Leaving the Booth Behind

Jesu Juva

St. Matthew 9:9-13                                   

September 21, 2025

St. Matthew, Apostle & Evangelist 

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        On the popular show, The Chosen, Matthew the tax collector is portrayed as someone “on the spectrum.”  Today this version of Matthew might be diagnosed with Aspergers—with a little bit of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder thrown in for good measure.  He understands concrete, literal thinking.  He’s very good when it comes to numbers—to taxes and tolls, silver and shekels.  But matters of faith leave him scratching his head.  He can’t think in the abstract.  He’s clueless in social situations because he misses all the non-verbal signals.  He’s lovable, but awkward.

        To be honest, it’s not a very flattering portrayal of Matthew.  It strips him of his boldness and courage.  It shrinks him down to size and makes him a lot like us.  It helps us to realize that every saint is also a sinner—each of us with strengths and weaknesses.  We aim to put our best foot forward; but our worst is usually just one step behind.     

        As a pastor, on Sunday mornings, I see people at their best—nicely dressed, showered, shaved, smiling, respectable.  I have a front row seat to watch beautiful brides walk down the aisle and to see the tiniest, cutest babies washed clean in the waters of Holy Baptism.  I see people at their best—confessing the faith and praising God. 

        As a pastor, I also see people at their worst—tearful people, cancer ravaged, people in such excruciating pain that it causes them to cry out.  I also see people whose pain is emotional—broken people, people so filled with shame that they can’t even look me in the eye.  I also see hard-hearted, unrepentant people, people so filled with pride that they literally snort at me with contempt.  I see people at their best and at their worst.

        As a general rule, people prefer to be seen at their best.  I suspect this was also true for Matthew the tax collector.  I suspect

that Matthew was more than a little uncomfortable when Jesus came calling.  For Jesus didn’t come calling when Matthew was at his best—when Matthew could put on a respectable, honorable appearance.  Jesus didn’t give Matthew the opportunity to clean up his act and distance himself from his dishonorable work.  In fact, Jesus came calling at the very place—the exact spot—where Matthew was at his worst—the tax collector’s booth.

        Tax collectors, in those days, were considered the worst of the worst.  They were notoriously dishonest and greedy; and there’s no reason to suspect that Matthew was any different.  The salary of tax collectors was based upon the amount of tax they collected; so, of course, they always collected as much as they possibly could.  Corruption, dishonesty, and the love of money were the roots of all evil that permeated the lives of most tax collectors.  The Jews considered tax collectors to be unclean.  They were outcasts, forbidden even to enter the synagogue for worship.

        Jesus, it seems, made a point to call Matthew while he was at his worst—where his wickedness was at work—while he was at the tax booth.  The Savior just showed up, leaving no chance for Matthew to first clean up his act, curb the corruption, or make a big donation to charity.  There was no time for Matthew to distance himself from the sin that entangled him.  There was no chance for Matthew to make himself respectable before Jesus called him.  No, suddenly, the Savior was there, seeing Matthew at his worst, and saying, “Follow me.” 

        Jesus invited Matthew to leave the tax booth behind—to begin a whole new life of discipleship—and apostleship. But this isn’t just a nice story with a happy ending about Matthew.  There’s something here for all of us.  For we also have been called to follow Jesus in faith. 

        You too have been called by Jesus to leave the booth behind—to walk away from whatever it is that hinders your faith and holds back your discipleship.  Matthew’s place of sin and shame was the tax collector’s booth.  And that’s the very place where Jesus came calling.  What is the place of your sin and shame?  In what carefully crafted compartment of your life is Jesus calling you to follow Him, and be your best self? 

        At what time and place in your life would you be most shamed and shocked to have the Savior show up, pointing His finger at you, and saying, “Leave it all behind, and follow me?”  Would it be while you leer at your computer monitor?  Or when you belly up to the bar for your fourth round, losing all semblance of self-control? Or while you artfully flirt with that charming person who isn’t your spouse?  Or while you carefully cheat your way through yet another exam? 

