Fret Not

 Jesu Juva

Genesis 45:3-15                                           

February 23, 2025

Epiphany 7C      

 Dear Saints of Our Savior~

        Today’s Introit from Psalm 37 contains that famous phrase:  Fret not.  I suppose it’s famous—not because it’s so well known—but because most of us could stand to hear those words ten times a day.  Fret not.  We do a lot of fretting.  We do a lot of worrying.  We’re all anxious about many things—all the time—every day.  Psalm 37 says, “Knock it off.  Fret not.”

        Instead of all that fret, Psalm 37 offers alternatives:  Be still before the Lord.  Wait patiently for Him.  Trust in the Lord.  Delight yourself in the Lord.  Commit your way to the Lord and He will act.  But will He?  Will the Lord act?  Does He have a plan—a plan to help, to rescue, to deliver?

        In our piety we often say, “God has a plan.”  I’m sure you’ve heard that before.  It’s a comforting reminder in times of trouble.  God has a plan.  Much of the time we don’t know what that plan is—or where that plan is taking us.  And sometimes that plan seems painful.

        As a pastor, I’m sometimes reluctant to tell suffering people, “God has a plan.”  I’m not certain whether people would hear that as just a cliché, or whether they would find it comforting.  Is it just a cop-out, or does it provide clarity?  Is it trite or truthful?  God has a plan.

        The epic journey of Joseph would seem to say, yes, God does indeed have a plan.  In today’s OT reading we only get the climactic scene of Joseph’s saga.  But I’m sure you remember how it began with Joseph and his brothers and his dreams.  His brothers hated him.  And their decision to sell him into slavery was actually a compromise to keep from killing him.  What followed for Joseph were years of shame and suffering, trials and temptations, dungeons and desperation.       

        Joseph teaches us that God has a plan; but that plan is often completely hidden from us.  We see, hear, and experience terrible things; but in, with, and under those terrible things, God is doing His thing—which is wonderful.  The jealousy and hatred of Joseph’s brothers was pure evil.  But under those evil circumstances, God was at work, preparing salvation for His people and ensuring the survival of Abraham’s line from which the Christ would one day be born.

        Today’s reading from Genesis tells of the family reunion that Joseph’s brothers never saw coming.  And when it finally happened—when they hear the high-ranking Egyptian official say the words, “I am Joseph,”—they are dismayed—terrified—unable to speak because their jaws are on the floor.  They expected the worst.  But in one sentence Joseph expresses how God’s good plan—and the evil plan of his brothers—unfolded simultaneously:  Do not be distressed or angry with yourselves because you sold me here, for God sent me before you to preserve life (v.5). 

        Joseph told his brothers:  You sold me . . . but God sent me.  Which is it?  Did Joseph’s brothers sell him into slavery or did God send Joseph down that path?  Was Joseph a victim of evil or was he a savior for the starving world?  The most fitting answer to all of those questions is “yes.”  It’s not “either, or;” it’s “both, and.”  It is the wonderful, awesome plan of God.

        God has a plan.  Fret not.  At the heart of God’s plan for Joseph—and at the heart of God’s plan for you—is forgiveness.  God’s plan moves forward and succeeds because of forgiveness.  Joseph’s treatment of his brothers is a profound lesson on the power of forgiveness.  This is what forgiveness looks like.  Joseph is now the most powerful man in the world.  And before him are the brothers who betrayed him, down on their knees, guilty of great evil, deserving of death.  But what does Joseph do?  Through tear-filled eyes he forgives them, speaks tenderly to them, comforts and kisses every last brother.  Oh, and he also tells them the good news:  Fret not.  God has a plan.

        What if Joseph hadn’t forgiven them?  What if Joseph had done what comes so naturally to the sinful nature?  What if Joseph had subscribed to the idea that turnabout is fair play—that revenge is a dish best served cold?  Or what if he had spoken forgiveness to them, but then sent them back home empty handed to starve?  What if he had forced them to earn their way back into his good graces? 

        If Joseph doesn’t forgive his brothers then God’s plan is imperiled.  God’s plan to save the whole world, including you is jeopardized.  How will Abraham’s seed secure salvation if Abraham’s line comes to a screeching halt because Joseph won’t let go of the sins committed against him?  If Joseph doesn’t forgive, the future is unthinkable.

        And what about you?  Will you stand in God’s way—will you hinder God’s plan—will you sabotage God’s blueprint—by refusing to forgive those who cause you so much pain and heartache?  God has a plan for you; and that plan hinges on His own dear Son.   

