Let Them Hear

Jesu Juva

St. Luke 16:19-31                                                                

September 25, 2022

Proper 21C                                                                                 

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          Poor Lazarus.  Poor Lazarus was poor and poverty-stricken beyond what any of us can imagine.  He lived out his days lying at the gate of a very rich man—kept alive by the crumbs and scraps that fell from the rich man’s table.  The only

medical care poor Lazarus received was when dogs came a licked his sores—dogs not like the noble, well-groomed pooches many of us have, but mangy, malnourished, flea-infested mutts—scavengers who lived on the streets.  Poor Lazarus.

          The day came when both men died—the rich man and poor Lazarus.  Everybody dies, rich and poor alike.  But then comes the big surprise.  In death, everything gets turned upside down for both men.  The rich man loses everything; the poor man gains everything.  The rich man becomes the beggar; and the poor man becomes rich.  The one who appeared to be blessed is now cursed; and the one who appeared to be cursed is now blessed. 

          And then things get really interesting.  This is surely one of the most provocative parables Jesus ever told.  It’s downright fascinating.  The curtain that hides heaven and hell from us is temporarily pulled back; and we get peek behind the curtain.  But this parable isn’t primarily about the sweet joys of heaven or about the horrors of hell.  In fact, it’s not even about the dangers of wealth or the nobility of poverty.  No, the real key to understanding this parable comes in the conversation between the rich man in Hades and Father Abraham in heaven.

          In the torments of Hades, the rich man finally sees the futility of his faithless life.  In Hades, all of his unbelief is gone.  In hell, there are no atheists—not one.  In endless anguish, the man’s thoughts turn to his five living brothers.  They are at risk for ending up in agony like him.  They must be warned!  And who better to warn them than poor Lazarus?  Surely a messenger from the dead would be the perfect solution—a spooky spirit to scare straight those five brothers—a word of warning from beyond the grave.  But the key to understanding this whole scene comes in Abraham’s response to this proposal.  What Abraham says—and what he doesn’t say—unlocks everything for us.

          What Abraham says concerning the rich man’s five brothers is this:  They have Moses and the Prophets; let them hear them.  “Moses and the Prophets” was simply a shorthand way of describing the entire Old Testament from Genesis to Malachi.  In other words, Abraham tells the rich man, “Your five brothers—the ones you’re so worried about—they’ve got God’s Word—they’ve got the Holy Scriptures preached and proclaimed every Sabbath in the synagogue.  Let them hear those Scriptures.  Let them hear Moses and the Prophets—all of whom testify and bear witness to Jesus as the Son of God.”  And to “hear” the Scriptures in this context means to hear them in faith—to take them to heart—to order your life around the good news that flows from God’s Word, the Bible.  Hold it sacred; gladly hear and learn it.

          Now, to some people, those words might sound a little harsh.  I mean, for once—perhaps for the first time ever—the rich man is finally thinking of someone other than himself.  He’s concerned about souls rather than shekels.  He’s asking for whatever it takes to save his brothers.  So why not go along with his request to send Lazarus to warn them?

          In fact, let’s imagine what Abraham could have said, but didn’t.  Let’s ponder the possibilities.  I for one am really glad that when the rich man expressed concern for his brothers that Abraham didn’t say this: “I’m so sorry, but those five brothers are already predestined to join you in the flames of hell.  It’s too late for them.”  I for one am also really glad that Abraham didn’t say this: “Don’t worry about your brothers; as long as they just do their best and try their hardest to be good people, they’ll earn their way to heaven eventually.”  And I’m especially glad that Abraham didn’t say this:  “That’s a great idea!  I’ll be happy to send Lazarus from the dead to warn your brothers.  After all, the Lord loves to communicate through supernatural signs, spirits, séances, apparitions, ghosts, and other paranormal means.”