        What part of your life is the Savior calling you to leave behind today?  Perhaps for some of us, like Matthew, it’s the love of money.  Perhaps for others there are sins of addiction from which the Savior is calling us.  Drunkenness, drugs, porn, gambling, gossip, sex—there’s an endless list of possibilities—all of them idols for which we willingly sacrifice and risk everything.  Perhaps it’s the anger that erupts so often, or the loveless way you treat your parents. Or the apathy that constantly colors your outlook.  Whenever and wherever you would least like to have the Savior show up—then and there is where Jesus is calling you to leave the booth behind—to sever yourself from the sin and follow Him.

        Anyone who doesn’t think that they need to make any changes—well, that kind of puts you in the same camp as the Pharisees.  The Pharisees thought they had no need to leave anything behind.  They were pure and pious—models of spiritual health.  But Jesus told them, “It’s not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.”  It is to people sick with sin that Jesus comes calling.  It is to dying sinners in a dying world that Jesus comes with forgiveness, life and salvation.

        Beloved in the Lord, whatever part of your life Jesus is calling you to leave behind this day—know that this can only happen on Jesus’ terms and by His power.  When Jesus called Matthew to leave the tax booth behind and follow him, we hear nothing about any deliberation or decision-making on Matthew’s part.  Sinful Matthew didn’t decide to follow Jesus.  He couldn’t!  If Matthew wanted us to think that there was some great virtue in him that led him to devote his life to Christ, he could have written that down for us right here in the pages of his gospel.  But He didn’t.  What he did record for us was the one thing that made everything possible:  the all-powerful Word of the Lord:  Follow me.  Brothers and sisters, with those same powerful words Jesus is inviting you, today, to leave your sin behind and follow Him.

        Here’s how it works:  the One who calls you, cleans you.  Only Jesus can clean us up and make us worthy to be called His disciples.  Whether our sins are like Matthew’s sins—or whether our sins are like those of the proud and pious Pharisees—we believe and confess that Jesus was delivered over to death for those very sins, and was raised to life for our justification.  Jesus Christ came to call sinners.

        Jesus still comes to call sinners.  To all who answer to that name, Jesus offers His mercy and steadfast love.  To all who see and confess just how sick they really are, Jesus gives divine healing and perfect forgiveness—the gifts Jesus won for you on the cross. 

        At the cross it was Jesus who needed a physician.  At the cross our sins took a sickening toll on His bruised and bloody body.  At the cross Jesus was denied all mercy, and all compassion.  Instead, the justice and judgment of a righteous and holy God was unleashed upon His thorn-crowned flesh.

        But the one who became sick unto death with our sin now has the cure.  Through faith in Him, even sinners like us are counted as righteous.  In the miracle of your baptism Jesus has cleaned you to the core, and given you the gracious invitation:  Follow me.  Here in this place Jesus still eats with sinners.  And Jesus provides the main entrée—His own body and blood for the forgiveness of sins.  Here today is power—the power of Jesus for you—to hear His call and leave your sin behind, and love your neighbor as yourself.  And that’s a good look for you.  That’s you at your best!

        I told you earlier that I get to see people at their worst and at their best.  Here in the Divine Service I see you at your best.  And later on, in the not too distant future, when I see you in the life of the world to come, wearing a white robe washed in the blood of the Lamb, gathered around the throne, I will see you at your best—shining like stars—all because a gracious Savior has said to you:  Follow me. 

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

 

We Preach Christ Crucified

Jesu Juva

1 Corinthians 1:18-25                               

September 14, 2025

Holy Cross Day          

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        Since the year 335 AD, this day has been known as Holy Cross Day.  Think about those two words for just a moment:  Holy Cross.  On the day that Jesus died, no one standing at Golgotha would have called the cross “holy.”  At the cross there was cruelty, brutality, unspeakable suffering, blood and darkness.  The cross was a Roman tool of torture and death—the most cruel and unusual punishment.  To speak of the “holy” cross makes about as much sense as speaking about a holy electric chair or a holy guillotine. 

