In Nomine Iesu
Romans 8:28-39
July 30, 2017
Proper 12A
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
This is a sermon about nothing. I think, if I could summarize this sermon for you in one word, that word would be “nothing.” Later on today if someone should happen to ask you, “What did the pastor preach about today?” I want you to say, “Nothing—the sermon was about nothing.” But if you are pressed and prodded to say more than that, then say, “It was a sermon about nothing . . . and it was a sermon about everything.”
Nothing and everything. There in a nutshell you have today’s epistle reading from Romans chapter 8. “Nothing” can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Nothing! Not tribulation, not distress, not persecution, not famine, not nakedness, not danger, not sword. Nothing. Not even death. Especially not death. Nothing can separate us from God’s love in Christ. And, attached to that “nothing” is an “everything.” Everything—all things—work together for good for God’s baptized believers. Everything: the good, the bad, the ugly. “Everything” ultimately works for good for those who love God. And “nothing” can separate us from God’s love. We’ve got everything and nothing—I think we may just have something.
Let’s start with everything. We know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose. Do you believe it? It’s that little word “all” that makes us skeptical. It would be a little easier to swallow if Paul had written, “We know that in most things God works for our good” or, perhaps, “We know that in a very high percentage of instances God is working for our good.” We could say “amen” to that. But it’s the word “all” that gives us pause. In a few minutes we’re going to sing the hymn, “What God Ordains Is ALWAYS Good.” Really? Always? In all things? In everything, good?
I’m sure you can think of many events in your own life which, on the surface, seem to contradict God’s claim that everything is working for your good. Consider the hapless hunter who was written up in a 1947 issue of The New Yorker magazine. It seems the guy went out and bagged himself a rabbit. But apparently the rabbit wasn’t quite dead. The rabbit managed to squirm its way out of the game bag, and somehow managed to press the trigger on the hunter’s gun, shooting the hunter in the foot. Does getting shot by a bunny fall under the “everything” of Romans 8—that in everything God is working for our good?
You probably won’t face those same circumstances anytime soon; but sooner or later a time comes in all of our lives when we’re just plain up against it—a time when, despite our best efforts and a stiff upper lip, we keep sliding deeper and deeper into doubt and despair—a time when darkness is all around us and there’s no relief in sight. Can we, then and there, confidently say that in everything we know that God is working for our good?
Believing this is much easier said than done—especially in the face of real tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger, or sword. Do we actually believe that as the baptized children of God our sufferings will be vindicated—that our sufferings will be shown to have meaning—that the hardships of our lives won’t simply be erased and wiped away, but will all be eventually woven together into a tapestry of pure good? Do we actually believe that in what we suffer now, there is deep purpose, and rich meaning, and ultimately something unimaginably good? Do you believe this?
Admittedly, without Jesus, this all sounds little bit hollow. Without Jesus, we’re veering dangerously close to the kind of shallow sentiment you find on a lot of greeting cards. That’s why immediately, in the very next sentence, Paul takes us directly to Jesus, the Son of God. As soon as he tells us that God works for our good in EVERYTHING, He takes us to Jesus. He writes: For those whom [God] foreknew He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son. This is how it works. This is the only way it can work. The Father looks at His only-begotten Son; and He sees in His Son you and all believers. You through faith are being made and conformed and shaped into the image of Jesus. It’s the image of Jesus that you need. Because all you have by nature is the image of Adam.
Adam blew it. Adam rebelled. Adam completely lost the image of God by His rebellion and sin. Adam launched us all on a slippery downward slide that will eventually deposit us all six feet under. Adam’s sin and our sin provokes God’s wrath, and He’s plenty angry over it. Your sin deserves death and damnation, and don’t think for a minute that you can weasel out of it with your pious prayers and platitudes. No, you need Jesus. You can’t be a child of God without the Son of God. And this was God’s plan all along. The Father sent His one and only Son into our flesh. And this is the way God loves the world—the way God loves you, sinner though you are: He gives His only Son to die on the cross, so that whoever believes in Him will not perish but will have eternal life with God. And God’s great plan to save you has been in the works long before you came along. Before you had the chance to do even one good work—going back to the foundation of the world—you were predestined to take your place along with the all the other sinners who would wash their robes and make them white in the blood of the Lamb.
A verdict has been spoken over your head by the blood of the cross that took away your sin. God declares you innocent. And all you dare say in response to that verdict is “amen.” So be it. If God says it, that settles it. He who called you in the water of your baptism has now clothed you with the perfect life and death of Jesus. And that’s what it means to be justified. It means that we appear before God like Jacob appeared before his father, Isaac. Do you remember that story—how Isaac was old and blind—and how Jacob got disguised as his older brother Esau so that he could receive his brother’s blessing? We’re kind of like Jacob, for we appear before God like our older brother, Jesus—conformed to His image. We receive the blessing of Jesus as we are clothed in Jesus. Only there’s no deceit involved. Your heavenly Father is delighted to bless you, for He loves you in His Son. When God blesses you for Jesus’ sake, He knows exactly what He’s doing.
So, then, the big question: Since God has conformed you into the image of His Son—since He has predestined you and called you—since He has justified you and glorified you already in His Son—what is there on earth or in heaven that could possibly mess you up? What is there that could possibly undo all that God has done for you? NOTHING. That’s what this sermon is about. If God is for you (and He is in His Son), who can be against you? If God gave you His one and only Son, then what is there He will withhold from you? NOTHING. Since you are justified and cleansed by the holy and precious blood of Jesus, what transgression can you be charged with? NOTHING.
Who can condemn you before God? Jesus was condemned on the cross in your place. Cursed for you. Damned for you. And the same Jesus appears before the Father bearing the wounds of His sacrifice, interceding for you as your Defender and Priest. Jesus never lets the Father forget about those wounds of His through which we have life and forgiveness. And He never lets us forget those wounds either, for whenever we eat the bread that is His body and drink the cup that is His blood, we proclaim His death until He comes.
What can separate us from God’s love in Christ? NOTHING. Let the worst be unleashed against us—tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger, sword (and by the way, when you hear “sword” think “execution”). Add to that your own personal hurricane of horribles: an abusive childhood, addictions, divorces, cancers, mental illness, chronic pain, you name it. Death, devils, angels, the past, the present, the future, nor anything else in all creation. In all these things we conquer. In all these things we are winning a glorious victory. In all these things we win. In literally EVERYTHING God is working for our good; so that literally NOTHING—NOTHING in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
This truth—this victory—this incredible good news—is not something that we can always see and feel today. On this side of the grave, victory masquerades as defeat. The sheep who dwell under the care of the Good Shepherd often appear more like sheep being led to the slaughter—hardly a victorious image. We can’t see this victory with our eyes, and we can’t understand it perfectly with our brains. But we can trust it. We can believe it for Jesus’ sake. Christ has conquered: He died, He rose, He reigns. And in Him you conquer too. Believe that.
It’s simple, really—as simple as a sermon about nothing . . . and everything. Nothing can separate you from the love of God in Christ. And in everything, God is at work for your eternal good. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Monday, July 31, 2017
Monday, July 24, 2017
Seeds & Weeds
In Nomine Iesu
St. Matt. 13:24-30, 36-43
July 23, 2017
Pentecost 7/ Proper 11A
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
We can send spacecraft beyond the limits of our solar system. We can tinker with and rearrange DNA. We can make powerful computers that you wear on your wrist. But we cannot eradicate weeds. And when it comes to weeds, there’s a great variety: You’ve got your classic dandelions, your Canadian Thistle, chickweed and ragweed. And then there’s clover and crab grass, and you’d better hope that
creeping Jenny and creeping Charlie don’t’ get together in your backyard. There’s lambsquarter, broad-leaved buckhorn, and there’s even a weed called the Devil’s Paintbrush. And in your garage you’ve probably got a collection of herbicides, both pre-emergent and post-emergent. And still, inevitably, eventually, undoubtedly, the weeds just keep coming.
Weeds are pernicious and insidious—a perennial problem. There are no vegetable gardens with only vegetables—no flower gardens with only flowers—no amber waves of grain with only grain. The weeds are always there too. And they’re sneaky, those weeds. If we walked over to my garden this morning, you’d find that the weeds are thriving right next to the romaine—right beside the beets. They’ve cleverly confined themselves just inside the tomato cages. There, in closest proximity to my most productive produce, are weeds. And I can’t whack those weeds without also risking damage to the precious plants next to them. And so I have learned to live with those weeds. I tolerate them so as not to damage the nearby vegetables.
In today’s Holy Gospel Jesus spins out a parable based on the perennial problem of weeds. In this parable, “all the world is God’s own field.” And in this field the Son of Man goes about sowing His good seed. But this very same field—the very same furrows—are tainted, defiled, and contaminated by a weed-sowing enemy. This enemy is the devil, and he’s bold and brazen in his ability to sow weeds in God’s good field.
The first point of the parable is this: wherever the good seed of God’s Word is preached and planted, right there the devil is lurking in the shadows, waiting to work over the very same soil with a noxious array of bad seed. Always, without fail, right alongside the Word of God something else—something undesirable—is also growing up. The seeds of sin and unbelief are being mixed and mingled and planted right alongside the good, faith-producing seed of God’s Word.
Do you realize what this means? It means that even right here and right now—among those who offer here their worship and praise—the devil is also hard at work. You are delusional if you think the demonic enemies of God only scatter their seeds in bars and brothels and adult bookstores. Oh, no. They would much rather sow their sinful mayhem in the fertile soil between pulpit and pew, nave and narthex, balcony and baptismal font, in stately seminaries and in synodical conventions. Whenever and wherever the good seed of God’s Word is being sown, there you can be sure the enemy is sowing his seed too.
This is why the Scriptures teach us that while the church is made up of all those who believe in Jesus Christ, yet on this side of heaven, there are always hypocrites and evil persons sprinkled in among the saints (AC VIII). Martin Luther saw this sad truth at work throughout the whole history of the church. Wherever the pure gospel was preached and sown, there the devil raised up wicked men to oppose it. Luther laid out his evidence for this in a sermon based on this very parable. He said, “Angels become devils. One of the apostles betrayed Christ. Christians become heretics. Out of the OT people of God came the wicked men who nailed Christ to the cross. So it happens still [today]” (Day by Day, p.83). What happens? Weeds happen. Wherever God’s garden grows, the devil is also cultivating a crop of corruption.
Now, so far in this parable, there aren’t many surprises. Our own experience bears out the truth that there’s always an orchestrated opposition to God’s good work in this world. But the surprise of this parable—the thing that shocks the gardener in me—is that God tolerates the weeds—for now. When the indignant servants in the parable ask permission to pull up the weeds, the Master says, “No—No, lest in gathering the weeds you root up the wheat along with them. Let both grow together until the harvest.”
