The Gospel Runs Its Course

In Nomine Iesu
St. Mark 4:26-29
June 17, 2012
Pentecost 3/Proper 6B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

When I first began to serve as a pastor sixteen years ago, I quickly developed a serious problem. You see, I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t unwind. I couldn’t stop worrying about my work because I had quickly come to realize that a pastor’s work is never done—never finished. There’s always another sermon or Bible study to prepare. There’s always another hospital call or shut-in visit to be made. There’s always another conflict to mediate. There are always inactive members who need to be contacted, as well as prospective members who need to be visited. Meetings, new member classes, confirmation classes, pre-marital counseling, births and funerals—there was always something more. And it was the constant onslaught of “something more” that prevented me (at the end of the day) from unwinding, relaxing, and disengaging from the work of the ministry.

But then, at some point, by the grace of God, I learned the lesson taught by Jesus in the first little parable we heard today. “The kingdom of God,” He said, “is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground. He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how.” The only thing the farmer does in this parable is plant the seeds and await the harvest. Everything else, for the most part, is out of his control. The seeds, the soil, the sun and rain take over once the planting is done. The farmer doesn’t have the power to make the seeds sprout and grow. So he’s content simply to plant the seeds and see what happens.

It works the same way with the Word of God—with the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The gospel is “the power of God for salvation.” The Word of God gets scattered like seed and it grows. It gets results. It eventually yields a harvest. It doesn’t depend on the personality of the preacher. It doesn’t depend on the goodness of the hearer. No, the power for salvation is in the Word of the Gospel—the good news that God was reconciling the world to Himself in Christ, not counting men’s sins against them—that if anyone is in Christ he is a new creation, the old has gone, the new has come.”

If there was ever a preacher who could lay claim to great results—if there was ever a man who could claim that his proclamation of the gospel literally changed the world—it would have to be Martin Luther. Popes and kings and church councils could not stop the spread of the Gospel unleashed by Luther. Yet, when asked to explain the secret of his tremendous success, Luther simply said, “While I drink my little glass of Wittenburg beer, the gospel runs its course.” While Luther was content to sit back and quaff a cold one, the gospel—the good news of God’s free gift of salvation in Jesus Christ—was rolling across the world like a tidal wave, changing lives for all eternity. In other words, it wasn’t Luther’s powers of persuasion or his preaching skills that changed the world. It was the gospel. The gospel always runs its course—always gets results—allowing even preachers like me to relax every now and then with a nice, cold beverage.

The kingdom of God grows in much the same manner as a farmer’s field. God’s Word is preached and “scattered” from pulpits around the world. The preacher then steps out of the pulpit. He tends to other things. He sleeps. He eats. He runs a few errands. He drinks a cup of coffee, talks to friends, spends time with his wife. He goes through the ordinary routines of life. And, lo and behold, all the while, the gospel runs its course. The Word does its job! Faith is strengthened. Sins are forgiven. God’s people live and die in victory. No one knows exactly how the kingdom grows; and the growth can’t always be seen or measured. But the kingdom of God grows because the gospel runs its course—propelled by its own divine power.

How terrible it would be if the gospel didn’t run its course. How awful it would be if the gospel had no power of its own, but was completely dependent upon the power and personality of the preacher. How could he ever stop preaching? How could he ever relax or unwind if everything was dependent upon his efforts? How could he ever be sure that he’d said enough, or that he’d said it in the right way? I didn’t fully realize that at the beginning of my ministry. I would mow the lawn and begin to feel guilty that I wasn’t making visits at the nursing home instead—even though I had just been there recently. I didn’t trust God. I thought it all depended on me.

As if that isn’t bad enough, how terrible it would be if the gospel had no power of its own, but was completely dependent upon those who heard the word. What if your salvation depended entirely upon you—upon your intelligence, your strength of character, your ability to stop sinning and shape-up? What if it was entirely up to you to fix all the trials and tribulations in your life—if your wisdom and your fervent prayers held the key to healing that person you love, or to getting a new job? Some of us live that way. We don’t trust God. We think it all depends on us. If that’s really how it was, then there would be no hope for this preacher (or for this preacher’s hearers). We need to re-learn the very first commandment, and how it leads us to fear, love and trust in God above all things.

Thank God it doesn’t all depend on us. The gospel is the power of God for all who believe. The gospel always runs its course. God promises that His Word will never return empty, but will always accomplish what He desires and always achieve the purpose for which He sends it (Is. 55:10-11). The growth of God’s Word in us is something like the growth that’s been going on in my garden for the past month—slowly, steadily, surely. While I tend to other things, that garden is growing—and will continue to grow until the time of harvest arrives.

We need to remember this in the church. We need to remember that God gives the growth. Our efforts, our strength, and our smarts are not what keep this church growing and flourishing. In too many churches today Christians think that they have to “dress up” the gospel—market it and sell it using the same savvy techniques that Madison Avenue uses to market deodorant, blue jeans, and beer. Too often, we think that we need to add something to the Word of God to make it really effective.

What about you? Do you believe that the gospel of Jesus Christ is running its course in your life? Do you believe that His power is enough—that it’s sufficient to carry you through whatever troubles or trials you face? At times, we don’t believe it. When worry takes over, when the tyranny of anxiety robs our lives of joy and peace, when we start to think that we’re carrying the weight of the whole world on our shoulders—those are the unmistakable signs of our utter faithlessness, our total lack of trust. That was my sin in those early years of ministry. I thought it all depended on me—super pastor. But now I know better.