        God’s plan is seen most clearly at Calvary. There Jesus hangs from a Roman tool of torture, beaten and bloody.  Fresh pain is felt with every breath.  As Jesus looks down and surveys the scene, His disciples have abandoned Him.  His Father has forsaken Him.  He is surrounded by sinners who hate Him—who mock, curse, and abuse Him.  But God has a plan; and in Jesus that plan succeeds: Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do (Lk 23:34).  Jesus sheds His blood and submits to death for all of His brothers and sisters, including you.  This is what forgiveness looks like.  God has a plan—and this is it.

        This plan of God for life and salvation had been underway since long before Joseph was born—ever since our first parents ushered sin and its wages into the world.  God’s plan in Christ was hidden.  God’s good plan was obscured by the evil plans of men like Pilate and Herod, the Scribes and Pharisees, and all who wanted Jesus out of the way.  But make no mistake, our sin was the driving force behind the nails.  Our sin was the reason for the crucifixion.  But in, with, and under this terrible thing, God was doing His thing—which is wonderful.  In Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them (2 Cor 5:19a).

        That is the best news you will ever hear.  It means we don’t get what we deserve.  Like Joseph’s brothers, we don’t get what we have coming because of our sin.  Our brother, Jesus, forgives us.  He speaks tenderly to us through the preaching and proclamation of His promises.  He comforts us with the cup of salvation.  Our Brother comes among us in flesh and blood to serve us and save us and love us.

        Flowing from this grand plan of salvation is God’s plan for you.  Yes, God has a plan for your life.  Your life is not a random series of events—actions and reactions, causes and effects—that in the end are mostly meaningless.  Far from it!  Your baptism declares that God is determined to have His way with you (and His way is always good).  We who have been forgiven understand that God’s plan always involves our forgiveness of others.  A refusal on our part to forgive those who sin against us—well, that hinders God’s plan. Better by far to let the sin go, so that God can do His wonderful work, and His plan can proceed. 

        It’s not trite, but truthful; not a cliché, but a comfort:  God has a plan for you—a plan that centers your life in the life of your Savior.  Fret not when brothers betray you.  Fret not when it seems like so much of your life is wasted and worthless.  Remember Joseph and his years in prison.  We cannot know and we cannot see what God is doing or what He is planning.  We can only believe.  We can only trust that He is working all things for our eternal good, through the life, death, and resurrection of our Lord, Jesus Christ.  And that is everything. 

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

Resurrection Reality

Jesu Juva

1 Corinthians 15:12-20                                

February 16, 2025

Epiphany 6C                       

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        Corinth must have seemed like the last place on earth that God would have a church.  So vile and corrupt was the lifestyle of Corinth that the name of this city became a slang word for corruption.  Corinth rolled out the red carpet for immorality and overindulgence of every sort.  Yet, right there in Corinth was an outpost of heaven on earth.  The church is called to be holy even in the most unholy places.

        Located in such an inhospitable place, the church at Corinth was on life support:  Among that little group of believers was a party spirit—politics in the church.  They were very litigious—ready and willing to drag one another into court over trivial matters.  Sexual immorality was openly tolerated.  Their worship was disorderly.  Their celebrations of the Lord’s Supper were done carelessly and without love for the least among them.  Lastly, some in the Corinthian congregation denied and rejected the beating heart of all our hope:  the resurrection of the body.

        And so it is that in these waning weeks of Epiphany, we today get a little taste of Easter. We get a dose of resurrection reality. To those who would doubt or deny the resurrection of the body, the Apostle Paul makes a vigorous defense in 1 Corinthians 15:  Now if Christ is proclaimed as raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead?

        How could they say “no” to the resurrection?  Well, here’s how!  The Corinthians were Greeks.  And Greek culture of the First Century had little regard for the human body.  At death the soul was liberated from the shackles of the body.  Greeks believed that at death, only a person’s soul was ferried across the River Styx, to begin a gloomy, unhappy existence in the shadowy underworld.  Greek thought had no room for the resurrection of the body.

        The Corinthian Christians seemed to acknowledge that at least Jesus rose from the dead . . . but that was it.  For everybody else, the resurrection was nothing more than a metaphor—just a symbol of the new life and the spiritual change that God works in the lives of His people.  Physical death was simply the end of the body.  Dead is dead.  The image of the dead being raised—of corpses resuscitated—well, that was just silly.

