A Prophet's Pain

Jesu Juva

Jeremiah 26, Luke 13:31-35                            

March 16, 2025

Lent 2C                                                  

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        A good prophet is always a pain in the neck.  Genuine prophets—bonafide messengers from God—are always intrusive and abrasive.  They couldn’t care less what your itching ears want to hear; because they aren’t accountable to anyone except the Lord.  So most of the time prophets aren’t popular, polished, or politically correct.  And they’re not terribly tactful either.  All they care about is what God has given them to speak.

        But bearers of bad news often take a beating.  Prophets of doom and gloom aren’t too popular. Consider Jeremiah.  You’d be hard-pressed to find a more faithful prophet.  But like most prophets, Jeremiah had to preach an unpopular message:  Jerusalem, that holy city with its holy temple, would be invaded, overrun and destroyed.  And citizens who survived—Jerusalem’s best and brightest—would be carried off to exile in Babylon for 70 years.

        It would be as if I preached that the United States was in its final years—that the armies of Islam would soon roll right down Santa Monica Boulevard, beheading all who will not bow the knee to Allah and his prophet Mohamed—and that those who did survive would be exiled to the Middle East to serve Islamic overlords—that this holy house, dedicated to our Savior, would be stripped of everything sacred, and would soon serve as a mosque. 

        What if I preached that message week after week?  How well would that go over?  Do you think attendance would drop?  Would you be patting me on the back?  Or changing the locks on the parsonage?  Or perhaps I should expect to hear what Jeremiah heard after he preached all that the Lord had commanded him to say, when all the people grabbed hold of him and said, “You shall die!”  It’s all part of a day’s work for a true and faithful prophet.  

        Today’s readings make it clear that God—and His messengers—are on the same team.  God and His prophets are a package deal.  You can’t profess your love for God while, at the same time, stringing up God’s prophets by their big toes—which is what the people of Jerusalem were known for.  In the same breath they would bless the name of the Lord; and then tell Jeremiah, “We can’t stand your preaching.  It’s depressing.  It’s unpatriotic.  It’s demoralizing the people.”  That’s why the movers and shakers of Jerusalem thought they were doing God a favor by killing off that killjoy named Jeremiah.

        By the time Jesus walked the streets of Jerusalem six centuries later, that city’s appetite for persecuting prophets was legendary.  You can almost sense the sarcasm in the Savior’s voice when the Pharisees warned Jesus that Herod wanted to kill him:  “Gee whiz,” he seems to say, “it’s hardly possible that a prophet could perish away from Jerusalem.”  Jesus then called Jerusalem “the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it” by God.  I’m sure that went over like a lead balloon with the Pharisees.  Probably didn’t sit too well with the Jerusalem Chamber of Commerce either.

        But did you notice that Jesus took no delight in delivering that rebuke?  He took no pleasure in pointing out how far Jerusalem had fallen—or how soon God’s judgment would be poured out there.  No, it broke the Savior’s heart to point out the sins of Jerusalem.  He wept:  O Jerusalem, Jerusalem . . . How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not!  Unbelief is what Jesus was up against.  And unbelief always breaks the Savior’s heart.  He takes it personally.  It’s a crying shame.

        Unbelief also brought Saint Paul to tears.  Did you catch that in the reading from Philippians?  It’s a remarkable passage.  He writes: For many, of whom I have often told you and now tell you even with tears, [many] walk as enemies of the cross of Christ.  Their end is their destruction, their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame. 

        Sentences like those remind us that there’s nothing new under the sun.  For we too live among the enemies of the cross of Christ.  We too live among people whose gods are their bellies—people who are ruled by their appetites—people who delight in the deaths of the unborn—people who want to force you to accept and celebrate their perverse lifestyles as normal and wonderful—people who would gladly put you in prison simply for holding to God’s truth about the sanctity of marriage, about the sanctity of sex, about the sanctity of human life.

        How does it make you feel to know that the enemies of the cross of Christ are advancing on all sides?   Does it make you angry?  Or afraid?  Does it frustrate you and make your blood pressure rise?  Does it make you stick your head in the sand and pretend that those enemies aren’t really there?  Do you wish your pastor would just shut up about it all?  Or, does the unbelief of this dying world break your heart?  Do you weep over this world with Jesus?  Does the unbelief of those around you cause your heart to ache?