Now I know that it all depends on Jesus. He carried the weight of the world’s sin upon His shoulders. You can cast your anxiety on Him because He loves you with an undying love. We walk by faith, not by sight. And by faith we know and believe and trust that God is working all things for the good of those who love Him—those whom He has called to be His own. The gospel always runs its course. That gospel leads us to live lives of faithfulness. Faithfulness is simply doing and speaking the things that God has called us to do and speak. The faithful farmer scatters seed. The faithful father is the father who brings his children to the Divine service and teaches them about Jesus. The faithful employee does her job to the best of her ability. But the faithful people of God also believe this: the results of our work and labor—the results are in God’s hands. And it can be tremendously freeing to realize that.

God is already getting results in your life. In you that Gospel is giving growth and life and faith. The seed of the Word is growing in your heart, ripening ever so surely so that you will be ready to spend a blessed eternity with Jesus, and with those who are already with Jesus today. The gospel planted in your heart will one day bloom and blossom into a life without sin, a life without tears, a life that lasts forever.

Let there be no doubt. The Lord has laid down His life for you. His death on the cross was the payment for your forgiveness. Jesus is the reason that the gospel always runs its course. He was delivered over to death for our trespasses and was raised for our justification. Let there be no worry, for in the midst of all your troubles and cares, God is at work. The faith and life He gives is growing and maturing and ripening through every earthly trouble. So let go and let God, as they say. Believe what you cannot see. The gospel is running its course you. Amen.

The Church's Teachable Moment

In Nomine Iesu
Acts 1:12-26
May 20, 2012
Easter 7B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

Today’s reading from Acts chapter one places us squarely in the middle of chaos. Jesus had ascended into heaven, leaving behind a rag-tag band of disciples totaling about 120. And the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on the Day of Pentecost hadn’t yet taken place. If ever there was a teachable moment in the life of the church, this was it.

Do you know what a teachable moment is? As the name implies, during a teachable moment something is taught and learned. But teachable moments don’t usually take place in the classroom. Teachable moments normally aren’t the result of carefully crafted lesson plans laid out by well-credentialed educators. Teachable moments can’t be conveyed by textbooks or powerpoint slides. Teachable moments most often emerge from those situations where nothing has gone according to plan, and where nearly everything that can go wrong has gone wrong. Teachable moments happen when you least expect them to, when chaos and conflict are out of control—when a light suddenly dawns in the darkness and a glimmer of insight and wisdom seems to come from nowhere.

The days right after the Ascension of Jesus were a teachable moment for the church—and for us—on at least two counts. The first is nicely illustrated by the cover art on today’s bulletin. Take just a minute to pull out your bulletin and take another look at that portrait of the ascension. The focal point of the painting, of course, is Jesus—the risen, ascending, living Lord—Son of God and Son of Man. He was crucified, died, and was buried. But on the third day He rose again. And for forty days the risen Christ appeared among His disciples, speaking about the kingdom of God. The hearts of all the believers were steadfastly united by faith in this Jesus. Every last one of them believed that in Jesus they had forgiveness of sins and eternal life.

But beyond that belief is right where the unity ended. That’s where the solidarity stopped. For take another look at the bulletin cover; and this time focus on the believers at the bottom of the painting. There you see utter confusion and disagreement. For each one of the believers is looking in a different direction, pointing in a different direction, assuming different postures and perspectives—a far cry from the neatly ordered, carefully spaced pews into which all of you are organized this morning.

Beloved in the Lord, what you see right there is a teachable moment—a moment that would be replayed in the life of the church over and over again, to this very day. For what unites the church is always invisible and unseen. What unites believers is faith in Jesus Christ; and you can’t see Jesus or faith in Jesus. What you do see a lot of in the church is what’s depicted in this painting—a lot of confusion, chaos, and disagreement. They were united in faith and doctrine; but beyond that, they didn’t see eye to eye on much else. Still today in the church you see people with different ideas, different perspectives, different visions for how the church should carry out her mission to make disciples of all nations. If you don’t know what I’m talking about then you probably haven’t attended many church conventions or voters’ meetings—or many call meetings—during your life.

This moment in the life of the church—the moment after Jesus’ ascension—is a teachable moment because it teaches us how to live together in peace even when we disagree with one another. It’s also a teachable moment because of something that you don’t see on the bulletin cover—or more accurately, because of someone you don’t see depicted. Judas was dead. Judas, who had been a trusted member of their fellowship for three years, had taken his own life. And the circumstances that led to his suicide centered on his betrayal of Jesus. There is terrible emotional trauma in the wake of every suicide—but especially that of a trusted brother in the faith whose most notorious act had been one of betrayal—a slap in the face disguised by a kiss. How would the tiny church react when one of their own had caused such trauma and so much disappointment?

And so this text is a teachable moment on two counts: What do you do when you can’t agree with your fellow believers? And what do you do when a fellow believer acts in a way that hurts and disappoints you? You know what comes naturally, don’t you? Whenever Christians can’t agree about some aspect of their life together it’s natural to get defensive, to get aggressive, to try and get your way through sharp and forceful words. It’s natural to demonize the opposition—to recruit allies and choose sides—to make those who disagree with you look bad. If we can’t agree, then I’ll be disagreeable. You don’t need me to tell you that the devil does some of his best work in these kinds of situations. For I’m sure you’ve heard about congregations that split up over the color of the carpeting, over money issues, over music issues, over a my-way-or-the-highway mentality that has no place in the church of Jesus Christ.

Beloved in the Lord, there’s a better way. There will always be disagreements among believers in the church. There will always be fellow Christians who disappoint you and cause trauma to the body of Christ. The church is made up of poor, miserable sinners; but that can never be an excuse to demonize the one you disagree with—to hurt others as you have been hurt—to fan the flames of disagreement into a scorched-earth battle against your brothers and sisters in Christ.

There’s a better way—a better way taught for us today by Peter and the little band of believers who were traumatized by Judas, each with a different vision for where to go and what to do. It was a teachable moment for them and for us.