The weeds in God’s field will not be pulled. No herbicides will be applied. The weeds are tolerated for now. They are allowed to grow until the harvest. What kind of gardener—what kind of farmer—could ever have such a high degree of weed tolerance? Why does God permit the ungodly and the wicked to grow and thrive right next to and among the righteous? Why is the Garden of our God NOT neatly manicured, but littered and blighted with weeds?
Beloved in the Lord, this is how God’s garden grows: It grows with the devil’s weeds and the Savior’s fruitful vines intermingled and tangled up. And sometimes, you can’t tell what’s what or who’s who. If nothing else, this shows our God’s incredible patience for sinners—that He wants all to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth. Unlike some other religions of the world which have no toleration—which teach and preach hatred and death to the infidels—your God is patient, not wanting anyone to perish—but for all to come to repentance and faith.
Jesus Christ Himself is the reason for God’s weed-friendly ways. For in Jesus alone there is power to transform the world of weeds into the most fruitful branches of the living vine. In Jesus, what is the vilest weed today could be the saintliest child of God tomorrow. Because Jesus Christ has died for all—no exceptions. In Him, God was reconciling the whole world of weeds to Himself, not counting our sins against us. Instead, the Savior bore those sins in His body on the cross. Jesus, the sinless Son of God, became like a giant weed Himself, carrying the sins of the entire weed-infested world. And God the Father cut down that sin-bearing weed. He was put to death for our trespasses and was raised again for our justification. He was put to death and raised again so that sinners and unbelievers and the worst of all weeds might have the opportunity for repentance and faith—the opportunity one day to shine like the sun in the Father’s glorious kingdom.
This just leaves one question: What should we do with the weeds for now? What should we do about the people who by all appearances have separated themselves from Jesus and His church—or are actively working against Jesus and His church? It’s clear that God tolerates them. It’s clear that it’s not our job to consign some to hell and others to heaven. God and His angels will handle that at the end of the age. Nor is it right for us to condone their sin in any way. For now, God simply calls us to throw the doors of the church wide open, to give all men and women the chance to hear the Word of the Gospel and take it to heart—to speak the truth in love. Because in hearing that Word is the power to transform the worst of weeds into living branches of the true vine, Jesus Christ.
Before you leave here today, I want you to think of the weeds in your life—the people you know who for all intents and purposes are not growing in the grace of Jesus Christ—people who manifest a spirit that is not the Holy Spirit. There are certainly weeds among your co-workers, among your friends, among your family. The message of the Scriptures concerning these souls is not just a message of toleration, but of love. God calls us not just to live with the weeds—not only to tolerate them—but also to love them. The great writer Dostoevsky said this about love: “to love a person means to see him as God intended him to be.” Don’t see the weeds for what they are today; see them as what God intends them to be—see them for what they can be in Christ. In the garden of our God, there is not one living soul for whom we cannot hope and pray. There is not one soul in whom the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ cannot do miraculous, life-changing things. We ourselves can testify to that.
Today you and I—we’re growing in the garden of our gracious God. The seed of His Word has taken root in you. You’ve been watered in the gentle splash of Holy Baptism. There are weeds all around. But the day will come when there will be a separation—when those who reject God’s free grace in Jesus Christ will be cast into eternal fire, and when those covered in the righteousness of Christ will shine like the sun in the Father’s eternal kingdom. Regarding that final separation, the German theologian Helmut Thielicke wrote this: “The last judgment is full of surprises. The separation of the sheep and the goats, of wheat and weeds will be made in a way completely different from that which we permit ourselves to imagine. For God is more merciful than we are, [God is] more strict than we are, and [God is] more knowing than we are. And, in every case, God is greater than our hearts” (p.82). He who has ears, let him hear.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
St. Matt. 13:24-30, 36-43
July 23, 2017
Pentecost 7/ Proper 11A
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
We can send spacecraft beyond the limits of our solar system. We can tinker with and rearrange DNA. We can make powerful computers that you wear on your wrist. But we cannot eradicate weeds. And when it comes to weeds, there’s a great variety: You’ve got your classic dandelions, your Canadian Thistle, chickweed and ragweed. And then there’s clover and crab grass, and you’d better hope that
Weeds are pernicious and insidious—a perennial problem. There are no vegetable gardens with only vegetables—no flower gardens with only flowers—no amber waves of grain with only grain. The weeds are always there too. And they’re sneaky, those weeds. If we walked over to my garden this morning, you’d find that the weeds are thriving right next to the romaine—right beside the beets. They’ve cleverly confined themselves just inside the tomato cages. There, in closest proximity to my most productive produce, are weeds. And I can’t whack those weeds without also risking damage to the precious plants next to them. And so I have learned to live with those weeds. I tolerate them so as not to damage the nearby vegetables.
In today’s Holy Gospel Jesus spins out a parable based on the perennial problem of weeds. In this parable, “all the world is God’s own field.” And in this field the Son of Man goes about sowing His good seed. But this very same field—the very same furrows—are tainted, defiled, and contaminated by a weed-sowing enemy. This enemy is the devil, and he’s bold and brazen in his ability to sow weeds in God’s good field.
The first point of the parable is this: wherever the good seed of God’s Word is preached and planted, right there the devil is lurking in the shadows, waiting to work over the very same soil with a noxious array of bad seed. Always, without fail, right alongside the Word of God something else—something undesirable—is also growing up. The seeds of sin and unbelief are being mixed and mingled and planted right alongside the good, faith-producing seed of God’s Word.
Do you realize what this means? It means that even right here and right now—among those who offer here their worship and praise—the devil is also hard at work. You are delusional if you think the demonic enemies of God only scatter their seeds in bars and brothels and adult bookstores. Oh, no. They would much rather sow their sinful mayhem in the fertile soil between pulpit and pew, nave and narthex, balcony and baptismal font, in stately seminaries and in synodical conventions. Whenever and wherever the good seed of God’s Word is being sown, there you can be sure the enemy is sowing his seed too.
This is why the Scriptures teach us that while the church is made up of all those who believe in Jesus Christ, yet on this side of heaven, there are always hypocrites and evil persons sprinkled in among the saints (AC VIII). Martin Luther saw this sad truth at work throughout the whole history of the church. Wherever the pure gospel was preached and sown, there the devil raised up wicked men to oppose it. Luther laid out his evidence for this in a sermon based on this very parable. He said, “Angels become devils. One of the apostles betrayed Christ. Christians become heretics. Out of the OT people of God came the wicked men who nailed Christ to the cross. So it happens still [today]” (Day by Day, p.83). What happens? Weeds happen. Wherever God’s garden grows, the devil is also cultivating a crop of corruption.
Now, so far in this parable, there aren’t many surprises. Our own experience bears out the truth that there’s always an orchestrated opposition to God’s good work in this world. But the surprise of this parable—the thing that shocks the gardener in me—is that God tolerates the weeds—for now. When the indignant servants in the parable ask permission to pull up the weeds, the Master says, “No—No, lest in gathering the weeds you root up the wheat along with them. Let both grow together until the harvest.”
The weeds in God’s field will not be pulled. No herbicides will be applied. The weeds are tolerated for now. They are allowed to grow until the harvest. What kind of gardener—what kind of farmer—could ever have such a high degree of weed tolerance? Why does God permit the ungodly and the wicked to grow and thrive right next to and among the righteous? Why is the Garden of our God NOT neatly manicured, but littered and blighted with weeds?
Beloved in the Lord, this is how God’s garden grows: It grows with the devil’s weeds and the Savior’s fruitful vines intermingled and tangled up. And sometimes, you can’t tell what’s what or who’s who. If nothing else, this shows our God’s incredible patience for sinners—that He wants all to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth. Unlike some other religions of the world which have no toleration—which teach and preach hatred and death to the infidels—your God is patient, not wanting anyone to perish—but for all to come to repentance and faith.
Jesus Christ Himself is the reason for God’s weed-friendly ways. For in Jesus alone there is power to transform the world of weeds into the most fruitful branches of the living vine. In Jesus, what is the vilest weed today could be the saintliest child of God tomorrow. Because Jesus Christ has died for all—no exceptions. In Him, God was reconciling the whole world of weeds to Himself, not counting our sins against us. Instead, the Savior bore those sins in His body on the cross. Jesus, the sinless Son of God, became like a giant weed Himself, carrying the sins of the entire weed-infested world. And God the Father cut down that sin-bearing weed. He was put to death for our trespasses and was raised again for our justification. He was put to death and raised again so that sinners and unbelievers and the worst of all weeds might have the opportunity for repentance and faith—the opportunity one day to shine like the sun in the Father’s glorious kingdom.
This just leaves one question: What should we do with the weeds for now? What should we do about the people who by all appearances have separated themselves from Jesus and His church—or are actively working against Jesus and His church? It’s clear that God tolerates them. It’s clear that it’s not our job to consign some to hell and others to heaven. God and His angels will handle that at the end of the age. Nor is it right for us to condone their sin in any way. For now, God simply calls us to throw the doors of the church wide open, to give all men and women the chance to hear the Word of the Gospel and take it to heart—to speak the truth in love. Because in hearing that Word is the power to transform the worst of weeds into living branches of the true vine, Jesus Christ.
Before you leave here today, I want you to think of the weeds in your life—the people you know who for all intents and purposes are not growing in the grace of Jesus Christ—people who manifest a spirit that is not the Holy Spirit. There are certainly weeds among your co-workers, among your friends, among your family. The message of the Scriptures concerning these souls is not just a message of toleration, but of love. God calls us not just to live with the weeds—not only to tolerate them—but also to love them. The great writer Dostoevsky said this about love: “to love a person means to see him as God intended him to be.” Don’t see the weeds for what they are today; see them as what God intends them to be—see them for what they can be in Christ. In the garden of our God, there is not one living soul for whom we cannot hope and pray. There is not one soul in whom the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ cannot do miraculous, life-changing things. We ourselves can testify to that.
Today you and I—we’re growing in the garden of our gracious God. The seed of His Word has taken root in you. You’ve been watered in the gentle splash of Holy Baptism. There are weeds all around. But the day will come when there will be a separation—when those who reject God’s free grace in Jesus Christ will be cast into eternal fire, and when those covered in the righteousness of Christ will shine like the sun in the Father’s eternal kingdom. Regarding that final separation, the German theologian Helmut Thielicke wrote this: “The last judgment is full of surprises. The separation of the sheep and the goats, of wheat and weeds will be made in a way completely different from that which we permit ourselves to imagine. For God is more merciful than we are, [God is] more strict than we are, and [God is] more knowing than we are. And, in every case, God is greater than our hearts” (p.82). He who has ears, let him hear.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Monday, June 26, 2017
Shout It From the Rooftops!