        There’s a warning here for us.  Just as Jerusalem rejected the prophets and even rejected the Christ, we too can forfeit our salvation.  Jerusalem would not repent.  They would not trust.  They would not believe.  They would not abandon their idolatries and adulteries. They rejected the One who came in human flesh to save them.  Live like that—refuse to repent—and you will face eternal death.

        Or, be safely gathered into the eternal life that is freely found in Jesus.  Jesus describes Himself today in a way that few people in my generation can picture.  He speaks of a mother hen and her chicks.  Used to be that everyone had hens and chicks.  But not so much these days.  Jesus speaks of Himself as a mother hen clucking after her little chicks, trying to gather them under her protective wings out of harm’s way, willing to sacrifice herself to save them.  And yet, they refuse. 

        That’s the love of Jesus for Jerusalem, for His church, for you.  He longs to gather you under His wings.  He wants to shelter you under His protection and grace, to guide you in paths of righteousness and safety.  He was willing to go up to Jerusalem and die for you—for all—even for those enemies who hated Him and wanted Him dead.

        Why does Jesus do it?  Why does He perpetually send His pesky prophets and pastors into our lives?  Because He loves you.  Because He wants to save all.  He doesn’t want you to go it alone.  In the kingdom of God there are no rugged individualists, no independent Christians.  Hens and chicks that wander off alone are destined to become fox food.  Far better for us to take Jesus at His Word—to accept the reality of what we are:  just a brood of helpless hatchlings—cheeping chicks hidden safely under the Savior’s protective wing.  In every sermon you hear—in the words of His prophets and apostles—Jesus calls you to safety, to shelter and mercy beneath His outstretched arms.

        Those same arms were also stretched out on the cross, to bear your sin.  Those were the arms that reached out to welcome you in the waters of your baptism.  Those are the arms that comfort and console you when your life is touched by death, reminding you that your citizenship is in heaven—that the Savior will one day transform our lowly bodies to be like His glorious body.  The arms of Jesus invite you to His Supper to be fed with the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood—for the forgiveness of every sin.  It’s a wonderful place to be—nestled in the warmth and protection and love of Jesus.  There you are safe.  There you are forgiven.  There you have life that lasts forever.

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

 

Remember You Were a Slave

 Jesu Juva

Deuteronomy 5:1-5, 15                                   

March 12, 2025

Lent Midweek 1        

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        Were you there?  The hymn we just sang asks that question a dozen times, by my count.  Were you there when they crucified my Lord?  When they nailed Him to the tree?  When they laid Him in the tomb?  When God raised Him from the tomb?  Were you there?

        This question is more than just a poetic device.  In fact, those words weren’t conceived by any poet, but by slaves.  This is an African American spiritual.  The precise origins of the hymn are unknown; but both text and tune were conceived within a community of slaves in the American south in the 1800s.

        Were you there when they crucified my Lord?  Taking the question at face value, the obvious answer is, “No, I wasn’t there.”  We were all born on the wrong side of the world, about two thousand years too late to be there.  But for the original singers of this spiritual song, the answer wasn’t so clear cut.  They were there—or they were at least close enough to Calvary’s cross that it caused them with emotion to tremble, tremble, tremble.

        A similar question pops up in tonight’s text from Deuteronomy.  The Israelites are amassed on the edge of the Promised Land.  Before them lies the destination of their dreams and the fulfillment of God’s promise.  Moses prepares the people for this new beginning with a reminder from history:  Not with our fathers did the Lord make this covenant, but with us, who are all of us here alive today.  The Lord spoke with you face to face at the mountain. . . . Remember, you were a slave in Egypt.

        Those statements from Moses are problematic—from the perspective of history.  For in Deuteronomy Moses is addressing an entirely new crew of Hebrews.  The crowd that was about to take possession of the Promised Land was an entirely different crowd from that group of slaves that had marched through the Red Sea on dry ground and received the Law at Sinai.

        The witnesses to those events—the ones who were indeed there when God parted the waters and delivered His people—they had all perished.  Forty years had gone by.  The exodus lasted forty years—not because it took that much travel time, or because of some glitch with the GPS—those forty years were a divine punishment levied against all the faithless naysayers who did not believe God’s power to provide victory over the gigantic, well-fortified residents of Canaan.  Apart from Caleb and Joshua, nobody who exited Egypt would enter the Promised Land.