          What Abraham did say was this: “[Your brothers] have Moses and the Prophets, let them hear them.”  It wasn’t riches that brought the rich man to hell; and it wasn’t poverty that brought poor Lazarus to heaven.  It was, rather, that poor Lazarus listened—and the rich man did not.  Poor Lazarus listened and took to heart the Word of God—the simple, plain, unadulterated, centuries-old Word of God.  And through those words, the Lord was at work to save poor Lazarus and make him rich—by grace alone, through faith alone, and not by works, but solely through the merits of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.  It’s not theoretical astro-physics or rocket science.  It’s the Gospel!  And it’s so simple that even little children can express it every time they sing, “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”

          Someday what happened to the rich man and Lazarus will happen to you.  On a day known only to the Lord, you will leave this world to tread the crossroads of heaven and hell.  And the path down which you will be ushered will depend completely on what God has revealed to you in His Word—and whether you have heard that word in faith.  Between now and then, there will be no one appearing from the dead to scare you straight.  There won’t be any apparitions, visions, or special revelations to propel you along the narrow path that leads to life.  For you already have all that you will ever need to depart this life in peace and joy, in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting.  You have Moses and the Prophets.  You have the inspired Word of God.  And you have Jesus and the apostles and the evangelists—two testaments, old and new.

          This is why the rich man’s proposal regarding his brothers was met by Abraham with a resounding “no.”  This is why his request was denied outright.  It was completely unnecessary.  Everything that the Lord could possibly do to save you He has already done—and He is doing it right now in the Divine Service as the Word of the Lord pierces the darkness of our hearts with the glorious gospel that Jesus Christ has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel.  All of God’s power to love you—His power to save you—His power to deliver you from sin and death is found in the preaching and proclamation of His Word.  “Faith,” we hear in Romans 10, “Faith comes by hearing, and hearing through the Word of Christ” (v.17). 

          Are you hearing?  Can you hear me now?  Are you taking the Word of God to heart right now, or are you just taking up space and thinking about more important things?  When did you last read the Scriptures at home?  When did you last participate in a Bible class?  When was the last time you shared something from the Word of God with someone in dire straits—with some poor, desperate person not unlike poor Lazarus in the parable?

          The Word of God takes us to the crossroads of heaven and hell.  And what you find standing there at the crossroads is Christ the crucified.  His holy cross is the sure and certain sign that the way to eternal life has been opened for you—that your sins have all been forgiven in the cleansing blood of Jesus.  Your heavenly Father loves you for Jesus’ sake.  And He is waiting for you to take your place with all the other beggars—beggars now wearing white robes—beggars now gathered around the throne—beggars now fully satisfied, who have been given life to the full.

          That full life comes to you in Holy Baptism, where God lovingly washed and healed all the stinging sores of your sin.  That full life comes to you already this morning—not as mere crumbs from the Master’s table—but in the bread that is Jesus’ body and in the wine that is Jesus’ blood.  These good gifts—these sacraments—are referred to as the “visible word” in our Lutheran Confessions.  Here the Word comes to us not only in audible ways, but in visible ways—tangible ways you can taste and see.  In short, you lack nothing.  You’ve been given everything you need to join with Lazarus at the Savior’s side in glory yet to be revealed.

          But for now, “we are all beggars.”  That’s what Martin Luther famously said as he himself was about to depart this life to be with Christ:  Wir sind alle Bettler.  We are all beggars.  We are all Lazaruses—each of us—hungry, helpless, sick, and sore.  But Jesus Himself has joined us.  That’s where you find Him—among the beggars, the outcasts, the losers.  Jesus became a beggar to save the beggars—to make the beggars rich with His grace and forgiveness.  You can hear all about it in the Word of God. 

          So hear what Moses and the Prophets say.  Hear what the Apostles and Evangelists are telling the church:  Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.  Blessed are those who hear the Word of God and keep it.  Blessed are you who are in Christ, for your sins are forgiven.  Your death is undone.  And hell has no power over you. 

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

God and Money

 Jesu Juva

St. Luke 16:1-15                                                           

September 18, 2022

Proper 20C                                    

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          You’re fired!  Have those words ever been directed at you?  Have you ever been terminated?  Sacked?  Let go?  Dismissed?  Have you ever accepted a friendly invitation into your boss’s office, only to learn that you’re being canned?  Do not pass go.  Do not collect two hundred dollars.  Just clean out your desk, turn in your keys, and vacate the premises.  If it’s happened to you, you’ll never forget it. Few things in life are more traumatic than to hear the words, “You’re fired.”

          That was the precise predicament of the man in the parable we heard earlier from Luke 16.  As the parable picks up, this man was about to join the ranks of the unemployed.  He had been working as a manager of his master’s money.  But apparently, when he should have been keeping an eye on the NASDAQ and on the S&P 500, he was otherwise occupied.  He was wasting his master’s possessions.  He wasn’t doing his job.  He wasn’t managing the money that had been entrusted to him; and now, because of his mismanagement and malfeasance, he was being terminated with cause.

