The Strangeness of the Good

Jesu Juva

St. Luke 3:15-22                                                                 

January 9, 2022

The Baptism of Our Lord-C                   

Dear saints of our Savior~

          Well, it’s over.  It was great while it lasted.  Christmas has come and gone.  Twelve days never zipped by so quickly.  It’s impossible not to notice the absence of Christmas.  Dried up, naked Christmas trees have been cast out to the curb like yesterday’s garbage.  And in the church, too.  My goodness, this place never looks so barren and empty and cavernous as it does on this Sunday—after the trees, and the wreaths and the poinsettias and the nativities have all been removed from this sacred space.

          But . . . right over there . . . that little baptismal font is still there.  It never moved—never went away.  It will never be tossed to the curb.  The font abides.  It doesn’t look like much—especially compared to those two big trees that graced this space.  But Christmas would be pretty meaningless without that font.  Christmas without baptism would ring hollow.  Baptism takes Christmas and personalizes it.  The Christmas angel proclaimed good news of great joy for all people.  Baptism takes that good news of great joy and applies it to you (of all people)—to your life, to your death and resurrection.

          Today we hear how the Savior born in Bethlehem began that saving work of His.  And that saving work began with His Baptism.  It’s a strange beginning, to be sure.  If Jesus’ baptism by John doesn’t strike you as a little strange, then you need to pay closer attention.  John’s baptism was a baptism of repentance.  Of what did the sinless Son of God need to repent?  John’s baptism was for the forgiveness of sins.  Of what did the sinless Son of God need to be forgiven?  John was the lesser; Jesus was the greater.  Yet here, in the baptism of our Lord, the greater gets baptized by the lesser.  The sinless One gets treated as a sinner.  The sinless One stands shoulder to shoulder in solidarity with sinners like us.  This is strange.

          Baptism itself was something strange and new on that day when Jesus waded into the Jordan River.  It was new and strange to be baptized—to have water applied to you—for the forgiveness of sins.  In the Old Testament, you sacrificed an animal for forgiveness—the animal’s life in exchange for your life.  The animal’s blood was your forgiveness.  But John preached something radically new and different—not blood, but water.  Not a sacrificial death, but a cleansing bath.  Not something done at the temple, but in the river, in the wilderness.

          But for Jesus Himself to undergo this new baptism was so strange that even John Himself objected to it.  Luke doesn’t record it, but Matthew tells us that John initially refused; because he believed that Jesus should be baptizing him—which makes perfectly good sense.  The greater should baptize the lesser.  The sinless One should baptize the sinner.  But Jesus said it was necessary—necessary that He be baptized to fulfill all righteousness.

          This is the key to understanding John’s baptism and why Jesus had to

undergo it.  It was necessary—necessary that Jesus get wet in a sinner’s baptism—that He be treated like a sinner.  In that water He became one with us.  He declared solidarity with sinners.  He joined us in the filth of our rebellion—took a bath in our filthy, sinful bathwater.  He who knew no sin became sin for us.

          Was this Jesus really the Messiah—the One mightier than John, whose sandals John wasn’t even worthy to untie?  Jesus doesn’t seem to fit with what John had been preaching.  John’s version of Jesus has Him dishing out a fiery baptism, with a winnowing fork in His hands, ready to burn that worthless chaff with unquenchable fire.  But when the Savior waded meekly into the water, well, this was hardly the pitchfork-wielding, hellfire-and-brimstone judge John had been preaching about.  Did John get it wrong?

          No, this is just what one poet has called “the strangeness of the good.”  It is the strangeness of the God who loves us and wants to save us from our sins.  You can’t really understand the baptism of Jesus apart from the cross of Jesus.  Before Jesus could judge the living and the dead, He Himself had to be judged on the cross—like a Lamb led to the slaughter.  Before the faithless chaff could be burned with unquenchable fire, Jesus Himself had to endure the full fury and fire of the Law’s condemnation.