        How then can Moses tell this new crew of Hebrews:  You were there?  How can Moses say:  Not with our fathers, but with us?  How can Moses say:  You shall remember that you were a slave in Egypt?  How could they remember what they didn’t experience?  Were they there when the Lord brought them out with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm?  No, they were not there.

        Behold the power of remembrance.  Where the things of God are concerned, shared remembrance can create a communion in past events.  It’s a communion so strong that it may be said as a statement of fact:  I was there.  Not hyperbole.  Not just a figure of speech.   I was there.  I saw it happen.  I was a slave in Egypt.  With the things of God, time can be transcended by the power of remembrance.  Where the living Word of God is concerned, the past is discovered to be mysteriously present.

        By recalling the memory of slavery—by embracing that memory—God’s people can confess that they have personally experienced God’s power to save.  Redemption is real.  Even as the Israelites were about to begin a new life of freedom in the Promised Land, Moses calls them to remember that they were not always free—and that their freedom is a gift of grace and mercy.  Don’t forget the desert.  Don’t forget the shame of slavery.  Only by recalling what I was can I confess what I have become by grace through faith.  Remember you were a slave in Egypt.  You were there.

        Like Israel, we should remember where we have been.  We too are called to look back on the shackles of our past.  We must descend into what St. Bernard memorably called the sewers of remembrance.  Even St. Paul who enjoyed the full freedom of faith in Christ—even Paul remembered his own Pharisaical captivity:  You have heard of my former life . . . how I persecuted the church of God violently (Gal. 1:13).  Paul shows us the need to remember even those things we might prefer to forget.  We shouldn’t dwell on those things or wallow in them.  But we must remember where we have been.  Remember you were a slave in Egypt.

        Remember when you were enslaved by some vile idol.  Remember when you were a rebel.  Remember when you set out from home and proudly embraced the life of a prodigal.  Remember when you were enslaved by your passions—the months and years you wasted—living like a slave to sin.  Remember when in pride you turned your back on God, and on His gifts, and on your family in Christ.  You were there.  And sometimes, that should cause you to tremble with tears.

        God would have you remember such things not to cause you guilt and shame, but so that you might remember and re-live your ransom—so that you might dwell on God’s gracious deliverance.  And to keep thanksgiving alive in you.  Only in remembering where we’ve been can we rejoice in all the ways God has led us and fed us and loved us, and made us to be His honored guests of grace.

        Were you there when they crucified my Lord?  You were there.  Even as Jesus said, “It is finished,” that ending was just a beginning.  What Israel thought was the end of the Exodus, turned out to be much more than the beginning of Promised Land living.  That journey onward and upward into the Promised Land foreshadows the very journey you are on.  Heaven is your home.  Because you were there. 

        Surely you remember the water that flowed from the Savior’s side—the same water that washed you and purified you from all sin and shame in the splash of your baptism.  Surely you remember the blood that flowed from the Savior’s side—blood that flows through time and space from the cross to the chalice to your lips, for the forgiveness of sins.  Through these precious means you enter the story of salvation.  Your history is redeemed by the eternal God who entered the tyranny of time, to give you life eternal.

        When you look back at where you have been, you will see it.  In each act of deliverance, in each episode of rescue, every time God snatched you from slavery—each of those moments from your history is a sign of God’s great love and His amazing grace, which culminated at Calvary.  He did this for all of us, who are all of us here alive today:  We were there.  

Concerning You

Jesu Juva

Ps. 91:1-13                                                      

March 10, 2025

CUW Chapel                                             

Dear Concordians in Christ~

        Few sections of Scripture offer up more genuine comfort than Psalm 91.  Consider just these verses:  [The Lord] will command His angels concerning you—to guard you in all your ways.  On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.  This passage conjures up images of angels—angels like those depicted in this chapel—angels guarding you in all your ways—angels bearing you up beyond the reach of evil and terror, plague and pestilence. 

        As comforting as that sounds—are we correct to draw those conclusions? Are we interpreting this Psalm correctly?  Or are we just hearing what we want to hear—drawing conclusions that simply suit our purposes?  What does Psalm 91 say; and to whom—and of whom—is it speaking?  We need to know.

