Woe Is Me

Jesu Juva

Isaiah 6:1-8                                                         

May 26, 2024

The Holy Trinity – B                                     

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        Woe is me!  Have you ever said that?  “Woe is me” is a powerful phrase that packs a big punch.  In these days when communication is being boiled down to the bare essentials—to texts and tweets and memes—and as bad news proliferates daily—“Woe is me” really hits the nail on the head.  Yet, I almost never read it or hear it.  Where did all the woe go?

        This phrase has been around for a while.  In English literature it is most famously found on the lips of Ophelia, in Shakespeare’s Hamlet.  There the lovely Ophelia is overcome with anguish after witnessing the apparent madness of Hamlet, her one-time love interest:  Oh, woe is me, T' have seen what I have seen!   

        But long before “Woe” flowed from the pen of the Bard, those same syllables escaped from the lips of Isaiah the prophet.  The only difference being that Isaiah spoke in Hebrew.  Interestingly, the Hebrew word for “woe” is “Oy,” from which is derived the popular Yiddish expression, Oy vey!—which essentially means, woe is me!  So what’s with all the woe on this Trinity Sunday? 

        Isaiah tells us it was the year that King Uzziah died; and, although that means nothing to our ears, it signaled a seismic shake-up for God’s people in the land of Judah.  Uzziah had been the king for 52 years.  No royal reign had ever lasted that long before.  Those five decades had mostly been years of peace and prosperity.  But behind that façade, God’s people had been sliding deeper and deeper into idolatry and hypocrisy.  No one knew it at the time, but Uzziah’s death signaled the beginning of the end for Judah and Jerusalem.  Doom and gloom, death and destruction, defeat and exile were now on the horizon.  God’s people had been sinning boldly and brazenly for decades; and now there would be hell to pay.

        And so at that watershed moment—in the year that King Uzziah died—Isaiah was called and sent by the Lord.  The call of Isaiah is truly in a class by itself.  It happened right where you would expect it to happen—in the temple, near the altar.  It was holy ground in an evil time—the Lord’s dwelling place on earth.  The Lord who was normally unseen, was now beheld by Isaiah in all His majesty and holiness.  With mortal eyes Isaiah also saw and heard the seraphim, winged angelic creatures who called out to one another, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts; the whole earth is full of His glory.” 

        Right there, of course, is the textual connection to the Holy Trinity.  This threefold acclamation—holy, holy, holy—it’s much more than mere repetition.  According to St. Ambrose, those seraphim “say [the word “holy”], not once, lest you should believe that there is but one; not twice, lest you should exclude the [Holy] Spirit; they say not holies, lest you should imagine that there is a plurality, but they repeat [exactly] three times and say the [exact] same word, that . . . you may understand the distinction of Persons in the Trinity, and the oneness of the Godhead . . .” (TLSB, p.1098).

        But I’m guessing that Isaiah, as he witnessed and wondered at these heavenly sights and sounds—he wasn’t contemplating the finer doctrinal details of the Triune God.  No, Isaiah was filled with terror and despair at these sights and sounds—despair which he perfectly expressed in good Shakespearean style:  Woe is me!  For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.”  Isaiah’s woe was not for show.  This woe was not a clever bit of stagecraft set in iambic pentameter.  This woe was not the overwrought emotion we sometimes witness on stage and screen.  This woe was as real as it gets. 

Why?  Because the bright light of God’s holiness illuminated all of Isaiah’s sin—all of his iniquity—all of his uncleanness.  The holiness of God shone on Isaiah like one of those lights used by dermatologists on human skin to reveal every blemish—every freckle of imperfection—every cancerous and pre-cancerous growth—every dark spot.  And it’s here that we stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Isaiah—bearing our sinful blemishes.  Every Lord’s Day we stand here in this temple before this altar in God’s presence with our sin completely exposed. 

And yet, our woe seems to be woefully lacking much of the time.  I doubt that any of us has said “Woe is me” over our own sin in recent memory.  Sure, it’s an antiquated way of speaking.  But perhaps “woe” has wandered out of our vocabulary in the same way that sin has slipped out of our vocabulary—because we think that we’re not that bad, because we think that sinning is something other people do, or because we think that being saved by grace means that we’re free to go on sinning and cash in on forgiveness later. 

