Twelve Years ~ Two Daughters

Jesu Juva

St. Mark 5:21-43                                                

June 30, 2024

Proper 8B                 

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        In today’s Holy Gospel Jesus raises Jairus’ daughter, and heals a woman with a flow of blood.  On the surface, this account seems so random—so chaotic and messy.  It seems like nothing goes according to plan.  Jesus’ calendar for that day gets decimated by interruptions within interruptions, one after another.  I personally hate it when that happens in life and ministry.  Things always have a way of getting messy and muddled.

        But I have learned to love this account for a certain symmetry and balance that isn’t apparent at first glance.  What seems messy and chaotic on the surface is actually infused with divine design.

        It begins with the number twelve.  The daughter of Jairus is twelve years old, and she’s dying.  And, in fact, she dies.  For twelve years this lively little girl has lived life to the full—loving and being loved.  But now hers is a life cut short—too short—only twelve years!  Few things are more tragic than the death of a child.  The Lord gives and the Lord takes away—but that “taking” exacts a terrible toll.  Twelve years is too brief—not nearly enough time—a life cut short at the tender age of twelve.

        But for as long as Jairus’ daughter had been alive—for twelve long, arduous years—a certain woman had suffered with a continual discharge of blood.  What began as a routine, monthly occurrence . . . continued occurring, on and on and on, for twelve insufferable years.  Doctors had done nothing but drain her bank account.  In our culture a disorder like this would be a private matter.  But in that culture, this woman was rendered as a perpetual outcast—always unclean, always defiled, always infertile—likely never knowing a husband’s love or the blessing of mothering—for twelve, long years of agony.  She wasn’t dying, but, make no mistake, she was bereft of life.  For her, twelve years was forever long.

        Do you see the symmetry?  How a twelve-year timeline frames and balances this otherwise messy, chaotic chain of events?

        Jesus is on His way to help Jairus’ daughter.  Help is on the way.  But there’s a traffic delay (Just like in Milwaukee).  Crowds press in on Jesus.  He can barely navigate the narrow city streets.  The woman with the discharge of blood sneaks up behind Jesus.  She believes that Jesus can heal her:  If I touch even his garments, I will be made well.  And with one touch, she felt healing come into her bleeding body.  (The flow of blood immediately dried up.)  Jesus, too, felt that power had gone out from Him.  But Jesus doesn’t do anonymous, drive-by healings.  He stops to connect with the woman.  He indulges in this interruption, even in the middle of an emergency call to Jairus’ house.  Jesus wants to see this woman, look her in the eye, and hear her confession of faith.

        That faith is what made her different.  That’s why power went out from Jesus.  Faith receives what Jesus has to give.  She knew full well just how defiled and unclean she was.  No one would ever want to touch her.  But she believed that if she could only touch Jesus it would all be better.  Jesus says as much:  Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace and be healed of your disease.  A happy ending.

        But notice what Jesus calls her:  Daughter.  Daughter, your faith has made you well.  It’s another bit of surprising symmetry.  Even as He’s on His way to help the dying daughter of Jairus, Jesus designates this unlikely woman as His “daughter.”  She who likely had no family—or who had been exiled from whatever family she had—she is welcomed into the family of faith with one word from Jesus:  Daughter.  And with that word she knew beyond all doubt—she was loved by Jesus.  She—the perpetual outcast—she was precious to Jesus.

        No sooner does Jesus call her “daughter,” than word reaches them from Jairus’ house:  Your daughter is dead.  No sooner does Jesus restore the life of one daughter, than the life of Jairus’ daughter slips away.  And, everyone knows, dead is dead.  No one can change that.  Why trouble the teacher any further?  Why?  Because Jesus came to be troubled with this very thing.  Jesus came to be bothered by our death.  Jesus came to do something about it.

        Everything hinges on what Jesus tells Jairus at that moment of devastation:  Do not fear, only believe.  And Jesus says that for your benefit too.  Through this symmetrical story Jesus breathes faith into your messy, chaotic, troubled heart.  Do not fear, only believe. 