        I’m reminded of an old adage concerning Holy Scripture:  Every text without a context is just a pretext for a proof text.  I love that kind of wordplay:  Every text without a context is just a pretext for a proof text.  Anybody can just pull a few lines from Scripture, divorced from context, and proceed to misuse or mangle those lines to suit some pre-selected purpose.

        Can we get some context here—in Psalm 91?  Context can be hard to come by in the book of Psalms.  The exact origins of the Psalms are largely unknown. The Psalms are essentially poetry.  And, with all due respect to the English Department, poetry is open to a variety of interpretations.

        Perhaps the best we can do is ask about the “you,” y-o-u.  He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.  Who is the “you?”  Is the “you” you?  Or me?  Or somebody else?  Would it help you to know that nearly all of the “yous” in this Psalm are singular?  It’s not:  He will command His angels concerning YOU ALL, but, He will do this concerning YOU.  Who is the “you?”

        What we need is context.  But the only context we can scrounge up comes from an unlikely source—the devil.  Is it possible we could be enlightened by the Prince of Darkness?  You might be surprised to learn that the devil is a great student of Bible.  He knows the contents well—much better than you or me. 

        In this first week of Lent we hear about how the devil tempted our Lord in the wilderness.  And in this temptation is the one place where Satan serves up some Scripture.  And the Scripture He serves up just happens to be today’s text from Psalm 91.  After tempting Jesus to take a flying leap from the top of the temple, Satan speaks the Word of God to the Son of God:  It is written: He will command His angels concerning you, to guard you . . . . On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.   

        Satan takes those comforting words and twists them to tempt our Lord—to derail His path to Calvary’s cross.  Satan uses God’s holy word for his decidedly unholy purposes—to tempt Jesus to test His Father’s power and promises.  Satan boldly brandishes the sword of the Spirit for decidedly demonic purposes.

        We do that too.  We use Scripture to serve our purposes.  And by “we,” I mean we pastors, we church workers, we scholars and students of the Scriptures.  It’s so easy and tempting to misuse the Word of God—to use it like the devil did—to use it as a tool in our hands—to achieve what we want—to manipulate and mobilize the masses.  Want to start a program?  We have a Bible verse for that.  Want to raise money?  There’s a Bible verse for that too.  Wanna stick it to your ecclesiastical competition?  Have I got a Bible verse for you!  Want to trumpet a righteous cause?  Just take some text without a context, then twist, manipulate and distort it and—viola!  We always want the Word to achieve the results we desire.

        That narcissism runs death deep in us.  We always want to place ourselves at the center of the story—make it all about us.  As Teddy Roosevelt’s daughter said of her famous father:  He had to be the corpse at every funeral and the bride at every wedding.

        But at the center of God’s Word stands Jesus.  The Word remains the Word of the Lord.  And when the Lord’s Word goes forth from mouth to ears, and into hearts and minds, it accomplishes things.  It kills and makes alive.  It drowns the Old Adam and absolves the New Man in Christ.  It knocks us off our self-made thrones and raises us up from our knees.  And that Word—with Christ Himself in the center—that Word comforts us and consoles us with tenderness and compassion.

        He will command His angels concerning you . . .  Back to our context question:  Who is the “you” of Psalm 91?  It is, first and foremost, Jesus.  Jesus is the center of the Scriptures.  Jesus is the center of the Psalms. 

        Even the devil knew that the “you” was Jesus!  And that’s probably why the devil didn’t keep going to quote the very next verse which says:  You [Jesus] will tread on the lion and the cobra . . . the serpent you will trample under foot.  Jesus.  Jesus is our serpent-stomping Savior.  Atop Calvary’s mournful mountain Jesus crushed the serpent’s head.  Jesus reversed the curse.  Jesus forgives sin by becoming sin.  Jesus destroyed death by dying.  The author of Hebrews adds context and clarity:  Jesus shares in our flesh and blood, so that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. Death and the devil have been destroyed by Jesus, who brings life and immortality to light through the gospel.

