

So how are you doing at managing the money God has entrusted to you? Is your money working for you? Or are you working for money? It’s not unusual for the average American to be carrying tens of thousands of dollars in credit card debt alone. It’s not unusual for the average American to be a slave to money—a slave to paying off debt and interest.

When money becomes our master, that’s not just a financial problem—that’s a faith problem. No one can serve two masters. . . . You cannot serve God and money. And, by the way, it’s not just a matter of “putting God first,” as we often say. God doesn’t simply want to be first among our many gods; He demands to be our only God—at the center of every part of our lives, including the financial part.

At the heart of our money management is that portion we give back to our Master—the offerings we return to the Lord out of love and thankfulness. It’s not the amount of money we give that matters; it’s the percentage of our income that matters. Two people may each drop a five dollar bill into the offering, but that doesn’t tell the whole story. If one of those people is Warren Buffet and the other is a twelve-year-old who just made twenty dollars babysitting, then those “identical” offerings are not identical at all. God asks that, as His managers, we return a percentage of everything back to Him—and that we take that percentage off the top—or, in the language of the Bible—that we return our “first fruits” to Him.

My fellow managers and shrewd stewards, do you know what your annual income is? If not, just check your last tax return. Second, do you know what percentage of those earnings you are returning to the Lord through your offerings? I’m sure some of you know—be it 8% or 10% or 12%. But for every person who knows that percentage, I suspect there are many others who don’t have the foggiest idea—who simply determine the amount of their offerings based on some criteria pulled out of thin air—whether it’s been a good week or not, on what the economic forecast is, or because that’s just the amount we’ve always given. Not too shrewd!

So thank God for the dishonest manager. Thank God for the strange, yet shrewd, steward of today’s parable. For if even that shady, shifty, lazy fellow could double down and ultimately earn the praise of his master—then how much more should we be the best money managers ever? How much more should we who have been purchased—not with gold or silver but with the holy, precious blood of Jesus—absolutely excel at managing the blessings we have been given? How much more should we who are forgiven—we who are blood-bought, died-for, and redeemed from sin and death—be ever moved to manage the good things God has entrusted to us with wisdom, with care, with precision and devotion?

Thank God for the shrewd steward who shows the way for all stewards. Think about it: When was he most productive and effective at what he was doing? It was right after he was fired. For it was right at that moment that he realized he had nothing to lose. Then he lets loose with his “Hail Mary” pass to the end zone. That day was probably the most productive day of his entire career. But it’s only when he is fired—it’s only when his name is “mud,” it’s only when he doesn’t have a single good work with which to justify himself—that he becomes the manager he was always meant to be.

Beloved in the Lord, when it comes to money and possessions, you have nothing to lose. You have nothing to lose because Jesus Christ has given you everything—His love, His forgiveness, His righteousness, His body and His blood, His resurrection life. Money isn’t your master, Jesus is. And Jesus is a merciful Master. In Him you can live free, with nothing to lose. The kingdom of heaven belongs to you. The new you in Christ is not a slave to money, but a master of money. You can order it around. Tell it what to do. You can tell Misters Washington, Lincoln, Hamilton, Jackson, Grant and Franklin to get to work helping your needy neighbors, supporting the mission of the church to seek and save the lost.

Everything hinges on the fact that you have a merciful Master in Jesus Christ. He seeks out the wasteful and the dishonest, the shrewd and the savvy. He seeks out sinners. He rescues them from sin and death by His dying and rising. He baptizes sinners. He works forgiveness of sins, rescues from death and the devil and gives eternal salvation. Money can’t do any of that! Money can’t bring lasting peace or joy. Money can’t wash away sin or give you a clean conscience. But Jesus does all of that and more—does it for you out of pure mercy and grace. That’s why you have nothing to lose. For you have a merciful Master.

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

Lost and Found

Jesu Juva
St. Luke 15:1-10
September 15, 2019
Proper 19C

Dear Saints of Our Savior~

I went in for a check-up with my doctor last week. I hadn’t been to the doctor’s office in several years, as I subscribe to the “apple a day” theory. But having recently crossed the fifty-yard line, I made the appointment and kept it. I had forgotten what a dreadful place the waiting room can be. All those sick people! One woman appeared to be in so much pain she could barely walk. Another woman was coughing up some kind of contagious congestion. If only there was a way to see the doctor apart from all those sick and diseased people.