        Like Jairus, you may feel that your prayers have gone unanswered.  You may feel that your problems have been put “on hold” by a distracted Savior.  Do not fear, only believe.  You may be in despair for yourself or others.  Your suffering may stretch for a span of years even greater than twelve.  You may be trapped by your own sinful addictions, or victimized by the sins of others.  You may have lost all faith in doctors and institutions, in government and politicians, or in your fellow man.  You may be grieving the death of a child.  Jesus Christ knows what you shoulder.  And He says:  Don’t be afraid, only believe.

        There’s a lot going on here.  Are you keeping up with the chaos confronted by the Christ?  Do you see the symmetry?  This account is framed and balanced by twelve years . . . and two daughters . . . and one Savior.

        Jesus came to save one and all—the daughter with the discharge of blood, Jairus and his daughter.  He came for them and for you too.  He came to bring healing from the sickness of sin, to bring order to your disordered life, to make you clean, to give you light in your darkness.  For the joy of your salvation, Jesus endured the cross and scorned its shame. 

        Jesus does His saving work one sinner at a time.  In Holy Baptism He began that work in you—He touched you—just as He did with the two “daughters” in today’s text.  He touched you, cleansed you, claimed you as His own dear daughter or son.  One sinner at a time, Jesus gives His body to eat and His blood to drink.  Jesus doesn’t get any closer or more personal than that.  The hem of His robe is nothing compared with His life-giving, sin-forgiving body and blood.  This is the body and blood that went to death for you—that was also raised to resurrection life—that conquered death and the grave—that is now glorified at the right hand of the Father—here given and shed for you.

        But let’s back up.  We have one final stop to make—at the house of Jairus.  Confronted by a chorus of weeping and wailing, Jesus declared:  The child is not dead but sleeping.  The gathered mourners laughed at Him.  Or, more accurately, they sneered and scoffed in unbelief.  Still today this sad world scoffs at the notion that Jesus can do anything about death.  Jesus said she was sleeping—not because she wasn’t dead indeed—but because waking her from death was, for Jesus, no more difficult than waking her from a nap.

        Jesus went to the bedside and took her cold little hand into His.  Talitha cumi.  Little girl, arise.  (Just like a dad waking his daughter for school.)  With those words from Jesus, the girl’s sullen eyes began to sparkle with light and life.  Lifeless lips smiled.  Death was defeated.  This is why Jairus had dared to bother Jesus.

        You too can trust this Jesus.  You can bother Him—trouble Him with your troubles—pour out your petitions.  Trouble the Savior when you are troubled by death.  Jesus knows all about it.  He’s tasted death for you.  Christ is risen and in Him you too will rise.  This is the Jesus we look to in faith—the one hanging from the cross.  He is a symmetrical Savior, whose wounds bring us healing, whose death is our life, whose shame is our glory, whose weakness is our strength.  On the cross, power went out from Him.  On the cross, life and forgiveness of sins went out from Him.  And today, by faith, all that went out from Jesus on the cross—these blessings all come into you—rich blessings received by faith.  Your faith has saved you.

        The days of our lives are often like that random day in the life of Jesus.  Interruptions, chaos, twists and turns we didn’t see coming.  But there is an unseen symmetry—a divine design—a blessed balance—that shapes all our days.  Twelve years, two daughters, one Savior.  In that one Savior your life is framed by sin and grace, Word and Sacrament, law and gospel, death and life.  Do not fear, only believe.

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

 

A Miracle of Meteorology

Jesu Juva

St. Mark 4:35-41                                                

June 23, 2024

Proper 7B     

Dear saints of our Savior~

        A great windstorm arose, and the waves were breaking into the boat, so that the boat was already filling.  Welcome to one of the most “preachable” passages in all the gospels.  It’s got a little something for everyone:  humanity and divinity, wind and waves, fear and faith, and near-calamity climaxing in a great calm.  Even the wind and the sea obey him.

        Such a lively account always makes for a great sermon.  I preach this text at every opportunity.  But I do think that we preachers often move a little too quickly past the most important part—the weather, and our Lord’s ability to control it.  The meteorology matters.  We can talk about the “storms of life” in just a bit.  But let’s not skip over that storm on that night—those winds and those waves—and the weary Savior who nearly slept through it all.