In Nomine Iesu
St. Matthew 10:21-33
June 25, 2017
Pentecost 3/Proper 7A
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
When was the last time you were up on your rooftop? Hanging out on the roof isn’t something that most of us do very often—if we can help it. In fact, if you are on your rooftop, it usually means that something bad has happened: the roof is leaking, shingles have blown away, the chimney is collapsing, or the birds have come home to roost above your resting place. As for me, I’ve never once been on the
parsonage roof. And that’s a streak I intend to keep alive.
So it sounds a little strange to our ears when we hear Jesus telling His disciples to proclaim things from the housetops. We automatically assume that Jesus is just giving us another of His famous figures of speech—perhaps dabbling happily in a little hyperbole—exaggerating to make a point. Jesus doesn’t literally want us climbing our ladders and shouting things from our rooftops, does He? Well, don’t write off those rooftops too quickly!
Back in the day when and where Jesus first spoke these words, He was being more literal than you might imagine. Back then people proclaimed things from the rooftops all the time—every day. How so? Well, first of all, most rooftops in Israel and in other arid places are flat—and therefore not nearly so dangerous to navigate. What’s more, at a time before there was air conditioning, the rooftop was a great place to hang out to catch a cool evening breeze when the house itself was uncomfortably warm. In this way, rooftops became a place of socialization, where neighbors would converse and kibitz and pass along the latest scuttlebutt. Rooftops in Jesus’ day served a purpose much like the front porches of small town America back in the last century.
In Matthew chapter 10 it’s the Twelve apostles that Jesus has directed up to the rooftops. He was sending out the Twelve on their first missionary journey. They were being sent only to the lost sheep of Israel—only to fellow Jews. (Gentiles would be targeted later.) Jesus was sending them up to the rooftops so as to give maximum publicity to His teachings. What Jesus had been teaching them in private, was now to be proclaimed and preached in public. The Twelve were now to seek out those rooftops and other venues which would afford the maximum exposure. That makes perfect sense, right? It’s like something from a marketing strategies textbook.
But here’s my question: What about when the message we’re given to shout and share from the rooftops is unpopular? What about when the message we shout and share will be mocked by most people? What about when the messengers are setting themselves up for rejection, or persecution, or worse? What about when the God-given message we share seems to drive away more people than it attracts?
These questions aren’t hypothetical. In fact, Jesus told the Twelve that they would be “hated by all” for His name’s sake. This was also the situation faced by the prophet Jeremiah in today’s Old Testament reading. Jeremiah was called by God to proclaim from the rooftops an unpopular message of death and destruction—of doom and gloom—of wrath and judgment—for God’s people. Meanwhile, there was a multitude of false prophets who were busy shouting peace and prosperity from the rooftops—that God would never allow His chosen people to be chewed up and spit out by the Babylonians. It comes as no surprise to learn that the pews in Jeremiah’s church were collecting a lot of dust.
What do you do? What do you do when God gives you an unpopular message to shout from the rooftops? What do you say when God’s gift of marriage—when natural marriage—is rejected in favor of a cleverly legalized arrangement called “gay marriage?” What do you say when God’s gift of identity—when God’s bodily gift of maleness and femaleness—is rejected in favor of a self-chosen gender identity? Or what about the heterosexual couple you know that’s living together—but doing so without the blessing of marriage? Or what about when God’s gift of life in the womb is being massacred daily by abortionists right in our own backyards?
It’s easy to say and do nothing. It’s easy just to keep your head down. It’s easy just to go with the flow. It’s far more difficult to proclaim that the wages of sin is death—that those who choose to reject God and His Word will one day face eternal punishment (if they do not repent). And no matter how lovingly and how patiently you choose to speak the truth in these matters, you will never earn a round of applause or a standing ovation.
What do you do personally when God gives you a hard message to speak—when as part of your vocation as a parent, a friend, a family member—you are called to confront sin—to call someone to correction—to lead them to repentance—to say the unpopular thing? By nature, we have no desire to say such things, let alone proclaim them from the rooftops or anywhere else, for that matter. Rather than heading upstairs for the rooftop, we by nature make a beeline for the basement—deep down to where it’s easy to stay silent, to be safe, to keep comfortable, to make no waves, to do what’s convenient and easy. And even if you do decide to head up to the “rooftop,” Jesus doesn’t promise that it will be easy. Nor does He promise that the words you speak in love will always achieve their intended purpose.
But for every disciple who dares to dash up to the rooftop—to faithfully bear witness to the teachings of Jesus—Jesus does say this: Do not be afraid. In fact, in today’s Gospel reading He says it three times: Have no fear of them. . . . Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. . . . Fear not for you are of more value than a multitude of sparrows and even the hairs of your head are numbered. The fear that controls us and keeps us quiet and muzzled most of the time—Jesus wants us to leave that fear behind. Trust Him. Follow Him in faith. What you hear whispered from the pages of your Bible, proclaim from the housetops. Because—come hell or high water—your body and soul are in His holy care. The God who knows when a single sparrow falls to the ground—the One who knows the number of hairs on your head—He knows just the help you need.
The wages of sin is death. It’s true. But the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. He was killed on Good Friday—nailed to a cross. But by that death your sin was done away with. By that death He destroyed death and opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers. And that free gift of salvation is offered to all people—to every son and daughter of Adam. No one is excluded. The forgiveness of sins and the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting—that’s God’s free gift for you and for all who believe.
But some people—perhaps someone in your life—may only come to know and receive that gift because you cared enough to leave the basement behind and head up to the rooftop to speak the truth in love. Christ Jesus died to save sinners, of whom we are the worst. We are not perfect, but we are forgiven in Jesus, and that makes all the difference. That’s the good news that we are privileged to proclaim from the rooftops—to neighbors, family, co-workers, and friends. God has reconciled the world to Himself in Jesus.
That’s what we call the gospel. God Himself has proclaimed it from the top of Mount Calvary. God Himself has proclaimed it from the empty tomb of the resurrected Jesus. God still proclaims it today from this pulpit, from that font, and from this altar. His loving care for you reaches into eternity. That’s what He Himself is proclaiming today—loud and clear—for all to hear.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
St. Matthew 10:21-33
June 25, 2017
Pentecost 3/Proper 7A
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
When was the last time you were up on your rooftop? Hanging out on the roof isn’t something that most of us do very often—if we can help it. In fact, if you are on your rooftop, it usually means that something bad has happened: the roof is leaking, shingles have blown away, the chimney is collapsing, or the birds have come home to roost above your resting place. As for me, I’ve never once been on the
So it sounds a little strange to our ears when we hear Jesus telling His disciples to proclaim things from the housetops. We automatically assume that Jesus is just giving us another of His famous figures of speech—perhaps dabbling happily in a little hyperbole—exaggerating to make a point. Jesus doesn’t literally want us climbing our ladders and shouting things from our rooftops, does He? Well, don’t write off those rooftops too quickly!
Back in the day when and where Jesus first spoke these words, He was being more literal than you might imagine. Back then people proclaimed things from the rooftops all the time—every day. How so? Well, first of all, most rooftops in Israel and in other arid places are flat—and therefore not nearly so dangerous to navigate. What’s more, at a time before there was air conditioning, the rooftop was a great place to hang out to catch a cool evening breeze when the house itself was uncomfortably warm. In this way, rooftops became a place of socialization, where neighbors would converse and kibitz and pass along the latest scuttlebutt. Rooftops in Jesus’ day served a purpose much like the front porches of small town America back in the last century.
In Matthew chapter 10 it’s the Twelve apostles that Jesus has directed up to the rooftops. He was sending out the Twelve on their first missionary journey. They were being sent only to the lost sheep of Israel—only to fellow Jews. (Gentiles would be targeted later.) Jesus was sending them up to the rooftops so as to give maximum publicity to His teachings. What Jesus had been teaching them in private, was now to be proclaimed and preached in public. The Twelve were now to seek out those rooftops and other venues which would afford the maximum exposure. That makes perfect sense, right? It’s like something from a marketing strategies textbook.
But here’s my question: What about when the message we’re given to shout and share from the rooftops is unpopular? What about when the message we shout and share will be mocked by most people? What about when the messengers are setting themselves up for rejection, or persecution, or worse? What about when the God-given message we share seems to drive away more people than it attracts?
These questions aren’t hypothetical. In fact, Jesus told the Twelve that they would be “hated by all” for His name’s sake. This was also the situation faced by the prophet Jeremiah in today’s Old Testament reading. Jeremiah was called by God to proclaim from the rooftops an unpopular message of death and destruction—of doom and gloom—of wrath and judgment—for God’s people. Meanwhile, there was a multitude of false prophets who were busy shouting peace and prosperity from the rooftops—that God would never allow His chosen people to be chewed up and spit out by the Babylonians. It comes as no surprise to learn that the pews in Jeremiah’s church were collecting a lot of dust.
What do you do? What do you do when God gives you an unpopular message to shout from the rooftops? What do you say when God’s gift of marriage—when natural marriage—is rejected in favor of a cleverly legalized arrangement called “gay marriage?” What do you say when God’s gift of identity—when God’s bodily gift of maleness and femaleness—is rejected in favor of a self-chosen gender identity? Or what about the heterosexual couple you know that’s living together—but doing so without the blessing of marriage? Or what about when God’s gift of life in the womb is being massacred daily by abortionists right in our own backyards?
It’s easy to say and do nothing. It’s easy just to keep your head down. It’s easy just to go with the flow. It’s far more difficult to proclaim that the wages of sin is death—that those who choose to reject God and His Word will one day face eternal punishment (if they do not repent). And no matter how lovingly and how patiently you choose to speak the truth in these matters, you will never earn a round of applause or a standing ovation.
What do you do personally when God gives you a hard message to speak—when as part of your vocation as a parent, a friend, a family member—you are called to confront sin—to call someone to correction—to lead them to repentance—to say the unpopular thing? By nature, we have no desire to say such things, let alone proclaim them from the rooftops or anywhere else, for that matter. Rather than heading upstairs for the rooftop, we by nature make a beeline for the basement—deep down to where it’s easy to stay silent, to be safe, to keep comfortable, to make no waves, to do what’s convenient and easy. And even if you do decide to head up to the “rooftop,” Jesus doesn’t promise that it will be easy. Nor does He promise that the words you speak in love will always achieve their intended purpose.
But for every disciple who dares to dash up to the rooftop—to faithfully bear witness to the teachings of Jesus—Jesus does say this: Do not be afraid. In fact, in today’s Gospel reading He says it three times: Have no fear of them. . . . Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. . . . Fear not for you are of more value than a multitude of sparrows and even the hairs of your head are numbered. The fear that controls us and keeps us quiet and muzzled most of the time—Jesus wants us to leave that fear behind. Trust Him. Follow Him in faith. What you hear whispered from the pages of your Bible, proclaim from the housetops. Because—come hell or high water—your body and soul are in His holy care. The God who knows when a single sparrow falls to the ground—the One who knows the number of hairs on your head—He knows just the help you need.