The scribes and Pharisees, it seems, had a similar complaint about Jesus and the company He was keeping: This man receives sinners and eats with them. If only Jesus wasn’t always surrounded by all those poor, miserable sinners. But in the same way that doctors are always surrounded by sick people, Saviors hang out with people who need to be saved. Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. So it really shouldn’t be a surprise that tax collectors, prostitutes, and other unsavory sinners seemed always to be swarming around Jesus.

But for the Pharisees this was—at a minimum—bad optics. The Pharisees couldn’t comprehend the fact that they shared the very same sin-filled DNA as did the tax collectors and the other Deplorables. And we have the same tendency to look down our hypocritical noses, while singing: Chief of sinners though I be, you know who is worse than me. But unless you see yourself as a sinner—or as St. Paul writes, “the foremost” of sinners—you will have little use for Jesus as the Savior of sinners. Unless you can see the depth of your own sin and the awful judgment it has earned for you, then you will have no use for Jesus’ forgiveness and the justification that comes by grace, through faith, for Christ’s sake.

But see yourself rightly as the chief of sinners, and you will enjoy the good company and the good fellowship of the Good Shepherd--Jesus the Christ. Jesus loves to hang out with sinners because He came to save sinners. They are His stock in trade, His specialty, His cup of tea.

To illustrate all this, Jesus fires off a few parables about being lost and found. What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if

he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open country, and go after that one that is lost until he finds it? And when he finds it, he lays it on his shoulders and gives it a free ride back home. And then he’s so overjoyed at finding the lost sheep that he throws and party for his friends and neighbors.

Or what woman, having ten silver coins, if she loses one coin, does not light a lamp and sweep the house and seek diligently until she finds it? The pattern is the same in this parable. The lost are diligently sought, and when found, there is rejoicing and a big party—a party which is likely going to be more expensive than the value of the lost-and-found coin.

We’ve heard these parables so many times that we forget there’s actually a much more practical, pragmatic direction they could have gone: A sheep that wanders will continue to be a flight risk. And ninety-nine safe and sound, well-behaved sheep are hardly worth abandoning for the sake of one deplorable sheep that’s just a pain in the neck. So just write it off and forget about it. Declare the loss on your taxes, collect the insurance, and tend to the ninety-nine good sheep instead. And the same goes for the lost coin. Why waste a whole day looking for one coin, when you can forget about it and go to work and earn several additional coins?

But that’s not the strategy of the Savior. That’s not the method of the Master. He wants all to be saved—not just the many or the most. He wants all one hundred sheep in His pasture—all ten coins in His coffers. He wants you, dear sinner, along with all other sinners. He always takes the initiative to search and to seek and to save the lost in their lostness. They are why He came—to save a lost humanity, wandering in the wilderness of sin and death, awaiting a hellish eternity of separation from God. This is why Jesus came.

You are the lost sheep. “All we like sheep have gone astray,” Isaiah says, “Everyone has turned to his own way.” When was the last time you were really lost? I don’t think it happens as much as it used to—what with Google Maps and all. One Sunday morning this past June I was in Leipzig, Germany. I was taking the tram to visit the church of our missionary, Kim Bueltmann. Long story short, I got on the right tram . . . but going the wrong direction. I kept wondering why it was taking so long to get to my stop. By the time I realized my mistake and stepped off the tram, I was on the wrong side of town, in a foreign country, and there wasn’t another human being to be seen. I was lost. But, at least I knew I was lost. Think of all the lost sheep you encounter every day who have no idea—who don’t even realize their predicament—who have never even heard the phrase, “poor, miserable sinner.”

For all these lost sheep—including you—Jesus Christ sought us when we sought Him not. Jesus came to find you lost and dying, to place you on His shoulders and carry you back through the wilderness to God. You are that valuable to God—chief of sinners though you be. God refuses to write you off. Instead, He makes you the object of His seeking, saving love. He baptized you. And there at the font you were found, placed on the Savior’s shoulders, and welcomed into God’s family. Your God shook out every rug, looked under every sofa cushion, turned the whole world upside down in order to find you in your lostness. And when you were found, the angels of heaven rejoiced. I once was lost, but now am found—was blind, but now I see.

That’s grace, my fellow sheep, amazing grace. The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. Notice that the Apostle Paul wrote in the present tense: sinners of whom I AM the foremost, not sinners of whom I WAS the foremost. This isn’t some aw’ shucks humility—Paul putting himself down just to be self-deprecating. The only person whose sins you really and fully know are your own. And if you know your own sins, then you don’t know a single sinner worse than you. You, like Paul, are chief, foremost, numero unos one and all.