        This is comforting.  This is the comfort that rings out from Psalm 91:  He will command His angels concerning you. . . . on their hands they will bear you up.  Who is the “you?”  The “you” is Christ; and it is you who are “in Christ.”  It is you—baptized into Christ.  It is you—redeemed by Christ the crucified.  In Christ you are sheltered and protected and precious.  Angels attend you in Christ.  No evil, no plague, no pestilence—neither death nor life. . . . nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

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

 

Lead Us Not into Temptation

 Jesu Juva

St. Luke 4:1-13                                                  

March 9, 2025

Lent 1C                                 

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        We seek to avoid temptation.  We seek to be delivered from temptation.  We pray:  Lead us not into temptation.  But Jesus?  When it comes to temptation Jesus just jumps right in.

        Jesus was still dripping wet with the water of His baptism when the Spirit led Him into the wilderness for forty days.  “Forty days” is where we get the forty days of Lent.  You might also recall how Israel wandered in the wilderness for forty years, or how Moses hung around on Mount Sinai for forty days, or how Elijah spent forty days in the desert.  Jesus embodies all of that.  Jesus is a One-Man-Israel.  But unlike disobedient Israel, Jesus gets it right.

        After forty foodless days in the desert, it seems a little unnecessary for St. Luke to report that Jesus was hungry.  Who wouldn’t be?  It’s in that moment of delirious hunger that the devil comes calling.  Give the devil his due; he’s got a shrewd sense of timing.  He knows precisely when Jesus will be most vulnerable; and he knows the same thing about you.  Timing is everything when it comes to temptation.

        In the book of Hebrews we’re told that Jesus was tempted in every way just as we are, yet without sin.  Tempted but did not sin.  Can you imagine that?  Not giving into temptation even once?  And remember temptation comes in far more than 31 flavors.  It’s the allure to operate by my own rules instead of God’s—to run the show my way—to be the center of the universe—to bring others under my control and use them for my own purposes and pleasure.

        The temptation to turn stones to bread is the temptation of appetite.  We’ve all got appetites—God-given appetites—appetites for food, for fun, for knowledge, and for pleasure.  These appetites inspire us and motivate us.  They give us a reason to get out of bed in the morning.  But even healthy appetites can also turn into controlling addictions—idols that demand everything from us while giving back less and less:  the thrill of placing a bet, the glimpse of porn, the high of a drug, the buzz of alcohol, the flirtatious emotional affair with the possibility for more.

        But Jesus has an appetite for something far different.  Jesus hungered only to do His Father’s will.  Jesus thirsted for your salvation.  He would not be deterred:  Man shall not live by bread alone.  With those words, Jesus was quoting the Old Testament.  Even Jesus draws upon the power of the Word.  It’s the same Word you and I have at our disposal.  You don’t need superpowers to resist temptation.  You just need the Word of God to go toe-to-toe with the devil.  One little Word can fell him.

        Next, the devil shows Jesus all the kingdoms of this world.  It’s all yours, Jesus.  All this authority and all this glory can be yours.  Here’s the deal; just worship me.  Imagine the riches and power.  Think of all the blood and treasure spilled over just tiny slices of real estate.  The whole enchilada could be yours.  You could bring about world peace and solve world hunger, and do it all on a Tuesday afternoon.  Who needs Good Friday and the cross—why shed a single drop of divine blood—when you’ve got all the kingdoms in all the world?

        You don’t have all those kingdoms dangling in front of you, but it doesn’t take nearly that much to get us to the bargaining table, does it?  George Washington once said, “Few men have the virtue to withstand the highest bidder.”  In other words, everyone has his price.  The man who says, “I would never be tempted to cheat on my wife,” hasn’t met the right woman.  The person who says, “I would never be tempted to take a bribe,” hasn’t seen a big enough bribe.

        But Jesus refuses the deal for your sake.  Again, drawing deeply from the Word:  Worship the Lord your God, and Him only shall you serve.  There is only one route by which Jesus will receive all authority—only one way for Jesus to take His seat on the throne as King of Kings and Lord of Lords—and that is to be lifted up and enthroned as a corpse on a cross.  Only by dying and rising.  Only by death and resurrection will every knee bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.