The wages of sin is death. It’s true. But the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. He was killed on Good Friday—nailed to a cross. But by that death your sin was done away with. By that death He destroyed death and opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers. And that free gift of salvation is offered to all people—to every son and daughter of Adam. No one is excluded. The forgiveness of sins and the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting—that’s God’s free gift for you and for all who believe.
But some people—perhaps someone in your life—may only come to know and receive that gift because you cared enough to leave the basement behind and head up to the rooftop to speak the truth in love. Christ Jesus died to save sinners, of whom we are the worst. We are not perfect, but we are forgiven in Jesus, and that makes all the difference. That’s the good news that we are privileged to proclaim from the rooftops—to neighbors, family, co-workers, and friends. God has reconciled the world to Himself in Jesus.
That’s what we call the gospel. God Himself has proclaimed it from the top of Mount Calvary. God Himself has proclaimed it from the empty tomb of the resurrected Jesus. God still proclaims it today from this pulpit, from that font, and from this altar. His loving care for you reaches into eternity. That’s what He Himself is proclaiming today—loud and clear—for all to hear.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Monday, June 19, 2017
A Father's Love
In Nomine Iesu
Romans 5:6-15
June 18, 2017
Pentecost 2 (Proper 6A)
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
It just so happens that today is Fathers’ Day. Now, Fathers’ Day isn’t a church festival. But it’s one of those rare instances where the culture and the church are in basic agreement. Fathers should be honored. Christians are called by God to honor their fathers (and their mothers) every day, and not just on the third Sunday in June. And there’s never a bad time to reflect on, and give thanks for, God’s gift of fathers.
I suspect that my father was probably like a lot of other fathers of his time. My dad didn’t often verbalize his affection for me and my sisters. The words, “I love you,” didn’t pass through his lips on a daily basis. But I never had any doubt about my father’s love. Why not? Because he demonstrated his love for me every day. He showed it all the time: by going to work at a job that he didn’t always enjoy, by cheering me on at cross country meets and basketball games, by helping me buy my first car and teaching me how to change the oil, and by disciplining me when I needed it. Most importantly, he brought my family to the Divine Service every Sunday. It didn’t matter the weather, or what our weekend activities were, or whether he and my mom were out late on Saturday night, we were in the Lord’s house on the Lord’s Day. In these and so many other ways my father’s love was demonstrated. He showed it—and kept on showing it—by his deeds and actions.
This is also how our heavenly Father loves His dear children. He shows it! He demonstrates it! He makes it perfectly clear, not just in word, but also in deeds. That’s really the theme of today’s reading from Romans chapter 5. There it says plainly and clearly: God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Beloved in the Lord, that’s the beating heart of the good news we’ve been proclaiming here at Our Savior for the past 84 years. Christ died for us. In our place. As our substitute. Look at Jesus hanging on the cross and think of all the Biblical foreshadowing: the ram that was sacrificed instead of Isaac, the Passover Lambs that died in place of all the first born, the Scapegoat on the Day of Atonement. It all pointed ahead to Christ as the stand-in for sinners—Christ the vicarious victim.
Of course, what’s so stunning about this kind of love is that God shows it to sinners. Christ died for us . . . while we were still sinners. Jesus is godly; we are ungodly. Christ is sinless; we are sin-full. Yet, Christ died for us. Examples of love being shown in this way are really hard to come by. A parent might do it for a child. A husband might do it for his wife. It’s more common to hear about the soldier who lays down his life to save a fellow soldier. The battlefields of history are filled with those kinds of heroic accounts. And those are certainly valiant, heroic deaths. But they aren’t vicarious in the sense of Romans five. Heroic, yes, but not vicarious—not substitute sacrifices.
Christ died for the ungodly—for sinners, for His enemies. He took the place of those who hated Him—not His family and friends, but His enemies—those who wanted Him dead and gone. By the way, you and I are included in that group. Yes, you—good, decent, hard-working, church-going, you. Yet by nature, apart from Jesus, you are just another ungodly, sinful, enemy of God. But this is how our heavenly Father shows His love and demonstrates His love: while we were yet sinners—dead in our sins—Jesus Christ died for us.
It was one life in exchange for another. Jesus became the sinner in place of every sinner; and we, in Him, become the saint, holy and righteous before God. This is what Paul means we he writes that we are “justified by His blood.” The blood of Jesus shed on the cross is your righteousness before God. It covers who you are . . . with who Jesus is. When God looks at you, He doesn’t see your sin any more, but He sees the blood of His Son, and the perfect life He lived as your sacred substitute. And even though your sins are many and they are great, yet His holy, precious blood is greater. By the blood He shed, you can stand before God blameless.
Do you see why this good news has to be repeatedly proclaimed, over and over again, week after week? Do you see why we can never take this for granted? The demonstration of the Father’s love by sending His Son is totally unique. This is something our reason and our senses alone cannot comprehend—that Christ should come and die for the ungodly, for sinners, for His enemies, and that in that death we are justified before God.
And do you see what this means for us in our daily living? It means the end of all attempts to bargain with God, to impress God, to bribe God, or to butter Him up with your impressive spiritual and charitable accomplishments. This is exactly where every other world religion goes off the rails. Whether Judaism or Islam or the Jehovah’s Witnesses—it makes no difference. For every other religion begins and ends with YOU demonstrating YOUR love for God—YOU showing God how much you love HIM by YOUR obedience, YOUR submission, YOUR willingness to do radical things as a demonstration of your devotion. But the faith we confess begins and ends with God—God showing and demonstrating His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. While we were still His enemies, He loved us in His Son. He reconciled us. And He does it all without asking our permission or waiting around for us to come to our senses. He just does it. He justifies sinners—by grace, for Christ’s sake, through faith.
This is the love of our heavenly Father—love that’s both spoken and demonstrated in His Son. Oh, and by the way, today’s text from Romans five literally says that God keeps on showing His love. He continually, in an ongoing way, shows His love in your life. God’s love demonstrated at the cross, is still being demonstrated today. Your baptism is an expression of that love. There at the font He adopted you to be His own dear child and washed away your sins. Today God keeps on showing His love for you by feeding you with the very body and blood of His Son. In this meal God takes the love He poured out at the cross and gives it to you personally. He forgives all the sins that would otherwise make you unlovable.
Today’s Holy Gospel reminds us of another way God keeps on showing His love for you—by sending laborers into your life—by sending pastors and preachers so that you don’t have to go through your days harassed and helpless and hopeless, like sheep without a shepherd. For 84 years your heavenly Father has been sending His called and ordained servants to this little flock. And these men, with all their faults and frailties, are a flesh-and-blood demonstration of God’s love for you—laborers sent to gather the harvest.
As we remember our fathers today and give thanks to God for them—and as we pray for fathers everywhere—remember that you are reconciled to your heavenly Father, through His Son. He is good. He is gracious. He loves you and shows you that love until He calls you to dwell with Him forever. Happy Fathers’ Day.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Romans 5:6-15
June 18, 2017
Pentecost 2 (Proper 6A)
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
It just so happens that today is Fathers’ Day. Now, Fathers’ Day isn’t a church festival. But it’s one of those rare instances where the culture and the church are in basic agreement. Fathers should be honored. Christians are called by God to honor their fathers (and their mothers) every day, and not just on the third Sunday in June. And there’s never a bad time to reflect on, and give thanks for, God’s gift of fathers.
I suspect that my father was probably like a lot of other fathers of his time. My dad didn’t often verbalize his affection for me and my sisters. The words, “I love you,” didn’t pass through his lips on a daily basis. But I never had any doubt about my father’s love. Why not? Because he demonstrated his love for me every day. He showed it all the time: by going to work at a job that he didn’t always enjoy, by cheering me on at cross country meets and basketball games, by helping me buy my first car and teaching me how to change the oil, and by disciplining me when I needed it. Most importantly, he brought my family to the Divine Service every Sunday. It didn’t matter the weather, or what our weekend activities were, or whether he and my mom were out late on Saturday night, we were in the Lord’s house on the Lord’s Day. In these and so many other ways my father’s love was demonstrated. He showed it—and kept on showing it—by his deeds and actions.
This is also how our heavenly Father loves His dear children. He shows it! He demonstrates it! He makes it perfectly clear, not just in word, but also in deeds. That’s really the theme of today’s reading from Romans chapter 5. There it says plainly and clearly: God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Beloved in the Lord, that’s the beating heart of the good news we’ve been proclaiming here at Our Savior for the past 84 years. Christ died for us. In our place. As our substitute. Look at Jesus hanging on the cross and think of all the Biblical foreshadowing: the ram that was sacrificed instead of Isaac, the Passover Lambs that died in place of all the first born, the Scapegoat on the Day of Atonement. It all pointed ahead to Christ as the stand-in for sinners—Christ the vicarious victim.
Of course, what’s so stunning about this kind of love is that God shows it to sinners. Christ died for us . . . while we were still sinners. Jesus is godly; we are ungodly. Christ is sinless; we are sin-full. Yet, Christ died for us. Examples of love being shown in this way are really hard to come by. A parent might do it for a child. A husband might do it for his wife. It’s more common to hear about the soldier who lays down his life to save a fellow soldier. The battlefields of history are filled with those kinds of heroic accounts. And those are certainly valiant, heroic deaths. But they aren’t vicarious in the sense of Romans five. Heroic, yes, but not vicarious—not substitute sacrifices.
Christ died for the ungodly—for sinners, for His enemies. He took the place of those who hated Him—not His family and friends, but His enemies—those who wanted Him dead and gone. By the way, you and I are included in that group. Yes, you—good, decent, hard-working, church-going, you. Yet by nature, apart from Jesus, you are just another ungodly, sinful, enemy of God. But this is how our heavenly Father shows His love and demonstrates His love: while we were yet sinners—dead in our sins—Jesus Christ died for us.
It was one life in exchange for another. Jesus became the sinner in place of every sinner; and we, in Him, become the saint, holy and righteous before God. This is what Paul means we he writes that we are “justified by His blood.” The blood of Jesus shed on the cross is your righteousness before God. It covers who you are . . . with who Jesus is. When God looks at you, He doesn’t see your sin any more, but He sees the blood of His Son, and the perfect life He lived as your sacred substitute. And even though your sins are many and they are great, yet His holy, precious blood is greater. By the blood He shed, you can stand before God blameless.
Do you see why this good news has to be repeatedly proclaimed, over and over again, week after week? Do you see why we can never take this for granted? The demonstration of the Father’s love by sending His Son is totally unique. This is something our reason and our senses alone cannot comprehend—that Christ should come and die for the ungodly, for sinners, for His enemies, and that in that death we are justified before God.