        This is why by nature we are repelled by the cross.  What happened on Good Friday—what really happened—is so hideous and grotesque that it seems almost blasphemous to connect the cross to God Himself.  Director Mel Gibson got it right in his movie, “The Passion of the Christ,” which is rightly rated R.  The crosses that we’re most comfortable with today are those that are beautifully sanded and stained and sanitized—perhaps with a precious moments angel added for good measure.  But clean crosses with no Christ cannot convey the magnitude of what happened there.

        The Christ and the cross go together.  A Christ without a cross is no Christ; and a cross with no Christ is certainly not holy.  But down through the centuries, lots of well-meaning people have tried to have the Christ without the cross.  In the First Century, when Paul wrote to the Christians at Corinth, there were two distinct groups of people who wanted nothing to do with a crucified Christ.  First, there were Jews—Jews demanding signs and miracles.  Jews were looking for a powerful, political Messiah, not a crucified Christ.  And then there were Greeks—Greeks seeking wisdom. They were the first philosophy majors.  The Greek concept of God was so spiritualized that they couldn’t swallow the idea of God becoming man, to save man—a God who humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death—[especially] death on a cross (Philippians 2:8).  A God on a cross was foolishness to the Greeks.

        In fact, one of the oldest existing images of Christ crucified comes from ancient Rome.  It’s printed on the cover of today’s bulletin.  It’s dated around 200 AD.  It’s a piece of graffiti scratched on the side of an excavated house.  It shows Jesus on the cross, but with a terrible twist.

        The man on the cross in this picture has the head of a donkey.  And there’s another man drawn beside the cross with his hand raised

in devotion.  The caption you see written there says:  Alexamenos worships his god.  Do you see what’s going on here?  The drawing mocks this Christian man Alexamenos.  It mocks Christianity.  It mocks Christ.  It begs the question, “What kind of a God is this weak, dying criminal?”  It illustrates St. Paul’s point in today’s epistle:  The crucified Christ is foolishness to the world.  The word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing.

        The world hasn’t changed all that much since then.  There are still plenty of religious folks who have trouble with the cross—who think they can have a Christ without a cross.  Jesus is being preached today from pulpits all around the world.  But many of those sermons won’t go anywhere near the cross or the crucifixion.  Instead, you may hear quite a bit about Christ the Helper, Christ the Family Strengthener, Christ the key to Success, Christ the Money Manager, Christ the Life Coach, the Lord with leadership principles.  But all those sermons will have omitted the central message of the Christian Church which is summed up by St. Paul in two words:  Christ crucified.

        That is our message.  And if that is not our central message, our primary message, the message we hear and teach and preach and proclaim, then we are preaching a false Christ, a false Gospel, and a false god.

        Is Christ Crucified the Christ in whom you believe?  The devil likes nothing better than to direct our focus away from the Crucified Christ to a perverted Christ, to a Christ divorced from the cross, to a Christ who makes more sense to us modern Americans.  After all, blood and suffering, nails and thorns—these things don’t make much sense to us.  Those things aren’t logical.  Ask us to invent our own god and we would never come up with Christ crucified.  That’s unacceptable to our reason and senses.  But God doesn’t ask us to “accept” His Son—but to believe in Him.

        The message of the cross sounds so foolish—defies all common sense.  It is the message of how sinners nailed their Savior to a piece of wood so that He might bleed and die for our salvation—so that He might pay for our sins.  It is the message about a man who was also God—about a Lamb who was also a Shepherd, about a Defeat which was also a Victory.  That is our message—the Word of the Cross, the power of God.

