Finishing Strong

Jesu Juva

Hebrews 10:19-25                                                        

November 14, 2021

Proper 28B                                                      

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          In the minutes before you start to run a race, you really don’t need people cheering you on.  When you’re lacing up your shoes and doing some stretching to get loose, you really don’t need people applauding for you.  Likewise, at the starting line, you’ve got enough adrenaline coursing through your system that you don’t need friends and family lining the first hundred yards of the race, holding signs and shouting, “You can do it!  Good job!  Keep it up!  Hang in there!”  There’s really no need for it at the beginning of the race.

          But toward the end of the race, it’s a different story.  After you’ve “hit the wall” and fatigue has begun to drain away every last ounce of energy—after you start to doubt whether you’ve even got what it takes to make it to the finish line—as cramps and nausea and pain rise up to take you down—it’s then!  It’s then that every runner needs support.  It’s then that every runner needs encouragement.  Every runner needs friends and family lining the home stretch and shouting, “You can do it!  Hang in there!  Finish strong!”

          Today’s reading from Hebrews is all about finishing strong.  In fact, all of the readings today serve as a reminder that the end is near.  The finish line approaches.  The end of the world as we know it is much, much closer than we imagine.  Or as we sang a few minutes ago:  The day is surely drawing near When Jesus, God’s anointed, In all His power shall appear As judge whom God appointed. 

          We Christians approach these last days unafraid.  We have the sure and certain confidence that Jesus has already run the course before us.  He has finished the race.  He is victorious.  He now stands at the finish line as the one who was crucified for our offenses and raised for our justification.  He was dead but is now alive forevermore.  He offered His own flesh and blood on the cross as the once-and-for-all sacrifice for our sins.  And the resurrected Christ now sits at the Father’s right hand, as our great high priest, guiding this world toward its final days, but leading His Church onward to eternal victory in the life of the world to come.

          But we’re not there yet.  You’re in the final miles of a long race that began when you were baptized.  Faith, forgiveness, and eternal salvation were implanted in you through water and the Word.  But the Christian life is always a struggle, always a long slog—a marathon, to be sure.  And some days you probably feel like you’ve “hit the wall.”  Some days you’re ready to stop pressing on to receive the crown of life.  You’re ready to give up.  We see it all around us these days.  How many friends and family do you know who used to be active participants in the life of the church, but who now have wandered away from it?

          What we need is encouragement and exhortation.  What we need is someone to cheer us on in these gray and latter days.  Today’s reading from Hebrews has just what we need.  It’s full of end-time exhortations—encouragement for the home stretch—powerful words to propel you onward and upward so that you can finish strong.

          The first exhortation sounds like this:  Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith.  Draw near to Jesus.  Now, where on earth can you draw near to Jesus?  Right here in the Divine Service, where Jesus draws near to you.  And as you draw near to Jesus in this place, you need only bring with you one thing: a true heart.  A true heart is an honest heart—a heart that doesn’t pretend to be something it isn’t—a heart that doesn’t pretend to be perfect.  A heart like that would be a hypocritical heart.  No, when we come here—when we draw near to Jesus—we carry with us a load of sin—all of our failures and shortcomings—all the ugly thoughts, words and deeds that weigh heavy on our hearts.  We tell the truth to God and to one another—about all that we have done to deserve God’s present and eternal punishment.   And the only thing Jesus can do with a true heart like that is cleanse it, wash away the sin by the blood that He shed on the cross.

          Here’s more encouragement: Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering. . .  In other words, stick to what you believe and have been taught in this place.  Christians don’t just go with the flow and follow the crowd.  We confess the faith once delivered to the saints—the faith that we read in the Scriptures and hear preached from the pulpit—and from that we do not deviate! 

          You know, once in a while in a race, a runner makes a wrong turn.  And if the runners behind him aren’t paying attention, they just might follow that misguided runner off into the wilderness.  They might just be disqualified.  That won’t happen to Christians who hold fast the confession of their hope—Christians who know what they believe and why they believe it.  And if you’re one of those people who has barely cracked open a Bible since the day of your confirmation, there’s no time like the present to start digging into the Word so that your confession of the faith can be strong and clear and persuasive—so that your faith can’t be detoured or disqualified or derailed.

