Our Savior Evangelical Lutheran Church - Sermons

Thanksgiving: Big and Small

2009-11-27T07:26:00.000-08:00

In Nomine Iesu
Psalm 95:1-7
November 26, 2009
Thanksgiving Day

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

Psalm 95 teaches us that Thanksgiving comes in two sizes: big and small. But unlike the clothes that some of you shoppers will be trying on tomorrow morning, when it comes to thanksgiving, both sizes fit all. It’s not either big thanksgiving or small thanksgiving; it’s both and. For now, just remember, thanksgiving comes in two sizes: big and small.

Psalm 95 begins with big thanksgiving: O come, let us sing to the Lord, let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation. Let us come into His presence with thanksgiving, let us make a joyful noise to Him with songs of praise. With those opening verses the Psalmist encourages us to be big and bold with the thanks we bring. We are to be assertive and exuberant and unafraid in our thanksgiving to God. And the primary expression of big thanksgiving is singing and songs of praise. And even if you can’t sing, you can at least “make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation.”

But have you noticed that people don’t sing as much as they used to? Outside of the singing we do together here in this place, where else do you sing together with others? I think it’s happening less and less. Songs today are all in digital format. Songs today are downloaded. Songs today are listened to privately on headphones. Songs today are watched on Youtube and those links are e-mailed and facebooked and twittered. But if you yourself are opening your mouth to boldly belt out a tune, you stick out and stand out. That kind of big thanksgiving makes people sit up and take notice.

When we Christians unite our voices to sing the praises of our great God, that’s big thanksgiving. That’s why there’s so much singing here for every service. Those who feel guilty have a hard time singing. Those who are ashamed find it hard to carry a tune. Those who are weighted down by fear and anxiety are too timid to sound out their praises to God. But those whose sins are forgiven, they can’t help but sing. Those who’ve been redeemed by Christ the crucified, they can’t keep their mouths shut. Those who have turned over their worry and anxiety to the God who loves them, they’re ready to make music in their hearts. Those who are looking forward to the life of the world to come, they sing with boldness and beauty because they have been led to praise God with BIG thanksgiving.

But we have a reason for the singing we do. And our songs spell out the reason for that singing. We don’t sing to entertain or to be entertained. We don’t make music for music’s sake. Psalm 95 tells us why we sing with big and bold voices: For the Lord is a great God and a great king above all gods. The deep places of the earth are in His hand the strength of the hills is His also. The sea is His for He made it and His hand formed the dry land. Big thanksgiving always declares what God has done. Big thanksgiving is all about Him—that He’s a great God, that everything is in His hands, that He made the sea and the dry land. Big thanksgiving is third-person praise. It’s all about Him and not about me or you.

But we each have an Old Adam who knows the power of song and big thanksgiving. His chief aim is to make the music less about our great God and more about me and you—our feelings, our emotions, our likes, our dislikes, our tastes and preferences. Satan would love to take a congregation full of thankful singers and turn it into a congregation of customers and consumers, all demanding to have their personal tastes catered to. We all have our individual preferences. But it’s the degree of importance we attach to our preferences that can lead down a slippery slope to where worship revolves around me and my fellow customers, instead of around the God who is the Savior of sinners.

Big thanksgiving is bigger than any one of us individuals. And I’m guessing that the biggest thing the Psalmist ever saw was the ocean. The ocean is big and makes you feel small. In fact for most ancient people, the sea was big and scary. Those crashing waves and roaring waters came to symbolize all the things that threaten us—all the things that scare us—all the things that are way beyond our control. Our big thanksgiving might get interrupted today by all the threatening things that loom large over you. I know there’s something that scares you—something that strikes fear and worry in your heart—something that you can’t control or fix.

Psalm 95 remedies our fear with one simple phrase: “The sea is His for He made it.” In other words, the waves that threaten to wash you away, the frightening things, the things that keep you awake at night—know that your great God controls them. If He could make the sea and everything in it—if He could calm the wind and the waves with a word from His mouth, then this day you can shrink your fear and enlarge your thanksgiving to where it’s big and bold and un-afraid.

But remember, thanksgiving comes in two sizes: big and small. And if big thanksgiving is expressed by exuberantly and joyfully singing our heads off, then small thanksgiving must look and sound different. The Psalmist describes small thanksgiving like this: O come, let us worship and bow down, let us kneel before the Lord, our maker. If big thanksgiving involves our voices, small thanksgiving involves our entire body from head to toe. This little verse about worshiping and bowing and kneeling is teaching us about small thanksgiving. Small thanksgiving doesn’t mean unimportant or insignificant Thanksgiving—far from it.

Small thanksgiving happens when we make ourselves small—when we set aside our big egos and our greedy appetites, and seek to serve the needs of others—when we literally do the little things that make all the difference. Let me demonstrate. The Psalm tells us to bow down and to kneel before the Lord. You know what it means to bow down. And you know what it means to kneel. But the word for worship in Psalm 95 makes us even smaller. The Hebrew word for worship literally means to prostrate oneself. To make yourself prostrate means to go down low like this . . . . When I’m lying prostrate I go from about six feet four inches all the way down to about 8 inches. That’s small thanksgiving.

I can tell you that when you get down on your hands and knees—when you make yourself small like that—you get dirty. And getting dirty is the essence of small thanksgiving. Small thanksgiving gets expressed when we aren’t afraid to get our hands dirtied in the nitty-gritty of the vocations God has given us. When you make yourself small to do the hard work that you’d rather not do—when you yourself do the dirty jobs that you’d rather not do—when you bend down to help your neighbor—when you work to forgive the person who has sinned against you—when you sacrifice for your spouse . . . that’s small thanksgiving. It’s small in the sense that no one may even notice—certainly not the way people notice when you sing out loud. But your God notices—sees all that you do in faith and in thanks to Him. And He delights in both your big and your small thanksgiving.

For He is our God, and we are the people of His pasture and the sheep of His hand. He is yours. And you are His. It’s Jesus who makes that possible, of course. He’s the One who purchased and won you, not with gold or silver, but with His holy precious blood and His innocent suffering and death so that you might be His own. And later today, as you do your grazing on turkey and stuffing and potatoes, don’t forget that we are the people of His pasture. The plenty we enjoy is the plenty He supplies. Food and drink, house and home, wife and children—they are all good gifts from our giving God. As the sheep of His hand we know and believe that those hands have nail-scars in them—the deep marks of His deep love for us. Jesus made Himself small on the cross, but He promises to make us big and bold and unafraid in the joy of His resurrection life, which has no end.

Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit; as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen.

The Gospel According to Daniel

2009-11-16T07:02:00.000-08:00

In Nomine Iesu
Daniel 12:1-3
November 15, 2009
Pentecost 24/Proper 28B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

When it comes to the book of Daniel, I have a theory. Like most theories this one needs to be tested. I don’t know if it’s true. Right now it’s just a hunch. My theory is this: When it comes to the book of Daniel, I suspect that most members of this congregation can recall two major events from this major prophet. If I took a poll asking you to tell me about the contents of the book of Daniel, I suspect most of you would tell me about two things. At the top of the list: Daniel in the lions’ den. And a close runner up would be the account of the three men who get thrown into the fiery furnace. A fair share of you could even tell me that those three were named Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego.

We know those stories from Daniel because those are the stories that editors are sure to include in the children’s Bibles. Those are the stories that get rhymed and illustrated in the Arch book series. Those are the stories that will get taught in our very own Sunday school classrooms this Sunday and next. But this morning I want to expand your Daniel horizons. From now on, whenever you pull up the Daniel file, I want to be sure that it also includes the good news that we heard minutes ago in Daniel chapter twelve. For the next few minutes, allow me to acquaint you with the Gospel according to Daniel.

As a whole, the book of Daniel is challenging. Much of Daniel is what’s called “apocalyptic” literature. Like the New Testament book of Revelation, Daniel contains lots of unusual symbolic imagery, dreams and visions, with a heavy emphasis on the events of the End Times. But the three verses at the center of our attention today are clear and comforting, sure and certain. If you’re wondering what the end of the world will be like, Daniel—in these three verses—tells us almost everything we need to know.

“At that time Michael, the great prince who protects your people, will arise.” The Michael here called a “prince” is perhaps better known as Michael the Archangel. The archangels are sort of like the five-star generals of the armies of heaven. Michael the Archangel is perhaps best known for slaying the satanic serpent in Revelation chapter twelve, which is reflected in the artwork on the cover of today’s bulletin. The name Michael means “one who is like God.” And at the end of days, this mighty warrior archangel will be fighting for and protecting the people of God.

This mention of Michael is a wonderful reminder that God is working for you and for the benefit of His church even in ways that are mostly unseen. The Bible tells us, for instance, that angels are here among us this morning, in this place, as we gather around the Lord Jesus and His gifts. The words of the proper preface remind us of the unseen guests who join us for every Divine Service: angels, archangels and all the company of heaven. Martin Luther saw fit to remind us that we should begin and end each day asking God, “Let Your holy angel be with me that the wicked foe have no power over me.”

The angels of God are a daily reality in our lives. But because their presence is largely unseen, we tend to ignore and forget about this gracious dimension of God’s care for us. When tragedy is narrowly averted—when we walk away unscathed from twisted wreckage—when we turn away from shameful sin and vice at the last minute—does it even cross our minds that the holy angels of God may be at work on our behalf? Or are we more likely to conclude that dumb luck and chance simply landed in our favor?

Dumb luck and chance will get you nothing when it comes to the end of the world as we know it. You’ll be glad for the assistance of the angels at that time. Just how bad will it be? Daniel tells us: “There will be a time of distress such as has not been from the beginning of nations until then.” Just think of all the distressing times we read about in the history books: wars, famines, pandemics, natural disasters, revolutions, ethnic cleansing and mass murder. Daniel reminds us, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” In short, as the end approaches, know that things in the world and in the church will get worse, not better. Distress will increase, not decrease. We’re not evolving into a better world, but devolving into days of distress.

And do not be deceived—your government will not be there to rescue you. The false god of government will be rendered impotent as the end draws near. I love my country. I treasure the freedoms we enjoy because of those who pledged their sacred honor and their very lives to battle against tyranny. The United States Constitution is perhaps one of the finest documents ever penned by human authors. But big government is quickly replacing our great God in the hearts of many. Do we fear, love and trust in God above all things? Or is it Washington we look to for deliverance and rescue? Whether it be the economy or the flu pandemic or climate change or healthcare—the prevailing sentiment today seems to be that our government will bless us and keep us safe from all harm and danger.

To that Daniel would say, “Do not be deceived. Don’t bow down to that idol.” Daniel himself had been a citizen of Jerusalem—God’s holy city. But God Himself used the Babylonians to destroy it and burn it. And this is why Daniel found himself in Babylon. God’s people will be delivered, even as earthly kingdoms rise and fall. In fact, Daniel reminds us that it’s not your earthly citizenship that matters. Instead, “Everyone whose name is found written in the book will be delivered.” That’s a reference to the Lamb’s book of life, mentioned many times in the Bible.

There’s a great multitude of people whose names are in that book, who are saved by grace through faith for the sake of Jesus. It’s comforting to me that it’s always referred to as the “book” of life. The names of those who belong to the Lord are written down in a book. I like this metaphor because whenever something is written down and published as a book, there’s an air of finality about it. I routinely write things down on post-its. Post-its are colorful and sticky and I use them to record some fairly important names and numbers. But post-its aren’t perfect. They aren’t made to last forever. I lose them sometimes. I also write down important information in electronic format and store it on my laptop. I’m sure nothing bad will ever happen to the information I’ve got stored on my laptop (knock, knock, knock!).