First, they didn’t let the death of Judas distract them from the life and resurrection of Jesus. Nor did they allow their differences and disagreements to distract them from the joyful unity that they shared through their common faith in Jesus. They recognized that all of them were witnesses of Jesus’ resurrection. They had seen and touched and heard the resurrected Jesus. Because He lived, they knew what was in store for them. Because Jesus was alive, they could live each day in hope and expectation. Jesus was more important than their disagreements and disappointments. His death and resurrection were at the heart and center of life for those first believers, just as Jesus is at the heart of everything for the believers here at Our Savior. In Jesus, we are one, made holy by the truth of God’s Word. In Jesus we have the forgiveness of our sins and the power to love one another as He has loved us. He is the vine and we are His living branches.

There’s more to learn from this teachable moment. How did they preserve their unity despite disagreements? How did they continue to center their thoughts on Jesus? Well, you might have missed it, but the place where the believers gathered together to hash things out is described by St. Luke as “the upper room.” Yes, probably that upper room. They made a point to gather together in that same sacred space where just weeks before the disciples had gathered with Jesus on the night when He was betrayed. On that night, in that same upper room, Jesus had prayed for them, that they would all be one. On that night in that same upper room Jesus had washed their feet, showing them how to serve and love one another. On that night, in that same upper room, Jesus had given them His very body and blood to eat and drink for the forgiveness of sins. It was to that same upper room that the believers retreated when they felt traumatized and conflicted. There they prayed for one another, served one another, and remembered the words of Jesus.

It’s the same reason we gather right here, in this sacred space, week after week, time and time again. Here we gather to pray to Jesus, in the glad confidence that He is still praying and interceding for us. Here Jesus still washes His disciples, in the waters of Holy Baptism. Here Jesus is the host, serving us with His precious body and blood that He might lead us onward in faith toward Him and in fervent love toward one another. This is the place were disagreements are dissolved, where unity is preserved, where forgiveness is offered and received.

Those first believers also teach us today that Jesus is at work among us, despite our troubles, our traumas, and disagreements. The work goes on! For it always surprises me that even in the midst of their chaos and uncertainty, Peter turned to the Scriptures. And from the Scriptures he concluded that they needed to have a call meeting—that the Lord needed to select a new apostle to take the place of Judas. They prayed. They cast lots. And the Lord chose Matthias to be apostle number twelve. And we never hear another word about good old Matthias ever again.

Someone has pointed out that the name Matthias sounds a lot like the Greek word for “disciple,” which is “ma-thay-tase.” And you’d have to agree that Matthias and “ma-thay-tase” do sound similar. Perhaps the reason we don’t hear more about Matthias is because he stands for all the disciples that would come after him, all the believers including all of us gathered here at Our Savior this morning. His story is our story. The unfinished work of making disciples continues to be unfinished. Our work is not yet done.

But that work is being done. For the Lord Jesus is at work among us and through us. He brings order out of our sinful chaos. He brings peace and healing to each one of us. Our lives are filled with teachable moments from Jesus every day. From the Father’s right hand Jesus is working all things for your eternal good, and for the blessing of His church, until He comes again in glory. Amen.

The Healing Jesus Gives

In Nomine Iesu

St. Mark 2:1-12
April 20, 2012
Karen Schiesel Funeral

Dear friends and family of Karen Schiesel,
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus,

When someone you love is seriously ill, what do you do? When your world turns upside down and you’re powerless to stop it, what do you do? When the crosses you bear begin to feel unbearable, what do you do? For us Christians, it’s a no-brainer! You take your trouble to Jesus. You place your sick loved ones into the Savior’s hands. You take them to the Lord in prayer.

That’s exactly what we did for Karen—for all of the years since she was first diagnosed. And in these last weeks, when doctors and medicine were powerless—when we were powerless—we placed her into the Savior’s hands. For we believe that He is powerful. He is the help of the helpless. His grace is sufficient; for His power is made perfect in weakness.

Whenever a loved one is in need of a miracle, it always reminds me of the paralyzed man in Mark chapter 2. Jesus was at a nearby home, preaching and teaching. So a group of the paralytic’s family and friends decided they would take him to Jesus. For they believed that Jesus could help and heal. They carried the man to the home where Jesus was; but they couldn’t even get near the front door because the crowd was so large. Some people might have given up at that point; but not this crew of friends and family. They scaled the walls, climbed onto the roof, ripped an opening in the roof, and somehow, someway, managed to lower their paralyzed friend directly down to Jesus.

Wow! Friends and family like that are hard to come by. But I’d say there’s a similar gathering of friends and family gathered right here tonight. For all of you loved Karen and would have done anything and everything to help her. You would have moved heaven and earth. And if ripping a hole in the roof of some house and rigging up some kind of contraption could have brought Karen into the presence of Jesus for healing, you would have done it. In fact, that sounds like just the kind of project that the men in Karen’s life could have pulled off in under twenty minutes.

The truth of the matter is: You did move heaven and earth. Every prayer and plea you offered placed Karen directly into the nail-scarred hands of Jesus. And best of all, we didn’t have to fight a big crowd to get her there. We didn’t have to wait in line or climb on the roof. For those with faith in Jesus have direct access to the throne of God, twenty-four-seven. Our prayers for Karen were heard and received, loud and clear.

But sometimes, as every Christian knows, God’s response to our prayers can be surprising. What we receive isn’t always what we asked for. In fact, that’s kind of how it was for the paralytic whose family and friends went to such great lengths to get him to Jesus. For you have to admit that there’s really only one big reason to bring a paralyzed man to Jesus. That man and his friends and family were hoping and expecting that Jesus would give the man healing. They were full of faith and confidence that Jesus could and would fix that man’s broken body.

But Jesus gave them a surprise. Jesus gave the man what he didn’t expect and what he didn’t deserve. St. Mark tells it like this: “and when they had made an opening [in the roof], they let down the bed on which the paralytic lay. And when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are forgiven.” St. Mark doesn’t tell us, but I suspect a few jaws dropped at that moment. Really? Your sins are forgiven? I mean, that’s nice, but that’s not exactly why they had gone to all this trouble. There was a bigger problem there. . . . Or was there?