You were lost in sin and death. So Jesus took your miserable sin—all of it—upon Himself. On the cross, Jesus became the foremost sinner who ever lived—the chief of sinners—the sacrificial lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. Jesus died and was buried. He was “lost,” we might say; in the same way we say we have “lost” someone when they die. Jesus was lost; He died; He was never coming back. Only He did—on the third day He rose again. And He still lives. And He still takes great joy in seeking and saving lost sinners.

The day will come for you, my friends, when you will begin to feel hopelessly lost—when the wisest doctors and the finest medical care will not be able to rescue you. You will feel yourself slipping away from loved ones and from all that has given you your bearings in this earthly life. But as you close your eyes and breathe your last, you will again know the joy of being found. For the Lord Jesus and His holy angels will come to you. And they will bear you home. How can you be sure? Because Jesus Christ receives sinners and eats with them.

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

Counting the Cost of Discipleship

Jesu Juva
St. Luke 14:25-35
September 8, 2019
Proper 18C

Dear Saints of Our Savior~

Today is Christian Education Sunday—or, at least, that was the plan. It’s that Sunday in September when Sunday school children head back to class, Bible studies kick off, teachers are installed, and the emphasis is all about the crucial importance of teaching God’s Word to God’s children. In some churches, this is called “Rally Sunday,” where (I suppose) everybody rallies around Jesus and His Word.

Unfortunately, Jesus isn’t cooperating this morning. In fact, it seems more like Jesus is trying to throw a wet blanket on all the hoopla. He’s taking all the wind right out of our Christian-Education-Rally-Sunday sails: If anyone comes to me and does not hate his

own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.

I’m not one to doubt the veracity of the Scriptures, but did Jesus really say that? He seems to sound less like the Christ, and more like the anti-Christ. Instead of inviting and encouraging us to follow Him—instead of welcoming the weary and seeking the lost—He warns us against following Him. Instead of saying, “I give you eternal life,” He says, “Consider the cost of following me in this life—and whether you’re really up to the task.” Instead of setting our hearts ablaze, He pours cold water on us. Before you stand up—stand up—for Jesus, you’d better sit down and think long and hard about what you’re doing. Consider the cost and consequences carefully.

And what about that word, “hate?” How can the same God who commands us to honor our fathers and mothers now speak of hatred for parents? How can the Jesus who tells us to love our enemies also tell us to hate our spouses, siblings and children? What in God’s name is more important than family, marriage and children? Jesus is. Jesus is more important. And that’s really the point of this pointed language from our Lord—all served up with a heaping helping of hyperbole. But let there be no mistake: When it comes to our actions and our choices in this life, everyone else—every other relationship—takes a backseat to following Jesus. You shall have no other gods.

What we have from Jesus this morning is a challenge—a challenge to check our priorities. And, just maybe, that’s exactly what we need on this Christian Education/Rally Sunday. A good way to check your priorities is to think about those Sundays when you aren’t here—days when you aren’t hearing the Word or being fed with the body and blood of Jesus for the forgiveness of sins. When you aren’t engaged in the foundational, fundamental activity of discipleship that goes on here—then where are you? What keeps you from being in the Lord’s house? Is it sports? Is it dance, drama, or music? Is it the cabin up north or the 18-hole golf course? And what about Bible class? If you’re not in the habit of hanging around and doing a deep dive into God’s Word in Bible class or Sunday school, why is that? Are you too lazy? Does God’s Word bore you? Or do you just have more important things to do? What would the Savior say about your priorities?

Right about now we could all use some good news from Jesus. Unfortunately, He turns up the heat: Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple. Now, there’s some debate about what exactly Jesus means when He tells us to take up our “cross.” What we know for sure is that these crosses are not just those pesky little annoying first-world problems—like getting overcharged at Trader Joes or forgetting the Wi-Fi password. Those aren’t crosses. Crosses have one purpose—like electric chairs and nooses have one purpose. Crosses kill. They are instruments of suffering and death. That’s the only conclusion our Lord’s First Century hearers could have drawn. To take up your cross is to follow Jesus through suffering, persecution, loss, and finally death . . . and resurrection.