But books have a little more staying power, don’t they? In God’s book, the names of those who trust in Jesus are written down, recorded, preserved. It shows that God means business when it comes to your salvation. He will never forget the promises He first made to you in your baptism. It doesn’t mean “once saved, always saved,” but it does mean that your salvation has been in the works since before the world began. And when your days in this world are winding down—or when this world itself is flaming out—what comfort and joy it will be to know that your name is inscribed in the Lamb’s book of life.

I told you moments ago that Daniel’s words about the end of time were clear and comforting. How’s this for clarity? “Multitudes who sleep in the dust of the earth will awake: some to everlasting life, others to shame and everlasting contempt.” On the Last Day God is going to raise up you and all the dead. Please note that all will be raised—believers and unbelievers—no exclusions. The believers in Christ will awaken to everlasting life; the unbelievers to shame and everlasting contempt. Or to put it in the language of the New Testament, “Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned.” Some of you have been listening to my sermons for several years. You know that I’m not what you might call a “fire and brimstone” preacher. God hasn’t called me to scare people into heaven. But make no mistake. Those who foolishly reject God’s gracious gift of salvation through faith in Jesus Christ will face an eternity of shame and regret.

But those who are wise will shine, Daniel tells us. In the Bible to be “wise,” doesn’t necessarily mean to be smart or even highly intelligent. Those who are wise are those who hear the Word of God and keep it. Those who are wise are not perfect. They daily sin much and deserve nothing but punishment. Those who are wise believe that Jesus is their Savior—that His blood has cleansed them from all guilt and sin. Those who are wise view Jesus as their substitute—who kept God’s law perfectly on their behalf, and took the punishment they deserve.

Those who are wise will enjoy an eternity in God’s presence. They will shine like the brightness of the heavens. You are wise because you’ve got your eyes fixed on Jesus. And Daniel declares that by your words and by your witness, you can bring others along with you. “Those who lead many to righteousness [will shine] like the stars forever and ever.” You are wise and you enjoy the righteousness of Christ because someone cared enough about you to bring you to church, to teach you about Jesus, to bring you to baptism. Sinners can’t become wise on their own. They must be led. They must be brought. They must be invited, just as you were. Your God loves it when more are taught and more are brought to join in His feast of victory.

Here’s the good news from Daniel this day. God’s angels are watching over you today, and all the more as the Last Day draws near. Your name is written in the Lamb’s book of life. On the Last Day God will raise up you and all the dead, and will give eternal life to you and all believers in Christ. That faith you’ve been given in Christ makes you wise. That wisdom isn’t always apparent today. Today you might feel like you’re in the lions’ den or about to get burned up in a furnace of fire. But that’s not the last word. God gets the last word. And according to Him, for all eternity you will shine like the stars, reflecting the glory of your great God. Here ends the Gospel according to Daniel. Amen.

Pennies for Heaven

2009-11-09T07:51:00.000-08:00

In Nomine Iesu
St. Mark 12:38-44
November 8, 2009
Pentecost 23/Proper 27B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

From a practical standpoint, the widow’s offering did not matter. The two copper coins she tossed into the temple treasury would have amounted to less than a penny. It was an offering so small that it almost wasn’t worth the trouble of counting. The widow’s offering would do nothing to help pay down the temple debt. It would do nothing to impact work on the mission field. It would feed no hungry and clothe no poor. It would do nothing to help meet the temple working plan. It wouldn’t buy music for the choir or help improve the acoustics. To the eyes of the world, that widow’s offering was probably the least significant thing that transpired at the temple that day.

But to the eyes of Jesus—to Him who sees deep into the heart—that poor widow’s penny-sized offering meant more than all the gold in King Herod’s treasury. It is a little-known truth of the Scriptures that God measures the gifts of His people not based upon the amount that is given, but based upon how much remains, after the offering is given. “I tell you the truth,” Jesus said, “this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.” The rich put in big amounts; but even bigger amounts remained in their pockets. The widow put in a microscopic amount; but the amount that remained in her purse was zero. It was a gift that totaled one hundred percent.

Most people—even most believers—would have said that the widow’s offering was foolish and foolhardy. From an investor’s perspective, you’re never supposed to put all of your eggs into one basket. But she put all she had into the offering basket. And what return would she ever get for that investment? She would never see those two copper coins again. What would she live on? How would she eat? I hate to say it, but there must have been some dementia setting in for this dear old widow. How could she do something so impractical, unwise and foolish?

But Jesus saw things differently. Jesus praised her gift. Jesus memorialized her gift. Her gift mattered to the Master. It’s because of Jesus that we’re talking about her offering today, two thousand years after it was given. Open up the pages of the Journal-Sentinel and you will regularly read about the generous gifts of local philanthropists—millionaires who give big bucks to revitalize neighborhoods and build arenas and libraries on university campuses. But the legacies of the Pettits and the Bradleys and the Zilbers and the Cudahays will not last. The brick and mortar that bear those names will disappear. But the sound of that widow’s two copper coins will echo on and on, for the Words of Jesus will never pass away.

But what, exactly, does the widow’s offering mean for us and for the gifts that we bring to this temple? Well, I would like to be able to tell you that since the widow put into the offering all the money she had, that you should put all the money that you have into the offering. She gave one hundred percent; and so should you. Be like the widow! Amen! But that’s not exactly what Jesus is teaching in this passage. And what’s more, my confirmation students doing sermon reports would be quick to remind me, “Pastor, I couldn’t find any gospel in that sermon you preached on Sunday.” And they would be correct on that. So let’s find a different angle.

Perhaps the widow’s offering leads to more questions than answers. Questions like, what percentage of my income should I return to the Lord? Because remember, it’s not the amount of the offering that matters in Jesus’ eyes; it’s the amount that remains. In other words, it’s the percentage that matters. Are we giving to the Lord out of our abundance, or are we giving out of our poverty? Or to rephrase the question, are we giving to the Lord a reasonable amount? A logical, sensible, practical, rational amount that we can spare? Or is what we’re giving unreasonable, illogical, impractical and irrational? Is our giving based on faith in the living Lord Jesus who has destroyed the power of death and the grave for us? Or is our giving based on the church budget, or worse, based upon the need to give something because that’s what’s expected? Do we give to “keep up appearances” or “for show?” Do we announce it with trumpets, or are we so discreet that our right hand doesn’t know what our left hand is doing? All of these are questions—questions that flow from the widow’s offering.

But there’s also a warning that flows from today’s text. “Watch out,” Jesus said. “Watch out for the teachers of the law.” The teachers of the law are the polar opposite of the widow who quietly gave one hundred percent. The trouble with the teachers of the law was that they did everything “for show.” Their prayers, their preaching, their piety—it was all done for popular consumption. It was all done so that other people would see it, and praise them and pay them and honor them and reward them. Watch out for them, Jesus says.

Watch out that, as you live out your faith in Jesus Christ in works of love and mercy, that you aren’t doing those things “for a show,” for other people to see and admire. The trouble is that we’re all teachers of the law in that respect. We each have an Old Adam who is a first-rate exhibitionist—saying good words and doing good deeds and giving good offerings, but only doing it for the love of the limelight—full of fake and phony humility.

The poor widow in today’s text teaches us to test our motives. She went to the temple and gave everything she had. She would get no receipt for her gift. She would get no tax deduction the following April. Nobody would praise her. Nobody would applaud her. Nobody in the world would see or recognize the incredible sacrifice she was making that day. Nobody, that is . . . except Jesus. For Jesus notices what we do not notice. Jesus always recognizes faith in action. What you and I might call irrational, illogical and unreasonable behavior—Jesus calls faithfulness.

When you stop and think about it, it really shouldn’t surprise us that the widow’s offering caught the eye of Jesus. The widow gave everything—all she had. It was an act of total devotion, motivated only for reasons of love. Do you see where this is heading? Do you see where this poor widow is pointing us? With her pennies for heaven she preaches a sermon more powerful than any preacher or teacher of the law ever could. For she is pointing us to Jesus—to the offering He Himself would give on Calvary’s cross. In the end it was Jesus who was punished most severely, for despite all the positive associations that we have for the cross, the cross was nothing but a Roman tool of torture and execution. There Jesus gave Himself for you, for your sins, in an act of total devotion, motivated only for reasons of love. Like the poor widow, Jesus gave one hundred percent. He held nothing back, but gave Himself up for your salvation.

No one can hear of what happened to the sinless Son of God on that dark Friday and not conclude that the love Jesus displayed that day was irrational, illogical and unreasonable. Nothing could justify the spillage of that innocent man’s blood. Unless of course you see that blood as an offering—an offering to God made on your behalf—for your forgiveness. In that offering is your redemption, paid out not with gold or silver or even copper coins, but with every drop of His holy, precious blood—every drop shed for you. Jesus poured into His passion ALL He owned, ALL He had to live on, ALL that He might make you rich.

Do you believe that? Do you believe that you are rich through faith in Jesus? I’m here to tell you, you are. Your every debt has been paid by Jesus. You have a pension plan to which you didn’t contribute, which will pay you eternal dividends. You are at least as rich as the poor widow whose offering was noticed by Jesus as the greatest gift given that day. If you do believe that, then watch out. That kind of faith has been known to cause irrational, illogical, unreasonable expressions of love and mercy and generosity. And each of those expressions is an offering—an offering done not for show, but out of love for Jesus who by His poverty makes us rich. Amen.

I Believe; Help My Unbelief

2009-09-15T08:20:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu
St. Mark 9:14-29
September 13, 2009
Pentecost 15

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus,

The man’s prayer was short and sweet. When your child is rolling around on the ground, convulsing uncontrollably, foaming at the mouth, under the control of a dark and demonic predator—you don’t mince words. You don’t craft your words for theological correctness and poetic piety. You simply lay it on the line: “I believe; help my unbelief.”

But what exactly do those words mean? Lots of people have taken that prayer and proceeded to run with it in a wrong direction. “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” It’s really not the prayer of the liberal skeptic or the “almost atheist” who wants to believe in Jesus but whose intellect won’t accept all of the supernatural, miraculous things that Jesus did—like rise from the dead. It is not the prayer of those who want Jesus on their own terms—terms dictated by their reason and intellect. That’s not what this prayer is about.

Nor is this a prayer that Jesus would bolster the man’s faith so that his faith would be “strong enough” for Jesus to help his son. We hear that kind of thing all the time: If your faith is strong enough, if you banish all doubt, if you pray hard enough and often enough, then you can expect a miracle. But that’s nothing more than works-righteousness wrapped up in phony religious jargon. You supply the faith in sufficient quantity and then God rewards your faith with a miracle. Watch out! That idea has a certain appeal to it, especially for people who feel desperate and helpless.

No, this prayer is just the opposite of works righteousness. This prayer is a confession—an admission that faith is lacking. “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” This desperate man was confessing his weakness, his frailty, his helplessness. He was asking that his tormented son would be healed anyway, despite his own weak and wobbly faith. He was asking for a healing grounded not on merit, but for a healing grounded on grace and compassion. And Jesus proceeds to show that the man’s weak faith was no obstacle for Him.

Ultimately, the question posed by this episode is simply this: Can Jesus help us or not? That question hangs in the air throughout the story. Jesus was just coming down from the mountain top where His transfiguration had been witnessed by Peter, James and John. When Jesus arrives the situation seems to border on chaos. A large crowd had gathered, including the teachers of the Law. There was the man and his son. And then there were the other nine disciples who had apparently been unsuccessful in their attempts at exorcism. For the desperate, fearful father, it must have seemed like another set back, another disappointment. It must have led him to wonder, can Jesus help us or not?

