Ash Wednesday: Repent and Remember

 

Jesu Juva

Revelation 2:1-7                                                            

 February 17, 2021

Ash Wednesday                     

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          It’s the end of the book.  It’s God’s great conclusion to the greatest story ever told.  It’s the grand finale of God’s holy, inspired, written Word.  But if you’ve dared to dabble in the book of Revelation, then you know that it often raises more questions than it answers.  Revelation is arguably the most mysterious, most inaccessible book in the New Testament.  The numbers and the symbols alone can confound even the best students of the Bible.

          But near the beginning of the book, in chapters two and three, you will find something not so mysterious:  Seven letters written to seven churches of the ancient world.  Now, these seven letters are from the Lord Jesus Himself.  Imagine that!  Imagine if our little congregation were to receive a letter from the Lord.  What would He tell us?  How would He correct us?  How would He comfort us?  What we’ll come to see throughout these forty days is that these seven ancient letters from the Lord—they are alive and brimming with meaning even for our little church, especially in these gray and latter days.

          Has it ever occurred to you that this little church, dedicated to our Savior, has its own special angel assigned to it?  We know that angels, archangels, and all the company of heaven join with us right here in our worship of the Holy Trinity.  But it wasn’t until I started reading someone else’s mail—these seven letters from Revelation—that the thought of an angel assigned to our congregation occurred to me.  You see, each one of these letters has a similar salutation:  to the angel.  Tonight we heard:  To the angel of the church in Ephesus.  Next Wednesday it will be:  To the angel of the church in Smyrna, and so on.

          Would it really be that surprising if we did have an angel assigned to us?  After all, we are loved by the Lord.  He lavishes His church on earth with nothing but the best care and the best gifts.  In tonight’s letter to the church at Ephesus, Jesus describes the seven angels as stars—stars He is holding in His right hand.  And the seven churches are called golden lampstands.  Each church—each congregation—each fellowship of believers is precious like gold.  Notice, too, that Jesus “walks among” the golden lampstands—walks among His congregations—actively, intimately involved in each church.  Angel or no angel, of this we can be sure:  What happens in this church and in the lives of her members is of exceedingly great importance to the Lord of the church.

          Among the congregations of the First Century, the church at Ephesus was number one.  Ephesus was the chief city of the Roman province of Asia.  But to truly understand this letter and the six others, you need to know that Christianity was an illegal religion.  Under Emperor Domitian, horrific acts of persecution were being carried out against Christian churches.  It was six years ago this week that 21 Coptic Christians were beheaded by ISIS on a Libyan beach.  That kind of thing was commonly happening under Emperor Domitian.

          But even under the intense pressure of persecution, the church at Ephesus had thrived.  Jesus commends them for their good works, their toil, and their patient endurance.  At a time when it would have been easy to tolerate false and wicked teachings—when it would have been so tempting to “go along to get along,” the saints at Ephesus remained steadfast.  They did not grow weary or weak, but stood strong on the gospel of their crucified and risen Lord.

          Jesus also praised them for their . . . well, their hatred:  You hate the works of the Nicolaitans, which I also hate.  Now, the Nicolaitans prove that there’s nothing new under the sun.  They were advocates of sexual immorality.  They lived for lust and licentiousness.  They pandered to sexual perversions of every kind—doing untold harm to marriages, to families, to women and to children.  The church at Ephesus “hated” the works of the Nicolaitans—hated their lies and the harm they caused—and were commended for it by the Lord.  Now, love is the greatest Christian virtue; but, note carefully, it is not wrong to hate what is evil.

          But even to this exemplary church at Ephesus, Jesus dictated a crushing dose of law:  But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first.  Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first.  The church at Ephesus had forsaken their first love.  That strong love of Jesus which reached out and claimed them from the cross—that love which had showed itself in drops of blood and a crown of thorns—the Ephesians had fumbled it, forgotten it, forsaken it.  That perfect love which came from the Christ and which they themselves had reflected to others—it had somehow faded away.

          A Christian lacking in the love of Christ is like a fish out of water.  This love is our life.  We cannot do without it.  If we are not receiving that love and reflecting that love toward friend and foe alike, then we have abandoned what is critical and crucial for life.  We may have zeal.  We may have the best intentions and plans.  We may have clearly defined doctrine powerfully proclaimed.  We may have beautiful music and a balanced budget, but without that love—without the love of Jesus at the center of everything—we are nothing.  Without the love of Christ defining our days and reaching into every relationship, we are just making noise in a world already filled with sound and fury.

          What can we do if we have lost this love?  Jesus doesn’t tell us to try harder—doesn’t tell us to get out there and be more loving like He is.  He simply says,

“Repent.”  Confess your lack of love and turn to Him for absolution.  Confess your cold and loveless heart; and let Him create in you a clean heart.  He—and He alone—will renew a right spirit within you.  He will wash you and make you whiter than the snow that has drifted deeply just beyond these walls.  Return to the Lord, your God, for He is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.  To repent is to let the awesome love of Jesus have its way with you.