The fact of the matter is that Jesus had His priorities straight. And Jesus is teaching us a thing or two about priorities as well. Forgiveness of sins was what that man needed more than anything else. His biggest problem was not paralysis, but sin. Karen’s biggest problem was not cancer. Your biggest problem is probably not what you think it is. Now more than ever, a lot of people are tempted to chuckle when they hear the word “sin.” It’s so old fashioned—so antiquated. But if you’re going to laugh about sin, then you might as well laugh about cancer or laugh about paralysis; for sin does far more damage.

In a sense, you could say that our sin paralyzes us—stops us in our tracks—prevents us from loving our neighbors as ourselves—prevents us from loving God with all our heart, soul, and mind. Sin causes us to love ourselves above all else. And just like cancer—just like paralysis—there’s no medicine that can cure it. Our sin runs death deep. It’s fatal. The wages of sin is death; and that’s a payday that none of us can avoid for long.

And this is why Jesus came. This is why God sent His Son—to save His people from their sins—to bear our sins in His broken body on the cross. He was delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification. He took your place under the wrath of God; and gives you His place as a dearly loved child of the heavenly Father. He takes your sin; you get His righteousness—and this as a free gift, by grace, through faith. For God so loved the world—for God so loved Karen—that He gave His one and only Son that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life. Karen knew that and believed that with all her heart. That’s why Karen was here so often, so regularly, for so many decades: to confess her sins, and to receive the forgiveness that Jesus Christ earned for her.

When Jesus forgave the sins of the paralytic, the scribes and Pharisees, of course, objected. They didn’t get it. They didn’t get Jesus. So then, as the icing on the cake—to show that His forgiveness was the real deal—Jesus then did the easy thing. Jesus tackled problem number two. Jesus healed the broken body that had been placed before Him. “So that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins,” Jesus said, “I say to you, rise, pick up your bed and go home.” And the paralytic did just that. He rose, picked up his bed and walked away. And all were amazed and glorified God. That’s how our God operates! First things first! Forgiveness first, and then the icing on the cake—then the perfect healing—then the miracle.

Beloved in the Lord, I’m here to tell you that Jesus Christ did the same thing for Karen. He addressed her biggest problem first. For seventy years, beginning in the waters of Holy Baptism, Jesus forgave her all her sins. As far as the east is from the west, so far did He remove her transgressions. Forgiveness first; and then just a few days ago, the icing on the cake—the miracle, the welcome into the Savior’s arms—the end of tears and mourning and pain—then the life that lasts forever. We prayed for healing for Karen; and the God who loved her has now given her that perfect healing which she never could have had here on earth. Last Tuesday morning Karen fell asleep in faith, and woke up to see her Savior. She lacks nothing. She is home. And one day we who believe will join her.

We placed Karen into the hands of Jesus every time we prayed for her; but, actually, Jesus was already at work in Karen’s life, long before any of us ever prayed on her behalf. It began when she was washed clean in the waters of Holy Baptism on Valentine’s Day 1942—just down the road at Holy Ghost Lutheran Church. Then and there her body became a temple of the Holy Spirit. And for all the years that followed, as she listened to the Word of God—as she received the body and blood of Jesus—Jesus Himself was at work in Karen’s life, giving her strength and energy to work and sacrifice for those she loved, giving her peace through all the ups and downs.

Jesus gave her the strength and energy she needed to raise a family, and go to work, and keep a ginormous garden—strength to watch her husband go off to do a job that was fraught with danger and risk—strength to raise three children and to manage a household with an ever-changing population of pets. Jesus gave her the joy of seeing her family expand to include a son-in-law, and daughters-in-law, a dear neice—and to see her children’s children grow up to share the same faith in the same church. (We should all be so blessed.) In fact, this congregation was just like family for Karen. She was here all the time, cleaning-up the kitchen, packing up food donations, organizing the storage, serving snacks for Bible school, and countless other thankless jobs which most of us will never know about. Why? Because Jesus was at work in her, so that Karen could bear her crosses with patience, including this final cross of cancer. She met that illness with quiet courage and steadfast faith.

She did it all because her Savior was at work in her. And when Karen was at her weakest, Jesus was at His strongest—to save her and carry her right through the valley of the shadow of death. She’s where we all long to be—with Jesus. And to all of Karen’s family, even though your grief may feel paralyzing at times, you can count on the fact that your church family here tonight will be bringing you to Jesus in prayer in the days and weeks ahead. We’ll help you bear your burden, because we are one family in Jesus Christ, our Savior. He is the way, the truth, and the life that lasts forever. Amen.

The Butterfly Effect

In Nomine Iesu
St. Mark 16:1-8
April 8, 2012
Easter B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! It feels good to shout that again, doesn’t it? After forty days of Lent with stifled alleluias and subdued praises, it feels good to pull out all the stops, to sound the trumpets, and pump up the volume on the incredible good news that Jesus Christ is risen from the dead. Death has lost its sting. The grave has lost its grip on you. Death, your greatest enemy, has been defeated single-handedly by the Son of God who was crucified, died and was buried . . . and on the third day rose again from the dead.

But for the next few minutes I want you to consider the good news of the resurrection from a quieter, more serene perspective. I want you to think about butterflies. Butterflies have long been a symbol of the resurrection. The metamorphosis from caterpillar to cocoon to the colorful winged creatures we know and love—that’s creation’s quiet testimony to the resurrection of the body and the new life we have in Jesus. His tomb was nothing more than a cocoon. The grave could not hold Jesus, and it cannot hold you either.