          The next word of encouragement from the author of Hebrews is this:  Let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works.  You know, a lot of runners run races for a cause, for a charity, or in honor of someone they love.  As you and I run the race of faith, we’re not running for ourselves.   We’re running for the life of the world.  God doesn’t need your good works; but your neighbor certainly does.  So part of our life in the church is to encourage people toward love and good works. 

          When it comes to stirring people up to good works, what can you do?  Do you give to the United Way?  Then make sure your gift is designated for A Place of Refuge, helping mothers choose life.  Are you headed to the grocery store to stock up for Thanksgiving this week?  Then grab some non-perishable food for the poor who are served by the Bethany food pantry.  We have eighteen college students from this congregation scattered far and wide.  The elders sent them each a care package last week.  Would you consider reaching out with a note or card—reminding them that they have a place in this Christian family?  (Names and addresses are on the ledge.)  Come to the voters meeting to encourage our congregational leaders who labor for our common good.   What can you do?  How can you help?

          A fourth word of encouragement from Hebrews is that we not neglect to meet together, as is the habit of some.  Sports and sleep, work and weariness, guilt and shame—there are no end of things that conspire to keep you from being here on Sunday morning.  The devil is always in those details.  And of course, it’s not just being here that matters.  It’s being here with an open heart—a true heart—with an eagerness to hear the Word—with an expectation that the Holy Spirit will do great things for you before you leave here.  This is where you draw near to Jesus as He draws near to you.  We need what Jesus gives here.  And it’s only as we meet together that we can encourage one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.  We gather here not just because God commands it—not just so that we can receive God’s gifts—but also for the sake of those you see around you right now—so that we can encourage one another. 

          You know, Sunday morning isn’t just all about you and Jesus.  I’ve admitted to you before that I approach a lot of social gatherings with the goal of getting in and getting out as quickly as possible.  I’m sure I’m not the only one who sometimes operates with that strategy.  But not here.  Not with you.  Here we take time for one another.  We all know the power of a critical word to hurt and tear down.  But a well-placed word of encouragement builds up and strengthens the bond between brothers and sisters.  Here we take the time to reach out to the people in the pew behind us, to catch up over coffee, to take note of who here needs our prayers. 

          You know, when running in a race, the most powerful words of encouragement are not those shouted by spectators.  The words that mean the most are often those that come from fellow racers—the folks who are struggling and fatigued and sweaty—just like you.  They know exactly what you are going through.  Beloved in the Lord, this is the place where you find your fellow racers—with whom you share the same struggles against sin, and with whom you share the same holy gifts from Our Savior.  God places these people in your path (and in your pew) so that you might speak a word of encouragement, a word of forgiveness, or even a word of prayer.

          Why bother?  Because the finish line draws near.  The end is coming.  And if you want to finish strong—if you want to walk right through the valley of the shadow of death fearing no evil—then draw near to Jesus with a true heart.  Hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering.  Stir one another up to love and good works.  Do not neglect to meet together.  And encourage one another as we enter the home stretch.  You’ve got this!  Hang in there!  Keep it up!  You’re almost there!  Finish strong in the strength of Jesus. 

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

 

Poetry with Power

Jesu Juva

Psalm 46                                                                          

October 31, 2021

Reformation Day                               

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.  So begins the appointed Psalm for Reformation Day—Psalm 46.  I don’t know if you have a favorite Psalm or not.  It’s admittedly hard to choose a favorite out of one hundred fifty.  But if you’re like me—or, better yet, if you’re like Martin Luther—then Psalm 46 is your top pick.  This Psalm was Luther’s inspiration for his most famous hymn, A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.  Both Psalm 46 and Luther’s hymn boldly declare that the Church of Jesus Christ will endure forever—that the gates of hell will not prevail against her—that the Kingdom ours remaineth—despite threats, persecutions, and assaults on all sides.

          Psalm 46 has great theology; but it gets the geology all wrong.  The Psalm speaks of mountains—moving mountains, shaking and quaking mountains, mountains falling into the sea.  Those aren’t the mountains I know.  Most mountains are quite immovable.  They’re not going anywhere fast.  They are lasting landmarks.  So, it makes you wonder whether the Psalmist knew anything at all about geology.