        How could the Corinthians let go of the resurrection so easily?  How could they so casually toss aside this truth about the body—that the body is destined not for destruction, but for resurrection?  It’s not hard to imagine what may have driven this heresy.  You see, all this talk about the resurrection of the body was keeping the Greeks out of the church.  The church at Corinth wasn’t growing.  They couldn’t get any traction with their neighbors as long as they held onto this notion of the resurrection of the body.  So a compromise was reached: We’ll only talk about the resurrection of Jesus so as to be more friendly and welcoming to our Greek neighbors . . . and we’ll just drop this idea about a resurrection for every-body.

        Dear saints of our Savior, the same terrible tendency runs through every congregation in every culture.  The church laments: We’re not growing.  We can’t get any traction with our neighbors.  And what’s hampering our evangelism—what’s dragging us down—is doctrine.  Our culture embraces what the Scriptures condemn!  And this is especially true concerning the human body.  Our culture embraces every kind of adultery, immorality, and overindulgence.  Our culture embraces the destruction and murder of the littlest bodies of all—the bodies of the unborn who haven’t yet drawn their first breath.  And the church is called to speak a clear word of condemnation concerning these atrocities and abominations.  Where God has spoken, there can be no compromise.  Where God has said thou shalt not, who can dare to say otherwise?

        To compromise, to keep quiet, to bury what some Christians might consider to be “inconvenient truths,” well, this is to deny the loving kindness of God.  Why does God give us His doctrines?  Why does God give us even that truth which seems to hinder our evangelism?  He does this because He loves you.  He wants the best for you.  His word is truth.  He wants you to know the truth, because the truth will set you free.  Deny God’s truth—compromise God’s truth—make a mere metaphor out of God’s truth—and you are denying yourself the supreme comfort of God’s good and gracious will.  You are to be pitied.  Woe to you!

        We must embrace what God embraces; and we must condemn what God condemns.  God’s embrace of you begins and ends with your body.  Your body is not a random product of evolution; but God knit you together in your mother’s womb.  Your body is not merely genes and chromosomes; but God makes your body a temple of the Holy Spirit.  Your body has been cleansed and purified in the splash of Holy Baptism.

        God sent His Son, Jesus, into the world—in a body like yours.  Jesus knows all the tears and temptations that beset your body.  Because of Jesus, Paul could write this astounding truth:  You are not your own, for you have been bought with a price.  So glorify God in your body.  We can only understand that statement through the body of our brother, Jesus.  You have been bought with a price—bought not with gold or silver, but with the holy, precious blood of Jesus, and with His innocent suffering and death.  In that death your guilt is taken away, your sin atoned for.

        But we cannot stop there—at Calvary!  For now—in fact—Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.  With this one glorious sentence, God joins together the resurrection of Jesus and the resurrection of all men and women.  (And what God has joined together let not man separate!)  And so we confess that Christ is risen.  Death could not hold Him.  Our Savior lives; death’s stone is rolled away. 

        And this Risen Christ—He’s the firstfruits.  Now, the firstfruits were the first produce of the harvest.  In the OT, God had commanded the Israelites to bring their firstfruits to Him as an offering.  When we think of firstfruits in Wisconsin, we might imagine handing over to God those first ripe, red tomatoes, or those first ears of sweet corn.  (We can only dream about produce like that in this fierce and frosty February!)  You would only be able to hand over those firstfruits, knowing and believing that there were still tons of tomatoes and bushels of sweet corn yet to come.  Do you get it?  Jesus is the firstfruits to be raised from the dead.  You and I are all the fruits to follow.  We are the harvest yet to come.  We shall be raised in a resurrection like His!

        Can you imagine what this grand and glorious resurrection will look like? Please take just a minute to open up the inside of the

bulletin insert.  The painting you see reproduced there is by Stanley Spencer, a devout Christian.  This ginormous work was painted in the 1920s.  The painting is titled:  The Resurrection, [at] Cookham.  Spencer’s painting portrays Jesus’ final return and the Day of Resurrection.  Despite the painting’s large size, its scope is not cosmic, but very, very local.  The artist paints the resurrection taking place in the churchyard of Cookham, England—the Berkshire village where he himself lived.  We get to look on as people emerge from their graves.  The artist even painted some of the rising-dead with the faces of local family members and friends he knew and loved.  Does Spencer get it right?  Is this what we should expect? 

        The resurrection of the dead defies all expectations.  It invites us to be surprised—to be amazed—to be amused. This we believe.  On this truth we die . . . and on this truth we live.  Jesus Christ is risen from the dead.  He’s the first fruits.  And you?  You’re next!