          Repent . . . and remember, Jesus says.  Remember your first love.  Remember the Savior who loved you first.  Recall that love.  Relive that love.  Ponder the Passion during these forty days—how your sin was laid upon God’s Lamb, who willingly carried it to His crucifixion cross.  Meditate on the mystery of how His body and blood are given here for you, for your forgiveness, in His Holy Supper.  Behold the blessings of your baptism by which your sins have been forgiven, you have been rescued from death and the devil, and you have been given eternal salvation, as the words and promises of God declare.

          Repent and remember.  Return to the Lord your God.  Love as you are loved.  This is what Lent is all about.  The Lord’s last word in His letter to Ephesus is the promise of paradise.  That’s where you’re headed, by the grace of God in Jesus Christ.  The final sentence of His first letter concludes:  To the one who conquers I will grant to eat of the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God.  God grant that one day we will all be there, with Jesus, in paradise.  Amen.

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

The Shining Savior

 

Jesu Juva

St. Mark 9:2-9                                                                 

February 14, 2021

Transfiguration B                   

 Dear Saints of our Savior~

          The time for miracles was coming to an end.  Throughout the Epiphany season we’ve been wending our way through Mark chapter one, encountering one miracle after another.  Multitudes were being healed—the demon-possessed, the feverish, and even lowly lepers.  It didn’t matter what their affliction was, because Jesus, the Great Physician, could cure it.  As you might imagine, Jesus’ popularity was growing by leaps and bounds.  He couldn’t enter even the remotest village without being mobbed by adoring crowds.

          But the Transfiguration marks a time of transition in the ministry of Jesus.  Things would be different now.  The time for miracles was ending, and the time for His crucifixion was approaching.  Jesus had just begun to teach His disciples that He must suffer many things, be rejected, be killed, and on the third day rise again.  You may recall that this prediction was not well received by the Twelve.  And Peter had a particular problem with it.  But all of them were terribly troubled by this grim prediction.  What did it all mean?

          One week later Jesus took Peter, James and John on a little retreat, up on a high mountain by themselves.  And on that mountain Jesus was transfigured before them.  The Greek word is “metamorphosis,” changed in appearance.  Jesus was

“morphed” before their eyes.  Here was a Jesus they hadn’t seen before—shining, glorious, radiant, glowing brighter and purer than all the angels in the sky.  God of light, light of light, very God of very God.  Every cell of His body was aglow with the glory of God.  What a sight that must have been.

          As if that wasn’t enough, Moses and Elijah also put in a guest appearance—carrying on a conversation with Jesus.  Now, Moses and Elijah weren’t shining like the Savior; but their presence pointed to Jesus as the fulfillment of the entire Old Testament.  And let’s not overlook the fact that both Moses and Elijah (who had long ago departed from this life) were alive and well in the presence of Jesus.  It’s a preview of the life of the world to come—a glimpse of the glory we will all one day enjoy as we are gathered together in the glory of God’s beloved Son.  And nobody has to ask, “Who are those two guys with Jesus?”  They are simply known.  And that’s how it will be in heaven—for all of us.  You will know and recognize saints you’ve never met before; and they will know and recognize you—all without the benefit of nametags.

          Peter gets caught up in the moment.  And who can blame him?  “Rabbi, it’s good to be here,” he says.  “Let’s make three tents, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah.”  Peter was so terrified he didn’t know what he was talking about.  But behind his words was the urge to make that moment last—to capitalize on the power and the glory made manifest before their eyes.  Peter wanted to enshrine the moment and memorialize the mountain—a place where the crowds could come and be thrilled.  This was a Jesus Peter could support and promote!

          Can you imagine what would have happened if Jesus had okayed Peter’s building plans?  That spot could have become a tourist attraction—maybe even a theme park.  They could have called it “Morph Mountain,” with a chapel and a website and a gift shop with little vials of dirt for sale.  Busloads of church groups would make their pilgrimage there, so that ordinary folks could feel closer to God—and maybe catch a glimpse of the glory.

          The truth is that we love this kind of thing—miracles, visions, healings, appearances of angels, unexplained phenomena that seem to show God at work.  Now, at least we Lutherans don’t go “ga-ga” over apparitions of the Virgin Mary that seem to pop up in the strangest places.  But we do have a weakness for what Martin Luther called a “theology of glory,” a faith that’s grounded in success rather than suffering—where feeling God’s glory is more important than the humble and hidden ways He has promised to serve us in His Word and sacraments.  We would so much rather hear a story about someone’s near-death experience than hear a pastor proclaim that God’s power is made perfect in weakness.