        Religion comes in the next temptation.  And what could be more religious than the temple in Jerusalem?  And what could be more pious than to quote the Bible?  That’s exactly what the devil does!  Maybe you weren’t aware that the devil is a great student of the Bible.  He knows the contents well—much better than you or me.  And he uses the Scriptures to suit his purposes:  You are the Son of God, aren’t you?  Well, then you know that the inspired, inerrant, infallible Word of God says in Psalm 91 that God’s angels are watching you like a hawk.  If you slip, they’ll catch you.  You won’t even stub your pinky toe.  What-say we put the Word of God to the test?  Why don’t you take a flying leap from the top of the temple, and let’s see what happens?

        We’ve been tempted to do that—to put God’s Word to the test—to challenge it—to splice it and dice it so that we can make it say what we want it to say—so that we can justify ourselves and our sin.  I’m reminded of a kid I knew back in junior high.  He had a real problem with cursing and swearing.  But he justified it because some of his “favorite” cuss words could be found in the Bible.  So he wasn’t cussing—just quoting Scripture.  (I’m guessing that kid grew up to become a preacher or else he’s in jail—or both.)

        But hear how Jesus responds to the Bible-quoting devil:  You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.  To test God at His Word is always a refusal to trust Him—a refusal to believe Him—an act of faithlessness.  Jesus will have none of it.  God gives us His Word because He loves us—for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness so that we may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.  So let’s take God at His Word instead of testing Him.

        Beloved in the Lord, temptation is a depressing topic.  It’s not enjoyable.  Because we’ve all been on the receiving end.  We’ve battled against the devil and the world and our own sinful nature; and we haven’t always come out on top.  In fact, we’ve frequently folded like a cheap suit; and sometimes we’ve surrendered without even offering up token resistance.         

        But no matter how often temptation has gotten the best of you, there’s good news running through today’s Holy Gospel from beginning to end.  If all you see here is a string of personal achievements for Jesus, you’re missing the good news.  Jesus’ victory is your victory.  He’s your stand-in substitute.  His perfect record becomes the perfect record for all who trust in Him. 

        Through faith in Jesus, you don’t have a checkered past, stained and littered with lost battles against temptation.  You have a string of victories won for you by Jesus Christ.  You are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.  His honor, His merit, His bravery, His valor—it has all been awarded to you.  His record is your record.  His death and resurrection define you as one redeemed and forgiven.  Your baptism empowers you for your own daily battles against temptation and sin.  And when you are tempted, He always provides a way out so that you can stand against the devil’s schemes.  The Lord Jesus is in your corner.  His powerful Word is at your disposal.  His grace has you covered.  And in Him eternal victory is yours. 

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

Exit Only

 Jesu Juva

St. Luke 9:28-36                                                

March 2, 2025

Transfiguration C                    

Dear saints of our Savior~

        I don’t often get pulled over by the police, but when I do, it’s usually for some minor infraction.  Several years ago one of Milwaukee’s finest pulled me over on West Silver Spring.  I had been in a right-turn lane because I needed to turn right.  When I realized that the street I wanted to turn right on was still a few blocks further, I signaled to the left and got out of the right turn lane to continue. 

        Well, it turns out you can’t do that, as the man in the uniform kindly explained.  Once you’re in a right turn lane, all you can do is turn right.  There’s no changing your mind.  No matter how carefully or safely you try to maneuver out of it, you must turn—you must exit—or face the consequences, like me.

        Transfiguration Sunday reminds us that Jesus spent His entire earthly ministry in the “exit only” lane—in a lane that would lead Him directly to death on a cross.  He was in the lane that led to Calvary; and there would be no detours or deviations. 

        Up on the mountain with Moses and Elijah, we hear unmistakably that Jesus is in the “exit only” lane.  With Moses and Elijah nigh, the incarnate Lord holds converse high.  But what were the contents of the conversation, exactly?  If only we had a Transfiguration transcript. 

        St. Luke tells us the topic of conversation:  [They] spoke of [Jesus’] departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.  Now, that word “departure” makes it sound like Jesus was hanging out at the airport.  But the Greek word is actually one that you already know:  Exodus.  They spoke of His “exodus” which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.  Jesus’ “exodus” is His death and resurrection. 

        Moses and Elijah were what you might call “exit experts.”  They each had their own spectacular exoduses.  Moses had led the children of Israel out of slavery in Egypt.  Through Moses the Lord made a way out—an exit—right through the Red Sea waters.  It’s hard to top a wet and wild exit like that.  But centuries later the prophet Elijah was given an equally impressive exit when chariots and horses of fire carried him up to heaven in a whirlwind.  Elijah literally exited in a blaze of glory.