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

 

Close Encounters

Jesu Juva

Lk. 5:1-11; Is. 6                                             

February 9, 2025

Epiphany 5C                    

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        Today’s Holy Gospel is famously known as the call of St. Peter.  What we learn right away is that Simon Peter was a fisherman—but not in the way some of you might call yourselves “fishermen.”  Fishing was Peter’s business, his livelihood.  He was a pro.  He was as much at home on the water as on dry ground.  His crusty, opinionated personality was perhaps a bit more pronounced than usual that day when Jesus showed up. 

        Peter and crew had been fishing all night long—fishing when the fishing was supposed to be best.  But as the day broke, they had nothing to show for all that work.  You probably know how that feels.  You show up at work bright and early with your thermos full of coffee, ready for a day of solid productivity.  But at the end of the day you’ve got nothing to show for all your time and effort. 

        As Peter and crew were calling it quits, Jesus just showed up.  Jesus first borrowed Peter’s boat, and made that boat a pulpit from which the crowds could see Him and hear Him. He first borrowed Peter’s boat . . . but then He set out to borrow Peter himself:  Simon, put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.  This is the exact moment captured in the artwork on the cover of today’s bulletin.  Take a look if you’ve got a copy handy.

        That’s Jesus on the left:  humble, gentle, earnest.  He’s got His hands on Peter.  That detail isn’t in the text.  But do you know the kind of people Jesus made a habit of touching?  The sick, the fevered, and all those in need of healing (4:40).  Perhaps the artist wants us to see this moment as a moment of healing for Peter.

        That’s Peter in the center.  Look at his face.  You can almost hear him say something like: You want me to do what?  That’s probably the same look you would give me if I showed up at your office and started telling you how to do your job.  Peter knew that nighttime was the right time to catch fish on the Sea of Galilee, and that venturing into deep water at mid-morning was a complete waste of time.  Listen, Master, we toiled all night and caught nothing!  But at some level, Peter knew.  When Jesus speaks, it pays to listen.  Ok.  Alright.  Whatever you say!  At your word I will let down the nets.  Because you say so, I will do as you say.  This is the key to understanding this entire episode.  Trust the word of Jesus.

        Will you do that?  Will you trust Jesus, and take Him at His Word, even when His word seems unreasonable and illogical—even when it makes no sense?      Jesus works this kind of trust-building in us all the time.  Will you take Jesus at His Word?  Do you believe that God is for you, even when it feels like all things are working against you?  Will you do your best work even when it feels pointless?  Will you speak a word of forgiveness to that person who has hurt you, even though every cell in your body screams out for revenge and retribution?  Will you treat your marriage as something holy and sacred—as a union created by God—or will you dishonor and despise that gift by your words and actions?  Will you believe Jesus?  Will you trust Him?  Will you do what He says?  Will you follow His Word even when it feels like a huge waste of time—or worse?

        That’s what Peter did.  Peter let down the nets in deep water, in broad daylight—and the result was a net-busting, boat-sinking load of fish!  In fact, it took two boats to haul in the schools of fish that apparently swam to their ultimate demise at the command of Jesus.

        But for Peter, the thrill and the euphoria of the catch quickly gave way to a far different feeling.  Peter fell down at Jesus’ feet: Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.  And this, too, is the voice of faith.  Faith recognizes when we stand in the presence of the holy God.  Faith recognizes that in Jesus the holy God has become one of us and stands in our midst—that He is the Lord of creation, who the wind and the waves (and even the fish) obey.  Peter recognizes this moment as a close encounter with God Himself. 

        Faith leads us to know and confess that we are sinful men and women.  Can you confess that your problem isn’t just a curse word here and a little bickering there and an occasional moment of lust or greed or whatever?  Can you confess that you are by nature—down to your core—sinful and unclean?

        Peter sounds a lot like Isaiah did when he came face to face with the Lord in today’s OT reading.  It’s another close encounter.  Isaiah knew what it meant for someone like Him to be standing before the holy God:  Woe is me!  For I am lost.  I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips.  But Isaiah quickly learns that the God who is perfect and holy is also gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.  A burning coal from the altar is applied to Isaiah’s lips and Isaiah is purified:  Your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for.