          What we see as two separate events, separated by time and space—His baptism and His cross—they are really two sides of the same coin in God’s strange economy.  Jesus Himself liked to refer to His death as a “baptism” He must undergo.  His saving work begins in the water; it ends—it is finished—on the cross.  His saving work begins with the Spirit descending and the loving voice of the Father from heaven; it ends with the Spirit departing, and the voice of the Father silent.  His work begins where He stands in solidarity with all the sinners—knee-deep in the same bathwater as prostitutes and tax collectors; His saving work ends as He hangs suspended between two evildoers—promising paradise to the one who receives Him in faith.  His saving work begins with water; and ends with water and blood flowing from His side.  At His baptism, the heavens are opened to Him; at His cross, the heavens are opened to sinners—to us.

          This is all so strange.  This is the strangeness of the good—the strangeness of God who has reached out to embrace you as His own dear child in the waters of Holy Baptism.  None of us would have scripted out our salvation in the way that God scripted it.  It’s all so strange, in fact, that you might just be tempted to dismiss it—to disregard it.  You might be tempted to view your own baptism as nothing more than a quaint old rite—a symbolic ritual with no lasting significance—just an occasion for relatives to “ooh” and “ahh” over a cute little baby.  Babies are, indeed, cute.  But baptized babies?  They have received the gift of faith.  They have been born again!  In the baptized, God Himself works forgiveness of sins, rescues from death and the devil, and gives eternal salvation.  Whoever believes and is baptized shall be saved.

          Don’t dis baptism!  By no means!  Baptism is the strange, yet beautiful, way that the story of your salvation is unfolded.  Don’t discount the strangeness of this good and perfect gift for all nations.  Jesus’ baptism foreshadows your own.  Just as the heavens were opened to Jesus, so were they opened to you in your baptism, when you were justified for Jesus’ sake.  The Holy Spirit descended on Jesus in the form of a dove; and that same Spirit descended upon you in your baptism—making your body His temple, marking you as one redeemed by Christ the crucified.  It was at His baptism that Jesus’ Sonship was first revealed—revealed by the voice of the Father no less.  And it is in your baptism that God calls you by name, and declares you to be His beloved son or daughter—and all this for the sake of Jesus, your Savior.

          The Twelve Days of Christmas have come and gone—as they always do.  Barely two weeks ago, we heard the good news of great joy that a Savior has been born—that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.  He still dwells among us.  He still dwells within us.  How do you know?  How can you be sure?  Well, you are baptized.  The strangeness of the good has removed all your bad; and has given you the goodness—the righteousness, innocence, and blessedness—of Jesus, your Savior.

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

 

Middle School Messiah

 

Jesu Juva

St. Luke 2:40-52                                                                 

January 2, 2022

Christmas 2C                                           

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          This is the Second Sunday after Christmas—only the ninth day of the twelve days of Christmas.  But if you blink, you might miss it.  Last weekend we had the baby in the manger.  Today we have the Messiah as a middle-schooler.  And next Sunday, at the age of thirty, Jesus will wade into the water with John to be baptized.  So, let’s just play the hand we’ve been dealt today; and ponder the pre-teen Savior.  After all, today’s account from Luke chapter two is the only account we have that falls between the Savior’s infancy and the beginning of His public ministry.

          The word of the day is “wisdom.”  Solomon famously asked the Lord for wisdom; and this request pleased the Lord.  And Solomon has been widely regarded as the wisest man who ever lived.  That is, up until a twelve-year-old boy from Nazareth wandered into the temple one day.  Normally we associate wisdom with those who are older.  Those young whipper-snappers can be quick with the facts and opinions; but they tend to come up short when it comes to common sense and wisdom.  Wisdom comes with experience, with gray hair, and the school of hard knocks.  The last person you’d expect to be dishing out wisdom is a twelve-year-old.  Yet, that’s what this morning’s holy gospel delivers—the wisdom of the universe—holy wisdom—packaged up in a precocious pre-teen from Nazareth.