And do you see what this means for us in our daily living? It means the end of all attempts to bargain with God, to impress God, to bribe God, or to butter Him up with your impressive spiritual and charitable accomplishments. This is exactly where every other world religion goes off the rails. Whether Judaism or Islam or the Jehovah’s Witnesses—it makes no difference. For every other religion begins and ends with YOU demonstrating YOUR love for God—YOU showing God how much you love HIM by YOUR obedience, YOUR submission, YOUR willingness to do radical things as a demonstration of your devotion. But the faith we confess begins and ends with God—God showing and demonstrating His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. While we were still His enemies, He loved us in His Son. He reconciled us. And He does it all without asking our permission or waiting around for us to come to our senses. He just does it. He justifies sinners—by grace, for Christ’s sake, through faith.
This is the love of our heavenly Father—love that’s both spoken and demonstrated in His Son. Oh, and by the way, today’s text from Romans five literally says that God keeps on showing His love. He continually, in an ongoing way, shows His love in your life. God’s love demonstrated at the cross, is still being demonstrated today. Your baptism is an expression of that love. There at the font He adopted you to be His own dear child and washed away your sins. Today God keeps on showing His love for you by feeding you with the very body and blood of His Son. In this meal God takes the love He poured out at the cross and gives it to you personally. He forgives all the sins that would otherwise make you unlovable.
Today’s Holy Gospel reminds us of another way God keeps on showing His love for you—by sending laborers into your life—by sending pastors and preachers so that you don’t have to go through your days harassed and helpless and hopeless, like sheep without a shepherd. For 84 years your heavenly Father has been sending His called and ordained servants to this little flock. And these men, with all their faults and frailties, are a flesh-and-blood demonstration of God’s love for you—laborers sent to gather the harvest.
As we remember our fathers today and give thanks to God for them—and as we pray for fathers everywhere—remember that you are reconciled to your heavenly Father, through His Son. He is good. He is gracious. He loves you and shows you that love until He calls you to dwell with Him forever. Happy Fathers’ Day.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
Something Out of Nothing
In Nomine Iesu
Genesis 1
June 11, 2017
The Holy Trinity A
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. It is verse one, of chapter one, of book number one, of the Holy Scriptures. It is the genesis of Genesis. It’s one Bible verse that nearly all of us have learned by heart. It tells us of the beginning of all things, and points ahead to the fulfillment of all things. Genesis 1:1 tells the whole story for us on this Holy Trinity Sunday. In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.
In our usual way of speaking, it’s God the Father who typically gets the credit for the work of creation. But in fact, all three
persons of the Holy Trinity were actively involved in creation. Today’s text reminds us that “the Spirit—the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.” The plural pronouns of today’s text also indicate the presence of the three persons of the Trinity: “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.” Colossians chapter one closes the deal when Paul writes of Jesus: “For by Him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible” (1:16).
The Scriptures just don’t allow us divide up the works of God among the persons of the Godhead. And even though I love a good baseball analogy, it just doesn’t work to say that God the Father is like the starting pitcher who gets the game rolling, and that the Son is the middle reliever who clinches the game, and that the Holy Spirit is the closer who always locks up the game with a “save.” No, the truth is that all three were already on the mound in the top of the first well before the first batter stepped out of the dugout. It’s not a good analogy.
But before there was a game known as baseball, there was a creed of the Christian faith known as the Athanasian Creed. The Athanasian Creed contains no bad analogies. There’s no fluff there. Just clear, concrete, hardcore theology. You have to love the Athanasian Creed. It leaves no stone unturned, no angle unexamined, no wiggle room for any alternative gods. The Athanasian Creed takes no prisoners. It proclaims the unvarnished truth of who God is—three distinct persons—the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—united together as one divine being—distinguishable but not divisible. In other words, you can tell them apart but you can’t pull them apart and you can’t have them apart.
In the beginning, God—the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit—created. That word, created, gets used in a very particular way in the pages of the Old Testament. Only God Himself is used as the subject of that verb, created. Abraham created nothing. Moses created nothing. David, Solomon, Elijah—bupkis, nada, zilch. You see, the word “create” in Genesis 1:1 means to create something out of nothing. Human beings can assemble, build, compose, concoct and construct, but we can’t create—at least not like God creates—something out of nothing. We need raw materials. We need ingredients. I finally planted my garden a few days ago, and come August I expect to be knee-deep in cucumbers. But without seeds and soil and sunshine and showers, there will be no cucumbers. I can’t create a cucumber. I can only facilitate God’s creative work. He alone gives the growth.
Your God creates something out of nothing. In the beginning there was nothing. Before God spoke His, “Let there be,” there was only darkness and emptiness and chaos. And from the midst of that deep darkness God said, “Let there be light.” And there was light. God made something out of nothing. God created light out of total darkness. And then, three days later, God created the sun. Yes, before there was sunshine, there was light. (Ponder that!) And God kept this up for six whole days, creating something out of nothing: atmosphere, dry ground, vegetation, all creatures great and small, man and woman. And each day God saw that it was good. In fact, it was very good. And God did it all without tools, without ingredients, without raw materials of any kind. Instead, to create something out of nothing, God simply spoke His Word. He said, “Let there be,” and there was.
Do you believe that? Every Christian eventually has to come to terms with Genesis chapter one. You can either take God at His Word, OR you can hold to the words of men and women who claim that living things evolved over millions of years, quite by accident. And then there are those who try to have their cake and eat it too, saying that, yes, God created, but He used the process of evolution to accomplish it. But you have to do some very creative interpreting of Genesis chapter 1 to arrive at that conclusion. Creation either happened the way God says it happened in Genesis one, or it didn’t happen that way. It’s up to you to decide. Or, more accurately, it’s up to you to believe.
There’s not time to examine every angle of the creation-evolution debate this morning, but do pause to ponder this: Would your God—the Holy Trinity—design a plan for the evolution of life that was completely dependent upon death? Because death is an absolutely critical part of the evolutionary process. Evolution is all about the survival of the fittest, and the death of the weakest. If it’s true that God Himself initiated the process of evolution, then God Himself is the author of death, for reproduction and death must occur in order for newer and higher life forms to evolve. If God initiated evolution then your death isn’t a bad thing at all. Your death will simply make way for human beings who are better, faster, smarter, and more highly evolved than you.
Does that sound like the God you know and believe in? Does that sound like the God of the Scriptures—the Holy Trinity—who calls death “the last enemy to be destroyed” (1 Cor. 15:26)? Not at all! In fact, your God is at work mightily to save you from death. Your God sent His Son into the world as a human being, to redeem all of sinful humanity. Jesus was the only human being for whom death was part of the plan from the beginning. And by His death, St. Paul writes, “He has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the Gospel” (2 Tim. 1:10).
Jesus predicted His own death and resurrection at least three times. He said that His death and resurrection “must” happen. These were “necessary” things. Why? Why did He have to die and rise again? Why did He bear our sins and shed His blood? Why did He, the Son of God, take on our human flesh and reveal a picture of God that was more awesomely complex than anything we could ever imagine? He did it so that He could create something out of nothing . . . in you!
For you see, when Adam and Eve fell into sin and death entered the world, it meant that there was still one place where darkness reigned. It meant that there was still one place of emptiness and nothingness. That dark and lifeless place is the human heart—infected with sin. But into this dark and sin-filled space, God the Holy Trinity speaks: “Let there be light. Let there be faith. I have called you by name and you are mine.” What God did on day one of creation He did again inside your heart—removing the darkness of sin and giving the light of faith. You didn’t evolve into a child of God any more than you evolved from apes and gorillas; you were created a child of God out of nothing—through the power of God’s Word and the water of Holy Baptism. This is why we pray in Psalm 51, “Create in me a clean heart, O God.” Only He can do it. Only He can take away the sin and exchange it for the righteousness of His Son. In 2 Corinthians Paul makes the connection perfectly: “For God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has made His light to shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ” (2 Cor. 4:6).
The danger on Holy Trinity Sunday is that all the talk about the Trinity becomes an exercise in mere theology—in abstract concepts and complex terminology. This is why our God anchors His work in the simplest substance on the face of the earth: in water and words. Make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to observe all that Jesus has entrusted to us. In that water and in those words God is still creating—creating disciples, creating faith, creating something out of nothing. In you, the Holy Trinity has created something wonderful—faith that will endure to life everlasting.
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, now and forever. Amen.
Genesis 1
June 11, 2017
The Holy Trinity A
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. It is verse one, of chapter one, of book number one, of the Holy Scriptures. It is the genesis of Genesis. It’s one Bible verse that nearly all of us have learned by heart. It tells us of the beginning of all things, and points ahead to the fulfillment of all things. Genesis 1:1 tells the whole story for us on this Holy Trinity Sunday. In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.
In our usual way of speaking, it’s God the Father who typically gets the credit for the work of creation. But in fact, all three
The Scriptures just don’t allow us divide up the works of God among the persons of the Godhead. And even though I love a good baseball analogy, it just doesn’t work to say that God the Father is like the starting pitcher who gets the game rolling, and that the Son is the middle reliever who clinches the game, and that the Holy Spirit is the closer who always locks up the game with a “save.” No, the truth is that all three were already on the mound in the top of the first well before the first batter stepped out of the dugout. It’s not a good analogy.
But before there was a game known as baseball, there was a creed of the Christian faith known as the Athanasian Creed. The Athanasian Creed contains no bad analogies. There’s no fluff there. Just clear, concrete, hardcore theology. You have to love the Athanasian Creed. It leaves no stone unturned, no angle unexamined, no wiggle room for any alternative gods. The Athanasian Creed takes no prisoners. It proclaims the unvarnished truth of who God is—three distinct persons—the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—united together as one divine being—distinguishable but not divisible. In other words, you can tell them apart but you can’t pull them apart and you can’t have them apart.
In the beginning, God—the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit—created. That word, created, gets used in a very particular way in the pages of the Old Testament. Only God Himself is used as the subject of that verb, created. Abraham created nothing. Moses created nothing. David, Solomon, Elijah—bupkis, nada, zilch. You see, the word “create” in Genesis 1:1 means to create something out of nothing. Human beings can assemble, build, compose, concoct and construct, but we can’t create—at least not like God creates—something out of nothing. We need raw materials. We need ingredients. I finally planted my garden a few days ago, and come August I expect to be knee-deep in cucumbers. But without seeds and soil and sunshine and showers, there will be no cucumbers. I can’t create a cucumber. I can only facilitate God’s creative work. He alone gives the growth.