The boy’s condition and symptoms sound suspiciously like epilepsy. But there was more than epilepsy going on here. There was an evil spirit, a messenger of Satan, sent to torment a little boy. It is sad but true that Satan has designs on people of all ages, children included. He is, in every sense, a shameless predator who delights in victimizing children. And in this case, as the father reported to Jesus, the predator “often” threw the boy into fire or water to try to kill him. And by all appearances that evil predator was the one who was in control. The father must have wondered, especially after the disciples struck out, can Jesus help us or not?

All this talk about seizures and shrieking spirits of Satan might seem far removed from your situation today, but it’s not. For at the heart of today’s Gospel reading is a desperate and helpless man who needs to know, can Jesus help me or not? And I suspect that that question is never far from the lips of any one of us. We may not know much about demon possession, but we certainly do know what it is to be helpless. Sometimes the situation is not of our own doing. And other times the situation has our fingerprints all over it, along with the devil’s finger prints, only it’s hard to tell whose prints are whose. But how it happened and why it happened and who’s to blame are questions that fade away compared to the question of this day: Can Jesus help me or not?

When you’re standing in the emergency room . . . When your marriage appears to be disintegrating . . .When the job and the paycheck and the benefits are suddenly gone . . . when a trusted friend becomes your enemy . . . When there’s an addiction that controls you . . . When your child is sick and no one has the cure . . . Do you believe that Jesus can help you or not?

For the father in today’s text, whose beloved son was reduced to thrashing on the ground and foaming at the mouth, the answer was, “I do believe; help my unbelief.” He didn’t try to hide his weakness; he confessed it. He wasn’t concerned about keeping up appearances. He wasn’t afraid to be real. And Jesus is inviting you to do the same with your weakness—with your need—to place it into Jesus’ hands—because Jesus can help you!

He’s there for the helpless. He’s there for the weak. He’s there for the desperate, the scared, and the demonized. Jesus is there for sinners like us, living in a fallen world. He has come to help you. It doesn’t matter whether you’re just an innocent victim, or whether you’ve made your bed of shame and now you have to lay in it. Jesus makes it clear today that all things are possible for Him. His whole ministry revolves around helping the helpless. The father initially asked Jesus to help his son “if” He was able. To which Jesus responded, “If!?” When it comes to the Savior’s help there are no ifs, ands or buts. His compassionate help extends to all who call on Him.

How can I be so sure? How can you be confident in believing that Jesus will help you? Beloved in the Lord, the Savior has a holy history of helping. He has a track record of deliverance—a record written in blood. His crucifixion and resurrection—His dying and rising—are the unwavering testimony that with God all things are possible—that He is always ready, willing and able to help those who wait for Him. Would He undergo suffering and death for your sake, only to abandon you when you are most helpless? He is an ever-present help in time of trouble!

But know this: The Savior’s help may not be exactly what you were hoping for. It may not come according to your timetable. It may not materialize according to your exact design and plan. And if you find that discouraging or troubling, then pray. Pray. Lay it on the line and say, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” The Lord will answer.

Amazingly, some people choose to reject the Savior’s help. Some are too proud to ask for it. Some will not admit their weakness. Keeping up appearances is more important for some. Some prefer to take matters into their own hands. But wouldn’t it be infinitely better to place your troubles into the nail-scarred hands of Jesus?

Those nail-scarred hands mean this: They mean that your sins, no matter what they are, cannot separate you from God. Jesus Christ has done away with them, as surely as He became a crucified corpse, and rose again on the third day. That means that your weakness, your troubles, your sorrows, your demons—they have but a short season to live. They do not reign. The Lord Jesus reigns! And best of all, the Lord who reigns is your Lord. He is for you and not against you. He is working all things for your good. He can—He will—help you. And you, for your part, can believe it. Amen.

Be Opened!

2009-09-15T08:13:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu
St. Mark 7:31-37
September 6, 2009
Pentecost 14

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

I have to tell you up front that the healing of the deaf and mute man in today’s Holy Gospel is, for me, one of the most meaningful and moving moments in our Lord’s entire ministry. It’s probably because there’s not a day that goes by when I don’t interact with someone whose hearing or speaking is impaired. In some instances the ears can hear and the lips can speak, but it’s the brain that impairs and impedes the communication process. The dyslexic, the autistic, the deaf, folks with Alzheimer’s, stroke victims—all find themselves struggling with incoming or outgoing language. And because of that struggle with language these people, as a general rule, tend to be somewhat isolated—somewhat removed and remote from the people around them. That’s just how it is when you have trouble hearing and speaking. But with today’s gospel reading ringing in my ears, I envision Jesus bringing healing and blessed clarity to each one of these dear souls.

But to the average listener what probably jumps out about this healing is the method by which the man was healed. We’ll get to that in a moment. But first of all, don’t overlook how it came to pass that this deaf and mute man came to be in the presence of Jesus. Notice what got the ball rolling. Some of the man’s friends believed enough about Jesus to bring their suffering friend to the Savior. These days we call that “evangelism” (bringing people to Jesus), and we tend to assign that kind of work to committees and boards and task forces. We talk a lot about evangelism, and how we should be doing more of it. But what it boils down to in the end is bringing the people you know (here) to Jesus so that He might bless them. It’s really that simple.

And then notice how Jesus took the man aside, away from the crowd. Jesus doesn’t want to make a big production for the six o’clock news and the tabloids. Jesus’ method is entirely different from the so-called faith healers of today. Jesus never sought celebrity. And He doesn’t use the misfortune of others to draw attention to Himself. Jesus was completely there for that man at that moment. He had the Savior’s undivided attention. When you’re deaf and mute you can never be quite sure what’s going on around you. But that man at that moment knew that he mattered—knew that he was loved—by Jesus.

And what do you think of the Savior’s medical methodology? Jesus put His fingers into the man’s ears. Then he spits on his fingers and touches the man’s tongue. How would you like it if your physician did that to you? (There’s a medical malpractice lawsuit just waiting to happen.) Spit that belongs to somebody else is generally regarded these days as gross—a bio-hazard. I know it always makes me feel kind of bad when I go to get my teeth cleaned by the first-rate dental hygienists at Dr. Dowsett’s office and the hygienist walks into the room dressed in enough protective gear to be working at a toxic waste dump (gloves, shield, mask, apron, etc.). I try not to take it personally. It’s not just me, right? It’s all done for the sake of spit!

But for just a moment let’s put aside all our presuppositions about saliva and look at what’s going on here. Jesus is using a kind of sign language. He was communicating a message that couldn’t be missed, even by this deaf and mute man—who missed so many important messages. As Jesus touched him—touched his ears and his tongue—and then as Jesus looked up to heaven, Jesus was saying to this poor man, “I know. I know. I understand your problem, brother. You’ve got ears that don’t hear and a tongue that doesn’t work and I’m going to do something about it. I’m lifting up my eyes to heaven ‘from whence cometh our help.’ That’s my Father’s home. But I’ve left that place to come here and to be with you and with all those who lives have been disordered and destroyed in this sin-filled, God-forsaking world.”

Perhaps it was the thought of this sin-filled, God-forsaking world that caused Jesus to sigh. The NIV says that he “sighed deeply,” but an alternate translation would be that Jesus “groaned.” Why would Jesus groan as He gave back to this man the ability to hear and speak perfectly? St. Mark doesn’t tell us why Jesus groaned. Perhaps it was because human sinfulness has no more effective means of expression than human ears and human tongues—our ears and our tongues. Ears that hear are a great gift from God. But what do we do? We who can hear close our ears to God’s Word and God’s will for our lives. His commandments routinely fall on our deaf ears. On the flip side, our ears work exceptionally well—our hearing is never so acute—as when we tune into gossip and slander and the voice of temptation. We use our ears to hear what we want to hear, while tuning out the needs of those closest to us, those whom God has given us to love.

And then there are tongues. Tongues that speak and sing and pray are a great gift from God. But we who can speak—we are experts at closing our mouths when it comes to prayer, praise, and thanksgiving. We by nature prefer to use our tongues for careless words of complaining, for harsh words of anger, for cutting words of gossip, inflicting more pain than any weapon ever could. Human tongues have the hardest time defending our neighbor, speaking well of him, and explaining his actions in the kindest way. And so I ask, with all the misuse and abuse carried out by our tongues and by our ears, is it any wonder that Jesus groaned?

But then comes the best part, when Jesus speaks His Word: “Ephphatha,” He says in Aramaic, “Be opened!” Did the deaf man hear this word? Were these the first sound waves to make their way into his newly opened ears? Or did he read the Savior’s lips and “see” the word as it was spoken? We don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. What matters is that the Word of Jesus gets results. The Word of Jesus get results in human ears and human hearts—even in ears that don’t hear and even in hearts that are hard and crusted over with sin. That word, “ephphatha,” and its results, show that Jesus can open whatever is closed, free whatever is bound, resurrect what is lifeless, dead and hopeless.

The people in that place were amazed beyond all measure, declaring of Jesus, “He has done all things well.” But the English word “well” doesn’t go far enough. This is the same word spoken by the creator God back in Genesis chapter one as He surveyed all that He had created, and called it “very good.” It was wonderfully beautiful, only to be decimated by sin and its wages. But in Jesus Christ God has come in human flesh to make all things new—to make deaf ears hear and cause mute tongues to sing and shout for joy. Jesus has indeed done all things exceptionally well—beautifully, wonderfully and perfectly.

“Ephphatha. Be opened,” said the Savior. With that word Jesus said a mouthful. For Jesus came to do more than open the ears of one afflicted man. Jesus came to open the kingdom of heaven—and to do it for all believers—for sinners who could never make their way to heaven on their own. His Word alone would not be enough to open heaven for you. It would require His very life. The Savior who groaned as He healed one afflicted man, would groan again on a dark Friday afternoon, as He bore the curse of our sinful ears and sinful tongues. Nails and thorns and whips would apply the punishment to which He surrendered as your substitute. On that day He would be covered not only with blood, but with spit—the spit of those who accused Him and mocked Him. But from the cross of Christ on that dark day, one word still rings out: “Ephphatha, be opened.” The blood of Jesus still cries out on your behalf, “Let heaven be opened for every soul redeemed by Christ the crucified.” There at the cross God was reconciling the world to Himself in Christ, not counting your sins against you.

Today Jesus is dealing with you just as He did the deaf and mute man. Here in the Divine Service Jesus takes you aside, leaving the craziness of the world behind. The forgiveness and faith He gives isn’t addressed “to whom it may concern,” but to you personally: “This is my body, given into death for you. This is my blood shed for you.” In the Baptism of Caroline Marcelle just minutes ago we witnessed another of our Lord’s grand openings. In that gentle splash of water, Caroline’s ears were opened to hear of the Savior’ love, her tongue was loosened to sing His praises, her sins were washed away, her little body became a dwelling place of the Holy Spirit, and the gates of heaven were thrown wide open for this dear child of God, redeemed by Christ the crucified.

We haven’t heard the last of this word, “ephphatha.” It echoes on until that glorious day when Christ shall call you from your grave. “Ephphatha,” He shall say again. “Be opened.” And then, miracle of miracles, you and I will be gathered around the throne of God in robes washed white in the blood of the Lamb. And wonder of wonders, we poor sinners will hear Jesus say, “Through the merits of my blood-bought redemption all these precious souls—THEY have done all things well.” And then all of us, from the greatest to the least—those once called dyslexic, and autistic, and deaf and mute—all of them with all of us will join in singing the everlasting song, “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain. For He has indeed done all things well.” Amen.