          But then again, this Psalm, like all the others, is poetry.  And Psalm 46 is very good poetry—divinely inspired poetry.  It is poetry with power and purpose.  It is poetry in service of the gospel.  And what counts in this poem isn’t the literal, geological detail.  No, these mountains are metaphors.  They stand for something else.  Mountains stand for strength and stability.  So when mountains are moving and shaking and quaking, something’s not right.  It’s just like in real life when all that we look to for stability and security fails—when our whole world gets turned upside down, and our carefully crafted normalcy devolves into chaos.

          When the sturdy mountains in your life start moving, well, then you’ve got trouble with a capital T.  When a loved one dies, when the job is terminated, when family members wander from the faith or reject it altogether, when you have to move away and leave behind what you love the most—or, when you come face to face with the depth of your own depravity—this is chaos.  This is heartache.  This is when the earth gives way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea.

          But precisely then (when all supports are washed away) we learn, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”  Precisely then we learn that our real source of strength and support is not the people or the things or the money.  It’s not the “goods, fame, child, and wife,” as we sang earlier.  “Though these all be gone, Our victory has been won.  The Kingdom ours remaineth.” God Himself is our refuge and our strength—our mighty fortress, our trusty shield and weapon.

          Do you believe it?  Is this the God in whom you trust when your world caves in?  Is this the God you turn to when an ocean of evil and a sea of sin threaten to sweep you away?  Or is there some other god—some idol that you cling to like a life preserver?  In this Psalm God calls us to repent of our idolatry.  He calls us to let go of whatever prevents us from fearing, loving and trusting Him above all things.  He says, “Be still and know that I am God.”

          Be still and know that I am God.  That’s one of the most valuable sentences in all the Scripture.  Because what usually happens when calamity strikes and our world gets turned upside down?  Well, we think that we have to fix it.  We think we have to call the shots.  We think it all depends on us to make things better—our works, our words, our strength, our intelligence.  We think that our clever calculations can do the trick and make the difference.  But God says, “Stop.  Be still.  Know that I am God.” 

          We need to put away our idols and let God be God.  What does that mean?  It means be still and stop telling God what to do.  If you need help, pray for help.  If you need rescue, then pray for rescue.  If you need healing, then pray for healing.  But don’t limit your petitions by dictating the details of the help and healing you need.  Trust Him.  Trust that He knows best how to help—and believe that He wants to help.

          Let God be God; and let you  . . . be still.  Be still and stop trying to be god in the place of God.  Stop trying to control everyone and everything.  Be still and know that the results are in God’s hands—not yours.  Your job is simply to be faithful—to hear His Word and keep His Word—and then to sit back and watch the wonders God can do. 

          It reminds me of that scene in Exodus where the Israelites have hightailed it out of Egypt only to find themselves in a situation of absolute peril and calamity.  Pharaoh and his chariots were closing in from behind, and the Red Sea waters loomed ahead.  Their options were a return to slavery or a watery grave.  What were they to do?  Moses told them what to do—and what not to do:  “Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the Lord, which He will work for you today. . . .The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent” (Ex. 14:13-14). And so the Israelites went their way in silence and awe; and watched the Lord’s deliverance unfold.  The Lord triumphed gloriously, the horse and rider thrown into the sea. 

          In the same way, we stand at the cross of Jesus and witness our own rescue.  We witness the nails and the thorns in silence and awe, knowing that by His wounds we are healed—by His blood we are saved.  We are rescued and delivered.  All of us have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.  All of us have tried our hand at being god in the place of God.  And for that there is hell to pay.  So be still, and see what Jesus has done.  He has carried your sin and guilt to the cross.  Jesus is your refuge because He knew no refuge on Good Friday.  Jesus is your strength today because on Good Friday He used up every last ounce of His strength to deliver you and rescue you.

          Psalm 46 tells us that the Lord is “a very present help in trouble.”  Those words tell us two things.  First of all, there will be trouble.  You can expect it—mountain-moving, earth-shaking, heart-pounding trouble.  But you do not face it alone.  Your God is a very present help in times of trouble.  And just what is this help?  His good gifts and Spirit:  In the preaching and proclamation of His Word, in the cleansing sentence of holy absolution, in the new birth of Baptism, and in the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood.  These are the good gifts through which God is pleased to work in you—to support you and deliver you in time of trouble, and to give you eternal life even as death draws near.            This is the river of Psalm 46—the “river whose streams make glad the city of God.”  It’s not a literal river, as we think of rivers.  It’s a metaphor.  It’s something better.  It’s a river of blessings—a river of forgiveness—a river of living water welling up to eternal life.  And it flows from the cross of Jesus Christ, right through this altar and this pulpit, right into your ears and your mouth and your heart.