        All false religions are about human beings making their way up to god.  And for that reason every other religion will fail.  All are false.  If God is the destination, dear sinner, no one—not you, not me—can get to there from here. It doesn’t matter how wise you are.  No amount of human wisdom is wise enough to bridge the gap between sinners like us and the holy God.  Only the holy cross—only Christ crucified—can bridge that gap.  Because we cannot get from here to there, God Himself came from there to here (via the Virgin’s womb).  Jesus Christ not only bridged the distance, but He bore on the cross all of the sin that ruins our best works and warps our highest wisdom.  The cross of Christ is the only way.  There are no end-runs—no shortcuts—no alternate paths to the true and living God who so deeply desires your salvation.  That road for you and me runs right through the cross—the holy cross of Christ.  This is how we know what love is:  Jesus Christ laid down His life for us!

        We don’t have to apologize for the cross.  We don’t need to make it more acceptable to human wisdom.  In fact, there’s no defending the cross; it can’t be defended.  It can only be proclaimed and preached.  And that’s why St. Paul writes, “We preach Christ crucified.”

        But this same Jesus, who was crucified for our offenses, was also raised for our justification.  Good Friday and Easter go together.  The death He died was your death.  And the resurrection life He lives is the guarantee that the grave cannot hold you either.  Because He lives, you shall live also.

        That’s why you’re here this morning—to receive the life of Jesus in your mortal body—through the Word and the Sacrament of Christ’s very body and blood.  But what if—what if we had the actual cross of Jesus right here in our sanctuary this morning?  What if we had here the very wood on which the Savior died?  On one hand, that would be amazing.  On the other hand, nothing would change.  For the Savior has not attached His power and His forgiveness to any relic or artifact—not even to the wood of the cross—not to wood, but to the Word—Word and sacraments. 

        Jesus has connected His saving power to the Word of the cross, to water of Baptism, to the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood.  The Savior uses these precious means to take the blessings achieved at the holy cross and give them to you, for your forgiveness. 

        And as you receive those gifts in faith, on this Holy Cross Day, God makes you holy.  If our God can take a terrible tool like the cross and make it holy, then He can also take terrible sinners and make them holy.  If God can bring blessings and life from a tool of torture, then He can also use you to bring blessings and life and light to this fallen world.  What happened at the holy cross makes you holy.

        There is no lasting heavenly joy apart from a crucified Christ, for there is no Christ apart from the crucifixion.  There sin is destroyed.  There death is vanquished.  There the gift of our salvation is won.  Happy Holy Cross Day! 

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

 

Counting the Cost

Jesu Juva

St. Luke 14:25-35                                       

September 7, 2025

Proper 18C               

 Dear Saints of Our Savior~

        It is Christian Education Sunday today—or, at least, that was the plan.  It’s the day when Sunday school children head back to class, Bible studies kick off, teachers are installed, and the emphasis is all about the crucial importance of teaching God’s Word to God’s children.  In some churches, this is called “Rally Sunday,” where (I suppose) everybody rallies around Jesus and His Word.

        Unfortunately, Jesus didn’t get the memo.  It seems more like Jesus is trying to throw a wet blanket on all the hoopla.  He’s taking all the wind right out of our Christian-Education-Rally-Sunday sails:  If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. 

        Did Jesus really say that?  It doesn’t sound like Him.  Instead of inviting and encouraging us to follow Him—instead of welcoming the weary and seeking the lost—He warns us against following Him.  Instead of saying, “I give you eternal life,” He says, “Consider the cost of following me in this life—and whether you’re really up to the task.”  Instead of setting our hearts ablaze, He pours cold water on us.  Before you stand up—stand up—for Jesus, you’d better sit down, and think long and hard about what you’re doing.  Consider the cost.  Weigh the consequences carefully.

        And what about that word, “hate?”  How can the same God who commands us to honor our fathers and mothers now speak of hatred for parents?  How can the Jesus who tells us to love our enemies also tell us to hate our spouses, siblings and children?  What in God’s name is more important than family, marriage and children?  Jesus is.  Jesus is more important.  And that’s really the point of this pointed language from our Lord—all served up with a heaping helping of hyperbole.  But let there be no mistake:  When it comes to our actions and our choices in this life, everyone else—every other relationship—they all take a backseat to following Jesus.  You shall have no other gods.