When I am Weak

2009-07-06T07:39:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu
2 Cor. 12:7-10
July 5, 2009
Pentecost 5

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

When we moved to Whitefish Bay, I was glad to see that there were no rose bushes in our new yard. You see, before we lived here, we lived in a home that had six rose bushes in the front yard. Rose bushes are not my favorite shrub. Roses are pretty flowers, to be sure. But rose bushes require too much attention. They need to be watered and fertilized. They need to be pruned every so often. They need to be covered and protected during harsh winter weather. What’s more, rose bushes are susceptible to hungry bugs and all kinds of fungus and disease. The roses themselves don’t last long. And then there’s my least favorite feature of the rose bush—the thorns—thorns perfectly designed to burrow into human hands.

Nobody likes thorns. Their prick is painful. They have a way of reaching out and impaling us when we least expect it. Even the most cautious, careful and steady-handed gardener cannot avoid the pain inflicted by thorns.

That pain is so common, in fact, that St. Paul used the thorn as a metaphor in today’s reading from 2 Corinthians. “There was given me a thorn in my flesh,” he writes. And the Greek word Paul chose for “thorn” can also be translated as “sharpened stake” or “spike.” From this we can gather that Paul wasn’t merely describing a slight prick or scratch, but rather a deep and painful puncture.

What was Paul’s thorn? What caused him such pain? Epileptic seizures, poor vision, malaria, stuttering, migraines, a disorder of the nervous system—these are just a sampling of the guesses that Bible scholars have made over the years as to exactly what this malady was—this malady Paul describes as his thorn. But these are really nothing more than educated guesses. One pastor I read last week suggested that Paul’s thorn wasn’t a physical affliction at all, but a person, an antagonist—literally a messenger of Satan who tormented him by working twenty-four-seven to undermine his teaching. But whatever it was (the Holy Spirit has left it intentionally ambiguous), Paul’s thorn was painful. It impeded the important work Paul had been given to do—or so it seemed.

So debilitating was this thorn in Paul’s flesh that on three separate occasions he pleaded with the Lord to take it away. Three times Paul the Apostle—the one who was called by the glorified Christ on the road to Damascus—three times he got down on his knees and prayed for relief. And on three separate occasions the Lord did not do as Paul requested. The Lord did not remove Paul’s thorn. Instead, the Lord gave Paul the strength to bear it—the strength to carry on despite the thorn in his flesh.

But the Lord did not leave Paul empty-handed in his suffering. He didn’t tell Paul to toughen up or just “rub some dirt on it.” He gave him a wonderful promise—a promise from which Christians have drawn strength and comfort for two thousand years: Jesus said, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” The grace of Jesus Christ is sufficient. The grace of God that flows from the cross of Christ into your life is sufficient. It is enough. Nothing more is needed. The power of Jesus is perfected when you are at your weakest. “When I am weak,” Paul writes, “then I am strong.”

What about you? Do you believe that? Do you believe that the grace of Jesus Christ is sufficient—or is there something more that’s needed? When Paul heard those words from Jesus, all he had to do was reflect on the events of his own life to see that what Jesus said was true—to see that when he was at his weakest, Jesus was at His strongest. Paul had been beaten, flogged, stoned, shipwrecked, hungry, thirsty, naked, imprisoned and exhausted. But through it all, the grace and forgiveness of Jesus Christ had sustained him—compelled him—to keep on going.

What about you? What about your life? What’s the thorn in your flesh? What is it that causes you such pain that it threatens to prevent you from carrying out your callings in this life? If God gave you the “magic wand of thorn removal,” what malady would you wish away? As I look around this morning, there’s no shortage of thorns that need removal: cancer, autism, mental illness, addictions—things that seem to suck all the joy out of life—burdens in which there appears to be no silver lining, nothing positive—obstacles that seem to hinder even your faith in Jesus at times. Can’t the Lord Jesus see how much better things would be if those thorns were taken away and removed?

Part of the problem is our aversion to weakness. We don’t want to be weak. We don’t want to appear weak. If we’re weak that shows that we’re needy and dependent. Instead, we like power and success and independence. We want to be healthy and strong. To accomplish this we eat right. We exercise. We take vitamins. I myself get up very early most mornings to exercise and lift weights in an attempt to increase my strength. And what do I have to show for it? Nothing but the physique of a robust pencil! (And that’s being generous.)

There’s nothing wrong with exercising for strength, but know this: Our God does His best work in human weakness—when you’re flat on your back with no choice but to “be still and know that He is God.” “My power is made perfect in weakness,” He says. The power of Jesus is made perfect in cancer, in autism, in mental illness, in addictions, in all the thorny maladies that cause you pain—Jesus says, “There am I. There is my power. There am I teaching you to live and be completely reliant upon my all-sufficient grace.” “His grace has brought you safe thus far, His grace will lead you home.”

Jesus isn’t just lecturing us when He speaks of power made perfect in weakness. Jesus is pointing us to His cross. For in the crucifixion of Jesus, God’s power was perfected. Jesus’ death was God’s most powerful act—by which He forgives your sins and swallows up your death. St. Paul could write metaphorically about the “thorn” in his flesh. But for Jesus, thorns were no metaphor. The thorns and the sharpened spikes in His flesh were the very real payment for your very real sins.

“My power is made perfect in weakness,” says Jesus. That power is perfected in you here in this place, in the Divine Service. As you confess your sins and receive absolution, as you hear the promises of Jesus and eat and drink His body and blood, the hidden power of Jesus is given to you. Here you learn about His grace, and how all-sufficient it really is. You’d never know it just by looking (we’ve got no fireworks to announce it), but the power of God is at work here, buried under weakness. It is the power of Jesus’ death and resurrection to save you.

The good news for us this morning is, you don’t have to be strong. Let me say it again: You don’t have to be strong—because Jesus is strong. He’s your Savior. His grace is sufficient for you. His power is made perfect in your weakness. In Christ, even our weaknesses can be cause for joy as they teach us to depend more and more—not upon our own strength—but upon the amazing grace of Jesus. So that together with Paul we too can say with thankful hearts, “When I am weak, then I am strong.” Amen.

Friends of Jesus

2009-05-19T07:36:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu
St. John 15:9-17
May 17, 2009
Easter 6B

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

You’ve got a friend . . . in Jesus. Jesus says so. Jesus decrees it. You and He . . . are friends. “I no longer call you servants,” He says. “Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.” It certainly sounds nice, and it is nice to be a friend of Jesus. But what does it mean?

Friend, after all, is one of those words that can have a very broad or a very narrow meaning. There are friends in whom we can confide, and with whom we can share our most honest feelings—friends who are there through thick and thin. But we also have social friends—people who attend the same social functions as we do, who work in the same office, who sit in the same classroom, who have children the same age as our own. We know these people. We like these people. We say “hi” to them at the grocery story, but we don’t do a significant amount of emotional sharing with them. But we call them our friends. And then there are Facebook friends—people we’re connected to through social networking websites, but people we rarely if ever see or interact with on a personal level. And yet all of these people fall within the broad category of friends.

But to be a friend of Jesus means so much more than anything I’ve just described. So let me tell you what it means that Jesus calls you His friend. Back in ancient times, when kings and queens ruled the world, the person who was closest to the king, his personal confidant and advisor, was called the friend of the king. Friends of the king were something like the cabinet secretaries of today who work with the president to develop and implement policy. If you were a friend of the king you didn’t toil away in some windowless cubicle in a government office building. No, the friends of the king always worked with the king. They were involved in discussions and decisions. They had a say in what was decided. They knew their master’s business. What’s more, they were authorized to speak for the king, and to act on his behalf. Friends of the king didn’t only work with the king, but they also shared in his rule.

When Jesus calls you His friend, therefore, what He means is that you are His advisor. You are His personal confidant. You are His cabinet secretary. The servants of the king only do what they’re told. They have no say regarding policy and decision-making. But you are not a servant. Jesus calls you His friend. You, of course, receive everything from Him. He is the vine; you are but the branches. It’s not that you chose Him, but that He chose you—chose you to be His friend and to bear fruit that will last. He honors you. He values your opinions. He wants to hear what you have to say.

This, then, leads us to the first responsibility for those who are called friends of Jesus—the responsibility of prayer. If you are His advisor—if you are His confidant—if you are His cabinet secretary—then He surely desires to hear from you. Did you catch that point concerning prayer from Jesus? He says, “I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit—fruit that will last. Then,” He says, “the Father will give you whatever you ask in my name.” Your asking, therefore, your prayers, are a part of your work in the Jesus administration. As a friend of Jesus, you’ve got access to the Father. And because Jesus backs you and stands with you and confides in you, God the Father listens—listens to you—takes your prayers into account.

So why are you so quiet? Why are you so reluctant and shy to speak up in prayer? You’ve got a seat at the table with the King. You are a friend of Jesus. Your words and recommendations matter to Him. But most of us aren’t so good about exercising the privilege of prayer. Perhaps some of us think it’s pointless—that God has already decided everything—that the future has been set in cement and my prayers won’t make a bit of difference. But that’s not what the Bible tells us. We are not living in a closed universe in which the blueprint for your life has been unalterably fixed. Don’t believe that for a minute! While it’s true that God Himself does not and will not change His gracious purpose to save you through His Son, yet the Bible frequently speaks of God changing His mind on other matters. Abraham prayed to God for Sodom and Gomorrah. Moses prayed to God that He would reverse course and not destroy His people. And God listened and responded.

As a friend of Jesus, you stand shoulder to shoulder with Abraham and Moses. Your prayers matter as much as theirs. The outcome of world events—and the outcome of personal events that matter most to you—these outcomes will be different based upon your prayers according to God’s Word, in the name of Jesus. Oh, things may not turn out exactly as you might hope. But that doesn’t change the fact that when you pray as a friend of Jesus, you may be doing far more to shape the course of the human race than anything that may transpire at the United Nations or the Nation’s Capitol or the other capitols of the world. Friends of Jesus pray—with boldness and confidence.

As a friend of Jesus, you are authorized to speak and act on His behalf. You are His representative to the world. And your marching orders are simple: “Love one another as I have loved you.” Friends of Jesus carry out their work both as they pray, and as they love one another. Love is the second responsibility for the friends of Jesus.

When Jesus says, “Love one another,” He isn’t saying that we always have to like one another, or that we should always feel affectionate toward everyone around us. You can’t legislate feelings and emotions. Jesus isn’t telling us to feel warm and fuzzy toward others. He tells us to love them. This love means being patient and kind. It means that we refrain from being boastful, arrogant and rude toward others. It means that we don’t rejoice in what is wrong with each other, but that we rejoice over what is right and true. This love bears all things, trusts all things, hopes all things. This love sacrifices and suffers all things for the sake of others. It keeps no record of wrongs.

No friend of Jesus can say, “I don’t have this love to give.” You have it. You may or may not use it, but it’s there. It’s there because Jesus puts it there. Nor can you say, “I don’t feel like it.” This love overrules your feelings. Love one another. Husbands, love your wives as Christ loved the church and gave Himself up for her. Parents, love your children. Children, love your parents. Friends of Jesus—chosen, baptized, believing—love one another.

This is how the world knows that you are a friend of Jesus. This love is what caused the world to sit up and take notice of those first Christians back in the First Century. It wasn’t their impressive buildings; they didn’t have any. It wasn’t their body of doctrine; that hadn’t been completely developed yet. It wasn’t their fancy worship; the pagan temples were far more impressive. What caused the world to sit up and take notice was love—the love that the first Christians had for each other in spite of all their differences—in spite of how they suffered. “See how they love one another,” they said. The world had never seen anything like it before.