This is a tough sell—and not just on Rally Sunday. (You’d better believe that our marketing department did everything they could to scuttle this sermon.) And I’m guessing that the great crowds that accompanied Jesus thinned out significantly after they heard Him say to count the cost and bear the cross.

But what those crowds didn’t know was where Jesus was headed—that Jesus was going to Jerusalem, to His very own cross—the weight of which He Himself would bear. With every step and every mile, Jesus was drawing closer to His atoning death as the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. But He knew exactly what He was doing. Jesus had counted the cost. Jesus had crunched the numbers in collaboration with the Father and the Holy Spirit. He was going to empty Himself completely, to humble Himself totally. Jesus was going to take up His cross . . . and die on it to redeem us all from sin, death and hell. Jesus was going to build His church, laying the foundation by His own death and resurrection. Jesus was headed to Jerusalem like a king headed to battle against sin, death and the devil. Jesus headed into battle—not with an army of ten or twenty thousand boots on the ground—but entirely alone, forsaken. Jesus renounced everything—family, friends, wealth, power, influence, His whole life—to save us—to save you.

Jesus considered the cost of your salvation and He concluded this: You are worth it! You are worth more than silver or gold. Jesus didn’t redeem you the easy way, but with His holy, precious blood and His innocent suffering and death, that you might be His own and live with Him forever—and all this as a free gift of pure grace, received through faith.

Here’s the truth of the matter: If our discipleship depended on us, then Jesus would have no disciples. If following Jesus depended entirely on us counting the cost and crunching the numbers and doing the homework—we’d never get out of the starting gate. We’d never dig the foundation. We’d never head off into battle. We’d vacillate and equivocate and re-draw our lines in the sand and never be one step closer to the Savior. And this is why the Savior draws near to us—washes us and re-creates us in the cleansing waters of Baptism. That’s how disciples are created—by baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and by teaching them to observe all that Jesus has commanded. Baptized and taught, Jesus feeds us with His body and blood—body and blood from His cross—to help you to bear your crosses in your life.

Hating your life as a disciple of Jesus doesn’t mean that you walk around saying, “I hate my life.” It means letting go of your life—relinquishing control to Jesus—believing that He is working all things—bane and blessing, pain and pleasure—to sanctify you and to prepare you for eternal joy in His presence. And that’s a promise worth knowing and believing. That’s good news worth hearing and learning. It’s something we can all rally around on this Christian Education Sunday in the year of our Lord 2019.

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

Not Perfect, but Holy

Jesu Juva
Hebrews 13:1-8
September 1, 2019
Proper 17C

Dear Saints of Our Savior,

We’ve been hearing from the book of Hebrews for the past four Sundays. The final chapters of Hebrews are full of encouragement, always setting Jesus Christ before our eyes—reminding us of the saints who have gone before us, while equipping each of us to run with perseverance the race to the heavenly finish line.

The book of Hebrews is in many ways a sermon—a sermon first written for Jewish converts to Christianity during the First Century.

For these newborn Christians, everything had changed. The very foundations of their lives had undergone a seismic shift. Talk all you want about a “Judeo-Christian” worldview; but the only thing Jews and Christians have in common begins with Genesis and ends in Malachi. When you jump from Judaism to faith in Jesus, everything changes. Everything is new and different.

If the book of Hebrews is a sermon, then today we are only tuning in for the conclusion—for the final thoughts of the final chapter. (By the way, you should never do that. Never just tune in for the sermon conclusion. You should always listen carefully to the beginning, the middle, and the end—carefully digesting all the main points and all the sub-points, and even the subtle attempts at humor.) So, do as I say and not as I do. Because for the next few minutes we are only unpacking the conclusion of the sermon to the Hebrews.

But, what a conclusion! What, at first glance, seems like a random, hodge-podge list of exhortations and encouragements is actually a beautiful work of art. Here in these closing verses the author paints a picture for us of what the church of Jesus Christ looks like. And, as you re-read and digest these words, what emerges is a portrait of the church—a church that is not perfect, but holy.

Holiness is a big theme in the sermon to the Hebrews. So, it should come as no surprise that the author concludes by showing us what that holiness looks like. The church is made up, not of perfect people, but of holy people, living holy lives. There is no perfect church—no perfect congregation—no perfect Christian. But the church is always distinguished by a God-given holiness. And here, from the last lines of the last chapter of the sermon to the Hebrews, is what that holiness looks like.