Your God creates something out of nothing. In the beginning there was nothing. Before God spoke His, “Let there be,” there was only darkness and emptiness and chaos. And from the midst of that deep darkness God said, “Let there be light.” And there was light. God made something out of nothing. God created light out of total darkness. And then, three days later, God created the sun. Yes, before there was sunshine, there was light. (Ponder that!) And God kept this up for six whole days, creating something out of nothing: atmosphere, dry ground, vegetation, all creatures great and small, man and woman. And each day God saw that it was good. In fact, it was very good. And God did it all without tools, without ingredients, without raw materials of any kind. Instead, to create something out of nothing, God simply spoke His Word. He said, “Let there be,” and there was.
Do you believe that? Every Christian eventually has to come to terms with Genesis chapter one. You can either take God at His Word, OR you can hold to the words of men and women who claim that living things evolved over millions of years, quite by accident. And then there are those who try to have their cake and eat it too, saying that, yes, God created, but He used the process of evolution to accomplish it. But you have to do some very creative interpreting of Genesis chapter 1 to arrive at that conclusion. Creation either happened the way God says it happened in Genesis one, or it didn’t happen that way. It’s up to you to decide. Or, more accurately, it’s up to you to believe.
There’s not time to examine every angle of the creation-evolution debate this morning, but do pause to ponder this: Would your God—the Holy Trinity—design a plan for the evolution of life that was completely dependent upon death? Because death is an absolutely critical part of the evolutionary process. Evolution is all about the survival of the fittest, and the death of the weakest. If it’s true that God Himself initiated the process of evolution, then God Himself is the author of death, for reproduction and death must occur in order for newer and higher life forms to evolve. If God initiated evolution then your death isn’t a bad thing at all. Your death will simply make way for human beings who are better, faster, smarter, and more highly evolved than you.
Does that sound like the God you know and believe in? Does that sound like the God of the Scriptures—the Holy Trinity—who calls death “the last enemy to be destroyed” (1 Cor. 15:26)? Not at all! In fact, your God is at work mightily to save you from death. Your God sent His Son into the world as a human being, to redeem all of sinful humanity. Jesus was the only human being for whom death was part of the plan from the beginning. And by His death, St. Paul writes, “He has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the Gospel” (2 Tim. 1:10).
Jesus predicted His own death and resurrection at least three times. He said that His death and resurrection “must” happen. These were “necessary” things. Why? Why did He have to die and rise again? Why did He bear our sins and shed His blood? Why did He, the Son of God, take on our human flesh and reveal a picture of God that was more awesomely complex than anything we could ever imagine? He did it so that He could create something out of nothing . . . in you!
For you see, when Adam and Eve fell into sin and death entered the world, it meant that there was still one place where darkness reigned. It meant that there was still one place of emptiness and nothingness. That dark and lifeless place is the human heart—infected with sin. But into this dark and sin-filled space, God the Holy Trinity speaks: “Let there be light. Let there be faith. I have called you by name and you are mine.” What God did on day one of creation He did again inside your heart—removing the darkness of sin and giving the light of faith. You didn’t evolve into a child of God any more than you evolved from apes and gorillas; you were created a child of God out of nothing—through the power of God’s Word and the water of Holy Baptism. This is why we pray in Psalm 51, “Create in me a clean heart, O God.” Only He can do it. Only He can take away the sin and exchange it for the righteousness of His Son. In 2 Corinthians Paul makes the connection perfectly: “For God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has made His light to shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ” (2 Cor. 4:6).
The danger on Holy Trinity Sunday is that all the talk about the Trinity becomes an exercise in mere theology—in abstract concepts and complex terminology. This is why our God anchors His work in the simplest substance on the face of the earth: in water and words. Make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to observe all that Jesus has entrusted to us. In that water and in those words God is still creating—creating disciples, creating faith, creating something out of nothing. In you, the Holy Trinity has created something wonderful—faith that will endure to life everlasting.
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, now and forever. Amen.
Monday, May 22, 2017
Jesus' Ark
In Nomine Iesu
1 Peter 3:20-22
May 21, 2017
Easter 6A
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
As a parent, you always have regrets of some kind or another. You can always look back at how you raised your children and think, “I should have handled that differently,” or “What was I
thinking?” Today’s epistle reading brought to mind one of those episodes in my years as a parent where I should have been smarter. I should have done better. For you see, I bought my children a toy play-edition of Noah’s ark—with pairs of cute plastic animals that could walk right up a few short steps and into the waiting ark.
What was I thinking? I placed into my children’s little hands a toy that commemorated the deadliest event in all of human history. With that Noah’s ark play set I gave my children hours of fun and enjoyment based on the most catastrophic, cataclysmic act of divine wrath that has ever been leveled against the inhabitants of planet earth. To make a children’s play-toy out of Noah’s ark is to rip the ark right out of its true, Biblical context. For unless this Noah’s ark play set included bloated corpses and terrified sinners clinging to the sides of the ark like barnacles as the waters rose to swallow them, then this toy is only telling half the story. At best this is a toy that’s in bad taste, and at worst it ranks right up there with a playmobile set commemorating the holocaust or a toy tsunami simulator. Not even Toys-R-Us would have the audacity to sell something like that.
Children and Noah’s ark came to mind because of today’s epistle reading. There St. Peter was writing to children—well, to children in the faith, that is—newborn babies who had just recently been born again in the waters of Holy Baptism. They were converts—mere infants in the faith, just beginning to learn the basic, elementary teachings of Christianity. And among the many things that Peter laid out for them in this letter, we learn today that Peter wanted to set these children straight concerning both Noah’s ark and the meaning of their baptism—two watery events with two wet messages.
Peter first uses Noah’s ark to teach these new Christians a thing or two about God’s patience. He points them to God’s patience in the days of Noah. Do you remember from Genesis just how bad things were? There it says, The Lord saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And the Lord was sorry that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart. It’s hard for us to imagine just how bad things must have been—to envision a time when humankind was engaged continuously, exclusively in wickedness and evil. The only exception was Noah, who found favor with God—not because of his perfect church attendance or his sin-free lifestyle—but through faith.
It was because of that faith that Noah built the ark at God’s command. And that ark is, first and foremost, a demonstration of God’s great patience. We don’t know exactly how long it took to build the ark. What we do know is that Noah had around 500 candles on his birthday cake when his three sons were born, and that he was six hundred years old when the flood finally came. It’s likely that for decades Noah was building the ark. And you don’t build an ark in your backyard privately. To build an ark is to make a public profession. As that ark was being built, it proclaimed a message of watery judgment to come—of the need to repent and turn. That ark was a sermon not of words, but of gopher wood. And as it came together, cubit after cubit, it called everyone who saw it to turn from their sin and flee to the grace of God—or face a terrible day of judgment.
Both baby Christians and veterans of the faith can learn from this that God is patient—that He desires not the death of sinners but that they turn from their sin and live—that He wants all to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth. But the ark also teaches us that God says what He means, and He means what He says. His threats and His warnings should not be taken casually. Do not presume upon His patience. Do not mistake His patience for the permission to go on sinning casually and carelessly. Planned repentance is not repentance. The ark teaches us that there will come a day of reckoning—a day of colossal, cataclysmic, catastrophic reckoning. And know this: God’s wrath against sin in the flood—this watery judgment—is but a preview of the Final Judgment, when the earth and the heavens will be destroyed not by water, but by fire—and when all the unbelievers will be punished, while the believers will join Noah and all the righteous in their heavenly home.
But just as the flood reveals God’s wrath against sin, the ark also reveals God’s love for humanity. Noah’s ark is not only a story of judgment, but also of salvation—not only of Law, but also of Gospel. The ark, like the cross, shows just how much God loves His children and how deeply He desires to save them. This is the second main point Peter makes in today’s text: It was in the ark “in which a few, that is, eight persons were brought safely through water.” The ark proclaims—simultaneously—a tale of death and destruction, and of life and deliverance.
Several years ago my family attended a theatrical production of Noah’s Ark at the Sight and Sound Theater in Branson, Missouri. And it was quite a production. The closing scene of the first act was terrifying. On stage, inside the ark, were Noah and his family. And as soon as God closed the door of the ark, the sounds of rain and thunder and rushing waters were heard. And those sounds were quickly followed by the terrifying screams of those outside the ark, those being swept away, those who had rejected God’s gracious offer of deliverance. And then there was only darkness and silence. But as the second act opened, there was light and life all around. The entire theater had been transformed into the interior of the ark. Everywhere you looked were living creatures, great and small, bathed in light—a floating zoo delivered from destruction by a gracious and loving God.
Most importantly, there were eight people on board that ark: Noah and his wife, his three sons and their wives too. The same water that had drowned a sinful and evil world, that same water lifted up the ark to preserve faithful Noah and his family. The same water that killed and destroyed—that same water brought life and deliverance to eight people. And here’s the good news that Peter wanted to convey to his readers about the baptism they had recently undergone: Just as eight people were saved by water in the ark, “baptism, which corresponds to this, now saves you.”
Baptism now saves you. Peter writes that baptism saves you “through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, who has gone into heaven and is at the right hand of God.” Baptism now saves you because baptism now unites you with Jesus. All that Jesus accomplished in love for you—His suffering for your sins—His crucifixion and resurrection—your baptism applies that power to you personally. Your baptism cleanses you with Christ—His righteousness, His innocence, and His blessedness. Your baptism drowned and washed away all that is sinful and evil in you, while preserving you high and dry and safe and secure in the holy ark of the holy church—until that day when you reach the safe harbor of heaven. Your baptism placed you safely inside the ark with the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Noah’s ark was pretty impressive, you have to admit. You can travel down to the Creation Museum in Kentucky to experience a real life replica of what the ark was like. How did eight people manage and feed and care for such a wide array of living creatures? But that ark was nothing compared to this ark. For this is Jesus’ ark—the place where the water of your baptism washes you clean and bears you up each day, living in the grace and forgiveness of God, confessing your sins and enjoying a good conscience. Here in Jesus’ Ark the Lord feeds and cares for a great multitude of people that cannot be numbered.
Noah’s ark is long gone. Lots of people have looked for it. Lots of people have claimed to have found what remains of it. And you smart-alecks from Wisconsin always like to tell people that “Noah’s ark” is located two hours west of here in the Dells. But don’t waste your time with Noah’s ark. Baptismal waters have given you a new birth into the ark of Jesus, which is the church of Jesus. It doesn’t take much imagination to sit where you are right now and to envision that you are sitting below deck in a great ark. You’re sitting in that part of the building we call the “nave,” which comes from the Latin word for “boat.” You are surrounded by death and destruction; but here in the ark of Jesus you are safe and secure. Because Jesus lives, you shall live also. Here you live on every word that proceeds from the mouth of the Lord, and here you dine on the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood. Here Jesus gives you His resurrection life in the flood of water that flows from this font.