Jesus has chosen you to be His friend. Why? For reasons of joy. “I have told you this,” He says, “so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.” There is joy in being called friends of Jesus. The joy of being chosen and loved. We didn’t choose Jesus; He chose us. And all the praying and all the loving we do along the way simply flow from His decision to die for our sins and bear them all away.

“Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down His life for His friends.” Jesus’ life laid down for you. That’s the joy of being Jesus’ friend—that’s why you can be His friend, that’s why you have access to the Father, that’s why your prayers are heard, that’s why you will live and reign forever with Jesus. “Love one another,” He says, “as I have loved you.” Don’t miss that last part: “as I have loved you.” Jesus’ love comes first. He first goes all the way to the cross and the tomb. He first dies for our sin and forgives us. It’s only when we are loved by God in Jesus that we can love. And then the love is not our own. It doesn’t come from within us, but from Jesus. And this love lasts forever.

You are chosen. You are loved in Jesus. Jesus calls you His friend. Living each day as a friend of Jesus, you are free to love as you have been loved, free to pray for the whole people of God in Christ Jesus and for all people according to their needs. It’s all part of the privilege of being a friend of Jesus. Amen.

"Bog Da"

2009-05-07T09:45:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu
Gen. 22/St. John 19
April 10, 2009
Good Friday

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

Many of you, I know, have personalized license plates on your vehicle. Growing up in Kansas, my parents always called personalized license plates, “vanity” plates—which has sort of a judgmental, almost sinful, ring to it. Needless to say, my family’s vehicles didn’t have vanity plates. We were far too humble for that sort of ostentatious display. In fact, I was forbidden to socialize with those who had vanity tags. (I’m being a little facetious . . .)

But as you drive around town, you do see some interesting personalized license plates. Some are fairly easy to figure out. Others appear to be just a random collection of letters and numbers, the meaning of which can only be known by the drivers. That was the case with friends of ours in Whitefish Bay on whose license plates are inscribed the words: “Bog Da.” “Bog Da” is one of those personalized plates, the meaning of which can be known only by the driver.

That is, unless you happen to be from Croatia in Eastern Europe. That’s the place from which these friends of ours with the strange license plates emigrated many years ago. Back in the old country, everyone knew what “Bog Da” meant. It’s apparently a well known saying. It means “The Lord will provide.” In English it’s too cumbersome to squeeze onto a license plate, but in Croatian it fits very nicely: “Bog Da: The Lord will provide.” For our friends it was simply a good reminder—a statement of faith—in both good times and bad—in all of life’s busyness and errand-running: “The Lord will provide.”

Those words are actually ancient words—words that go all the way back to Genesis chapter 22. There God approached a faithful old man named Abraham. Abraham was at the top of his game. After decades of waiting, God had given to Abraham and his wife, Sarah, a precious child—a son named Isaac. All of God’s promises to Abraham hinged on Isaac—that his descendants would comprise a great nation and settle in a land of promise, and that through Abraham all people on earth would be blessed. The birth of Isaac to his geriatric parents was the great confirmation that God always keeps His promises—no matter how outlandish they may be.

It must have been a terrible shock then, for Abraham to hear God make this dreadful demand: “Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love, and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains I will tell you about” (Gen. 22:2). Nothing could have prepared Abraham to hear those words. Every step of that journey must have been agonizing for Abraham. On the third day, when Mount Moriah came into view, Abraham’s anguish must have been unbearable. As he and Isaac walked along, the boy carried the wood for the burnt offering, while Abraham carried the fire and the knife. From Isaac’s perspective there was only one thing missing. Abraham’s heart must have shattered when Isaac asked him, “Father, the fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?” And Abraham, the man of faith, replied: “The Lord will provide the lamb for the offering.”

At what must have been the darkest moment of his life, Abraham could still say with faith and conviction, “The Lord will provide.” Abraham said it. Abraham believed it. Abraham was right. God Himself provided the Lamb for sacrifice. On this day, Good Friday, we understand this statement in all of its fullness and grandeur. “The Lord will provide.” For some two thousand years later, near the very spot where Abraham had come within seconds of sacrificing his own son, God Himself offered up His one and only Son for sacrifice on the cross. So that there could be no doubt, God had sent John the Baptist to point his boney finger at Jesus and make a positive ID: “Behold, the Lamb of God. Behold the Lamb that God Himself has provided—the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world.”

Today we follow the finger and voice of John and we behold—we look upon the Lamb God provided. We look to the Lamb because He hangs on the cross in our place. He gets what we deserve. The curse of our sin and death is laid upon Him. The Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.

The Lord has provided this Lamb, Jesus Christ. By His wounds, Isaiah says, we are healed. So contemplate those wounds of the Lamb with me for just a moment. Consider first the wounds of His sacred head, punctured by the crown of thorns He wears. In the wounds of His head is healing for our sins of thinking—for covetous and lustful thoughts, for selfish schemes and blind ambition, for pride and for vanity. By the blessed wounds of His head, you are healed of these. You are forgiven. And your mind is now a place of repentance.

See also the wounds of His hands. In the wounds of His hands is healing for the sins that find expression through our hands—for finger pointing and assigning our blame to others, for pointing at others in mockery and gossip, for striking out in rage and for holding, hoarding and stealing what is not ours. By the blessed wounds of His hands, you are healed of these. You are forgiven. And your hands are now made fruitful in service to God and your neighbor.

Behold the wounds of His feet. Here is healing for the times when you have walked with your feet in the counsel of the wicked and stood in the way of sinners—when you have run away from responsibility and repentance, when you’ve kept your distance from the Savior and the gifts He offers in the Divine Service. By the blessed wounds of His feet, you are healed of these. You are forgiven. And your feet are now readied to delight in His will and walk in His ways to the glory of His holy name.

Behold the wounds of His lacerated back. In the wounds of His back is healing for all the times when you have stood ramrod straight, so as not to bend over and see those who need you to lift them up, who need you to listen, who need to hear from you that yes, even in life’s darkest hour, the Lord will provide. By the blessed wounds of His back, your back is healed to stoop down low and to lift up on your shoulders the lost and the straying and the hurting.

And from the side of the Savior, where the spear was thrust to ensure His death, there flows the mystery of the love of God. Come in close to that wound—that wound from which the Lord provides for you and for His whole church. From that wound flows the water of Holy Baptism—water that cleanses you of the filth of your sin—water that soothes and cools that burning conscience of yours. From that blessed wound also flows blood—blood that fills the chalice from which you drink. That lifeblood of Jesus flows into your mortal and condemned body, riddled with disorder, and it re-orders everything with the sweetness of God’s forgiveness, God’s life, God’s salvation.

Beloved in the Lord, on this Good Friday it is clearer that ever that Abraham was right when he said, “The Lord will provide.” In Jesus Christ God has provided—and still provides you—with everything that you need. Your sin has been atoned for and the gates of heaven have been thrown wide open. But also this day—whatever the burden you carry, whatever it is that causes you to be fearful and frightened—whatever your own trials and temptations may be—on this Good Friday, I say to you as a child of old Abraham, “Bog Da.” The Lord will provide. Amen.

Confronting Sin: An Act of Love

2008-09-09T07:18:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu
St. Matthew 18:15-20
September 7, 2008
Pentecost 17A-Proper 18

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

If I had a magic wand . . . If I had a genie in a bottle . . . If I spied a shooting star tonight . . . . do you know what my wish would be? My wish would be that one simple verse from today’s holy gospel would be heard and learned and taken to heart and practiced by Christians everywhere. I believe that if we Christians committed ourselves to live out these two sentences from the Savior, the world would be a different place. Your home and this church would be different places. Your marriage and your friendships would be transformed.

Jesus said: “If your brother sins against you, go and show him his fault, just between the two of you. If he listens to you, you have won your brother over.”

Few words of Jesus are more ignored than these. Few commands from Jesus are sinned against more readily and regularly than these. And rarely are God’s people hurt more deeply than when these words of Jesus are disregarded. Matthew chapter 18 is all about life in the church—about our life together as brothers and sisters in Christ. And Jesus makes two things perfectly clear about our life together in the church: 1. Sin happens, and 2. Confronting that sin is an act of love.

Jesus’ words for today are so important that we’ll take them one phrase at a time. Jesus said, “If your brother sins . . .” Brother here doesn’t mean male sibling. With the word “brother” Jesus is referring to a Christian brother—a brother or sister in the faith—a fellow Christian—fellow church members—perhaps even someone with whom we may kneel at the Communion rail. There are, of course, a lot of people who don’t fall into this category of “brother”—people without faith in Christ who may or may not sin against you. They are a different breed all together. They are not “brothers.” Jesus’ words here don’t necessarily apply to them when they sin against us.

When Jesus says, “If your brother sins,” it shows that even brothers and sisters in Christ can and do sin against one another. Jesus anticipated it. Jesus expected it. When you walk through the doors of the church, you are not entering a sin-free zone. You don’t have to be in this church or any other church for long to realize that God’s children are both saints . . . and sinners. Even here among people who share a common faith in the crucified and risen Christ—among people who will dwell together in heaven for all eternity—sin may abound. Jesus tells us how to deal with it.

Let’s break it down again. Jesus said, “If your brother sins against you . . .” With those two words (against you) Jesus indicates at what point you are to become involved in confronting a brother’s sin. Only if your brother sins against you do you get involved. Assuming, of course, that no one is in imminent danger, you are to say nothing to anyone. Even if you see it with your own two eyes, you are to say nothing to anyone. If you, for instance, witness a fellow member get pulled over for speeding as you drive home today, don’t slow down and give a shameful stare as you drive by. Don’t call me up or anyone else to pass along the news. For you see, the speedy sinner didn’t sin against you or me. It’s none of our business. The “governing authorities” (which we heard about in today’s epistle) will prescribe an appropriate punishment for the wrongdoer. Case closed.

Let’s take it from the top. Jesus said, “If your brother (a fellow Christian) sins against you (and only if he sins against you), go and show him his fault, just between the two of you.” If your brother sins against you, then GO—GO to your brother! When you’ve been sinned against, that’s when YOU are to take the initiative. The onus is on you to begin the process of reconciliation. We’re not to sit around stewing, waiting for an apology. We’re not to tell everyone at the beauty shop or the coffee shop or the grocery store about the way that no-good so-and-so sinned against you. No, Jesus says, you go to your brother. At this point what happened between you is a private matter. Now, as you probably know, this is the point where the entire process always seems to run aground. Because it’s so much easier to stay put and stay hurt and mad and to nurse a grudge than it is to confront the sinner. But Jesus says, “Go.”

Why go to your brother? Because, Jesus says, “if he listens to you, you have won your brother over.” We are to go with the goal of winning back that brother—with the goal of restoring the broken relationship. We’re not to go with the goal of chewing him out or lecturing him or poking our finger in his face. Instead, we go to make him aware of his sin and the hurt he has caused in the hope that he will acknowledge his sin and repent. Confronting sin in this way is always an act of love.

Confronting sin in this way is a great and precious work in the eyes of God. What a mark of Christian faith and maturity to go to the one who has sinned against you plotting—not how to get revenge, but how to gain back your brother. “Blessed are the peace-makers,” Jesus said, “for they will be called sons of God” (Matt. 5:9). How wonderfully different life would be if we all took these words of Jesus to heart.

There are no guarantees, however, as Jesus makes clear. This approach isn’t always successful. If you can’t make headway one-on-one, then, Jesus says, take along two or three others. If that doesn’t work, then and only then we are to tell it to the church. And then the whole church confronts the sinner, always aiming for repentance and reconciliation. And if that doesn’t work, the sinner is excommunicated—not as punishment, but as a last resort to bring about repentance and reconciliation. Confronting sin in this way—according to Jesus’ words—is always an act of love.