          This was no ordinary twelve-year-old traipsing through the temple courts.  This was divine wisdom in human flesh.  The wisdom embodied in this boy created

and sustains the universe.  There was more wisdom in that boy’s pinky finger than in all the teachers of Israel.  And yet, the boy submits to those teachers as a student, answers their questions and respectfully poses a few of His own.  He also submits to His parents, just like any other child.  And yet He is not just any other child; He is God’s Child—the beloved Son come to save the world from sin, death and hell.

          But the amazing thing is that no one really notices.  The boy’s holiness is hidden from view.  He just simply blends in as one of us because He is, literally, one of us—God with us—Immanuel.  He is the Christ in camouflage—Christ incognito.  He was sinless; yet, somehow, indistinguishable from every other twelve-year-old in Jerusalem.  Nobody ever—not even once—stood up, pointed at Jesus, and exclaimed, “Hey, this kid is God!”  Didn’t happen.

          It’s this humble hiddenness—this low profile for the Most High God—that explains the most shocking and scandalous detail of today’s text:  how He got left behind and lost by His parents.  It’s shocking and scandalous . . . until you realize that this happens all the time—to practically every child and every parent.  It’s normal.  And don’t pretend for a minute that it hasn’t happened to you.  Perhaps it was somewhere deep in the bowels of a big box store, or maybe a sunny day at the zoo, or at a crowded playground.  It happens!  You lose your kid!  I won’t mention any names, but I’ve had plenty of twelve-year-old confirmation students abandoned on the street out here after class because mom thought dad was picking up and dad thought mom was picking up.  Now, it’s not for me to judge (I mean, sure, I do make a mental note).  But this is totally normal.

          You and I wouldn’t have done any better than Mary and Joseph.  We, too, would have lost Jesus in the crowd.  And we, too, would have had no idea what Jesus meant when He said, “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”  That’s how it is with the incarnation—God become man.  It just doesn’t fit into our categories, or our ways of thinking, or our religious notions about God.  God is Man and Man is God in Jesus.  God is a twelve-year-old, whose human parents lost track of Him for about three days.

          The one thing you can’t say about Jesus is that He doesn’t know what it’s like to be one of us.  He is “God with us,” and so hiddenly, so humbly, so subversively that we wouldn’t have given Him a second look.  But that, beloved in the Lord, is exactly how God works with us and among us.  Not in the seen, but in the unseen.  Not in the powerful and mighty, but in the lowly and the humble:  A manger, a cross, a child, a teenager, a man.  He is us.  He is you.

          And this same Jesus—this middle-school Messiah—He comes to you today in the same hidden and subversive way.  In the splash of Holy Baptism.  In the words of this sermon and between the covers of your Bible.  In the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood.    Don’t ignore Him!  Don’t despise Him.  Don’t reject Him in these humble means.  For God’s Word tells us that there’s something more here than meets our eyes, our senses, our reason.  This is the power of God to save you.

          The final surprise of today’s text is this:  [Jesus] went down with [Mary and Joseph]. . . to Nazareth and was submissive to them.  Boom!  There it is.  This middle school Messiah went home and was obedient—more than that, was submissive—to mom and dad.  He subordinated Himself to them—the mother and guardian His heavenly Father had given Him.  This means that He was “ordered under” them.  It’s the same word used elsewhere in the Bible for the relationship of wives to husbands, servants to masters, children to parents, and the church to Jesus.  Everybody submits to somebody!

          We live under a holy order in this life—holy because that’s how God has designed for us to live together.  As part of that holy order, we are called to be submissive and subordinate . . . and our sinful nature just can’t stand it.  It’s why toddlers throw temper tantrums.  It’s why students mock their teachers.  It’s why teens talk back to their parents and rebel against the rules.  It’s why workers grumble and gripe about their bosses.  It’s why wives try to dominate their husbands into submission; and why husbands and fathers check out of their marriage and family—refusing their God-given role as head of the household.  And the list goes on.  God gives each of us a role to play, a job to do.  But what we’d really like to do it take this job and shove it—rather than be subordinate or submissive.