        Atmospheric forces were at work which we can scarcely imagine.  Barometric pressure dropping, deepening low pressure, clashing air masses, updrafts ascending, and downdrafts that turned the Sea of Galilee into a roaring, ravenous monster. 

        But for Jesus, it was no big deal.  He rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace!  Be still!”  And there was a great calm.  What does this mean?  It means first and foremost that Jesus is God.  Jesus is God; and we are not.  All we can do is complain about the weather, or try to predict it.  But Jesus?  Even the wind and the sea obey him. He is God; and we are not.

        I personally would have no problem following a messiah who calls the shots when it comes to weather.  Hey, Jesus, can you do something about the dew point?  Hey, Jesus, do I need to be concerned about this tornado watch?  Hey, Jesus, will the rain hold off for our picnic today?  Even the cold fronts and warm fronts obey Him.  Because He is God.

        Or is He?  Because for much of this harrowing account Jesus isn’t acting very god-like at all.  His humanity is on full display.  Jesus Himself gives the command to set sail in the gathering darkness.  Did He forget to check the forecast?  And this so-called Savior doesn’t make for much of a skipper.  In fact, as the weather started getting rough and the tiny ship was tossed, Jesus was snoozing—snoring in the stern.  A very human thing to do.

        St. Mark, as always, gives us the raw facts—no matter how awkward they may be.  Mark is a truth-telling evangelist.  And the truth is that when the boat starting sinking—when the cry went out, All hands on deck!—Jesus was unresponsive.  And the disciples were not calmly trusting Jesus as King of kings and Lord of lords.  No, those elite, hand-picked apostles were panicking like faithless cowards.

        But St. Mark records all these untidy, unflattering details for your sake—so that you might have hope—so that you might be encouraged, especially when you are flailing, faithless, and fearful.  The question posed by the alarmed apostles is telling:  Teacher, don’t you care?

        Perhaps that prayer or one like it has passed through your lips a time or two.  It’s easy to trust Jesus when your life is smooth sailing.  It’s easy to trust Jesus when your health is good, and when you are universally loved and admired, and the wind is at your back.  But it’s not so easy to trust Him when your life feels like the Edmund Fitzgerald on the big lake they call Gitche Gumee.  Do you trust Him?  Do you trust this Jesus who sleeps through the storm—this Jesus who seems a little too comfortable with chaos?

        But it’s precisely in the chaos that Jesus teaches us who’s in control.  It’s precisely when Jesus seems most distant that we discover Him to be right by our side—a very present help in trouble.  While we crave quick fixes and spectacular special effects, Jesus simply speaks:  Peace!  Be still!  It’s only two words in the Greek.  It was nothing more than what you or I might yell at a barking dog in the middle of the night.  Be still.  But as soon as those words left His lips, the wind ceased and there was a great calm.  Within seconds, roaring, foamy waters became smooth as glass.

        In this miracle everything hinges on the words that Jesus speaks.  His Words get results.  His Words accomplish what He desires.  And those same powerful words of His are preserved right on the very pages of your Bible.  Those same words of His are preached and proclaimed by pastors right from this very pulpit.  When you feel like you are sinking in a sea of chaos, listen—listen to Jesus.  Trust what He says.  Don’t despise preaching and His Word.  Don’t ignore it—but hold it sacred and gladly hear and learn it.

        What are you so afraid of?  Don’t you trust me?  That’s what Jesus asked the Twelve as they marveled at the Savior’s divine power.  Those are good questions for us too:  Why are you so afraid?  Why do you live each day in fear and anxiety?  Why do act like your Savior is sleeping and distant?    Why do you live as if a Jesus you can’t see is a Jesus who can’t help you? 

        If Jesus single-handedly conquered sin and death and Satan by dying on the cross and rising again—if Jesus chose the whip and the thorns and the nails for you—if He was willing to suffer as your substitute under God’s wrath against sin—don’t you think that He also has a plan and a purpose for your life—that He will supply the help you need? 