          But a careful reading of today’s text reveals that the point of the Transfiguration isn’t to embrace a theology of glory.  Faith that’s focused on visions and on extraordinary experiences will always need more visions . . . and more extraordinary experiences to keep it going.  And without those, it dies.  This is why God threw a wet blanket over the whole scene that day, just when things were getting interesting.  A thick cloud of God’s glory moved in and obscured the visibility.  The seeing stopped, so that the listening could begin:  “This is my beloved Son. Listen to Him.”  Jesus is the one.  Don’t look or listen for another.  His Words are what you need. Listen to Him!

          “Suddenly, when they looked around, they no longer saw anyone . . . but Jesus only.”  When all was said and done that day, Jesus was the only one left standing before their eyes.  That’s what God the Father wants you to see.  That’s where He wants your faith to be focused—on Jesus only.  It’s great to see Moses on the mountain, but Moses can’t save you, and keeping his commandments can’t save you.  Elijah was the most impressive prophet ever; but he can’t save you either. 

          Only Jesus is the beloved Son of God.  Only Jesus is the eternal Word through whom all things were made.  Only Jesus dies and rises and takes you and the whole world with Him.  Only Jesus is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.  Only in Jesus are you reconciled to God, redeemed and renewed.  Only in Jesus are your sins forgiven and washed away.  Only in Jesus do you have life—and have it to the full.

          So, if God doesn’t want us searching for and seeking out visions of glory and grandeur, why did He provide a vision like that for Peter, James and John?  This was a sign—a sign for those three men who would very soon see Jesus with nails in His hands and feet, bloodied and beaten.  They would see Him rejected by all, defeated and dead.  They would see the Savior humble and weak and broken.  But those three would know that there was more to Jesus than meets the eye.  There was glory hidden behind the weakness and humility.  They knew that Jesus’ power and glory is sometimes hidden.

          That’s our experience of Jesus too.  The glory of Jesus is hidden under weakness.  In baptism God’s glory is hidden in a splash of ordinary water.  In the Lord’s Supper God’s glory is hidden in a little bread and wine.  In Holy Absolution God’s glory is hidden in words spoken by your pastor—a fellow sinner.  But what is there—what is here—is the power and majesty of God.  Every Sunday we have a glorious Jesus who comes to us gently, humbly and graciously. 

          One day you will see what Peter, James and John saw—when Jesus appears again in glory.  On that day all the dead will be raised in the power of His resurrection.  And you will be changed.  You will undergo your own metamorphosis.  You will be transfigured and transformed, to be like Jesus in His glory.  In fact, St. Paul says that it’s already started.  Even now the light of God’s glory is shining in your heart.  You can’t see it.  But you can let it shine.  You can leave here today glowing with the glory of God’s promises in Christ, given to good works—so that others might see those good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.

          One thing’s for sure on this Transfiguration Sunday—It’s good to be here.  It’s good to be here, where the Lord Jesus has promised to come among us to love us, to forgive us, and save us.  Alleluia!

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

     

The Savior of the Sick

 

Jesu Juva

St. Mark 1:29-39                                                               

February 7, 2021

Epiphany 5B                                                     

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          Every year during this Epiphany season, God gives us glorious glimpses of His beloved Son.  After Jesus emerges from the water of His baptism, we see the Son of Man doing spectacular things.  We see Him as one who teaches and preaches with authority.  We see Him as one who drives out demons.  We see Him as a worker of miracles and a healer of the sick.  And next Sunday, on the mount of Transfiguration, we will see the glory of His divinity shining through His humanity.

          Much of today’s holy gospel concerns Jesus as a healer of the sick. And this year, in this Epiphany 2021, that healing dimension of Jesus’ ministry seems more relevant than ever.  After all, sickness has been center-stage for the past year.  We’ve worried about getting sick.  We’ve worried about those we love getting sick.  Many people have actually gotten sick and been healed.  But many others have gotten sick and have not been healed.  What does it mean for us that Jesus is the healer—and Savior—of the sick?

          In today’s reading from St. Mark, Jesus puts on a clinic on how to heal people of various diseases, viruses, infections, and fevers.  Things start small and simple with Simon Peter’s mother-in-law.  She was in bed with a fever, and they ask Jesus to look in on her.  It doesn’t sound that serious or spectacular.  Feed a cold; starve a fever.  Get some rest and plenty of fluids.  But Jesus came and went to be with that sick old woman in her hour of need.

          Those of you who have been seriously ill know that sickness can be a very spiritual moment—a time when you draw deeply upon faith and the promises of God.  Sickness is a time of insight, vulnerability, and great dependence.  Sickness is always a reminder of our mortality. It causes us to remember that we are dust and to dust we shall return.  But on the positive side, every instance of healing and recovery is a little reminder of the resurrection—of that grand and glorious day when our bodies will be raised and glorified, and we will be given “heavenly herd immunity” to every form of sin and sickness.