But Isaiah gets it just right with his “woe is me.”  Can you confess with Isaiah, “Woe is me?”  Can you acknowledge your unclean lips which can so cleverly craft lies and gossip?  Can you confess your unclean eyes that lust and covet with 20/20 accuracy?  Can you admit to unclean hands which are so quick to hurt and harm and take, but so slow to serve and pray and give?  Standing before God you cannot lie, and no excuses will do.  But the truth will serve you well:  Woe is me.     

But “woe” is not the last word where our God is concerned.  Woe wasn’t the last word for Isaiah.  For with a burning coal from the altar, Isaiah’s unclean lips were purified.  His guilt was taken away.  His sin was atoned for.  And something no less miraculous happens at this altar every Lord’s Day.  For all who are overcome with woe—for repentant sinners who have done the very sins they don’t want to do and who have failed to do the good deeds that they so desperately desire—the Lord takes from this altar and applies to your lips grace, mercy, forgiveness.  The body of God’s Son, once crucified for the sin of the world—and the blood of God’s Son, once shed at the cross—these precious gifts move from God’s altar to your lips.  These precious gifts turn your woe into relief, and joy, and peace that passes understanding.

God is holy and we are not.  But for the sake of His Holy Son, God removes the evil that clings to our lips, our hands, and hearts.  It happens because the woe of the world came to rest on Jesus.  Your woe, your sin, and the death you deserve—Jesus bears it all away for you.  Later in his ministry, Isaiah preached like an eyewitness to the crucifixion of Jesus: Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows. . . . He was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities . . . by His stripes we are healed.  In short, Jesus knows all your woe, and He makes your woe His own.  And you are never the same again.

Isaiah was never the same again.  The forgiveness Isaiah received equipped him for the hard work ahead.  In a matter of seconds, Isaiah went from “Woe is me” to “Here am I!  Send me!”  Isaiah was ready and willing, able and eager to follow where the Lord would lead him, and to proclaim the Word of the Lord to hard-hearted sinners.  It wasn’t an easy job.  In fact, at one point in his ministry Isaiah would walk around naked and barefoot for three years, just as he was commanded to do by the Lord (ch. 20).  And tradition tells us that Isaiah’s ministry ended when he was martyred—by being sawn in two.  Remember that when you raise your hand and tell the Lord, “Here am I!  Send me.”

And yet, you can say it.  You can say it with confidence and faith.  Your life can echo Isaiah’s unbridled enthusiasm.  The Triune God is working all things for your eternal good.  You probably won’t have to go without clothes for three years, and you probably won’t be sawed in two.  But your tasks are difficult nonetheless:  Loving your neighbor, forgiving those who sin against you, speaking the truth in love in an evil world that prefers to live by lies. 

You are the light of the world, Jesus says, sent by the Lord to be His witnesses, to be His hands and His feet and His lips in this dark world.  You are baptized—born again.  Your guilt is taken away.  Your sin is atoned for. Whatever your troubles and whatever your heartaches and challenges, your story is not—and will never be—a tale of woe.  For the worst tragedy cannot change the fact that resurrection is your destination.  The life of the world to come awaits you.  And to that you can only say, “Here am I!  Send me!” 

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

 

Ten Day Teachable Moment

Jesu Juva

Acts 1:12-26                                                       

May 12, 2024

Easter 7B                           

 Dear saints of our Savior,

        Wait!  Stay!  Don’t go anywhere!  That . . . was the Word of the Lord.  That’s what Jesus told His followers right before He disappeared from their sight.  Wait—wait for the promise of the Father.  Of course, we know that their waiting would end on the Day of Pentecost with the coming of the Holy Spirit.  We know that their waiting was just the build-up to something big and glorious.  But the Apostles knew none of that.  Jesus had just up and vanished; and now all they could do was wait.

        Waiting must have been the last thing they wanted to do.  They must have been like stags at the starting gate—bucking and brimming with the urge to get out there and start ringing door bells to tell the whole world that Christ is risen, never to die again—building the church, planning for growth, serving their neighbors in love—hashing out a strategic plan to win the world for Christ—leveraging everything they had learned from Jesus to be His witnesses to the very ends of the earth!  But, no.  Jesus said:  Wait. 