You know about butterflies; but do you know about the “butterfly effect?” The butterfly effect is actually a scientific theory which proposes that a very small change at one place within a system results in big changes at a later state. One tiny change now; big changes later. It’s called the butterfly effect because of the theoretical example of a butterfly flapping its wings. The idea is that the movement of the butterfly’s wings creates a tiny change in the atmosphere—a change that may ultimately result in the formation of a hurricane, or perhaps impact the path of a tornado, several weeks into the future. The butterfly’s flapping wings introduce a tiny change to the atmospheric system, which causes a chain of events leading to a large scale alteration of events. Had the butterfly not flapped its wings, the outcome might have been far different.

The butterfly effect is a common motif found in books and stories about time travel. Earlier this year I read a best-seller about a man who travelled back in time in an attempt to prevent the assassination of President Kennedy in 1963. His hope was that by saving Kennedy, the resulting butterfly effect would prevent the other assassinations and bloodshed that marred the 1960s. Now, spoiler alert: In the book, the protagonist ultimately saved Kennedy’s life, but the resulting butterfly effect turned out to be a much darker and more dismal result than what we read about in the history books today.

While I was reading that book it struck me that the butterfly effect could be a great device for proclaiming the reason for the season which begins today. The story of our salvation is nicely illustrated by this butterfly effect—one tiny change, resulting in cataclysmic change.

So let’s travel back through time, back to paradise—back to the perfect world God created. And the crowning achievement of this creation was a man and a woman, made in the image of God. That doesn’t mean that Adam and Eve looked like God. It means something better. To have the image of God in them meant that they knew God perfectly. They were perfectly happy in Him. The relationship between the Creator and His creatures was open, honest and loving.

Then, one day, there was a tiny change to that perfect world. The tempter persuaded the man and the woman to disobey God—to rebel against His rule. They consumed the forbidden fruit. At first, nothing bad happened. Oh, sure, they felt shame for the first time. They felt a bit chilly when they realized they were naked. But they were still living and breathing. The sky wasn’t falling. But make no mistake, the butterfly had flapped its wings. Or, as it says in Romans 5: “Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, . . . in this way death came to all men, because all sinned.” From that one, small act of disobedience, the creation was forever altered in increasingly horrific ways. Idolatry and adultery, murder and mayhem, death and destruction, obituaries and cemeteries are but some of the awful, cataclysmic changes that resulted from that second of time.

You and I are also caught in this butterfly effect of sin. But we’re not passive victims in creation’s push to devolve. For we take after our first parents. We are all too ready to bite the loving hand that feeds us, and to rise up in rebellion against God and His Word and His Law. At least Adam and Eve blushed with shame at what they had done. We manage to sin with impunity. And every day we set ourselves up as gods in the place of God. We determine what’s right and wrong for us. We declare ourselves to be innocent and good, pretending that we have no need of rescue from the death we face. We are trapped in the butterfly effect of sin, set in motion by our first parents.

But now let’s re-set our time machine, and travel to another destination in time. Let’s travel back two thousand years to a rocky hill outside the city gates of Jerusalem. It’s a place of execution. Golgotha. The place of the skull. Three convicted criminals have been crucified. Three men are dying an awful death on a Roman tool of torture. But the man in the middle is different. On the center cross hangs the Christ. He has done nothing wrong; in fact, He has done everything right. But His perfect record of obedience cannot help Him now; for He bears your sin. Your rebellion, your idolatry, the murderous mayhem you have perpetrated—it has all been laid upon Him. He bears your sin. He receives your punishment. He suffers hell as He hangs there. And right before He dies He declares, “It is finished.” He breathed His last—exhaled for the final time. And that dying breath—that final gasp—was something like the gentle breeze of a butterfly’s wings.

From the cross a new breeze began to blow. A new butterfly effect was set in motion. “Consequently, just as the result of one trespass was condemnation for all men, so also the result of one act of righteousness was justification that brings life for all men. For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous” (Rom. 5:18-19). On Good Friday, in Jesus, your sin was paid for, your forgiveness was purchased, and only one thing remained to be done.

Fast forward three days to a Sunday morning like this one. Witness the women just after sunrise, headed to the tomb of Jesus. They were expecting to find His corpse; but when they arrived they found that the stone had been rolled away, and an angel met them in the empty tomb and declared of Jesus, “He has risen.” And in St. Mark’s lean, streamlined account of the resurrection, the women immediately flee the tomb, seized by trembling and astonishment, and they don’t say anything to anyone because they are afraid. The resurrected Jesus doesn’t even put in a cameo appearance in today’s holy gospel according to St. Mark. There’s just an angel, an empty tomb, and some terrified women. And, oh yes, one other thing: a butterfly flapping its wings.

One small, tiny change to the system took place that morning. The empty lungs of Jesus drew a breath. A stilled heart began to beat. Lifeless eyes were opened to see again. Muscles moved. The stone was rolled away. And death was undone. The living, resurrected Christ walked out of His tomb. He is risen; and in Him you too will rise. Because He lives, you shall live also.

The Easter story began as just a whisper—nothing more than the quiet beating of a butterfly’s wings. But what happened that morning is now the beating heart of all our hope and joy. The butterfly effect set in motion by the sin of Adam and Eve has been overcome by the butterfly effect set in motion by the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. St. Paul connects the dots wonderfully in 1 Corinthians 15, “For since death came through a man,” he writes, “the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man. For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive. Christ, the firstfruits; then, when He comes, those who belong to Him.”

Beloved in the Lord, you are among those who belong to Jesus. Your resurrection, your heavenly homecoming is already in the works. But the promise of the resurrection isn’t just something to wait around for. For the butterfly effect created by the resurrection is something that grows bigger and stronger with every passing day. The butterfly effect has effects in your life today—here and now. It changes you! It means, of course, that you don’t have to be afraid to die; but it also means that you don’t have to be afraid to live, either! For the God who gives resurrection life can certainly supply your life with whatever you need in the here and now.