          But then things take a surprising turn.  For precisely when he should have been cleaning out his desk and uploading his resume, he 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.  It’s an incredibly shrewd move.  The man’s boss is cornered.  If he chooses to overrule 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 good and wins a lot of new friends.  In the end, the boss commended 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 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 our own, aren’t really ours at all.  It’s only ours to manage for the brief span of time we spend in this world.  And this parable would seem to indicate that we should use the money entrusted to us shrewdly and wisely.  To be sure, what you do with your money cannot get you into heaven; but how you regard your money certainly does have the potential to keep you out of heaven. 

          Of course, what gets us into those eternal dwellings is faith—faith in Jesus.  But it’s also true that you can tell a lot about your faith by how you handle the wealth God has entrusted to you.  Jesus famously said, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”  If you want to see where your heart is, then follow the money.  Look at your checkbook register.  Read carefully through your credit card statement.  What are your financial priorities?  What messages is your money sending?  What are your idols?  What are your gods?  What are your non-negotiables?  On what have you set your heart, your hope for years to come?

          When we conduct an honest audit of our finances it starts to make more sense why Jesus would tell a parable about a dishonest, wasteful steward.  For

we’re all guilty of trying to serve—not just God—but God and money.  Like the Israelites of Amos’s day, we do put in our “God time.”  We do go through the routine of placing something in the offering plate.  But from there it’s back to business as usual—where shekels and sales and income and dividends and profits become the center of life—where money makes the rules—where money orders our days and our deeds—where money promises everything but delivers nothing—just like every other idol.

          Jesus nailed the Pharisees that day for their love of money: “You justify yourselves before men,” He told them, “but God knows your hearts.”  God knows our hearts too.  He knows.  He knows what we fear, love and trust.  He knows that our management has been miserable, and our stewardship a shambles.  If God were to carefully audit our performance in matters of money and stewardship, then what we would most deserve to hear would be simply, “You’re fired.” 

          So thank God for the dishonest manager.  Thank God for the shrewd steward of today’s parable.  For if even this shady, shifty, lazy manager—who seemed to be operating from purely selfish motives—if even he 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 wealth we have been given?  How much more should we who are blood-bought, died-for, and redeemed from sin and death be ever motivated and moved to manage the good things God has entrusted to us with wisdom, with care, with precision and devotion?  How much more should we who have nothing to lose as children of the heavenly Father be empowered to make bold moves with our money—to be generous for Jesus’ sake?  For we know that in Him there is no condemnation—that by faith we are more than just “managers” or “employees.”  We are brothers and sisters of the Lord Jesus Christ.

          Thank God for the dishonest manager.  He shows the way for all stewards.  Think about it:  When was this fellow—with all of his flaws—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.  If he’d worked that hard earlier, he might never have been fired.  But it’s only when he is fired—it’s only when his name is “mud,” it’s only when his guilt and sin are exposed before all, 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 resurrection life.  Now money is not 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. You can tell Misters Washington, Lincoln, Hamilton, Jackson, Grant and Franklin to get to work helping the poor and unemployed, 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 receives sinners.  He rescues them from sin and death by His dying and rising.  He feeds us with holy food.  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 happiness.  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 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.

The Savior of Sinners

Jesu Juva

1 Timothy 1:12-17                                                       

September 11, 2022

Proper 19C                                        

Dear saints of our Savior~

          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.  That sentence from First Timothy is one of those solid gold, two hundred proof, gospel-in-a-nutshell passages.  It’s hard to imagine being a pastor—caring for the souls of sinners—without having this verse on stand-by, ready to be applied to the hearts of the repentant.  You just can’t convey the gospel more concisely than this:  Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.

          This verse is good news for everybody; but it’s especially put out there for pastors.  After all, it comes from First Timothy—the very first of what we call the “pastoral epistles.”  These words were originally written down by the Apostle Paul in a letter to “Pastor” Timothy.  Pastors are sinners too.  Pastors are high-value targets for Satan’s temptations.  One veteran pastor once told me, “We pastors are the devil’s candy.”  Pastors can be easily crushed by the weight of their own sin. A pastor’s sin takes a terrible toll—making him feel weak, worthless and unworthy of the office he holds.  But, oh, the sweet joy this sentence gives:  Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, including pastors.