        It takes faith to believe that.  And that’s why we’re here this morning—to hear the Words and eat the meal designed to strengthen our faith and to forgive our faithlessness.  The same powerful Word that stills the storm is also the Word that forgives all your sins and declares you to be justified in Jesus.  In that Word is your safety—in life and in death—when storms are raging, and when all is calm.

        As that great calm settled over the waters, the disciples were no longer asking, “Teacher, don’t you care?”  That question had now been replaced by a different question:  Who is this guy?  Who is this that even the wind and the sea obey Him?  You know the answer.  He is Jesus the Christ, true God begotten of the Father from eternity, and true man, born of the Virgin Mary—your Lord, our Savior.  No one else can still the storm.  No one else can order around the wind and the sea and have them obey.  Jesus is one of a kind.  Salvation is found in no one else.

        This miracle, like every miracle, is the exception rather than the rule.  There are plenty of ships that go down in the storm—some of them not too far east of here.  Airplanes crash, even with plenty of Christians on board.  Flood waters typically don’t bypass churches as they do their destructive work.  So where is Jesus when all this happens?  Is He asleep at the wheel?  Does He care?

        Beloved in the Lord, today’s miracle teaches that Jesus is right here in the middle of it all.  He is God; and we are not.  But He is not just God; He is God-with-Us—Emmanuel.  God-with-us in the preaching and proclamation of His promises.  God-with-us in the wet, watery waves of Holy Baptism.  God-with-us in the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood.  Jesus is an ever-present help in times of trouble. 

        As the disciples set sail into those evening waters, they were not alone.  Jesus was with them—in the boat with them.  And right here, in this sacred space, is where Jesus joins you on your earthly journey.  The fact that you’re sitting in the “nave” this morning is no accident.  By design most churches have a “nave.”  And “nave,” well, it’s just the Latin word for “boat.”  Beloved in the Lord, you are in the boat with Jesus.  Jesus is in the boat with you. And there’s just no better place to be.  Bon Voyage!

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

 

Crazy Talk

 Jesu Juva

St. Mark 3:20-35                                                  

June 9, 2024

Proper 5B                                                       

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        He’s just like Hitler.  Our public discourse has degraded to such an extent that comparing people to Hitler has become commonplace.  You remember Hitler—the worst person who ever lived, responsible for the deaths of millions.  Calling someone Hitler is pretty much the worst thing that can be said about anyone.  And yet, that Hitler card is getting played with routine regularity these days. 

        Today’s reading from Mark three shows that there are, in fact, worse things that can be said about a person.  Today two terrible accusations get leveled against Jesus.  And it all begins, surprisingly, with the family of Jesus—with His mother and His brothers.  Jesus had been healing people all over Galilee—casting out demons, preaching the kingdom of God, calling disciples to follow Him.  The crowds were constant.  But when Jesus’ family heard about this, they thought Jesus must be crazy—beside Himself—out of His mind—not playing with a full deck.  So with the best of intentions, Jesus’ own family showed up with a strait jacket to take Him into protective custody.

        You have to appreciate the brutal honesty of this account.  The gospels tell the whole truth even when it’s not very pretty.  That’s one of the earmarks of accurate historical narrative.  You write down the embarrassing stuff right along with all the good stuff.  If you were just writing a propaganda piece to sway public opinion in favor of Jesus, you wouldn’t include this part about how His own family thought He was crazy.  No, you’d include quotes from His mother and His siblings about how they always knew Jesus was special and was destined to do great things.  But that’s not how it happened.  Jesus’ own family thought He was mentally ill.

        If that wasn’t bad enough, the religious elite from Jerusalem had a decidedly harsher take on Jesus:  “He’s possessed by Beelzebub,” they said, “and He casts out demons by the prince of demons.”  He’s just a demon disguised as the Messiah—a starting shortstop for Team Satan.  He’s not the Christ, but the anti-Christ.  Jesus’ opponents demonized Him much like we see today in the world of politics.

        On one level it makes sense.  This was the only card the opponents of Jesus had left to play.  I mean, Jesus had been going around doing good—healing scores of people including lepers and paralytics, the fevered and the disabled.  Jesus was restoring life and health to all who were oppressed and suffering.  And if you accepted that those healings were from God, then you also had to accept that Jesus’ teachings were the Words of God.  You had to accept that the kingdom of God had come in His coming—that He just might be the Son of God in human flesh, the Messiah sent from the Father to save the world from sin, death, and the devil.  But to the enemies of Jesus that was crazy talk.  It was much easier to assert that Jesus was just a demon-possessed deceiver.