        This is the only way sinners can stand before God and live:  Your guilt must be taken away.  Your sin must be atoned for.  Your debt must be paid for you.  That Jesus standing on the lakeshore—that humble, gentle man with His hand on Simon Peter’s shoulder—He’s the one.  He’s the atoning sacrifice.  He’s the guilt-bearer.  He’s the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.  He’s the one who washes you white as snow in His bright red blood.  He’s the one who died—more than that—who was raised to rescue you, and lift you up from your knees, and put you to work.

        We are all people of unclean lips and lives—sinful down to our DNA, sinful from when we were conceived.  And when it comes to that sin, all we can do is follow the lead of Isaiah and Peter:  admit it, own it, confess it.  Don’t pretend otherwise.  Don’t say, “Well, I’m not so bad.”  You know it’s not right with you—whether on your lips or in your life.  And no matter how hard you try, you can’t make it right.

        Today we all enjoy a close encounter with God.  Today we kneel next to Peter on the seashore; and we tremble with Isaiah in the temple.  Isaiah’s sinful life and lips were purified by a burning coal taken from the altar.  And from this altar the Lord Jesus purifies your lips and life with His body given into death to save you, and with His blood, shed for you as the atoning sacrifice for your sins.  Through the lips of His called and ordained servant, He puts the forgiving words of absolution into your ears and heart:  Do not be afraid.  Your guilt is taken away.  Your sin is atoned for.  I forgive you all your sins.

        Peter and his fishing buddies received a whole new vocation that day:  “Don’t be afraid,” Jesus said, “from now on you will be catching men.”  They used to catch fish in nets, but now they will catch men and women in the nets of Jesus’ death and resurrection.  In fact, if I could persuade you to take just one more look at the sketch on the bulletin cover, notice that there are no fish in the sketch.  But look at the net.  Are Peter and his crewmate merely holding onto the net?  Or is the net rising up to catch them?  Are they about to be caught by Jesus?  Either way, Jesus was at work to snag Himself some new disciples, creating faith in the hearts of crusty, grumpy, skeptical fishermen.

        We too have been caught in the net of Jesus—baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  But unlike the thousands of fish who lost their lives that day in the Sea of Galilee, to be caught like us in the net of Jesus—is actually to live forever in Him.  To live is Christ; to die is gain.  Whoever loses his life for Jesus’s sake will certainly find it.  In your baptism you were caught—you died a watery death to sin.  And then you were dragged out of the depths of that sin and right into the boat of Jesus—this boat we call the church.  You’ve been caught by Jesus.  And that’s the best of news on this 5^th Sunday after the Epiphany in the year of our Lord 2025.

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

 

Depart in Peace

 Jesu Juva

St. Luke 2:22-35                                            

February 2, 2025

The Presentation of Our Lord

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        Do you remember what you ate and drank forty days ago?  Do you remember what you wore forty days ago?  Do you remember who you were with—and where you were—forty days ago?  I suspect you do recall at least some of that information, because forty days ago was Christmas Day. 

        Forty days also happens to be exactly how old Jesus was when Mary and Joseph brought Him up to the temple in Jerusalem.  On this day—the fortieth day—the Holy Family went to the temple to do what every pious Jewish couple did with every firstborn son:  They presented Him to the Lord.  And they offered a sacrifice, because every firstborn male was holy to the Lord.  Firstborn sons had to be redeemed—had to be bought back, if you will—with the blood of sacrifice.  By bringing their little baby boy to the temple, Mary and Joseph were faithfully confessing that this little one belonged to God—even as they knew and believed at some level that this little one was God in human flesh.

        But as the poor family from Bethlehem made their way through the temple courts, someone was watching and rejoicing.  Simeon’s heart must have skipped a beat as the Holy Spirit revealed to him that this baby was the Messiah, the Christ.  Simeon had been told that he would not die until he had seen the Christ.  How surprised Mary must have been when Simeon took her baby in his arms and began praying:  Lord, now lettest thou Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy word, For mine eyes have seen Thy salvation!  His eyes had seen the Savior.  His hands had held the Savior.  And now, he was ready to depart in peace—ready not merely to depart from the temple and go home; but ready to depart this life—ready to die—in peace.

        You don’t hear that sentiment very often these days—people openly confessing and singing about the fact that, in Christ, they are ready to depart this life in peace.  It’s just not something you hear expressed—well, except for the fact that I hear all of you singing those words nearly every Sunday.  I hear you singing the song of Simeon, right after receiving the Lord’s Supper—singing with faith that you have seen and heard and tasted the Lord’s salvation, and that you are ready—ready to depart this life in peace, to live with Christ forever.