This ark of Jesus—the one, holy, Christian, and apostolic church—it will endure forever. The gates of hell will not prevail against it. What unites you with Noah, and with believers of every age, is faith in Jesus, the Son of God. He suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that He might bring you to God in this holy ark. Amen.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
1 Peter 3:20-22
May 21, 2017
Easter 6A
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
As a parent, you always have regrets of some kind or another. You can always look back at how you raised your children and think, “I should have handled that differently,” or “What was I
What was I thinking? I placed into my children’s little hands a toy that commemorated the deadliest event in all of human history. With that Noah’s ark play set I gave my children hours of fun and enjoyment based on the most catastrophic, cataclysmic act of divine wrath that has ever been leveled against the inhabitants of planet earth. To make a children’s play-toy out of Noah’s ark is to rip the ark right out of its true, Biblical context. For unless this Noah’s ark play set included bloated corpses and terrified sinners clinging to the sides of the ark like barnacles as the waters rose to swallow them, then this toy is only telling half the story. At best this is a toy that’s in bad taste, and at worst it ranks right up there with a playmobile set commemorating the holocaust or a toy tsunami simulator. Not even Toys-R-Us would have the audacity to sell something like that.
Children and Noah’s ark came to mind because of today’s epistle reading. There St. Peter was writing to children—well, to children in the faith, that is—newborn babies who had just recently been born again in the waters of Holy Baptism. They were converts—mere infants in the faith, just beginning to learn the basic, elementary teachings of Christianity. And among the many things that Peter laid out for them in this letter, we learn today that Peter wanted to set these children straight concerning both Noah’s ark and the meaning of their baptism—two watery events with two wet messages.
Peter first uses Noah’s ark to teach these new Christians a thing or two about God’s patience. He points them to God’s patience in the days of Noah. Do you remember from Genesis just how bad things were? There it says, The Lord saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And the Lord was sorry that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart. It’s hard for us to imagine just how bad things must have been—to envision a time when humankind was engaged continuously, exclusively in wickedness and evil. The only exception was Noah, who found favor with God—not because of his perfect church attendance or his sin-free lifestyle—but through faith.
It was because of that faith that Noah built the ark at God’s command. And that ark is, first and foremost, a demonstration of God’s great patience. We don’t know exactly how long it took to build the ark. What we do know is that Noah had around 500 candles on his birthday cake when his three sons were born, and that he was six hundred years old when the flood finally came. It’s likely that for decades Noah was building the ark. And you don’t build an ark in your backyard privately. To build an ark is to make a public profession. As that ark was being built, it proclaimed a message of watery judgment to come—of the need to repent and turn. That ark was a sermon not of words, but of gopher wood. And as it came together, cubit after cubit, it called everyone who saw it to turn from their sin and flee to the grace of God—or face a terrible day of judgment.
Both baby Christians and veterans of the faith can learn from this that God is patient—that He desires not the death of sinners but that they turn from their sin and live—that He wants all to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth. But the ark also teaches us that God says what He means, and He means what He says. His threats and His warnings should not be taken casually. Do not presume upon His patience. Do not mistake His patience for the permission to go on sinning casually and carelessly. Planned repentance is not repentance. The ark teaches us that there will come a day of reckoning—a day of colossal, cataclysmic, catastrophic reckoning. And know this: God’s wrath against sin in the flood—this watery judgment—is but a preview of the Final Judgment, when the earth and the heavens will be destroyed not by water, but by fire—and when all the unbelievers will be punished, while the believers will join Noah and all the righteous in their heavenly home.
But just as the flood reveals God’s wrath against sin, the ark also reveals God’s love for humanity. Noah’s ark is not only a story of judgment, but also of salvation—not only of Law, but also of Gospel. The ark, like the cross, shows just how much God loves His children and how deeply He desires to save them. This is the second main point Peter makes in today’s text: It was in the ark “in which a few, that is, eight persons were brought safely through water.” The ark proclaims—simultaneously—a tale of death and destruction, and of life and deliverance.
Several years ago my family attended a theatrical production of Noah’s Ark at the Sight and Sound Theater in Branson, Missouri. And it was quite a production. The closing scene of the first act was terrifying. On stage, inside the ark, were Noah and his family. And as soon as God closed the door of the ark, the sounds of rain and thunder and rushing waters were heard. And those sounds were quickly followed by the terrifying screams of those outside the ark, those being swept away, those who had rejected God’s gracious offer of deliverance. And then there was only darkness and silence. But as the second act opened, there was light and life all around. The entire theater had been transformed into the interior of the ark. Everywhere you looked were living creatures, great and small, bathed in light—a floating zoo delivered from destruction by a gracious and loving God.
Most importantly, there were eight people on board that ark: Noah and his wife, his three sons and their wives too. The same water that had drowned a sinful and evil world, that same water lifted up the ark to preserve faithful Noah and his family. The same water that killed and destroyed—that same water brought life and deliverance to eight people. And here’s the good news that Peter wanted to convey to his readers about the baptism they had recently undergone: Just as eight people were saved by water in the ark, “baptism, which corresponds to this, now saves you.”
Baptism now saves you. Peter writes that baptism saves you “through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, who has gone into heaven and is at the right hand of God.” Baptism now saves you because baptism now unites you with Jesus. All that Jesus accomplished in love for you—His suffering for your sins—His crucifixion and resurrection—your baptism applies that power to you personally. Your baptism cleanses you with Christ—His righteousness, His innocence, and His blessedness. Your baptism drowned and washed away all that is sinful and evil in you, while preserving you high and dry and safe and secure in the holy ark of the holy church—until that day when you reach the safe harbor of heaven. Your baptism placed you safely inside the ark with the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Noah’s ark was pretty impressive, you have to admit. You can travel down to the Creation Museum in Kentucky to experience a real life replica of what the ark was like. How did eight people manage and feed and care for such a wide array of living creatures? But that ark was nothing compared to this ark. For this is Jesus’ ark—the place where the water of your baptism washes you clean and bears you up each day, living in the grace and forgiveness of God, confessing your sins and enjoying a good conscience. Here in Jesus’ Ark the Lord feeds and cares for a great multitude of people that cannot be numbered.
Noah’s ark is long gone. Lots of people have looked for it. Lots of people have claimed to have found what remains of it. And you smart-alecks from Wisconsin always like to tell people that “Noah’s ark” is located two hours west of here in the Dells. But don’t waste your time with Noah’s ark. Baptismal waters have given you a new birth into the ark of Jesus, which is the church of Jesus. It doesn’t take much imagination to sit where you are right now and to envision that you are sitting below deck in a great ark. You’re sitting in that part of the building we call the “nave,” which comes from the Latin word for “boat.” You are surrounded by death and destruction; but here in the ark of Jesus you are safe and secure. Because Jesus lives, you shall live also. Here you live on every word that proceeds from the mouth of the Lord, and here you dine on the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood. Here Jesus gives you His resurrection life in the flood of water that flows from this font.
This ark of Jesus—the one, holy, Christian, and apostolic church—it will endure forever. The gates of hell will not prevail against it. What unites you with Noah, and with believers of every age, is faith in Jesus, the Son of God. He suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that He might bring you to God in this holy ark. Amen.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Monday, May 15, 2017
Comfort and Clarity
In Nomine Iesu
John 14:1-14
May 14, 2017
Easter 5A
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
Let not your hearts be troubled. There’s a lot going on in today’s holy gospel from John chapter 14. Deep theology.
Precious promises. Questions and answers. Comfort and clarity. But we dare not overlook that very first sentence from the lips of Jesus: Let not your hearts be troubled.
Who has a troubled heart? There are plenty of people here this morning with troubled hearts. If you’re not among them—if your heart is carefree—then count yourself fortunate and just wait your turn. Troubled hearts are a common malady among the followers of Jesus—among all of us who live in a world where sin and death loom so large. How many people do you know who are battling cancer right now? And how many of them are losing the battle? How many mothers do you know (on this Mothers’ Day) who are trying to hold together families that are bitterly divided or torn apart by conflict? How many “former” Christians do you know—baptized children of God who (for no particular reason) have wandered away from the faith, from the church, from the Savior? Having a troubled heart isn’t necessarily a sin. For the Scriptures tell us that even Jesus—at the death of his friend Lazarus—even Jesus was “greatly troubled” (Jn. 11:33).
Let not your hearts be troubled. When Jesus said those words, He wasn’t just tossing out some casual comfort for no particular reason. He wasn’t just telling the Twelve to cheer up and turn their frowns upside down. It was the Thursday night of holy week. Jesus would be a corpse on a cross in less than twenty-four hours. He had just predicted that one of the twelve was going to betray Him. Peter had just promised to lay down his life for Jesus (13:37); but Jesus had sharply corrected him: “Truly, truly, I say to you, the rooster will not crow till you have denied me three times.” That night was a night marked by darkness, denial and betrayal. That night would turn out to be a night when sin and death would be unleashed to do their worst. And into the deep darkness of that awful night, when terrible trouble was looming large, Jesus dared to say, “Let not your hearts be troubled.”
What the disciples needed at that moment was comfort; and Jesus did not fail to deliver. What Jesus proceeded to prescribe for their troubled hearts was faith: Believe in God; believe also in me. Jesus here equates Himself with God. He and the Father are one. Jesus needed to make that clear because His glory and His divinity would be horribly hidden in the hours just ahead. And so Jesus reminds them that there’s more to Him than meets the eye.
And then Jesus gives them something to look forward to: In my Father’s house are many rooms. . . I go to prepare a place for you. The old King James Version described it as a house “with many mansions.” The point here is not to imagine the largest mansion or the biggest castle. Rather, Jesus wants us to know, first of all, that there’s plenty of room in the heavenly dwelling He’s preparing for us. The Father’s house is no three-bedroom colonial. The Father’s house is designed to hold a multitude that cannot be numbered.
But even more importantly, the Father’s house—the place that Jesus prepares for us—is permanent. Last week in Bible class we discussed what it means that on earth we are exiles, aliens, and strangers. I mentioned how the address I now have I’ve had longer than any other address in my life. And many of you can say the same thing about your dwelling place. It’s home, yes; but it’s not forever. It’s not permanent. We are but strangers here; heaven is our home. The things that trouble your heart today and tomorrow are temporary. Jesus Christ, in love, has prepared something better for you. You have the comfort of this sweet sentence from the Savior: I will take you to myself.
But Thomas was still troubled. Thomas needed more than just comfort. Thomas needed clarity. “How can we know the way?” he asked. There’s a lot of ground to cover between where we are now and where we will be forever and ever in the Father’s house. Thomas needed details. He wanted the route laid out with certainty and clarity. He wanted to know exactly what to expect: “Lord, how can we know the way?” A lot of us would like that too. We would like to know ahead of time about all the twists and turns and detours that lie ahead. We’ll follow Jesus, for sure, but we would really like to have more information—for planning purposes.