        What we have from Jesus this morning is a challenge to check our priorities.  And, just maybe, that’s exactly what we need on this Christian Education Sunday.  A good way to check your priorities is to think about those Sundays when you aren’t here—days when you aren’t hearing the Word or being fed with the body and blood of Jesus for the forgiveness of sins.  When you aren’t engaged in the foundational, fundamental activity of discipleship that goes on here—then where are you?  What keeps you from being in the Lord’s house?  Is it sports?  Is it dance or drama, music or work?  Is it the cabin up north or the golf course?  And what about Bible class?  If you’re not in the habit of hanging around and doing a deep dive into God’s Word in Bible class or Sunday school, why is that?  Are you too lazy?  Does God’s Word bore you?  Or do you just have more important things to do?  What would the Savior say about your priorities? 

        Right about now we could all use some good news from Jesus.  Unfortunately, He turns up the heat:  Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.  Now, there’s some debate about what exactly Jesus means when He tells us to take up our “cross.”  What we know for sure is that these crosses are not just those pesky little annoying first-world problems—like when Trader Joes stops carrying your favorite ice cream flavor, or forgetting the Wi-Fi password.  Those aren’t crosses.  Crosses have one purpose—like electric chairs and poison have one purpose.  Crosses kill.  They are instruments of suffering and death.  That’s the only conclusion our Lord’s First Century hearers could have drawn.  To take up your cross is to follow Jesus through suffering, persecution, loss, and finally death . . . and resurrection.

        This is a tough sell—a challenging text to preach.  And I’m guessing that the great crowds that accompanied Jesus thinned out significantly after they heard Him say to count the cost and bear the cross.

        But what those crowds didn’t know was where Jesus was headed—that Jesus was going to Jerusalem, to His very own cross—the weight of which He Himself would bear.  With every step and every mile, Jesus was drawing closer to His atoning death as the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.  But He knew exactly what He was doing.  Jesus had counted the cost.  Jesus had crunched the numbers in collaboration with the Father and the Holy Spirit.  He was going to empty Himself completely, to humble Himself totally.  Jesus was going to take up His cross . . . and die on it to redeem us all from sin, death and hell.  Jesus was going to build His church, laying the foundation by His own death and resurrection.  Jesus was headed to Jerusalem like a king headed to battle against sin, death and the devil.  Jesus headed into battle—not with an army of ten or twenty thousand boots on the ground—but entirely alone, forsaken.  Jesus renounced everything—family, friends, wealth—the kingdom, the power, and the glory—to save us—to save you.

        Jesus considered the cost of your salvation and He concluded this:  You are worth it!  You are worth more than silver or gold.  Jesus didn’t redeem you the easy way, but with His holy, precious blood and His innocent suffering and death, that you might be His own and live with Him forever—and all this as a free gift of pure grace, received through faith.

        Here’s the truth of the matter:   If our discipleship depended on us, then Jesus would have no disciples.  If following Jesus depended entirely on us counting the cost and crunching the numbers and doing the homework—we’d never get out of the starting gate.  We’d never dig the foundation.  We’d never head off into battle.  We’d vacillate and equivocate and never be one step closer to the Savior.  And this is why the Savior draws near to us—washes us and re-creates us in the cleansing waters of Baptism.  That’s how disciples are created—by baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and by teaching them to observe all that Jesus has commanded.  Baptized and taught, Jesus feeds us with His body and blood—body and blood from His cross—to help you to bear your crosses in your life.

        Hating your life as a disciple doesn’t mean that you walk around saying, “I hate my life.”  It means letting go of your life—relinquishing control to Jesus—believing that He is working all things to sanctify you and to prepare you for eternal joy in His presence.  And that’s a promise worth knowing and believing.  That’s good news worth hearing and learning.  It’s something we can all rally around on this Christian Education Sunday in the year of our Lord 2025.

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