Your life has eternal significance. Your words and your deeds are producing new butterfly effects every day. What you do and say changes things forever. When you tell the good news about Jesus, when you give an offering, when you show love and mercy and compassion to others—you are changing the world. The system will never be the same because of you—because of who you are in Jesus, a child of God.

Although Spring has sprung early this year, I think it’s still too early for butterflies. But I suspect you’ll see one soon. And when you do, remember the joy of Easter. Remember the butterfly effect. Remember that Christ is risen. He is risen indeed. Alleluia! Amen.

Your Good Friday Family

In Nomine Iesu
St. John 19:26-27
April 6, 2012
Good Friday

When Jesus saw His mother and the disciple whom He loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold your son!” Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother!” And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home.

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

To “behold” something is to see it with your eyes. But it’s also more than that. To behold someone is to see that person for who they really are. To behold another human being is to see them in a way that goes beyond noticing things like height, weight, or hair. To behold someone is to look past the exterior to see the real and true identity.

An example would be the groom who “beholds” his bride walking down the aisle on their wedding day. With his eyes, the groom sees a girl he knows wearing a white dress and carrying a bouquet of flowers. But he “beholds” this person as the love of his life and the woman of his dreams. If that couple is one day blessed with the birth of a child, what they will see with their eyes is just another crying baby. But they will “behold” this child as a gift from God—a new target for all their hopes and dreams and prayers.

On Good Friday, as the people of Jerusalem beheld the crucified Christ, they saw Jesus for who He really was. They beheld Him as the Suffering Servant about whom all the prophets had spoken—the one who was pierced for our transgressions and wounded for our iniquities, stricken, smitten and afflicted. At the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, John the Baptizer had pointed at Jesus and said, “Behold—behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” And on Good Friday, at the apparent end of Jesus’ ministry, the people of Jerusalem could behold exactly what that meant—Jesus as our sin-bearing, sacrificial Lamb. Our sin—and its punishment—intersect in the man on the center cross.

But on this Good Friday I want you to do more than see the nails and thorns. I want you to see not only how Good Friday forever changed things between you and God; but to behold how Good Friday forever changed things between you—and you, and you and me. I want you to behold your family—your Good Friday family.

We can glimpse the importance of family in the words that Jesus spoke to His mother and to John, the disciple whom Jesus loved. Hanging from the cross, Jesus spoke two sentences which would cause John and Mary evermore to behold each other in a radically different way: “Woman, behold your son!” And to John He said, “Behold, your mother.” We know nothing of the relationship between John and Mary prior to that moment. But what we do know is this: that relationship was redefined at the cross. Family ties were created where none had ever existed before. And from that moment on, John took Mary into his own home. He beheld her and loved her as his own mother. A new family unit was forged on that Good Friday—a family unit created by the powerful Words of Jesus.

What I want you to behold here is more than just Jesus being a good son—Jesus looking after His aging, widowed mother the way all children should care for their aging parents. I see that; but I behold much, much more going on here. I behold that the Good Friday family forged by the Word of Jesus has grown and expanded to include all of us here tonight. The death of Jesus affects and changes the way all the followers of Jesus behold one another. We are part of the Good Friday family—related to one another by the blood of Jesus which has bought our pardon from sin and death. We have in common one Lord, one faith, one baptism. And the collect prayer for Good Friday hits the nail on the head as it leads us to pray these words: “Almighty God, graciously behold this, your family.” Because of what happened on Good Friday, God beholds us as His family; and we ought to behold each other in the same way.

But how often we do not. How often we fail to behold one another as family. Now, the word “family” gets used in some awfully trite ways these days. When my children were in elementary school, we would often hear references to the “Richards School Family.” Or maybe you hear it at work, something like, how, “At ABC Corporation we’re really just one, big family.” Or when you’re watching the evening news and the anchor person refers to “our channel 12 family.” Those are fake families—phony families concocted out of thin air to manufacture a sense of loyalty. But this family is not just a feel-good slogan. This is the family of “our Father” who art in heaven, created by the Words and by the blood of Jesus—a family which grows every time another sinner is washed clean in the waters of Holy Baptism.

We are family; but how often we refuse to behold one another in such a way. If we really beheld one another as family, then this church would be full for every funeral (because we’d all show up . . .because family is expected to attend). If we really beheld one another as family, then we would always strive to behold the best in each other. But how often do we choose to see only the worst—to put the worst construction on the words and actions of others? How often do we categorize one another and then keep our distance from those we categorize as annoying, arrogant, lazy, bossy, or boastful? Those kinds of categories, and cliques of any kind, have no place in the church—no place in the Good Friday family of our Lord.

God grant us grace on this holy night not just to see one another; but to behold one another for what we really are: members of the same family, children of the same heavenly Father, souls Christ died to save. Behold, the family of God! Look around and see what the wondrous love of God has created. This family exists—you are sons and daughters of God—only because God the Father abandoned His Son to die on the cross. That death makes peace between you and God. That death makes peace between you and you and you and you.

We are one—a Good Friday family. As Paul wrote to the Galatians, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” We are one family. And this oneness is a gift from God. Widows, widowers, and singles, you are not alone. You are not without family. And those of you who are estranged from your families—those of you with family members who do not share your faith in Jesus—remember you are not alone. You are not without family. God has given us to you, and you to us. And as our individual families struggle with busyness and conflict and financial pressures, do not fail to see—to behold—that you belong to the Good Friday family of our Lord—that you are surrounded by a body of believers to pray for you, to comfort you, to help you bear your burdens.

By His words—and by His wounds—Jesus has shown us that He beholds us as His family, the church. His death has made us one family through faith. On this side of heaven, we can’t always see that oneness with our eyes. But the crucified and risen Christ has gone before us into heaven, to prepare for the grandest, greatest family reunion ever held. And that heavenly reunion will truly be a sight to behold.