Jesus knows how difficult this is; after all, Jesus knows what it’s like to be sinned against. We sin against Him every day. Jesus knows what it takes to restore what is irreparably broken. For Jesus to win you back—for Jesus to make things right between you and the Father—it required that He come to us—as one of us human beings. It required His broken, bleeding body, dying on a cross. It took nails and thorns and spear—spitting, mocking and beating. That’s what Jesus endured to win you back from the damnation you have earned by your sins. That’s what Jesus did to make you His brother and His sister—to earn the forgiveness of all your sins.

Jesus says that we should go to those who sin against us. And you know that’s exactly what Jesus does with sinners like us every Sunday. Jesus doesn’t sit around waiting for sinners to apologize to Him. No, He puts the onus on Himself. He comes to us in the Divine Service. He confronts our sin in His holy Law. He listens to our repentance. He comes to you to win you back—to gain you again as His brother or sister. “Wherever two or three are gathered together in my name,” He says, “there am I in the midst of them.”

Here is Jesus in the midst of us—speaking absolution, washing in baptism, feeding with His own body and blood for forgiveness of sins. Here Jesus deals with you in the very way that He would have you deal with others who sin against you—with patience and love and the deep desire to forgive and to restore what is broken. Because confronting sin is an act of love. And the ultimate act of love was when Jesus confronted your sin on Good Friday and took it all away.

As you leave here today I want you to think about a brother or sister who has sinned against you—someone with whom the bonds of love are so badly broken that it would seem to require a magic wand or a genie or a shooting star to make things right again. But let me remind you that you’ve got something far more powerful at your disposal for making things right again. You have the words of Jesus. With Him all things are possible—including difficult things like confronting sin—things like repentance and restoration and love even where love is lost. Has your brother or sister sinned against you? Then go to that person, because Jesus has promised that when you go, He Himself will go with you. Amen.

From Meager to Miraculous

2008-08-04T07:51:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu
St. Matthew 14:13-21
August 3, 2008
Pentecost 12A-Proper 13

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

It’s no secret. But I suspect that a majority of people here today don’t know it. It’s one of the most extraordinary things about our congregation. You’d have to look long and hard to find another congregation that can “out-do” us in this particular area. Here’s what you might not know, but should: One of every five dollars given to our Lord in weekly offerings at Our Savior is given away by Our Savior to mission work around the world.
Twenty percent of what comes in . . . goes out.

Where does it go? It goes to support missionaries in the far corners of the world, and missionaries to African and Hmong immigrants right here in Milwaukee. It goes for the education of pastors at our two seminaries, and it goes for the education of little children with autism right here in Milwaukee through Lutheran Special School and Education Services. That twenty percent also goes to support ministry to university students in Milwaukee, and to support people with special needs at Bethesda in Watertown. It goes for the translations of Catechisms and other theological books through Lutheran Heritage Foundation, for broadcasts of “Issues, Etc.” on the worldwide web, and it helps expectant mothers choose life instead of abortion at A Place of Refuge.

I could go on for another paragraph or two, but you get the point. Most churches struggle to send off even five or six percent of their offerings to missions. Our Savior sends off twenty percent of our offerings right out the door—not for the organ, not for salaries or supplies or roof repair, but to spread the good news of Jesus Christ in word and deed to a dying a world.

Why is this the case at Our Savior? Why twenty percent here instead of five percent? Why one out of five dollars instead of one out of ten? That’s what I’m here to tell you. But be prepared; because the reason why is not what you might expect.

It was a Whitefish Bay-sized crowd that came seeking the Savior in a solitary place that day by the Sea of Galilee. It’s the feeding of the “five thousand” to be sure, but to be accurate it should be called the feeding of the five thousand men, plus the women and the children. Add up five thousand men, an equal number of women, plus two children for every couple, and you’ve got yourself a Whitefish Bay-sized crowd. But then again, you know this story well, I’m sure. After all, it’s the one miracle of Jesus that gets recorded in all four of the Gospels.

For Jesus, it was a long day of healing the sick in that remote place, but as the day wore on, the disciples’ concerns were more practical: People were hungry and there was no food. It was a sensible thing to be worried about. The disciples suggested that Jesus should tell the people, “That’s all there is for today folks. Time to go home and get a bite to eat. Good night, everybody!” It would have made perfectly good sense to do that.

What didn’t make any sense was when Jesus told His disciples, “You give them something to eat.” After a few minutes of counting, all they could come up with were five loaves and two fish. Try dividing that up among a Whitefish Bay-sized crowd! It just won’t work. But note carefully what happens next. Jesus asks the disciples to give Him the loaves and fish. Jesus receives what they offer. He has the people sit down on the grass along the lakeshore. (Kind of like Klode Park on the Fourth of July.) Jesus blesses the loaves and fish. He then gives them to the disciples, and the disciples give them to the people. And in the end the whole crowd eats and is satisfied. Jesus took a meager offering of loaves and fish and made a miraculous meal with twelve baskets full of leftovers. In Jesus what is meager, becomes miraculous.

The feeding of the five thousand is a teaching moment, for sure. Jesus is dropping some pretty significant hints that He is the Messiah, the Good Shepherd of Israel who feeds His people in green, grassy pastures, beside the still waters, who prepares a table before them with more than enough food for everyone, from greatest to least.

But for us here today, who already know and believe that Jesus is the Messiah—well, Jesus is teaching us too. Notice the details of what’s going on. Jesus tells the disciples, “You give them something to eat.” On the surface it sounded like nonsense. It would be as if I drove down to Miller Park and shouted out to the Brewers on the field, “You win the division. You go to the World Series!” It’s a nice thought. But meager batting averages and sub-par relief pitching can only get you so far. Just like five loaves and two fish can only feed so many people.

But did you notice what the disciples did with those loaves and fish? They gave them to Jesus—placed them in the Savior’s hands. And in the Savior’s hands what happened? Their meager portions are miraculously multiplied! And then Jesus enables His disciples to do the very thing which moments earlier had sounded like nonsense. The disciples gave the people—all of them—something to eat. In the hands of Jesus what was very little became more than enough. The meager became miraculous.

In Jesus Christ, still today, the meager becomes miraculous. The impossible is accomplished. The unlikely is achieved. But you and I are like the disciples in so many ways. We’re too busy counting our fishes and loaves to notice what Jesus is doing. And with our fishes and our loaves we always want to do what’s sensible. Remember, the sensible suggestion of the disciples was simply to send everybody home—to call it a day and let everybody fend for themselves.

In truth, our dilemma doesn’t concern fishes and loaves; we’ve got more than enough to eat. Our cup runneth over. For disciples today the dilemma is over dollars and cents. And the sensible thing when it comes to dollars and cents is to hold onto those dollars and cents—in our own two hands. In our hands, you see, we control the inflows and outflows. We parcel them out where we see fit. In our hands we do the investing. And best of all, when our dollars and cents are in our hands, we can see them. Dollars and cents look good in our hands! We can feel secure and safe and successful with those dollars and cents in our hands. (And that’s important when you’re hanging out in a Whitefish Bay-sized crowd!)

But when you place your dollars and cents into the Savior’s hands—when you give back to the Lord a percentage gift of ten or maybe even twenty percent of what He’s given you—well, Jesus shows you today what can happen. The meager becomes miraculous. In the Savior’s hands our meager offerings are multiplied for the good of the whole world—for the whole Christian Church on earth. And in the end, there’s even more leftover.

This is why. This is why one of every five dollars goes directly out the doors of this church. This is why twenty percent of your offering can accomplish great things around the world. It’s not because this congregation has been blessed with wealthy members for 75 years. It’s not that we’ve cut corners and done things on the cheap and robbed Peter to pay Paul. It’s because for 75 years the forgiven sinners of Our Savior have placed their meager offerings into the hands of Jesus—full of faith and hope and love—and in Jesus there has been a miraculous multiplication which can’t even begin to be measured in fishes and loaves or in dollars and cents—and which will not be seen in full until we are all gathered around the throne of our gracious God in heaven, singing "Worthy is the Lamb who was slain."

What will you do with your fishes and loaves—with your dollars and cents? Will you do what’s sensible and reasonable and hold onto them and enjoy the temporary comfort and status they provide? Or will you in faith place them in the hands of Jesus? Those hands, of course, are now scarred with the marks of nails. Those nails were placed there for you—so that you would not receive what you are owed for your sins. There at the cross Jesus was for you with a love that did not count the cost. You see, Jesus doesn’t parcel out His love in little increments, based upon what you deserve. No, Jesus pours out His love in a way that is not sensible or logical—but prodigal and wasteful and lavish, with basketfuls left over!

The blood that Jesus shed on the cross is also poured out for you here today in the Sacrament of the Altar. The Good Shepherd who gave His life for the sheep, also gives us the bread that is His body. He prepares a table before us in the presence of our enemies. With these meager portions of bread and wine the Lord Jesus miraculously feeds you with His body and blood for your forgiveness—for your eternal good.

The feeding of the five thousand teaches us that the distance from meager to miraculous is no farther than the outstretched hands of Jesus. If you leave here today only thinking that this is a story about Jesus feeding lots of hungry people, then you’ve missed the point. If you leave here today thinking that Jesus is a means to get rich quick and have your dollars miraculously multiplied, then you’ve missed the point. If you leave here today thinking that you yourself should head off and feed five thousand hungry people just like Jesus, then you’ve missed the point.

But if you leave here today believing that five out of every five dollars you have are from Jesus—if you leave here today believing that the forgiveness of your sins totals a whopping one hundred percent—if you leave here today believing that Jesus can receive from you what is meager and then do the miraculous for His church and for the whole wide world—then you will know what the feeding of the five thousand is all about. Amen.

Living with and Loving Weeds

2008-07-20T14:12:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu
St. Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43
July 20, 2008
Pentecost 10A-Proper 11

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

How does your garden grow? I’m glad to report that my garden is doing quite well. The green bean harvest has begun. And if present trends continue, we’ll be up to our elbows in zucchini by this time next week. This has been an exceptionally good year for my garden—plenty of moisture and plenty of sunshine. I’ve outfoxed the rabbits, and the bugs have bugged out.

But weeds—well, weeds are a perennial problem. The battle is ongoing. There are no vegetable gardens with only vegetables—no flower gardens with only flowers. No grain fields with only grain. The weeds are always there too. I still go after weeds the old fashioned way: I pull them and I whack them with my garden hoe. But if you were to inspect my garden closely, you’d find that the weeds are thriving right up next to the bean stalks—right beside the eggplants—just inside the tomato cages—there, in closest proximity to my productive plants are the weeds. You see, I can’t whack those weeds without also whacking the precious plants next to them. And so I have learned to live with those weeds, not wanting to damage the nearby vegetables.

Weeds have always been a problem; and in today’s Gospel reading 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 produce weeds in God’s field.

This is the first point that Jesus makes in this parable: 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.

This means that even right here in this holy house, among those who offer here their worship and praise, right here and now the devil is also sowing his seeds of sin and unbelief. It’s not just in bars and brothels that the demonic enemies of God scatter their seeds. No, they would much rather sow the ground between pulpit and pew, in seminaries and synodical conventions. Whenever and wherever the good seed of God’s Word is being sown, there you can be sure that the devil is sowing his seed too.

Martin Luther saw this 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 the evidence of the devil’s weedy work in a sermon on this very text. 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.