        Simeon went on to tell Mary that her Son was a “sign.”  In the Bible, a “sign” always tells us something about what God is doing and giving.  But at the same time, a sign is usually hidden under what appears to be its opposite.  At Christmas, the angel told the shepherds, “This shall be a sign unto you:  You will find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.”  The sign was a poor newborn in an animals’ feeding trough; but what that sign revealed was quite the opposite: “a Savior, who is Christ, the Lord.”

        Simeon now says that Jesus Himself is a sign—that Jesus will bring about the “fall and rising of many.”  What does Simeon mean by this?  Well, look at how Jesus impacted Simeon’s life.  Look at the “fall and rising” Jesus caused Simeon.  When Simeon saw Jesus in the temple that day it was a sign—a sign with two messages for Simeon:  “Now you are going to die,” and “this is the Savior in whom you will live forever.”  Simeon’s death and Simeon’s salvation—his fall and his rising—were set in motion by the baby Jesus.  It was a sign.

Simeon also spoke specifically to Mary—about her fall and rising—about how a sword would one day pierce through her own soul.  If you think being the mother of Jesus was a glamorous role to have, think again.  Mary had to learn that she had a son; and yet, she did not have Him.  He really had her.  Or, think of it this way:  Everyone comes into this world with a mother.  And you will never be able to do more for your mother than she did for you.  But things were different for Mary and Jesus.  Jesus would do more for Mary than she could ever do for Him.  Mary can claim no honors or accolades for her mothering of Jesus.  In the end she could only lay claim to Jesus in the same way you and I do:  by believing in Him, and by receiving from Him.

Simeon’s words about a sword piercing Mary’s soul take us all the way to the cross.  Mary could fall no lower than to be awash in tears at the crucifixion of her Son.  It would not be an exaggeration to claim that she felt her Son’s wounds in the depths of her own soul.  Few things surpass the pain of a mother’s grief.  In my own limited life experience, I have witnessed it too many times. 

What Jesus brought both to Mary and to Simeon, he also brings to you—to all those He loves:  falling and rising, being humbled and being exalted.  Part of our fall—part of our being brought low and humbled—has to do with our sin.  This is why Jesus was born, after all.  This is why God sent His Son:  to save His people from their sins.  This is also why we die:  The wages of sin is death.

Simeon told Mary that part of Jesus’ saving work was that “thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.”  When Jesus would come back to the temple, decades later, the thoughts of the Scribes and Pharisees would be revealed.  The thoughts of their hearts were exposed.  And in their hearts they rejected Jesus.  They had no use for a lowly, weak, beggarly Messiah. 

It’s also true that when God deals with us in Jesus, the thoughts of our hearts are revealed:  Our selfishness, our lust, our jealousies, our addictions and our idols, our refusals to forgive, the gossip and hatred we wield like a sword to pierce and hurt those who stand in our way.  That and so much more of our sin is not hidden; it is revealed and known by God.  If we cling to those sins and refuse to give them up, then there will only be a “fall” for us—falling and judgment.  Only falling; no rising.  But if the thoughts of our hearts are revealed, and we come clean in repentance—then we receive the gifts of salvation, and we are raised up.  We fall in repentance as the sword of God’s Law pierces our hearts; and then we are raised by forgiveness—raised to new life in Christ.

When it comes to Jesus, there is either faith or unbelief.  There’s no middle ground when it comes to the Lord’s Christ.  You can’t refashion Him or reinvent Him.  You can’t claim Him as Savior while ignoring His words and staying complacent and comfortable in your sinning.  You must receive Him as He is—the Savior of sinners—or you must reject Him in unbelief.

Jesus had His own fall and rising which He underwent for you—whatever the thoughts of your heart might be.  He humbled Himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross.  That death on the cross was a sign—a sign of God’s love for you—a sign that your sins have been dealt with and paid for—a sign that God is for you and not against you—that nothing can separate you from His love.  This Jesus is now risen from the dead.  He lives and reigns to work all things for your eternal good.  Jesus has been raised; and in Him you also will be raised.

If you believe that—then receive the Savior today as dear Simeon once did.  Simeon embraced the Savior who was a sign of both his death and of his salvation.  And you can embrace the Savior as you receive Him in the Lord’s Supper.  The very body and blood Simeon once held are here given to you under the signs of bread and wine.  And in this meal is your rising—as you are joined even more closely to Jesus—to share in His life which lasts forever.  And all this we confess every time we join to sing the song of Simeon:  Lord, now lettest thou Thy servant depart in peace. 

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