Why do we need all of that? It’s simple: We don’t trust Him. We have more faith in our earthly house than we do in the Father’s house. The earthly house we can see. The Father’s house we see only by faith. And so we trust what we see and we doubt what we don’t see. But when you go through life trusting in what you see, investing in what you see, centering your life around what is visible; suddenly you’re no longer an exile. You’re no longer a stranger here. Suddenly, you’re at home here; while heaven sounds stranger and stranger.
In our kitchen we have what I scornfully refer to as the “junk” drawer. It’s a nice big drawer near the back door. We temporarily place things in that drawer and then promptly forget about them. I cleaned out the junk drawer a few months ago (it was like an archeological expedition digging down through layers of history) and do you know what was at the very bottom? Maps. Street maps of Milwaukee. Maps I had used years ago to find my way to members’ homes and hospitals and churches, back when we were new citizens of this city. I used to love a good map. I took pleasure in plotting my course, my exits, my turns. Planning the perfect route gave me a sense of clarity and confidence. Of course, maps are obsolete now. I miss maps.
Beloved in the Lord, there’s no map to show the way to the Father’s house. There’s no map that will give you all the details you crave about the twists and turns between here and there. Instead, Jesus gives us something better: “I am the way and the truth and the life,” He says. “No one comes to the Father except through me.” The way to the Father’s house—the way to that heavenly mansion—the way of deliverance from sin and death—is exclusively through Jesus. Salvation is found in no one else (Acts 4:12). That’s the kind of clarity we need. All are invited to the Father’s house. God desires the salvation of all people. But there’s only one way to get there. All paths do not lead to God. There are not a multitude of equally valid paths to salvation. It’s not like planning a trip to Mayfair Mall. There are many different routes you can take to get there.
But to get to the eternal house in heaven that Jesus has prepared for us, there are no alternate routes, no bypasses or detours. Only faith in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, will get you there. He alone is the way. No one comes to the Father except through Him. Jesus is the singular path to heaven. His crucifixion cross made the way for you. His sinless life as your substitute is what has bridged the gap between lost and dying sinners and the holy God of heaven and earth. And His resurrection from the dead is the proof. His Word is truth. The life He gives is eternal. In Him we have comfort. In Him we have clarity.
And yet, sometimes that comfort and clarity doesn’t seem like enough. That was Philip’s concern. For Philip spoke up after Thomas to say, “Lord, show us the Father and that will be enough for us.” Philip’s concern was having “enough.” Bear in mind, Philip had seen Jesus. Philip had seen the miracles of Jesus. Philip had faith in Jesus. But somehow, in Philip’s mind, that wasn’t enough. He needed more.
Do you ever feel like Philip? Do you ever find yourself praying, “Lord, I believe . . . but.” Troubled hearts always look for signs. Troubled hearts are always quick to prescribe a solution, a plan, a route of escape. But Jesus invites troubled hearts simply to believe in Him—and to leave the details to Him. He is the way. He is the truth. He is the life. He has the solution. He has the plan. He has a deliverance in store for you. Believe in Him. Trust Him. “Come to me,” He says, “all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” He may never show us all that we want to see. He may never reveal to us all that we’d like to know. But He invites us simply to believe; and in our believing, to realize that in having Jesus, we have enough. In fact, we have more than enough—more than we deserve—even more than we desire.
To troubled hearts Jesus gives comfort and Jesus gives clarity. You will find it here: in the preaching and proclamation of His Word. You will find it in the cleansing splash of your baptism into Christ. You will find it in the holy Supper of His body and His blood. This is the place where troubled hearts gather in the name of Jesus. Believe in Him. Cast your cares on Him. Let not your hearts be troubled. Let Jesus bear your sins away. For He can do it. He is the way, the truth, and the life. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
John 14:1-14
May 14, 2017
Easter 5A
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
Let not your hearts be troubled. There’s a lot going on in today’s holy gospel from John chapter 14. Deep theology.
Who has a troubled heart? There are plenty of people here this morning with troubled hearts. If you’re not among them—if your heart is carefree—then count yourself fortunate and just wait your turn. Troubled hearts are a common malady among the followers of Jesus—among all of us who live in a world where sin and death loom so large. How many people do you know who are battling cancer right now? And how many of them are losing the battle? How many mothers do you know (on this Mothers’ Day) who are trying to hold together families that are bitterly divided or torn apart by conflict? How many “former” Christians do you know—baptized children of God who (for no particular reason) have wandered away from the faith, from the church, from the Savior? Having a troubled heart isn’t necessarily a sin. For the Scriptures tell us that even Jesus—at the death of his friend Lazarus—even Jesus was “greatly troubled” (Jn. 11:33).
Let not your hearts be troubled. When Jesus said those words, He wasn’t just tossing out some casual comfort for no particular reason. He wasn’t just telling the Twelve to cheer up and turn their frowns upside down. It was the Thursday night of holy week. Jesus would be a corpse on a cross in less than twenty-four hours. He had just predicted that one of the twelve was going to betray Him. Peter had just promised to lay down his life for Jesus (13:37); but Jesus had sharply corrected him: “Truly, truly, I say to you, the rooster will not crow till you have denied me three times.” That night was a night marked by darkness, denial and betrayal. That night would turn out to be a night when sin and death would be unleashed to do their worst. And into the deep darkness of that awful night, when terrible trouble was looming large, Jesus dared to say, “Let not your hearts be troubled.”
What the disciples needed at that moment was comfort; and Jesus did not fail to deliver. What Jesus proceeded to prescribe for their troubled hearts was faith: Believe in God; believe also in me. Jesus here equates Himself with God. He and the Father are one. Jesus needed to make that clear because His glory and His divinity would be horribly hidden in the hours just ahead. And so Jesus reminds them that there’s more to Him than meets the eye.
And then Jesus gives them something to look forward to: In my Father’s house are many rooms. . . I go to prepare a place for you. The old King James Version described it as a house “with many mansions.” The point here is not to imagine the largest mansion or the biggest castle. Rather, Jesus wants us to know, first of all, that there’s plenty of room in the heavenly dwelling He’s preparing for us. The Father’s house is no three-bedroom colonial. The Father’s house is designed to hold a multitude that cannot be numbered.
But even more importantly, the Father’s house—the place that Jesus prepares for us—is permanent. Last week in Bible class we discussed what it means that on earth we are exiles, aliens, and strangers. I mentioned how the address I now have I’ve had longer than any other address in my life. And many of you can say the same thing about your dwelling place. It’s home, yes; but it’s not forever. It’s not permanent. We are but strangers here; heaven is our home. The things that trouble your heart today and tomorrow are temporary. Jesus Christ, in love, has prepared something better for you. You have the comfort of this sweet sentence from the Savior: I will take you to myself.
But Thomas was still troubled. Thomas needed more than just comfort. Thomas needed clarity. “How can we know the way?” he asked. There’s a lot of ground to cover between where we are now and where we will be forever and ever in the Father’s house. Thomas needed details. He wanted the route laid out with certainty and clarity. He wanted to know exactly what to expect: “Lord, how can we know the way?” A lot of us would like that too. We would like to know ahead of time about all the twists and turns and detours that lie ahead. We’ll follow Jesus, for sure, but we would really like to have more information—for planning purposes.
Why do we need all of that? It’s simple: We don’t trust Him. We have more faith in our earthly house than we do in the Father’s house. The earthly house we can see. The Father’s house we see only by faith. And so we trust what we see and we doubt what we don’t see. But when you go through life trusting in what you see, investing in what you see, centering your life around what is visible; suddenly you’re no longer an exile. You’re no longer a stranger here. Suddenly, you’re at home here; while heaven sounds stranger and stranger.
In our kitchen we have what I scornfully refer to as the “junk” drawer. It’s a nice big drawer near the back door. We temporarily place things in that drawer and then promptly forget about them. I cleaned out the junk drawer a few months ago (it was like an archeological expedition digging down through layers of history) and do you know what was at the very bottom? Maps. Street maps of Milwaukee. Maps I had used years ago to find my way to members’ homes and hospitals and churches, back when we were new citizens of this city. I used to love a good map. I took pleasure in plotting my course, my exits, my turns. Planning the perfect route gave me a sense of clarity and confidence. Of course, maps are obsolete now. I miss maps.
Beloved in the Lord, there’s no map to show the way to the Father’s house. There’s no map that will give you all the details you crave about the twists and turns between here and there. Instead, Jesus gives us something better: “I am the way and the truth and the life,” He says. “No one comes to the Father except through me.” The way to the Father’s house—the way to that heavenly mansion—the way of deliverance from sin and death—is exclusively through Jesus. Salvation is found in no one else (Acts 4:12). That’s the kind of clarity we need. All are invited to the Father’s house. God desires the salvation of all people. But there’s only one way to get there. All paths do not lead to God. There are not a multitude of equally valid paths to salvation. It’s not like planning a trip to Mayfair Mall. There are many different routes you can take to get there.
But to get to the eternal house in heaven that Jesus has prepared for us, there are no alternate routes, no bypasses or detours. Only faith in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, will get you there. He alone is the way. No one comes to the Father except through Him. Jesus is the singular path to heaven. His crucifixion cross made the way for you. His sinless life as your substitute is what has bridged the gap between lost and dying sinners and the holy God of heaven and earth. And His resurrection from the dead is the proof. His Word is truth. The life He gives is eternal. In Him we have comfort. In Him we have clarity.
And yet, sometimes that comfort and clarity doesn’t seem like enough. That was Philip’s concern. For Philip spoke up after Thomas to say, “Lord, show us the Father and that will be enough for us.” Philip’s concern was having “enough.” Bear in mind, Philip had seen Jesus. Philip had seen the miracles of Jesus. Philip had faith in Jesus. But somehow, in Philip’s mind, that wasn’t enough. He needed more.
Do you ever feel like Philip? Do you ever find yourself praying, “Lord, I believe . . . but.” Troubled hearts always look for signs. Troubled hearts are always quick to prescribe a solution, a plan, a route of escape. But Jesus invites troubled hearts simply to believe in Him—and to leave the details to Him. He is the way. He is the truth. He is the life. He has the solution. He has the plan. He has a deliverance in store for you. Believe in Him. Trust Him. “Come to me,” He says, “all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” He may never show us all that we want to see. He may never reveal to us all that we’d like to know. But He invites us simply to believe; and in our believing, to realize that in having Jesus, we have enough. In fact, we have more than enough—more than we deserve—even more than we desire.
To troubled hearts Jesus gives comfort and Jesus gives clarity. You will find it here: in the preaching and proclamation of His Word. You will find it in the cleansing splash of your baptism into Christ. You will find it in the holy Supper of His body and His blood. This is the place where troubled hearts gather in the name of Jesus. Believe in Him. Cast your cares on Him. Let not your hearts be troubled. Let Jesus bear your sins away. For He can do it. He is the way, the truth, and the life. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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