          Reformation Sunday is all about the Savior and His good Gospel gifts—the help He provides in time of trouble.  There was a time in human history when the Savior and His gifts were all but lost—when satanic lies had all but erased the truth of God.  Christians lived in fear of Jesus the judge.  Forgiveness was bought and sold in the church.  Heaven was something you worked for and earned—and you could never be sure if you were good enough to get it.  When it came to salvation, the church’s message wasn’t “be still,” but “good luck!”

          But today we remember a miracle—the miracle that God worked in those dark days—how a man named Martin Luther was made to see, “the just shall live

by faith.”  And with that glorious gospel truth the church of Jesus Christ was renewed and restored.  Still today the Reformation miracle endures.  And we will not fear.  God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.  Come hell or high water, falling mountains or surging seas, the Lord Almighty is with us.  The God of Jacob is our fortress. 

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

 

Kyrie Eleison

 Jesu Juva

St. Mark 10:46-52                                                            

October 24, 2021

Proper 25B                             

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          Jesus was on His way to Jerusalem to suffer and die for the sins of the world.  And that road to the cross took Jesus through the city of Jericho.  Jericho is perhaps the oldest city on the face of the earth.  Jericho was the city where Rahab lived.  Rahab had famously provided shelter for Israelite spies centuries before Jesus walked those city streets.  Rahab would go on to become an ancestor of Jesus.  

          Jericho was also famously reduced to rubble under the leadership of Joshua—as he encircled the city with the army of Israel, blew the trumpets, and the walls came a’ tumbling down.  The road between Jericho and Jerusalem was a busy one, filled with priests, pilgrims and pedestrians—not to mention robbers and beggars.

          We don’t know much about this blind beggar, Bartimaeus.  In those days begging was considered an honorable and acceptable way to make a living for those who couldn’t work.  Beggars weren’t regarded as a nuisance like panhandlers these days.  If you could work and had money, it was your civic and religious duty to give a beggar something when you passed him by.  In days before government welfare, begging was part of Israel’s social safety net.

          Today’s text reminds us that every beggar by the roadside is potentially a disciple.  Blind Bartimaeus was the very last disciple to begin following Jesus—just as Jesus was about to walk into Jerusalem in a parade of palm branches.  Jesus Christ came to seek and save all, including the least, the lowly, and the blind beggars of this world.  Think of Bartimaeus the next time someone sticks out their hand in your direction.  He may be looking for Jesus; and you—you know where to find Him.

          Bartimaeus had eyes that didn’t work; but his ears certainly did.  And one day his sharp ears heard the name “Jesus,” the healer and teacher from Nazareth.  Bartimaeus had heard about Jesus—how Jesus healed the sick, cast out demons, and raised the dead.  He’d heard about Jesus’ compassion, His love for the lost, His call to discipleship.  Bartimaeus believed that Jesus could help him.  He believed that he mattered to Jesus.  And so he began to cry out:  Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.

          His simple prayer was a prayer for mercy.  Lord, have mercy.  Kyrie, eleison.  Bartimaeus had never met Jesus, but he believed in Him.  He trusted that this Jesus of Nazareth would help him.  Prayer is the fruit of faith.  Faith is what led blind Bartimaeus to boldly call out to the Savior for mercy.  This is really the perfect illustration of faith in Jesus.  He cannot see, but he believes.  He believes the Word he has heard.  Eyes that see wouldn’t have helped him.  Faith comes by hearing, not seeing.  Seeing is not believing.  Faith is being a beggar before God.  It has nothing to offer but empty hands.  Faith can only receive everything as a gift.  When you look at blind Bartimaeus, you should see yourself.

          And when you hear Bartimaeus—when you hear the humble petition he prayed—well, that prayer should also be on your lips every day.  Lord, have mercy.  Kyrie, eleison.  It’s a prayer for those times when words fail—for those times when we just don’t know exactly what to pray, or how to express our petitions.  It’s a simple request for mercy to the God who delights in showing mercy to those who fear Him.