          Perhaps this is why the Holy Spirit prompted St. Luke to tell us about that time when the boy Jesus went missing for three days.  This child of Mary who is the Son of God, came to be our righteousness—to fulfill the Law precisely in those areas where we could not and would not.  Though He was owed the obedience of Mary and Joseph as their Lord and Savior, He became obedient to them as their Son.  Though over them, He was ordered under them.  Though Lord of all, He became the servant of all.  Though He was the wisdom of God in human flesh, He sat at the feet of the teachers and learned in ordered obedience.  For us.  For you.  For your salvation.  His obedience is your righteousness before God.  He is the one obedient man; and by His death He atones for the sins of all the disobedient—all the rebellious children of God.

          Do you need forgiveness for your rebellion?  Does your life need to be re-ordered in 2022?  Do you need help to be submissive to your imperfect parents, your insensitive employer, your unsatisfactory spouse?  Jesus can help you with that.  You are definitely in the right place.  The wisdom of His Words is preached and proclaimed here with you in mind.  His body and blood is given here with you in mind.  His wisdom is your wisdom.  His Father’s house is your house.  His death and life are your death and life.  His obedient life is His gift to you; and your obedient life is your gift of thanks to Him—to Jesus, who came as a Child to save you. 

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

Why Did God Give Us Christmas?

Jesu Juva

Acts 6:8-7:2a, 51-60                                                    

 December 26, 2021

St. Stephen, Martyr            

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          The church of Jesus Christ is always counter cultural—but never more so than on December 26^th.  While most Americans are waking up today with a Christmas hangover, knee-deep in wrapping paper, the faithful have gathered to observe a holiday homicide—the martyrdom of man named Stephen.  It’s the second day of Christmas; and yet the Scripture readings have no apparent connection to Christmas.  The pure white paraments of yesterday have given way to crimson-colored fabric—teaming up with the poinsettias to make this Sunday a bloody Sunday.

          But this is all by design.  The Christian Church has observed the Martyrdom of St. Stephen for as long as the church has observed Christmas.  Sometime back in the Fourth Century, December 25^th was officially designated as the day on which the birth of Jesus would be celebrated.  And sometime back in that same century, December 26^th was appointed to remember the church’s first martyr.  By binding these two events together on back-to-back days, it helped prevent Christmas from getting romanticized into a cute story about a cute little baby who was born among the cutest creatures in the barnyard.  These two December days are designed to connect the birth of Jesus with the death of those who follow Him in faith.  In some ways, today teaches more about Christmas than yesterday, or the day before.

          Why did God give us Christmas?  Why did the Son of God become bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh?  It wasn’t to remove all the problems and difficulties from this earthly life.  In fact, St. Stephen went to work for the church precisely because there were problems and difficulties.  The Ascension of Jesus had happened just a short time earlier.  The Holy Spirit had come at Pentecost and over three thousand were converted to the faith.  Everything was new and fresh in the life of the church.  Every day the believers in Jerusalem were gathering to hear the Apostles’ doctrine, to receive the Lord’s Supper, to share with those in need, and to pray the liturgy of the church.  Something new and big and wonderful was underway.

          But even then there were problems—even in the church.  Every day food was distributed to those who were needy in the church.  But complaints arose.  There was griping and grumbling because some didn’t think they were getting their fair share.  So, a special “voters’ meeting” was called to address the problem.  Seven deacons were chosen, including Stephen, whose main task would be to coordinate the daily distribution of food (so that the apostles could focus on Word and Sacrament ministry).  Stephen was not an apostle.  He was not a pastor.  He was full of faith and the Holy Spirit.  Yet, he went to work for the church because there were problems and conflicts in the church.  And Stephen wanted to be a part of the solution!  God didn’t give us Christmas so that His church on earth could be free of troubles.