On this Good Friday, behold the Lamb of God. Behold the family of God.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Where's Jesus?

In Nomine Iesu
John 13, 1 Cor. 11
April 5, 2012
Maundy Thursday B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

The question of the day for this Maundy Thursday is a simple one: Where’s Jesus? And it turns out that the answers to that question are also quite simple—but at the same time, very, very profound. Where’s Jesus?

Even little children are able to tell you that church is a likely place to find Jesus. I’ll never forget the time when one of the little children here at Our Savior came walking up the steps one Sunday morning. His face was beaming as he looked up at me, shook my hand, and said, “Good morning, Jesus.” Nothing quite prepares you for a greeting like that.

Where’s Jesus? Lutheran pastor and storyteller, Walter Wangerin, has written about his own childhood search to find Jesus while at worship. Upon finally realizing that Jesus must be hiding in the most mysterious and off-limits place in the church, he ventures into that sacred place—a place you and I call the women’s restroom. But of course, he doesn’t find Jesus there. But when he returns to the pew and sits down next to his mother, he smells a sweet scent on her breath (for you see, she had just communed.) “Mama,” he asks, “What’s that smell?” To which she replies with a sweet, simple and profound answer: “It’s Jesus.” It was at that moment that the little boy realizes that Jesus has been right next to him all along.

Maundy Thursday is the perfect time to be reminded of that truth—that Jesus Christ comes no closer to us at any other time than He does in His Holy Supper—that our Lord Jesus Christ, on the night when He was betrayed, took bread. And when He had given thanks, He broke it and gave it to the disciples and said, “Take, eat; this is My body, which is given for you—that in the same way He took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new testament in my blood, which is shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.” Where’s Jesus? He has located Himself in the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood—where sinners like us can literally taste and see that the Lord is good.

We need to repent of those times when our participation in this meal has been marked by a careless, casual attitude. Worship in general—and the Lord’s Supper in particular—is heaven on earth, the real presence of the living Christ to serve His people with forgiveness and faith. It’s no time for irreverence. It’s no time for impatience for how long it takes to get everyone served. But it is a time for each of us to examine ourselves—to see whether we are sorry for our sins, whether we are willing to forgive those who’ve sinned against us, and whether we plan (with the help of the Holy Spirit) to change our sinful lives. One pastor put it this way: We should go the Lord’s Supper as though going to our death, so that we can go to our death as though going to the Lord’s Supper. Why so much care and concern over bread and wine? Because Jesus is here (in this meal) for you.

Where’s Jesus? He is not just in the sacrament. There’s another place too. For the events of that Thursday night in the upper room make it clear that Jesus can be found in the most unexpected of places. I’d give you a clue, but I’d first have to take off my shoes and socks. And except for the beach or the swimming pool, most people prefer to avoid other people’s feet most of the time. You know why: dirt and lint, sweat and stink, grit and grime, calluses, bunions, planter’s warts, ingrown toe nails and fungus are just a few of the foot problems out there.

But on that Thursday night when He was betrayed, Jesus knelt down with water and a towel to wash and cleanse the dirty, disgusting feet of His disciples. The Lord and creator of all bent down low to do the job of the lowliest servant. The master became the slave. Jesus came not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many. “Now that I, your Lord and teacher, have washed your feet,” Jesus said, “you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.” And just a bit later Jesus added, “Love one another as I have loved you. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

Where’s Jesus? Jesus is wherever His disciples are busy washing dirty, disgusting feet. Jesus is in you, whenever you are busy bending down low, doing the work that no one else wants to do. Luther went so far as to say that when you do the difficult chores of your vocations, you are a “mask of God.” Jesus Himself is at work through your work. Oh, sure, you may look like an ordinary parent—an ordinary neighbor, friend or citizen—but the Lord Jesus lives in your words, and in your works of mercy.

If Jesus, on the night when He was betrayed, was willing to scrub the scum from between the toes of sinners, then is there any task that’s beneath your dignity? And since Jesus did this on the eve of His execution, is there ever a time when you can rightly refuse to roll up your sleeves and get to work? Service in the way of Jesus always means bending down, getting off your high horse, setting aside your pride and ego. It’s not the way of the disciple to say “that’s below my pay grade” or to say, “I’ve done my turn and now it’s your turn.” No, this love for the neighbor doesn’t keep score, doesn’t count the cost, is never given in the hope of getting repaid later.

The world out there cannot see the love of Jesus. The people that you deal with day in and day out can’t see Jesus’ love. They can hear it. They can experience it. But they can’t see Jesus’ love. What they can see is you—and in you, the love of Jesus. “This is how the world will know that you are my disciples,” Jesus said, “that you love one another.”

Where’s Jesus? He is hidden under bread and wine. Do you feel weak, weary and overwhelmed with life? Then come to His Supper and be refreshed. Do you feel burdened with guilt and shame over your sin? The come to His Supper and receive the full forgiveness He earned for you by His suffering and death. Does the thought of sickness and death leave you frightened? Then come to His Supper and receive faith—faith that will sustain you in body and soul to life everlasting.

Where’s Jesus? He’s not only hidden under bread and wine; but He’s also hidden in your words and deeds of mercy and love. Tonight He gives you not just faith and forgiveness, but also “fervent love for one another.” He gives you His life. He also gives you a pattern for life. And that pattern is love. Amen.

Your King Is Coming

In Nomine Iesu
St. John 12:12-19
April 1, 2012
Palm Sunday B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

This Sunday has it all—everything from pomp and pageantry and praise, to torture, execution, and burial. Joyful shouts of “hosanna” to bloodthirsty cries for crucifixion. In fact, this Sunday of Holy Week is the Sunday “so nice they named it twice.” It is Palm Sunday; it is also the Sunday of the Passion. Palms and Passion. Cheers and jeers. Triumph and tragedy meet head on this day—in Jesus the Christ.