          When it comes to sinners, the Lord never gives up.  Sinners are what Jesus does best.  Sinners are His stock in trade, His specialty.  Sinners are His cup of tea.  He came into the world to save sinners.  Not to save His friends, but His enemies.  Not to save saints, but sinners.  St. Paul describes all of this as “mercy” and “grace,” undeserved, unmerited kindness.

          The Apostle Paul’s very life bears witness to the truth that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.  By his own admission, Paul “was a blasphemer, a persecutor, an insolent opponent” of Christ and the gospel.  He terrorized the first followers of Christ.  He was dead set on silencing the gospel, making sure the name of Jesus would be forgotten and erased from history.  And he thought he was doing the will of God!  He thought his cause was righteous.  But he was wrong!  He was lost.  But by the mercies of God, the persecutor would become the apostle.  The one who tried to silence the gospel would end up preaching the gospel across the entire Roman world.

          It sounds so simple and trite, but it is a profound truth:  Jesus is the Savior of sinners!  The Christ kept company with sinners.  That’s what got Jesus into trouble with the Scribes and Pharisees in today’s holy Gospel.  They grumbled about the company He kept:  This man welcomes sinners and eats with them! they harrumphed.  He broke bread with terrible tax collectors.  But the religious elite didn’t see themselves in the same boat as those sinners.  They looked down on those other down-and-dirty sinners.  They were better than them—closer to God—holier than thou for sure.

          Now, Jesus hung out with the Pharisees too.  He also ate with them; but they couldn’t conceive of the fact that Jesus ate with them because they too were sinners!  There isn’t a sinner around whom Jesus will not receive and welcome to His table.  Jesus sinners doth receive.  No sin is too great for the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.  Jesus stops at nothing.  He gives everything.  He does it all for you and for the whole world.  Every sinner is atoned for by His death; every sin is answered for by the blood He spilled.  Behold the Lamb.  He doesn’t let sin stand in the way of saving you.  Instead, He forgives it.  Pays for it.  Washes it away with water and blood.  He Himself seeks out the lost sheep, the lost coin, the lost sinner.

          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 that last phrase 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.  Nor is it an exaggeration.  Paul saw Himself—not as the chief of Apostles—but as the chief of sinners. 

          Can you see yourself in the same way?  Can you classify yourself as the foremost—the chief—of sinners?  The only person whose sins you fully and completely know are your own.  And if you know your own sins—every dark thought, word, and deed—everything you should have done but didn’t—everything you shouldn’t have done but did.  If you know and acknowledge all that, then you don’t know a single sinner worse than you.  You, like Paul, are chief, foremost, numero uno.  Of course, the silver lining of being “chief of sinners” is that you can’t go any lower.  You have nowhere to go but up—from being dead to being raised up, from being lost to being found.

          We are each that lost sheep, that lost coin, that lost, prodigal son.  We must all take our place with Paul as the foremost among sinners.  Before God, we must claim that spot as the chief of sinners.  We need to own it—to stop denying it—to stop making excuses and justifying ourselves, saying, “Chief of sinners though I be, you-know-who is worse than me.” We’re in a mess of our own making.  We’re responsible.  At least Paul could claim ignorance, but that was no excuse.  He was still a stubborn, insolent opponent of Jesus Christ.  But the Lord didn’t give up on him.

          In fact, Paul’s life became a sort of object lesson on God’s undeserved kindness to sinners:  But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost [of sinners], Jesus Christ might display His perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in Him for eternal life.  The Lord never gave up on Paul; but sought him and found him and baptized him and used him in ways Paul could never have imagined.  The chief persecutor of the church became its chief apostle.

          Let this be a lesson for you, my dear, fellow sinners.  Jesus Christ never stops seeking and saving lost sinners.  He never gives up.  There is no sheep so lost—no coin so misplaced—no son or daughter so prodigal that Jesus doesn’t seek to embrace them.  You may think you don’t deserve a place at His table—that you are unworthy and unwelcome.  The devil, the world, and your old Adam would all seek to convince you that you are too great a sinner—that you don’t belong here.  And that’s just flat wrong.  What the religious superstars said as criticism turns out to be the sweetest of good news for you and me:  Jesus receives sinners and eats with them.  He invites us to leave behind our rebellious ways, and take our place at His holy supper—His feast for the least—His meal of forgiveness for the foremost sinners.

          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 . . . [Now] to the King of ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever.  Amen.