Let brotherly love continue. This isn’t love—as in a soft and tender feeling of affection. This is brotherly love—a hard-working, sacrificial love that’s rooted in deeds more than feelings. This is love that shows hospitality to fellow Christians—even those Christians who are strangers—whom we don’t know personally. You express this brotherly love by making a deposit in the LWML mite box on your way out the door today, or when you donate over-the-counter medicines for seminarians and their families, or when you donate winter weather gear for international scholars who show-up completely unprepared for Wisconsin winters. When a fellow member is suffering, you suffer too—and you do what you can to alleviate that suffering. This is what holiness looks like.

Let marriage be held in honor among all, and let the marriage bed be undefiled, for God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous. In that one sentence the preacher to the Hebrews has given us an earful. Holiness has everything to do with that most intimate and personal dimension of life we call marriage. There are no perfect marriages—no perfect husbands or wives. But marriage is holy. Your marriage is holy. When I pray for those of you who are married, I often pray, “Help them to remember that marriage is holy, and that they must keep it holy.”

Keeping marriage holy begins with the recognition that marriage is God’s gift—a divine institution. And when the Giver of marriage says, “Let the marriage bed be undefiled,” He’s declaring that sex and marriage go together. God has joined together sex and marriage—and what God has joined together, let not man separate. The sexual relationship is to be an exclusive relationship between husband and wife.

A lot of people today would find that to be a rather quaint, old-fashioned notion. But it’s really just some straight talk from God about His gift of marriage—about keeping it holy. Our crazy culture today isn’t so different from the First Century culture in which the book of Hebrews was written. Back then, prostitution, adultery, homosexuality, and even pedophilia were all socially acceptable practices. The only thing different today is that we have a media-entertainment industry to glamorize it, publicize it, and digitalize it so that you can access it anywhere, anytime, twenty-four-seven.

God’s holy children then and now are part of a small minority who hold fast to holiness—who hear what the Creator of sex and marriage has to say about these gifts in His holy Word. And what He says is that sex within marriage is holy. But sex outside of marriage is sinful, harmful, and destructive—no matter whether you are sixteen years old or sixty years old.

But holiness isn’t just about what not to do; for God also says that marriage should be honored by all. Marriage should be treasured and respected. Marriage should be regarded as sacred and holy. If you are married, then this means that you should see your spouse as something much more than a long-term roommate. It means you should see your spouse—not as perfect, but holy. And if you’re not married, then do what you can to support those who are—reminding them that marriage is holy and helping them to reconcile and to forgive one another when times are tough. This is what holiness looks like.

Keep your lives free from the love of money, and be content with what you have. . . . Remember your leaders . . . who spoke the Word of God to you. It’s a tricky transition to go from money to pastors. But that’s what the preacher to the Hebrews does. In one breath he warns about the love of money; and in the next breath he says to remember your leaders who spoke the Word of God to you. Both money and pastors are gifts from God. But the love of money is the root of all evil; and pastors, too, can be idolized for all the wrong reasons. But when used in faith, money is not filthy, but holy. The dollars and cents you give to the Lord Jesus Christ—that money is holy. It is money used for sacred purposes. And, likewise, pastors are not perfect. But they have been called to a holy ministry—a ministry of serving the people of God with the gifts of God. God has joined together this congregation with two called pastors; and, what God has joined together, let not man separate. This is what holiness looks like.

This church is not perfect, but holy. And the source of all our holiness is Jesus the Christ. He is both perfect and holy. He comes among us here and now to share His perfection and His holiness. Now, there was a price to pay in order to make sinners holy. Jesus paid that price for you. Jesus suffered on Calvary’s holy hill and shed His holy, precious blood—was crucified, died and was buried—to sanctify you—to make you holy. Do you see how much He loves you? Do you realize how precious you are to Him?

Get ready for the best of news: Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. In a world where everything is changing and devolving—in your world where challenges evolve, temptations evolve, and circumstances change on a dime for better or worse—Jesus Christ has pledged you His faithfulness and His forgiveness. Jesus Christ is the same blessed Savior you have always known. His love, His forgiveness, His promises do not change. You can depend on Him. His blood-bought holiness is here for you—in His holy absolution, in the preaching of His promises, in the splash of His baptism, and in this Holy Communion. In these precious means your sins are forgiven and your faith is strengthened. Where these things are going on—where these things are received by you in faith—well, that’s what holiness looks like.

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