The Devil Down the Mountain

 

Jesu Juva

St. Mark 9:14-29                                         

February 18, 2024                                           

 APOR Opening Service

 

Dear saints of our Savior,

Friends of A Place of Refuge,

        Last Sunday—one week ago—we celebrated the Transfiguration of our Lord.  And it was glorious.  Jesus on the mountaintop, shining in splendor.  God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God.  Jesus shining brighter and purer than all the angels in the sky.  Jesus engaged in conversation with Moses and Elijah—who had been dead and gone for centuries, but are alive and well with Jesus.  And all of this blazing glory was a tantalizing taste of our future—your future—in Jesus—a preview of the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.  That was last Sunday . . . up on the mountain.

        But today—just a few moments ago—you heard what happened as soon as Jesus came down the mountain.  And it was so much more than a change in elevation.  It was a downward plunge from intense glory to intense suffering—a steep descent from bright light into demonic darkness.  Jesus moved decisively to do battle with the devil down the mountain.

        There was a commotion involving the scribes, the crowds, and the other disciples.  At the center of the commotion is a father and his son.  Jesus quickly learns that the boy is unwell.  But more than unwell, he is demonized.  An unclean spirit has taken control of the child.  It makes the boy mute. It causes seizures in which he foams at the mouth, grinds his teeth, and becomes rigid.  And for the love of God, keep the kid away from fire and water . . . because the demon loves to throw the boy in—in order to kill the boy.  This is the devil down the mountain.

        See what the devil does.  See how he sets his sights on all people of all ages—children included.  He is a shameless predator who delights in victimizing even children.  He targets and preys upon the most helpless, most vulnerable little lives. 

        And since the devil delights in hurting and harming little ones—children—can there be any doubt about who is really driving the abortion industry?  Can there be any doubt about who is really behind the push to prevent the unborn from taking their first breath?  Our battle is not against flesh and blood.  Our battle is not against Planned Parenthood or politicians or activist judges who bow the knee to the abortion industry.  Our battle is not against flesh and blood but against the spiritual forces of evil . . .  Together with Jesus, we are called to do battle with the devil down the mountain.

        Of course, whenever the devil attacks children, he gets the parents, too.  Imagine the life of the demonized boy’s father—this dad who pours out his heart to Jesus.  For years, this unclean spirit had been harassing, attacking, and trying to kill his son.  How could you as a father even sleep at night?  There’s no worse feeling for a father than the feeling of helplessness—of being unable to protect and help the child that God has given you.

        This father is desperately trying to help his boy.  He even brings the boy to Jesus’ disciples—and the disciples failed—failed to cast out the demon.  What must that have done to the father’s faith?  You better believe that he’s prayed and prayed.  He’s tried everything—doctors, drugs, therapies, rabbis, healers.  And now there’s little left in his heart but doubt and despair.  He tells Jesus, “If you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.”  If you can.  There it is.  That seed of doubt sown and cultivated by the evil one.  Jesus calls him on it:  What do you mean IF? All things are possible for one who believes.

        All things are possible for one who believes.  That statement really brings us to the heart of the matter.  This isn’t so much a story about a nasty demon, or even the miraculous power of Jesus.  It’s about what happens to our faith when our “religion” doesn’t seem to work.  What happens to our faith when something tragic pushes you into the crossroads of doubt and despair?

        And what’s more tragic than the proliferation of abortion?  What’s more tragic than the growth of death—and the demise of the unborn?  Roe vs. Wade gets overturned by the Supreme Court.  Alleluia! Thanks be to God!  But what happens?  The devil furiously fights back.  At the ballot box and in the courtroom and at the White House and through the media the murder of children is championed.  Death is celebrated.  Demons twitch their tails with glee.  And we who love life are left to stumble around here in the valley of the shadow of death—fighting off doubt and despair.  We’re like the disciples who couldn’t cast out the demon.  We’re like that father whose faith was withered down to a faintly burning wick.  What do you do when you’ve prayed and prayed to the Lord of Life and things only seem to get worse and worse?