        The artist who painted the picture on this morning’s bulletin cover certainly had an opinion about how well the disciples waited.  The focal point of the painting is, of course, Jesus—the risen, ascending, living Lord of all.  He was crucified, died and was buried.  But on the third day He rose again.  Alleluia!  But as Jesus ascends in glory, His disciples descend into chaos.  Look at the believers at the bottom of the painting.  There you see confusion and disagreement—each person pointing in a different direction, some looking up, some looking down—nobody seeing eye-to-eye.  It looks like a recipe for disaster—a far cry from the oneness and unity Jesus prayed for in today’s Holy Gospel.

        But in my humble opinion, the artist gets it wrong.  For today’s reading from Acts chapter one tells a much different story.  Not a tale of confusion and discord, but a ten-day teachable moment.  The apostles did surprisingly well with their waiting.  This post-Ascension pause turned into a powerful and positive moment for the whole Christian church on earth.

        The ten days between the Ascension of Jesus and the Day of Pentecost are what we call a “teachable moment.”  There the church in its infancy shows us the way of maturity—the way of faith.  What do you do when the Lord says, “Wait?”  What do you do when the Lord says, Be still and know that I am God?  Or as we sang from Psalm 27 this morning, “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord.”  Because let’s face it, a big part of the Christian life is waiting—waiting for the Lord—waiting for deliverance, waiting for healing, waiting for help, waiting for all the Lord’s promises to be fulfilled.

        Most of us hate to wait.  Waiting is what we do worst.  You don’t need me to provide examples of this, do you?  Consider your own life in just the past week.  How well did you wait?  Mmm hmm.  That’s what I thought.

        But waiting for the Lord is different.  Waiting on the Lord is always a teachable moment.  Waiting on the Lord doesn’t meaning doing nothing.  Nobody can read Acts chapter one and say that the disciples did nothing.  Instead, Peter and John and James and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James the son of Alphaeus and Simon the Zealot and Judas the son of James—they got busy while they waited on the Lord.  They found wonderful ways to wait for the Lord in faith. 

        So what did they do as they waited?  All these with one accord were devoting themselves to prayer.  Don’t gloss over that fact.  Jesus told them to wait.  But their waiting didn’t preclude prayer.  Waiting is prime time for prayer. And Luke doesn’t merely write that they prayed.  (That would have been fine.)  But Luke says that they were devoting themselves to prayer.  This means that they continued faithfully in prayer.  They remained constant in prayer.  They were praying with all their hearts.  They carried on (and on and on) in prayer.  This was much more than “Come, Lord Jesus” before lunch.

        Let these first believers teach you how to wait for the Lord in prayer.  This teachable moment teaches us that we should devote ourselves to prayer—to a life of prayer that is regular and disciplined and ongoing—not just on Sundays, not just at mealtime, but especially at times you have set apart specifically to pray.  Prayer—when done properly—is work.  It requires intentional, systematic effort, purposeful planning.  Pray with a plan.  Pray for others as you would have them pray for you.  And if you’d like help devoting yourself to prayer, just ask.  As the disciples waited, they devoted themselves completely to prayer.

        There’s more to learn from this teachable moment.  How exactly did they wait on Lord so well?  Well, you might have missed it, but the place where the believers gathered together is described by St. Luke as “the upper room.”  Yes, probably that upper room.  They made a point to gather together in that same sacred space where, just weeks before, they had gathered with Jesus on the night when He was betrayed.   On that night, in that same upper room, Jesus had prayed for them, that they would all be one.  On that night, in that same upper room, Jesus had washed their feet, showing them how to serve and love one another.  On that night, in that same upper room, Jesus had given them His very body and blood to eat and drink for the forgiveness of sins.  It was to that same upper room that the believers retreated after Jesus ascended.  There they waited.  There they prayed for one another, served one another, and remembered the words of Jesus. 

        It’s the same reason we gather right here, in this sacred space, week after week, time and time again.  This room is our upper room.  Here we wait.  Here we gather to pray to Jesus, in the glad confidence that He is still praying and interceding for us.  Here Jesus still washes His disciples, in the waters of Holy Baptism.  Here Jesus is the host, serving us with His precious body and blood that He might lead us onward in faith toward Him and in fervent love toward one another.  This is the place where unity is preserved, where forgiveness of sins is received and offered.  This place is full of “teachable moments.”  This is the place where we wait on the Lord—again and again and again.