        As it was for Jesus, so it is for His Church of every age.  For two thousand years the one holy Christian and apostolic church has been a force for good in this fallen world:  caring for the poor, setting up orphanages and hospitals—including hospitals for the mentally ill.  The church has affirmed the dignity and value of all human life, including the unborn, the aged, and the disabled.  The church of Jesus Christ has reached out in love to educate and elevate women and children, to protect the family, to clothe the poor, to feed the hungry, to minister to the dying, to point the way to heaven for all people of all nations.

        We Christians are engaged in a battle to help save the world.  But the world looks at the church today in her good fight—a campaign based on love for the Lord and the truth of His Word . . . and the world doesn’t understand. The world assumes the worst about the church just as it did about Jesus. 

        Speak the truth in love today and don’t be surprised when the world calls you crazy and evil.  Speak the truth in love today about God’s gift of marriage and family, about maleness and femaleness, about the value of sexual purity and the sanctity of life in the womb, about the great value of fathers and mothers.  Do this and you can expect to be judged like Jesus was judged.  Expect to be slandered like the Savior.  Expect to be told that you’re crazy or evil—or just like Hitler.

        Don’t believe it.  When you hear the teachings of Jesus constantly ridiculed as crazy and evil—when you hear your own deeply held beliefs about Jesus and His Word constantly labeled as crazy and evil—well, you just might start to wonder.  It would be easy enough to give in and go along with the world—to jump on the bandwagon and go down to celebrate Pridefest. 

        There’s no denying that some of our beliefs do seem somewhat crazy:  Forgiving those who sin against us?  Sounds crazy.  Praying for our enemies?  Sounds crazy.  Leading a sexually pure and decent life in what we say and do?  Crazy talk. 

        And even if the whole world, including your mother and brothers and sisters thinks you’re crazy or even demon-possessed for believing all of that, well, welcome to the asylum.  You’re in good company.  Remember, they said it all about Jesus first. 

        Jesus came to do battle with the devil—to bind that strong man and to liberate what is rightfully His—the souls He died to save.  That’s us!  We’re the Savior’s stolen property now rightfully returned to the One who loved us and gave Himself for us.  Jesus is the woman’s offspring who bruised the serpent’s head and defeated the devil forever by dying on the cross.  He takes all of our bad—all of our crazy—and He gives us all of His good—His love, His forgiveness, His peace, and life that lasts forever.

        That’s what we call the “gospel,” and it sounds really crazy—how Jesus defeated the devil by dying.  Who could have imagined a love so strong?  Who would have scripted a story like this?  That Jesus would take our death—the wages of our sin—and make it His own?  That Jesus would bind the devil by being bound Himself to a Roman tool of torture?  And that by His resurrection He would ransack the devil’s domain and rescue a world of sinners?  And the result of all this is that your sins are forgiven and the kingdom of heaven is wide open to all believers?  Really?

        And all of this is God’s free gift to all who trust in Him.  And there’s no sin so terrible that the blood of Jesus cannot wash it away.  Listen to Jesus: Truly, I say to you, all sins will be forgiven the children of man, and whatever blasphemies they utter.  Did you hear that?  All sins bar none.  Nothing so horrible, so messy or messed-up that Jesus doesn’t have it covered.  Name your worst.  Confess your “crazy.”  Jesus Christ has answered for it.  All the crazy stuff that we do to others and all the crazy they do to us—it has all been addressed in the death and resurrection of Jesus.

        What can possibly go wrong?  Nothing on God’s part.  One possibility is that we just refuse to trust and believe this good news.  This is what Jesus meant when He spoke of the sin of blasphemy against the Holy Spirit.  To refuse the gift of Jesus and to call His work the work of the devil—well, that’s unpardonable.  Not because it’s so bad, but because it refuses to be given to.  It refuses to receive.