          Why did God give us Christmas?  As he stood on trial before the Sanhedrin, Stephen confessed that God gave us Christmas to bless us with His real presence—to be Emmanuel, God with Us.  In his testimony Stephen recounted much of Israel’s history—how God’s presence had always been linked to a certain structure—first to the tabernacle in the wilderness, and eventually to the temple in Jerusalem.  In the Old Testament, those were the structures where God dwelled among His people on earth.  But Stephen also made it clear that all that had changed now—that since Christmas—since the Word became flesh and dwelt among us—God’s presence was no longer confined to a place, but to a person:  Jesus the Christ.  Stephen made it clear that “the Most High does not dwell in houses made by human hands” (Acts 7:48).

          It was this point that got Stephen into trouble—his claim that God’s presence was found in Christ, and no longer in the temple.  Jesus, too, had spoken of His own body as a temple that would be destroyed and raised again in three days.  Stephen was confessing that the real temple was now wherever Jesus gives Himself to us—and for us.  Jesus expressed the same thing in today’s Holy Gospel when He mourned over Jerusalem and laid bare the desire of His heart to gather her people together like a brood beneath the wings of a mother hen.  “But you were not willing,” He said.  “See, your house is left to you desolate.”  And, without Christ, the temple-house of the Jews was indeed desolate.

          Why did God give us Christmas?  To bless you with the real presence of Jesus (God in the flesh) wherever His Word is preached and proclaimed, and wherever His sacraments are administered.  This place—this house—doesn’t matter.  What matters is the person of Christ who has promised to serve you here with the treasures of heaven.  We come here to be served by Jesus Christ Himself every Lord’s Day—including when the Lord’s Day happens to fall on the day after Christmas—even as other churches today are scaling back services or cancelling all together—leaving many houses of worship desolate this morning.

          This beautiful truth about the presence of Jesus was rejected by the Sanhedrin.  They resisted the Holy Spirit and sought to kill Stephen for the truth he spoke.  Our own sinful nature also works against this truth about the presence of Jesus in our lives.  Your Old Adam works overtime against the Holy Spirit, seeking to substitute other things in the place of Jesus:  Human relationships, human pleasures, human pride, human wisdom.  The devil can and does use all of these things to get us to grind our teeth and stiffen our necks to the truth of God’s Word and the gift of His real presence here in His church.

          Why did God give us Christmas?  For Stephen, Christmas meant that, at the moment of His death, he was welcomed into the presence of Jesus for all eternity.  The angry lies were told for only a brief time.  The angry accusations were heard

for an even shorter time.  The bruising stones rained down on him for just a few minutes.  But for Stephen, the presence of Jesus was to be enjoyed forever and ever.

          Why did God give you Christmas?  So that you, too, might enjoy the presence of Jesus forever and ever—so that this very day in this very temple Jesus Himself can absolve you of your sin, place His promises in your ears and heart, and feed you with His very body and blood.  That’s what it meant when Jesus breathed His last on the cross, and the curtain in the temple was torn in two from top to bottom.  It meant that the dividing wall of your sin was done away with by the death of Jesus in your place.  Now there is no division between you and Him.  No separation.  No condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

          Why did God give you Christmas?  So that He might open the gates of heaven for you, just as they were opened for Stephen.  God gives you Christmas so that, as your eyes close for the final time, you will see it.  You will see what Stephen saw—the Son of Man in human flesh standing at the right hand of God the Father Almighty.  Even stone-throwing, teeth-gnashing, stiff-necked sinners like us—even we will see what Stephen saw.  Is this not a great and mighty wonder?

          God grant us daily to unstop our ears for this reason.  God grant us to confess our faith for this reason.  God grant us to forgive our enemies for this reason.  God grant us to fall asleep in Jesus with this confidence.  By His manger and by His cross, Jesus Christ has opened heaven for you.

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