          Sin and sickness actually go together—but not in the way most people think.  We don’t get sick as a direct result of our sinning.  Yes, some sins, like drunkenness and sexual immorality can bring dire health consequences.  But God isn’t necessarily trying to tell you something when you get sick.  Job suffered terribly, not because he sinned, but because he was righteous!  In the same way, Simon’s mother-in-law wasn’t sick with a fever because of any particular sin in her life.

          But sin and sickness are alike in this:  They are alien to us.  They are foreign to us, and to the way God has designed human beings.  Viruses attack from the outside and work their way in.  Sin is like a spiritual virus—a systemic virus that we just can’t shake no matter how hard we try.  Sin is ultimately a fatal disease for which the only cure is to die and be raised in Jesus.  Sickness and sin remind us that something is not right in our bodies, in our world, and in the whole creation.

          Jesus did more at Simon Peter’s house than just give relief to a feverish old woman.  It’s a teachable moment, both for her and for us.  Jesus went to her in her illness.  And He comes to you, too, when you are weak and sick.  Never doubt that.  Jesus doesn’t just draw near when you are healthy, happy and active.  But He draws near especially when you are weak, weary, and sick.  His Words and

promises become even more meaningful and powerful.  However, Jesus doesn’t even say a word to the woman.  He simply takes her hand and raises her up, and the fever melts away.  It’s a little foretaste of the resurrection, when Jesus will raise you up from sin and death and from all that would drag you down to the grave.  They who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up on wings like eagles.

          Then Simon’s mother-in-law began to serve Jesus and all those gathered in that little house.  We shouldn’t overlook that.  She got to work.  Put on the tea kettle and scrounged up some lunch.  She returned to the work of her vocation with vigor.  She offers herself, not as payback, or because it was expected.  She offers her service as a little sacrifice of thanksgiving and praise.  For now she knew just how precious she was to Jesus.  Jesus had raised her; and she would never be the same again.  And so it is for you and me and all the sick who have been healed by Jesus.

          As evening fell, the Savior’s healing work suddenly snowballed.  As the sun set, suddenly the whole town gathered on the front porch and the front lawn with multitudes of sick and diseased people.  And Jesus did what He always does—Jesus healed them.  He had to silence the demons because they knew who He was and why He came.  Those demons wanted to make Jesus into nothing more than faith-healer—so that they could divert Jesus from death—so that they could keep the Christ from the cross.  The demons knew that if Jesus died, they were done for.  They knew Jesus had come to destroy the works of the devil by dying.  They knew that Jesus came to reconcile and raise up the whole world.  They knew that a crucified and risen Christ would mean life and immortality for you.

          This is why Jesus eventually closed up his clinic.  Once again, it’s a teachable moment for us.  Jesus could have kept going.  The sick would have kept coming.  He could have wiped out every virus and every illness in Galilee.  But Jesus didn’t do that. Instead, in the early morning darkness He went off to pray.  His disciples hunted Him down to remind Him that He had a waiting room full of patients in need of healing:  Everyone is looking for you!  But Jesus had other plans:  Let’s go to the next towns, that I may preach there also, for that is why I came.  With that, Jesus just left a lawn-full of sick people behind in Capernaum to go elsewhere to preach.

          Jesus came primarily to preach—to proclaim repentance and forgiveness of sins to the whole world.  The miracles and healings were given to call attention to His message and His power over sickness, sin, and death.  Jesus worked wonders that day; but His purpose wasn’t to be a wonder-worker.  Jesus had pleased the crowds that day; but His purpose wasn’t to be a crowd-pleaser.

          His purpose was to preach.  That is why I came, He said.  That’s still His purpose today.  That’s why Jesus has called a preacher and set him before you today.  Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel!  In Romans chapter 10 we are reminded that faith comes by hearing.  Faith doesn’t come through signs and wonders and healings—as nice as those things are.  Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of Christ.  That’s why Jesus came; and that’s why you have come here.  Here we preach Christ crucified.

          Jesus backed up His preaching with the shedding of His blood on the cross.  In that blood is your ultimate healing and your final salvation.  In that blood is the forgiveness of your sins.  And that blood, given and shed for you, is distributed from this altar every Lord’s Day.  On this Sunday when sickness and healing are center-stage, it’s good to remember how one church father referred to the Lord’s Supper as medicine—as the “medicine of immortality.”  The body and blood of Jesus is medicine for body and soul—is good for what ails you.  So much more precious and valuable than any vaccine.  So pure and potent.  Strength-renewing and power-increasing.  Holy food for holy people.  In the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood, the Savior of the sick comes here to heal you, to raise you up, to life everlasting. 

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