        In the end, look who gets it right this morning.  Not the mother and brothers of Jesus.  Not the super-religious scribes.  It was all those desperate, broken, crazy people who wouldn’t leave Jesus alone—who kept after Him—who kept receiving what He was giving, such that Jesus could hardly scarf down a sandwich.  It was that bunch of misfits who had nothing better to do than follow Jesus, and listen to Jesus, and look to Jesus for help and healing and hope and forgiveness.

        Jesus looked at them and called them His family.  And Jesus says that about you too.  Right here this morning we have the Lord’s mother and brothers and sisters.  The world may call you crazy.  The world may call you Hitler.  But Jesus calls you kin.  Here the family of faith gathers together tightly around our Lord to hear His Word, to eat the bread that is His body and to drink the wine that is His blood—to pray, praise and give thanks to a God we cannot see, for a salvation that we can only receive by faith.  That may indeed be crazy.  But it’s true.  It’s what we believe.  It’s who we are in Jesus, our Brother.

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

Rest and Remember

 Jesu Juva

St. Mark 2:23-28                                                  

June 2, 2024

Proper 4B                  

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        The Third Commandment is front and center this morning:  Remember the Sabbath Day by keeping it holy.  This is arguably the easiest of the Ten Commandments to keep.  It’s all about resting, remembering, and hearing God’s Word.  How hard can it be? 

        In today’s Old Testament reading Moses was catechizing a new crew of Hebrews about to take possession of the Promised Land.  He spells out the significance of the Sabbath:  Observe the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. . . .  Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God.  On it you shall not do any work. . . And you shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm.  What does this mean?  It’s simple!  Rest and remember on the Sabbath.  That’s all.  Just rest and remember.  Not run a marathon, or climb a mountain, or fast from sunup to sundown.  Just rest and remember.

        But leave it to human beings to take the simplest commandment, and turn it into a weapon of mass destruction—a Billy club for beating up anybody who appears to slack off on the Sabbath.  That’s how messed up we are, spiritually speaking.  God says, “Rest,” and we say, “Now what exactly do you mean by ‘rest?’”  God says, “Don’t do any work,” and we say, “Do we have to rest?  And what exactly do you mean by ‘work?’” 

        By the time Jesus walked the earth with His disciples, the rabbis had constructed thirty-some categories of work. “Rest” had been carefully defined to include things like not carrying, not burning, not writing or erasing or cooking.  And also among those prohibited tasks: harvesting and threshing grain.  It was verboten to cut or pluck any growing thing, including flowers and fruit.  And don’t even think about mowing the lawn.

        Then, along comes Jesus and His disciples, walking through a grainfield on the Sabbath.  As they were going, they plucked some heads of grain and rubbed them between their hands—and right there, two Sabbath strikes:  harvesting and threshing.  And the Pharisees with their reams of Sabbath regulations were right there ready to pounce:  “Look,” they exclaimed in horror, “Why are they doing what is not lawful on the Sabbath?”

        But whose laws were being broken?  God’s laws or man’s laws?  God had simply said to rest and remember. But the Pharisees had evolved into the “Sabbath Gestapo.” They could take a handful of grain on a Sabbath stroll, and turn it into a capital crime punishable by stoning.  But then Jesus brought up that story of King David, how he and his companions ate the consecrated bread of the Presence which was lawful only for priests to eat.  Yet they ate it, and lived to tell about it.

        What’s it all mean?  Jesus tells us: The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.  The Sabbath was God’s gift to Israel.  No other nation had a god who said, “Hey, take a day off once a week.”  In fact, the other nations thought the Israelites were a bunch of slackers, only working six days a week.  The Lord’s free, chosen people had divine permission to rest and remember—to sample a slice of heaven at the end of every week.  Who could say “no” to that?  Sinful human beings, that’s who.  The Sabbath was God’s gift, but the Israelites turned resting and remembering into a religion of works—a way to impress God, and bribe God, and measure themselves against one another.  Hardly what the Lord had in mind.