By the time Jesus rode into Jerusalem on that Sunday, He had achieved a certain celebrity status. It was undeniable. Just days earlier He had called Lazarus from his tomb and raised him from the dead—in a quiet bedroom community, just outside the Holy City. As a result, the crowds had never been bigger. The excitement had never been greater.

And that’s usually how it is whenever a bone fide celebrity comes to town. I was trying to remember the last time a celebrity came to Whitefish Bay. And, perhaps because opening day for Major League Baseball is this week, my thoughts went back to a Saturday morning in July about four years ago. Ryan Braun and a contingent of other Brewers were coming to downtown Whitefish Bay for a rally and an autograph signing. I don’t remember who all the other players were, because Ryan Braun was the real celebrity—the real superstar. I made my way downtown early, but lines were already formed. There were several short lines to choose from (the Manny Parra line, the Bill Hall line). And then, there was the Ryan Braun line—over two blocks long on Silver Spring, and then around the corner where City Market is now located. I was feeling lucky that day, so I got in the Ryan Braun line.

Well, it was a gamble that didn’t pay off. Apart from sweating in the July sun for a few hours, I have nothing to show for that day. From my vantage point, I never saw Ryan Braun. I never heard Ryan Braun. I never got a Ryan Braun autograph. And I even missed out on the free hot dogs they were giving away. Now, perhaps you’ve been more successful than me in meeting and greeting celebrities. But I suspect that a lot of people, like me, often come away feeling disappointed and disillusioned.

But Jesus is no ordinary celebrity. And what we see Jesus doing on Palm Sunday is also wonderfully symbolic of what Jesus does every Sunday. He comes. He comes to us. He comes to us, gathered here, to bless us with forgiveness and faith. If you think that what happens here during the Divine Service is all about us, and about what we’re doing for Jesus who is up in heaven somewhere—distant and disconnected from His people, you’re wrong. He comes. He comes not to threaten you or burden you, but to bless you and to lift your burdens from you.

This is what the Triumphal Entry shows us. And nobody explains this truth better than Martin Luther. This is what Luther says about Jesus’ triumphal entry: “Look at Christ. He rides not upon a horse which is a steed of war. He comes not with appalling pomp and power, but sits upon a donkey, which is a gentle beast to bear burdens and to work for men. From this we see that Christ comes not to terrify, to drive, and oppress, but to help and to take for Himself our load” (Easter Book, p.23-24). He comes. He comes here to serve you with His Word, with His absolution, with His body and blood. This is why attending and participating in the Divine Service is so important. You miss church, you miss Jesus. It’s that simple.

Your king comes to you. “You don’t seek him,” Luther writes, “He seeks you. You don’t find Him; He finds you.” There’s no waiting and long lines. He seeks you and finds you. And that seeking and finding is also an example for us. It shows us what we should be busy doing here on earth. Just as Christ comes to you to serve you, you should go to your neighbors to serve them. That’s the whole point of this morning’s reading from Philippians: “Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus . . . who emptied himself, taking the form of a servant . . . who humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” That’s your King—a humble, sacrificial servant.

And because Jesus is your king, that humility of His—that servanthood of His—it now lives in you. As He comes to you to lift your burdens, you also go to others to lift their burdens. When people see you, they should also see your king, Jesus. Your speech, the king’s speech. Your mercy, the king’s mercy. Your forgiveness, the king’s forgiveness. Your generosity, the generosity of Jesus. And as you head off as an ambassador of Christ the King, learn from Him.

Learn from Jesus to go—to go where the hurt is. To send a card to someone is good. To pray for someone is good. But your King Jesus did far more for you than pray for you or send you a card. Your king comes to you, and so you go to others. Don’t just e-mail them, don’t just text, don’t merely “like” their status on Facebook. Go to that person you know who is sick, or hospitalized, or dying. Go to that person who is sad, depressed and mourning. Go and give your help and support to that friend who is unemployed, who is recently divorced, whose burden is great. Just as Jesus’ presence matters in your life; your presence matters in the lives of others. And while it’s true that geographical distances will sometimes prevent you from going in person to serve others, there’s always someone nearby—there’s always someone in this congregation who needs the consolation and the support that you can provide.

Luther says this about our King, Jesus: “He gave Himself completely . . . with all works and suffering, so that there was nothing in him that was not made yours and done for you. So this is not your good work, that you should [just] give offerings and pray, but rather that you should give yourself entirely to your neighbor, as he needs you and as you can, with offerings, prayers, fasting, counsel, comfort, teaching, appeal, reproof, pardon, clothes, food, and also suffering and death on his behalf.” Are you up for the task? Are you ready to be a mask of God—a living, loving person through whom the care of the Christ is conveyed? There will never be a good, convenient time to show kindness and mercy to others. In fact, this work will always be inconvenient, time-consuming, draining. It’s putting Jesus first, yourself last, and others in between.

It’s the mind of Christ, and it’s in you. He humbled Himself on the cross for you. He has claimed you as His own in the water of your baptism. And because of that baptism, His humility, His patience, His mind is in you. And today, again, He comes. He comes to you—in the preaching of His promises, in the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood. He comes. But He doesn’t come as a celebrity sports star for whom you have to wait around in line for hours. You will never have to leave here disappointed or disillusioned. Nor will you leave this life disappointed or disillusioned. For even at your life’s end, your King will come to take you home to heaven. Today He comes here as your personal Savior. His promises are intended for your ears. His body and blood are given “for you” for the forgiveness of your sins. And whether you feel it in your heart or not, Jesus the King is here for you. Because that’s His promise!

Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord. His name is Jesus. He is King of Kings and Lord of Lords. And you are His ambassador. You are His friend, now and forever. Amen.