        Now all this talk about exits is interesting; but it won’t get us anywhere unless we first back up by exactly eight days.  St. Luke was very careful to mention that the Transfiguration took place exactly eight days after certain “sayings” were said by Jesus.  Eight days earlier Jesus said this:  The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected . . . and be killed, and on the third day be raised.  Eight days earlier Jesus also said this:  If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.  For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.

        What do you suppose the disciples thought about all this?  What went bouncing through their minds for the next eight days while Jesus’ words about rejection, death, self-denial, cross-bearing, and losing one’s life gradually began to sink in?  We don’t know for sure.  But I wonder.  I wonder if at least some of the disciples weren’t looking for a way out—an exit from following Jesus.  I wonder if they weren’t re-thinking their enlistment—wondering how to make a face-saving exit while Jesus was still at the top of His game before things went south.

        Every disciple of Jesus faces that tempting tug toward the exit.  Every day our sinful nature seeks a way out from the difficult life of discipleship.  A cross is the last thing we want to carry.  Self-denial and sacrifice are never our priorities.  The road to destruction is broad and easy.  In that lane you can put your own happiness ahead of everything else—and everyone else.  Transfiguration Sunday is a good time to ask: What lane am I in?  Where am I headed?  Am I following Jesus more closely?  Or is there increasing distance between me and my Savior?

        On the mountain the Father’s voice says of the Savior, “Listen to him!”  Are you listening to Jesus?  The honest truth is that what Jesus says to “do” we rarely get done.  And what Jesus says, “thou shalt not do,” that we have no trouble doing—in thought, in word, in deed.  It’s so much easier to go along with the sinful ways of this dying world—so easy, in fact, that plenty of folks who once called themselves Bible-believing, Christ-confessing Christians are just walking away from the faith once delivered to the saints. 

        Today you are invited to stay in your lane.  Stay in your lane with Jesus.  Put yourself with Peter, James and John, and behold the glory of Jesus.  See what they saw.  Jesus knew the dark days that were coming; and so He appeared, shining brighter and purer than all the angels in the sky—God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God . . . being of one substance with the Father.  Every cell of His human body glowed brightly with the glory of God.  This is God’s beloved Son!  And His transfiguration is the beautiful proof that there is none other like Him.  He’s not simply a leader, a teacher, or a prophet.  He is the Son of God, the Son of Man, God in human flesh come to save sinners.  He’s got His own “exodus” to accomplish—and . . . He’s taking you and me with Him!

        Look once more at the exodus of Jesus.  See Him hanging dead on the cross, bearing your sin and the sin of the whole world.  See Him broken, bleeding, dying, and buried.  That’s how He saved you—in the hidden glory of His sacrificial death and His resurrection from the dead.  We listen to Him because He alone has the words of eternal life.  We listen to Him because He brought you into His church through the cleansing splash of Holy Baptism.  This is a sermon about “exits,” but it’s also true that no one “enters” the church—no one comes to faith in Jesus—no one can say “Jesus is Lord” except by the Holy Spirit.  This church is HIS church and He’s made you a part of it!  See how much He loves you!

        The Lord Jesus has a grand and glorious “exit” in store for you.  Moses and Elijah provide a sneak peek of where you are headed.  Again, don’t forget that these two holy men had been dead and gone for centuries before turning up with Jesus on the Mountain.  But see them now, on the mountain, alive and well in the presence of Jesus.  That’s where you’re headed too.  Whatever ugly form your exit from this world may take—whether you die quietly in your sleep or lose your head as a martyr—yet you will live forever in and with Jesus.  You will enjoy a resurrection like His.  You will see His shining face and His nail-scarred hands with your own two eyes.

        But not yet.  His glory is hidden now—in the water of your baptism, in the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood, in the pages of your Bible and in the words of this sermon.  The glory of Jesus is shining here and now, bringing you forgiveness of sins, life and salvation.  Jesus has a heavenly exit in store for you and all who believe.  You will be alive and well forever, in the presence of Jesus—just like Moses.  Just like Elijah.  This week we follow Jesus through the solemn valley of Lent.  But our Lord’s lane ultimately leads to Easter.  Easter is where we’re headed. 

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