        Now, I need to remind you:  The Sabbath—strictly speaking—was God’s gift to Old Testament Israel.  There is no New Testament Sabbath.  Sunday is not the new Sabbath day any more than Jesus is the new Moses.  The early Christians wanted to be clear that the Law of Moses had all been fulfilled in Christ.  So, instead of gathering on the seventh day of the week, they gathered for worship on the first day of the week—the Lord’s Day—the day when Jesus rose from the dead.

        So what’s it all mean for us? Well, Luther nailed it in the catechism when he saw the true gift of the Third Commandment to be hearing and learning the Word of God.  We should fear and love God so that we do not despise preaching and His Word, but hold it sacred and gladly hear and learn it.  Nothing there about the “Sabbath.”

        The Word of God can make any day a holy day.  Without the Word and worship, our weekends are just days off, a chance to go to go up north, throw some steaks on the grill, cut the grass.  But with the Word of God, any day can be a holy day—sanctified, made holy by the Word of God and prayer.  Hearing and learning the Word is the heart and center of the Third Commandment.

        But even this easy, elementary commandment is just too much—too burdensome to keep.  Baptized believers are rapidly evolving into ABC Christians—anything but church. Sports, recreation, vacation, hobbies, family schedules, work schedules, busy calendars, running around from one activity to the next.  God gives us over ten thousand minutes every week, but oh how we struggle just to set aside a fraction of those ten thousand minutes to gladly hear and hold sacred the Word of God.  It’s so simple:  Faith is nourished by the Word.  Without the Word, faith in Christ will wither and die.  When people can’t make the time to hear the Words of eternal life, you have to wonder whether there’s any faith to be fed there at all.

        And as for you . . . well, good on you!  You made it here today.  But your old Adam hates all of this.  He hates the notion of resting and remembering in Jesus.  He hates it when you hear and learn the Word.  He wants your faith to wither and die.  And that’s why it’s such a chore to get to church, but so easy to go out for brunch.  It’s your Old Adam.  That’s why church seems so boring, but golf and concerts and movies seem so exciting.  This is why we don’t hear God’s Word “gladly,” but grudgingly.  This is why we find it so easy to stay up late on Saturday night.  Because here in the Divine Service you are encountering the Word of Life—the only thing that can save you from sin and death.  And the devil hates it.  And the world hates it.  And your Old Adam hates it.  And this unholy trinity will throw any and all distractions at you.  This unholy trinity will supply you with thousands of excuses not to receive what the Lord Jesus has died to win for you.  This is how messed up we are—so sinful and corrupted that we can’t even keep the “easiest” of the commandments. 

        But Jesus is the Lord of the Sabbath; and His commandment-keeping is perfect.  Jesus kept the Sabbath.  The traditions of men He broke.  Man-made religious rules and regulations, He broke.  But Jesus kept the Sabbath more purely and completely than any Jew who ever wandered the Promised Land.  And Jesus did this for all of us—for the whole world, including the Jews and the Hebrews and every son of Shem.  Jesus is Lord of the Sabbath.  He created the Sabbath.  Yet, He kept the Sabbath to pure perfection—as with every other commandment.  And you(!) get this pure perfection of His as a gift—by grace, through faith.

        Jesus still offers rest for your weak and weary soul—not on a particular day of the week, but in Himself:  Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  In His blood-bought forgiveness, you can find rest—rest from your sin, rest from Satan’s accusations, rest from the unrealistic expectations of this world.

        The Old Testament Sabbath—the God-ordained day of rest—reached its final fulfillment late on the Friday we call “good.”  The Lord of the Sabbath had been reduced to a corpse on a cross.  His broken body was taken down, wrapped in linens, and laid to rest in the tomb.  Back in Genesis, on the seventh day, God rested, having completed the work of creation.  And on the seventh day of Holy Week—on the Jewish Sabbath—the Son of Man, the Son of God—He also rested—rested in His temporary tomb—having completed His work of your redemption—having completed the sacrifice of His own life for yours.  Jesus rested . . . but only to rise again.

        One day you too will be “laid to rest.”  That’s such a great euphemism.  Your soul will be immediately with Christ. But your body will be laid to rest.  Your body will rest and await the day of resurrection.  With faith in Jesus Christ, you can rest in peace.  You can die and live in peace.  For the Son of Man is Lord even of the Sabbath.

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