        Well, you can chase some other strategy or you can place your faith in some other politician who seems to say the right things.  OR you can stick with Jesus, and see how He blesses us in the long run through our suffering—how He carries us through every trial and tragedy—how His grace is always sufficient, how His power is made perfect in our weakness.  Jesus does His best work in our lives precisely when nothing is working right—when nothing makes sense—when nothing is proceeding according to plan.

        The best thing we can do is learn to pray like that desperate father:  Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.  That’s not double-talk; that’s honesty.  That man didn’t try to hide his weakness or his despair.  He didn’t try to appear more polished and pious than he was.  He wasn’t afraid to be real.  I believe; help my unbelief.  That’s actually a very Lutheran way of explaining who we are.  And who are we?  Saint and sinner, at the same time.  A believer and an unbeliever.  That’s you; that’s me.  And that reality shapes our prayers:  I believe; help my unbelief.  Lord, teach me to trust You when You appear weak.  Teach me to trust your Word when it seems powerless.  Teach me to lean on Your promises instead of my own reason and strength.

        You can pray with that kind of honesty because Jesus is here for you—for the helpless, the weak, the scared, and even the demonized.  All things are possible for Jesus—and for the one who believes in Jesus!  All things are possible . . . including the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. 

        How can I be so sure?  Beloved in the Lord, Jesus has a history of helping.  He has a track record of deliverance—a record written in blood.  His crucifixion and resurrection—His dying and rising—are the indisputable proof that with God all things are possible—that He is always ready, willing, and able to help those who wait for Him in faith.  You can trust this Jesus.

        In fact, today’s gospel reading points us directly to Jesus’ death and resurrection.   For when Jesus finally got around to exorcising the demon, it appeared that things had gone from bad to worse.  It looked like the boy was dead.  He looked like a corpse and most of the crowd quickly concluded, “He is dead.”  (And, for all we know, maybe he was dead.)  But Jesus took the boy by the hand and lifted him up, and he arose.  He arose.  (In Greek, anes’tay—the resurrection word) It’s a little preview of the resurrection—corpses rising to new life. 

        This little detail is why we can trust Jesus.  For He truly died.  As our sin-bearing substitute, He died like a common criminal.  He became a corpse on a cross.  And on the third day He rose again.  Jesus lives.  And in Jesus you also will live.  When it seems like your religion isn’t working—that your faith is failing and despair creeps in and it seems like the devil is winning—remember the resurrection.  For on that day death and sin will be undone.  Everything will work again.  Everything will work perfectly—including you.

        But for now, today, Jesus is here to help you.  Now, the Savior’s help may not be exactly what you were hoping for.  It may not come according to your timetable.  It may not materialize according to your exact design and plan.  We celebrate and thank God for thirty years of pro-life action and advocacy at A Place of Refuge.  Mothers have been supported and cared for.  Babies have been born; and babies have been born again in the waters of Holy Baptism.  Love and mercy and compassion and truth have found a home on West Hampton Avenue.  But . . . it hasn’t always gone as planned.  Challenges, difficulties, messy complications and dire disappointments.  That’s often how it goes when you’re fighting the devil down the mountain.  And when this work becomes discouraging or troubling, then pray.  Pray.  Go to Jesus with your trouble.  Lay it on the line:  Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.  He will answer.  He will help.  Trust Him.  Believe His promises.  Fear not.

        His nail-scarred hands declare that your sins, no matter what they are, cannot separate you from the love of God.  Jesus has done away with them as surely as He dispatched the demon in today’s reading.  That means that your troubles, your weakness, your sorrows, your demons—they have only a short season to live.  They will not last.  They do not reign; Jesus reigns!  And He is Our Savior—the Lord of Life.  Nothing is impossible with Him. 

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