The surprise of this parable—the thing that gets the gardener in me—is that God tolerates the weeds! When the indignant servants in the parable ask permission to pull up the weeds, the Master says, “No. Because while you are pulling the weeds, you may root up the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest.” The weeds in God’s garden will not be pulled. No herbicides will be applied. The weeds are tolerated for now. They are allowed to grow until the Day of Harvest. I ask you, what kind of a gardener—what kind of a farmer—could ever have such a high degree of weed tolerance? Or to put the horticultural in theological terms, why does God allow evil and sin and temptation to sprout up right alongside goodness and righteousness? Why does God permit the ungodly and the wicked to grow and thrive right next to the righteous? Why is the garden of our God not neatly manicured, but strewn with dandelions and thistles?

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 and who’s who. If nothing else, this shows our God’s incredible patience for sinners—that He wants all men 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. He says, “Let the weeds grow too.”

Jesus Christ is the reason for God’s weed-friendly ways. You see, in Jesus alone is the power to transform the worst 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. Jesus has died for all. 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 noxious 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 one day 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? What should we do with the weeds? 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. 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. Maybe there are 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 to love them. The great writer Dostoevski said that “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. Amen.

The Sacred Simile of Precipitation

2008-07-14T07:44:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu
Isaiah 55:10-11
July 13, 2008
Pentecost 9A – Proper 10

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

For someone like me, who does lots of teaching, preaching and talking, there’s nothing better than a good simile. As any English teacher will tell you, a simile is a comparison of two different things, using the words “like” or “as.” We all use similes all the time. Here are some famous examples: “Life is like a box of chocolates,” or, “He’s as stubborn as a mule,” or, “She’s as busy as a beaver.” Yes, there’s nothing better than a good simile. In fact, here are some similes . . . of similes: A good simile is like fine wine and savory spice. A good simile is like a preacher’s best friend.

But when it comes to similes, no one does it better than our great God. Why shouldn’t the God who created the heavens and the earth using words also sprinkle in a few similes among those words? Why shouldn’t the God who creates repentance and faith with words spice up those words with a good simile now and then? In today’s Old Testament reading God gives us one of His best, most sacred similes. This simile is so rich and so full that an entire sermon can be based on it:

As the rain and snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.

This is what I like to call “The Sacred Simile of Precipitation.” God’s Word is like rain and snow. God’s Word (like precipitation) is refreshing and cleansing. God’s Word (like precipitation) is growth-causing, and life-giving, and life-sustaining. Like the sprinklers and hoses you see watering lawns this time of year, our God “waters” the world with His Word—the Words of the Bible, the words preached from pulpits—gospel words that proclaim the good news about Jesus Christ.

Now, as you know, rainfall and snowfall can be rather unpredictable. Sometimes we get too much. Sometimes we don’t get enough. But unlike precipitation that falls from clouds, God says about His Word: “It will not return to me empty. It will accomplish what I desire. It will achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” As God gives His Word to us, there’s never too much, never too little, always just right.

Isaiah was the prophet who first preached these words. In Isaiah chapter 55 the prophet is preaching about the future rebirth and restoration of Israel. But that rebirth and that restoration was to be a long time in coming. In fact, before that renewal would come, there would be judgment and exile, death and destruction. Bad times were ahead. Isaiah seems to be saying, “When times are tough—when everything seems to be going to hell in a hand-basket—hear the Word of the Lord. Drink in the promises of His Word. Be watered with the Word because that Word will not return empty. It will accomplish what God desires. It will achieve the purpose for which He sends it.”

Do you believe that? Do you believe that God’s Word—like raindrops from heaven—will accomplish IN YOU and in YOUR LIFE the very things that God desires? The evidence would seem to suggest that we don’t believe that. For if we truly believed that God’s Word always gets results in us, wouldn’t we want to be hearing that Word and studying that Word and reading that Word every day? If we truly believed that God’s Word accomplishes and achieves in us what God desires, wouldn’t our pews be full every Sunday? Wouldn’t our Bible studies be as well-attended as the Divine Service? Wouldn’t we want to invite someone to church with us all the time? Wouldn’t we give our offerings to the Lord joyfully and generously and confidently because the Word of God has had its way with us?

Why don’t we believe this? Why don’t our lives better reflect the power of the Word? Maybe it’s because we expect—we demand—immediate results, and we don’t get immediate results. We come to church. We hear the Word. And it seems that nothing changes. We get up in the morning. We open our Bibles. We have a time of devotion and prayer. And it seems that nothing changes. We feel no different. The same old problems and heartaches are still right there with us. And we conclude that the Word of God has failed—when in fact we have failed—failed to accept in faith that God’s results don’t always come on our timetable. God is at work in you for the long-haul—for eternity. You wouldn’t go out to your garden and plant your seeds, and then expect to enjoy juicy tomatoes and crispy cucumbers the very next day? That would be magical or miraculous. Yet somehow I think this is what we expect from the Word of God. And short of that, we’ll keep God’s Word as the last of our priorities and the least of our concerns.

Whenever God’s Word is last and least—whenever we fail to hold it sacred and gladly hear and learn it—that’s sin. And that sin of ours is the worst of news. Or to put it in simile form, our sin is like a noose around our necks. Our sin is like a deadly, incurable, cancer. Our sin is like a guilty verdict that can never, ever be overturned.

There is but one thing that can remove your guilt and declare you innocent. The same Word of God that we sinfully ignore and reject—because of Jesus Christ that Word also declares that you are innocent—that you are forgiven—that you will live forever in God’s presence. The same Word that threatens us and condemns our sin is the same Word—the only Word—that sinners can believe and be saved.

Beloved in the Lord, Isaiah preached that God’s Word is like rain and snow—that it always accomplishes what God desires. And what’s true of God’s Word is especially true of God’s Son. You see, the object of our faith is not God’s Word, but God’s Son. It was that Son, Jesus, who ultimately accomplished what God desired. Jesus Christ achieved the purpose for which He was sent. Jesus Christ did not return to the Father empty-handed, but with wounded hands, and with a multitude of forgiven sinners, including you and me.

It is the blood of Jesus Christ, shed at the cross, that makes the Word of God grow—even in the hard soil of sinful human hearts. The cross of Jesus was planted high atop Calvary’s holy hill. There Jesus wore a choking crown of thorns. There Jesus was scorched by the blazing heat of His Father’s wrath against sin. There Jesus withered away to death as your sacred substitute. But God’s Word always gets the job done. God’s Word said that the Messiah would rise again on the third day, and that’s just what happened. And this was but a preview of your own resurrection life to come.

Brothers and sisters this good news—the good news that Jesus has taken away your bad and given you His good—this is what we call the gospel; and there’s absolutely nothing that compares to it. No simile can possibly get the job done. I could give it a try. I could say that the love of God in Christ is like winning the lottery. I could say that the love of God in Christ is like a cool breeze on a hot day in July. I could say that the love of God in Christ is like a box of chocolates. But none of these similes is good enough. Perhaps I should just say that the love of God in Christ is for you, and nothing in all creation compares to that good news. Amen.

The Yoke of Rest

2008-07-07T07:57:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu
St. Matthew 11:28-30
July 6, 2008
Pentecost 8A-Proper 9

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

Sometimes it happens in bed. Sometimes it happens on the sofa. This time of year it can also happen on the beach. And you can be sure it happens in the La-Z-boy recliner. What happens? Rest happens! Perhaps you could add to that list of rest-full locations. Then, of course, there are places where we don’t expect to find rest: on the job, in the lawn or garden, sitting in the classroom. Those are places where work is going on. Rest and work are different things that usually happen in different places.

This is why Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel might sound somewhat confusing. When Jesus says, “Come to me . . . and I will give you rest,” that sounds great. But then He goes on to say, “Take my yoke upon you . . .” Now, this sounds like a contradiction because putting on a yoke indicates that there’s work to be done, not rest to be given. How can Jesus promise to give rest to the weary, and in the next breath tell the weary to put on his yoke? Yokes are for work, not for rest.

But let’s back up for a second. When I was growing up, the only time I heard the work “yolk” was to describe the yellow part of an egg. Of course, that’s yolk spelled Y-O-L-K. Jesus, however, is describing a yoke, spelled Y-O-K-E—an implement that was used to bind and control animals. Back in the old days, horses and oxen were yoked to pull a plow in the field. The yoke kept the beasts of burden from running off when there was work to be done. The yoke was used to control and direct the hard-working animals.

But in ancient times it wasn’t just animals that were yoked. People—slaves—often wore a yoke to show that they were under the authority of their master. Most often, instead of wearing an actual yoke, they would wear something around their neck or ankle to indicate their slave status. Incidentally, that’s the origin of the necklaces that many of you are wearing today. What used to symbolize the yoke of slavery is today a fashion statement. The same thing was true for rings worn around the finger. In fact, even today a wedding ring symbolizes that husband and wife are yoked to one another.

The point of all this is simply to show that the yoke was a sign of work; not a sign of rest. How strange, then, that Jesus should make this promise: “Take my yoke upon you . . . and you will find rest . . .” But how can a yoke—even a “light” yoke—help us find rest for our souls?

It doesn’t make sense, but this is exactly what Jesus promises you. In wearing His yoke—in submitting yourself to Him in faith—you will find rest for your soul. You can’t earn this rest by your good behavior. You can’t buy this rest with your wealth. Jesus says, “Come to me and I will give you rest.” Wearing the yoke of Jesus means that your life is controlled and directed by Him. He’s the One holding the leash—pulling the reigns. Your life is bound to Christ as a bride is bound to her groom. Wearing the yoke of Jesus means walking in His ways, delighting in His will, keeping His commands.

But the problem is we’re sinners. We’re not interested in yoke-wearing or cross-bearing. We don’t care to be in submission to Jesus or anyone else for that matter. We’ll gladly take the rest that Jesus promises; but we’ll just as gladly leave the yoke-wearing and cross-bearing for somebody else. When you’re not wearing the yoke of Jesus it means that you’re living your life on your terms. Instead of faithfully receiving the rest that Jesus gives, we go looking for the rest and relaxation that money can buy—and money and buying and earnings—they become the yoke around our necks. When you’re not wearing the yoke of Jesus it means that you can wander off wherever you please—looking for cheap thrills online, or pursuing the recklessness that comes from drunkenness. When you’re not wearing the yoke of Jesus—when you’re not submitting to Jesus and His Word—it means that you want others to submit to you and you’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen—even if you have to say some things that really shouldn’t be said.

Beloved in the Lord, it’s all a lie. Apart from Jesus and His yoke, we may have the desire to do what is good, but we cannot carry it out. And the evil that we don’t want to do—these are the very things we keep on doing. You need to be yoked to Jesus. Because this is how it works: either you’re yoked to Jesus, submitting to Him, allowing Him to guide and direct you by faith; OR ELSE you’re yoked to your sins, submitting to them, allowing them to guide and direct you to a place where you will be forever “free” of Jesus.

To all of us so worn and weary of our sin, Jesus gives the invitation: “Come to me . . . and I will give you rest. My yoke is easy and my burden is light and you—you will find rest for your souls.” Are you weary and burdened by your sin? Have you slipped out of the yoke of Jesus one too many times to follow your own sinful desires? Jesus wants you take His yoke again, and learn from Him. Learn what it means that He’s gentle and humble in heart. Learn what it means that only Jesus is able to rescue us from this body of death.

This past week I read of a Sunday school teacher who read to her class the words of Jesus where He says, “My yoke is easy.” The teacher then asked her class, “Who can tell me what a yoke is?” One little boy said, “It’s something you put on the necks of animals.” Then the teacher asked, “What is the yoke that God puts on us?” To which one little girl responded, “It’s God putting His arms around our necks.” She viewed the yoke of Jesus . . . as a hug from Jesus. She knew that wearing that yoke is not a burden, but a blessing. She knew that wearing the yoke of Jesus means living each day knowing that the Savior has placed His arms of love and forgiveness around our necks.