        Waiting on the Lord doesn’t mean doing nothing.  During that ten-day teachable moment the disciples came together in the upper room to devote themselves to prayer.  And, they leaned into the Scriptures.  They dug down deep into the Word of God.  And what they discovered was strength and resilience.  In the Word, God provided a path of healing for the disciples as they came to terms with Judas Iscariot’s betrayal of Jesus, and his death by his own hand.  Through His Word the Lord delivered them from that trauma and put them on a path of faith and hope.

        From the Scriptures the Lord led them to see that what they needed to do was have a call meeting.  They learned that the Lord needed to choose a new apostle to take the place of Judas.  They gathered together and prayed:  Lord, show us the one . . . you have chosen.  Then they cast lots.  And the Lord chose Matthias to be the new Number 12.  And following this same pattern, congregations down through the centuries have scoured the Scriptures and prayed for the Lord to provide pastors for His church. 

        Beloved in the Lord, let this ten-day teachable moment be your teachable moment too.  When all you can do is wait on the Lord—when the path ahead is unclear and uncertain—or when you are tempted to take matters into your own hands—do what those first disciples did.  Gather in this upper room—the sacred place where Jesus cleanses you of your sin, feeds you with His Word, and serves you with the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood.  Gather . . . and devote yourself to prayer—regular, ongoing, disciplined prayer.  Gather . . . Pray . . . and dig down deep into the Word.  Read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest the sacred Scriptures.  For there we encounter Jesus, our Savior.  He died for our sins and was raised again for our justification.  He has ascended to the Father’s right hand so that His power might be fully employed to lead you onward in a life of faith and good works—and eventually to your own glorious resurrection.  So be strong and take courage; wait for the Lord.

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

 

The Chosen

 Jesu Juva

St. John 15:9-17                                                   

May 5, 2024

Easter 6B                              

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        We’ve got a tailor-made text for Confirmation Sunday.  We’ve got words of life and love from Jesus for every disciple.  Love is the fruit of faith.  Love is the fruit that every Christian bears.  But this love is no ordinary love.

        This love flows from the Father to the Son to you.  As the Father loves the Son, so the Son of God loves you.  And He says to you:  Abide in my love.  Stay there.  Rest there.  Dwell there.  Live there.  Notice where this love begins—not in us, not in our hearts, not by any decision or choice that we have made.  True love—real love—begins in the heart of God the Father, from where it flows to the Son.  And, finally, it flows from Jesus, the Son, to you by way of the cross, the baptismal font, the altar, and the Word of God.  To abide in the love of Jesus is to cling to His gifts—to trust His Word and believe His promises in Holy Baptism and in Holy Communion.

        Jesus gave this teaching about love on the night when He was betrayed, gathered in the upper room with His disciples.  Jesus had only hours before His arrest and execution.  Jesus knew full well that His disciples would deny Him, betray Him, and abandon Him.  But He loves them anyway.  He loves us too, despite our denials and our betrayals. 

        Jesus predicted what was about to unfold that night:  Greater love has no one than this, that someone lays down his life for his friends.  Greater love has no one than Jesus, who laid down His life for us.  For every loveless, selfish sinner, Jesus died.  He takes the pain and the punishment.  He wears the thorns and bears the nails.  But in those wounds you have healing and forgiveness.  Greater love than this no one has ever known.  But you know it.  Because Jesus did it all for you.

        And then, just to put an exclamation point on how much you matter and how much you are loved, Jesus calls you His “friend.”  No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends.  That sounds great.  And we’re quick to call almost anybody a “friend” these days.  But Jesus had something very specific in mind when He called you His “friend.”

        Back in the day, when kings and queens ruled the world, the person who was closest to the king—his personal confidant and advisor—was called the friend of the king.  Friends of the king didn’t toil away in some cubicle in a windowless office.  No, the friends of the king always worked with the king.  They had a role in every decision and discussion.  They had a say in what was decided.  They knew their master’s business.  Friends of the king could even speak on behalf of the king, and act on his behalf.  Friends of the king didn’t only work for the king; but they shared in his royal reign.

        Is it not a wonder that Jesus says You are my friends.  You’re not merely a servant, but a friend of Jesus who is King of Kings and Lord of Lords.  He’s the vine and you are His royal branches.  As a friend of Jesus, you have a voice—a voice to pray, praise, and give thanks—a voice to confess that Jesus Christ is Lord—a voice to witness to the whole world that Jesus Christ is risen from the dead, never to die again.  Don’t keep quiet!  You’re a friend of the King!  Love one another.  Let your light shine that others may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.  Speak for the king.  Live in His love.