          Now you see why this little prayer pops up so frequently in the church’s liturgy.  We sang it earlier.  We will speak it together after each petition in the prayer of the church.  We will sing it again right before the Lord’s Supper is given and received:  Lamb of God . . . have mercy on us.  You can pray these words in the car while driving, or when you see an accident.  Lord, have mercy.  You can pray it at school, at work, at the grocery store.  I pray it while running and walking in the early morning hours:  On all the saints of our Savior whom You have given me to love and serve, Lord, have mercy.  On my parents and all who contend with the frailties of old age, Lord, have mercy.  Learn this prayer like the Our Father.  Learn it well and use it well, and you will be able to pray it long after you have forgotten every other prayer.

          Don’t expect other people to be impressed or amazed by this simple prayer.  This is the prayer of beggars and lepers.  Did you notice how the crowd tried to shut Bartimaeus up and silence his prayer?  They were annoyed by it.  But Bartimaeus prayed all the more fervently, because faith is stubborn and persistent.  Faith won’t let anything get in the way of prayer to Jesus.  Faith doesn’t care what people think or what they will say.  Faith is not ashamed to pray with such humility.  Faith will not be silenced.  Lord, have mercy.

          If you’re going to pray like Bartimaeus, then you need to put a stake through the heart of your religious pride.  We often think that God is best addressed with fancy words and phrases, or that our prayers will be heard because they are well-crafted, or because they flow from the heart.  But the fact remains that no other prayer in the Bible draws the attention of Jesus like this one.  It goes directly to His ears.  It stops Him dead in His tracks.  It causes Him to do a one-eighty.  At the sound of this prayer (Lord, have mercy), Jesus stopped on a dime and said concerning that blind beggar:  Call him. 

          The crowd that wouldn’t have given Baritmaeus the time of day minutes earlier, now calls out to him:  Cheer up!  Take heart!  He is calling you!  And as the blind man came to Jesus, Jesus asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?”  Can you imagine being on the receiving end of that question from Jesus?  Imagine Jesus asking you:  What do you want me to do for you?  How can I help you?  What would you say?  I hope you’ve already said it and prayed it.  But if not, why not?  The apostle Paul wrote:  Have no anxiety about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.  Let your requests be made known to God.  Pray! 

          Bartimaeus wanted to see; he wanted Jesus to fix his eyes (so that he could fix his eyes on Jesus).  He believed that Jesus had the power to do that for him.  And then Jesus said a curious thing:  Go your way; your faith has saved you. It’s not your faith has made you well, as you heard from the English Standard Version.  It is:  your faith has saved you.  This does not mean that God heals those who have enough faith to be healed—or that if you aren’t healed it’s because you don’t have enough faith.  Faith can’t be quantified.  You either have it or you don’t.  Faith that clings to Jesus is faith that prays to Jesus.

          Sometimes God says “no” to what we ask—not because we don’t have faith, but because He wants to make room in our lives for greater gifts—because He wants something even better for us that we can’t quite see or imagine.  Faith understands this.  Faith keeps on praying.  Faith keeps on trusting that Jesus hears our prayers and will ultimately give us even more than we desire and more than we deserve.

          Like all of Jesus’ miracles, this healing was costly.  It cost Him His life on a cross.  There Jesus won ultimate healing, forgiveness of sins, and eternal salvation for all; and He shares that salvation with out who cry out to Him with a beggar’s faith:  Lord, have mercy. 

          Jesus told Bartimaeus, “Go your way.”  He was free—free to go and see the world—to see all the things he had never seen before.  But what did Bartimaeus do?  He fixed his eyes on Jesus.  With his eyes wide open, he followed Jesus up that winding road to Jerusalem and Calvary’s holy hill.  But we shouldn’t be surprised.  That’s what faith does.  Faith follows Jesus.  Faith isn’t content with answered prayers.  Faith sees Jesus as the one who died and rose again—as the one who ascended in glory to the Father’s right hand.  By faith you know for sure:  You are precious to Jesus.  Your life matters eternally to Jesus.

          Today we’re on the road with Bartimaeus and all those who follow Jesus in faith.  For us that road began with a splash in the waters of Holy Baptism.  On that road our ears have also heard Jesus’ call.  That road leads right here, to the holy supper of our Lord’s body and blood.  We’re on our way with Bartimaeus (and all the other beggars).  He was blind, but now he sees Jesus face to face.  Soon we will be where he has gone.  And our eyes will see our Savior face to face.  And until then, walking by faith, we cannot help but pray:  Lord, have mercy on us.

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