        Confirmation Sunday is a great day not only to remember that we are friends of Jesus—but also to recall how we became friends of Jesus.  That’s what Jesus explained with clarity to the disciples gathered in the upper room:  You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit.  You didn’t choose Jesus to be your friend; Jesus chose you to be His friend.  Big difference!

        When it comes to your Savior, you didn’t choose Him.  You couldn’t!  By nature we are enemies of God, not friends.  Guilty sinners can’t choose their own Savior.  No, we must be chosen.  He chooses us.  Many of you, like me, were baptized as little babies and have no memory of a time in life when we didn’t believe in Jesus.  In fact, infant baptism perfectly illustrates what Jesus is getting at when He says, “You didn’t choose me.  I chose you.”  The little baby brought to the font is not choosing Jesus; Jesus is choosing that little one.  And even those of you who came to faith as adults, you were chosen in Christ before the foundation of the world, and any choices you made came well after God chose you in Christ, His Son.

        This is the heart of God’s love:  He takes the initiative.  He chooses.  He loves.  He chooses to love the loveless.  He chooses to love His enemies.  He chooses to love sinners and call them His friends—and He lays down His life for them, and gives them a seat at this table, and forgives them.  And He withholds nothing from us:  All that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you.  You’ve got full access.  You enjoy all the perks and privileges of being a friend of Jesus.  You’ve got love to bear and love to share.

        You are one of the chosen—a friend of the King.  You have a seat at the table, so speak up.  Pray.  Like love, prayer is a fruit of faith.  With faith in Jesus, you can ask the Father with all boldness and confidence, as dear children ask their dear father.  Your prayers, offered in Jesus’ name, are always heard in heaven.

        The Bible is filled with famous prayers.  Abraham prayed to God to spare the righteous residents of Sodom and Gomorrah.  Moses prayed that the sinful children of Israel would be spared.  Daniel dared to pray three times a day even though those prayers ensured a descent into the lions’ den.  Jonah prayed from inside the belly of a great fish!

        Dear friends of Jesus, chosen of God, you stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Abraham and Moses and Daniel and Jonah.  Your prayers matter as much as theirs.  Your petitions rise before God’s throne of grace marked “urgent.”  The outcome of world events—the pathways down which you and your loved ones will be led—these outcomes will be shaped and affected based upon your prayers according to God’s Word, in the name of Jesus.  Oh, things may not turn out exactly as you had hoped.  The good and gracious will of our King is sometimes mysterious.  But when you pray as a friend of Jesus, you may be doing far more to shape the course of human events than anything that may transpire at the United Nations or in the nation’s capital.  Your words carry with them the weight of Jesus, who loved you and gave Himself for you.

        These prayers you offer are a fruit of faith—along with the love you show.  This is how the world out there knows that you are a friend of Jesus—one of the chosen.  This love is what caused the world to sit up and take notice of those first Christians back in the early church.  It wasn’t their impressive church buildings; they didn’t have any.  It wasn’t their body of doctrine; that hadn’t been completely established yet.  What caused the world to sit up and take notice was love—the love that the first Christians had for each other in spite of all their differences—and in spite of how they suffered.  “See how they love one another,” they said.  The world had never seen anything like it before.

        This love is a fruit of faith—along with peace and patience and joy and kindness and goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.  Jesus says that you were chosen and appointed to bear this fruit—and, Jesus adds, your fruit should abide.  The fruit of faith you bear is fruit that abides—fruit that lasts and endures and continues on and on.

        What a strange image that is—fruit that abides and lasts.  For if there’s one thing we know about the fruit offered at Pick N Save or Sendiks it’s this:  It ain’t gonna last.  Bananas turn black.  Apples bruise.  Avocados get mushy.  The freshest fruit always goes bad.  It’s got a short shelf-life because it’s been cut off from its source of life.  But not so with you.  For you are confirmed in Christ—abiding in Jesus—receiving His love and the forgiveness of your sins.  The love you bear is a fruit that will last and abide.  The good you do goes on and on and on.  Your shelf-life is a lot longer than you might think, because you are abiding in Jesus—ever connected to His life-giving Word, to the cleansing splash of baptism, and to the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood. You are His friend.  He has chosen you.  Happy Confirmation Sunday!

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