The arms of Jesus which are holding you today in love—those arms have carried a burden that was not easy. Jesus bore a yoke that was not light. In fact, the Greek word for “yoke” is also used for the crossbeam which Jesus took up and carried to the place of His execution (ABD, vol.6, “yoke”). Because Jesus has carried that yoke—the burden of your sin and death—today He invites you to take up His yoke of rest and forgiveness and life.

“Come to me,” says the Savior, “all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Beloved in the Lord, this is the place where weary and burdened sinners can come to Jesus. This is the place where Jesus gives you rest, peace, forgiveness and hope. In fact, Martin Luther in the Large Catechism, wrote that the words, “Come to me and I will give you rest” are nothing more than an invitation to the Lord’s Supper—to receive the body and blood of Jesus—to have the burden of your sin taken away. Here at this altar Jesus lightens your burden with His forgiveness. Here at this altar Jesus puts His arms of love right around your neck.

The yoke of Jesus gives you rest. When you’re wearing that yoke it means that Jesus is running the show—Jesus is directing your life—Jesus is leading you to heaven. He carried His cross so that you can wear His yoke. He’s done the work and you get the rest. Amen.

Shout It from the Rooftops!

2008-06-23T07:18:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu
St. Matthew 10:21-33
June 22, 2008
Pentecost 6A-Proper 7

[Jesus said,] “What I tell you in the dark, say in the light, and what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops.”

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

When was the last time you were up on your rooftop? Hanging out on the rooftop isn’t something that most of us do very often. In fact, if you’re on your rooftop, it often means that something bad has happened: the roof is leaking, shingles have blown away, or the chimney is in danger of collapse. As for me, I’ve never once been on the parsonage roof. About as close as I get to the rooftop is the four or five times a year when I have to clean out the gutters because the Maple tree has decided to drop yet another round of seeds or leaves. And when I’m up there near the rooftop scooping muck out of the gutters, the only words I’m proclaiming are probably not all that suitable for others to hear.

We generally understand Jesus’ words about “proclaiming . . . from the rooftops” to be just a figure of speech, perhaps a bit of hyperbole—exaggerating to make a point. (Jesus doesn’t really want us shouting things from our rooftops!) But two thousand years ago, when Jesus first spoke these words, He was being quite literal. You see, in Jesus’ day, in Israel, people proclaimed things from the rooftops all the time—every day. First of all, you need to know that most of the rooftops were flat, which is still common today in the arid places of the world. Hence, rooftops weren’t nearly as dangerous. Second, 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 actually became a place of socialization where neighbors would converse and kibitz and pass along the latest news. 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 is directing 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 sent them up to the rooftops so as to give maximum publicity to His teachings. What Jesus had taught them in private was now to be proclaimed and preached in public. They were to seek out those rooftops and venues which would afford the maximum exposure—much like our congregation is attempting to do by marching in the Whitefish Bay Fourth of July Parade. Our goal there is to be seen by as many as possible; the goal of the Apostles was to be heard by as many as possible.

But here’s the rub: What about when the message we’re given to shout from the rooftops is unpopular? What about when the message we shout means that we will be mocked or rejected or persecuted or worse? What about when the message we shout seems to drive away more people than it attracts?

These aren’t hypothetical questions. This is the exact thing Jesus warns the apostles about before sending them out. This is also the exact situation faced by the prophet Jeremiah in today’s OT reading. Jeremiah was called by God to preach an unpopular message of death and destruction, and doom and gloom, for God’s people in the land of Judah. Jeremiah had to preach a message of judgment and law. Meanwhile, there was a multitude of false prophets who were busy proclaiming that peace and prosperity were right around the corner—that God would never allow His chosen people to be chewed up and spit out by gentile armies. You won’t be surprised to know that the pews in Jeremiah’s church were empty most of the time.

What do you do? What do you do when God gives you an unpopular message to shout from the rooftops? Again, this isn’t hypothetical. In just this past week you may have seen or heard about the same-sex marriages being performed in California. It’s easy to say and do nothing. It’s easy to just go with the flow. It’s far more difficult to proclaim from the rooftops that the wages of sin is death—that same sex marriage is not marriage at all, but a sinful rejection of God’s gift of marriage. Or what about that heterosexual couple you know that’s living together, but doing so without the benefits and blessings of marriage? Or what about God’s gift of human life so constantly threatened by abortion? You will not win applause and standing ovations no matter how lovingly you speak the truth in these kinds of situations.

What do you personally do when God gives you a difficult message to speak—when as part of your vocation you are called to confront sin—to call someone to correction—to say the unpopular thing? By nature we have no desire to proclaim God’s Word from the rooftops—or anywhere else for that matter. Rather than heading up for the rooftops, we usually make a beeline for the basement—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.

But 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 will always achieve their intended purpose. But for those who dare to dash to the rooftop—to faithfully give witness to the teachings of Jesus—Jesus does say this: “Do not be afraid.” In fact, three times He says it: “Have no fear. Do not fear. Fear not.” The fear that controls us and keeps us quiet—Jesus says, “Leave it behind. Trust me. Follow me. What is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the rooftops.” Come hell or high water, your body and soul are in His holy care. The One who knows when a 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. But by that death He destroyed death and brought life and immortality to light through the Gospel. He descended into hell, and on the third day He rose again from the dead. And what is true for the Master is also true for you, His servants. Imperfect though we are, sometimes hated and rejected—yet in Jesus we too will rise and live for all eternity. 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 people. But some people may only come to know and receive that gift because you cared enough to leave the basement behind and head up to rooftop and tell 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 we are privileged to proclaim from the rooftops—to neighbors, to family, to 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 Mt. Calvary. God Himself has proclaimed it from the empty tomb of the resurrected Jesus. God Himself proclaims it still today from this pulpit, from that font and from this altar. His loving care for you reaches into eternity, for that’s what He Himself is proclaiming today, loud and clear, for all to hear. Amen.

A Father's Love

2008-06-16T07:22:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu
Romans 5:6-15
June 15, 2008
Pentecost 4A – Proper 5

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

[Picking daisy petals] He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me . . . .

Love can be a fickle thing, can’t it? It seems like people are falling in love all the time, and then falling out of love almost as often! Human love is fickle and unpredictable. It doesn’t conform to any rules or regulations. The people that I love, you might find to be completely repulsive. And the people that you love, I might find to be totally obnoxious. Love is, indeed, a fickle thing.

Everybody wants to be loved. But let’s face the facts—you and I aren’t the most lovable people in the world. In fact, let’s conduct a little experiment. Think for a moment about all the people that you love. And by that I mean, think about all the people to whom you can say, “I love you.” Now subtract your spouse. Subtract all other family members. Subtract anyone who already loves you. How many loved ones are left?

What this shows is that most of the time our love for other people is related to their love for us. As someone once put it, “It’s nice to be nice to the nice.” In other words, it’s relatively easy to love a loving person. After all, how many people do you love who don’t love you right back?

But in Romans chapter 5 today we learn that God’s love is radically different. God’s love is not fickle or uncertain. Nor does God only love those who are lovable. Nor does God only love those who love Him right back. In this chapter St. Paul was inspired to describe you and me in a variety of ways, and “lovable” isn’t one of the words he chose. Instead, God’s Word from Romans five says that we are powerless—says that we are so morally weak that we can’t earn God’s love no matter what we do—says that we are ungodly—sinners one and all—enemies of God according to our sinful nature.

The bottom line is—we are simply un-lovable. Even worse, there’s nothing we can do or say to make our heavenly Father love us. We are by nature ornery and disobedient and disrespectful children. And without God’s love we are eternally lost.

But this is the miracle of God’s love: even though we are sinful and unlovable, yet your heavenly Father loves you with an indescribable love. Through faith in Jesus, you are the apple of His eye. You are the love of His life. You are—quite literally—“to die for.” St. Paul puts it this way: “Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man . . . or even for a good man. . . . But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” While we were God’s unlovable, spiteful, sinful enemies—Christ died for us—for you. And that death on the cross for your sins is the unmistakable sign—the undeniable proof—the demonstration of God’s love for you.

But this love isn’t fickle. This love isn’t shaky or uncertain. This love of God for you is what the Bible terms "agape" love. What is agape love? This love—the kind of love God has for you—is not just a feeling or an emotion. Agape love is rooted in action—in doing—in works of service and sacrifice. What would you think if your spouse was telling you all the time, “I love you, honey,” but then never did anything to demonstrate that love? Talk, they say, is cheap.

But God’s love for you isn’t just talk. It is agape. It’s rooted in actions and deeds and service and sacrifice. “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” That’s the proof. That’s the demonstration. That’s the action. That’s the incontrovertible evidence which for all time points you to the fact that you are loved—that your sins are forgiven through the blood of Jesus Christ. Through faith in Jesus, you are lovable. You are beautiful. You are His treasured possession for all eternity.

God the Father shows you His love by sending Jesus to be your Savior. And perhaps on this Father’s day it’s appropriate to consider a father’s love. I suspect that my own father was probably like a lot of other fathers. My dad didn’t tell me that he loved me every single day. 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—going to work every day at a job he didn’t particularly like so that he could support our family—attending nearly every sporting event and musical and theatrical event I ever participated in. He helped me buy my first car and taught me how to change the oil. And most importantly, he brought me and my family to the Lord’s house every Sunday. And in these and other ways my father’s love was demonstrated. He proved it by his deeds and actions.

That’s how it is with the love of our heavenly Father. It’s both spoken and demonstrated for you. In fact, today’s text literally says, “God keeps on demonstrating His love for us . . .” God continually, in an ongoing way, demonstrates His love. God’s love demonstrated at the cross . . . is demonstrated yet today. Your baptism is an expression of that love. There at the font He adopted you to be His own child and washed away your sins. Into your life the Lord of the Harvest has also sent preachers. So that you wouldn’t be harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd, God has graciously sent His called and ordained servants to this flock called “Our Savior” for 75 years now. And these preachers, with all their faults and frailties, are a flesh-and-blood “demonstration” of God’s love for you.

Today God keeps on demonstrating His love for you by feeding you with the very body and blood of His Son. Here in this meal God takes the love He poured out on the cross and gives it to you personally. He forgives all the sins that make us so unlovable.

[picking daisy petals] He loves me. He loves me. He loves me. He loves YOU, too! There’s no doubt about it. He’s serious about you. For richer for poorer, for better for worse, in sickness and in health, He takes you to be His own. His love is certain and absolute. It never ends. Still today, God demonstrates His love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Amen.

Leaving the Booth Behind

2008-06-09T07:51:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu
St. Matthew 9:9-13

June 8, 2008
Pentecost 4A-Proper 5

Jesus . . . saw a man named Matthew sitting at the tax collector’s booth. “Follow me,” he told him, and Matthew got up and followed him.

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

As a pastor, I see people at their best . . . and I see people at their worst. On Sunday mornings, I see people at their best—nicely dressed, hair brushed, make up on, smiling, respectable. As a pastor, I have a front row seat to watch beautiful brides walk down the aisle and to see the tiniest, cutest babies washed clean and born again in the waters of Holy Baptism. As a pastor, I see people at their best—confessing the faith, kneeling for Communion, making the sign of the cross.

As a pastor, I also see people at their worst—tearful people, cancer ravaged, people in such excruciating pain that it causes them to vomit. I also see people whose pain is emotional—broken people, hard-hearted, unrepentant people, people so filled with pride that they look down on me with contempt, and people so filled with shame that they can’t even make eye contact with me. I see people at their best and I see people at their worst.

As a general rule, people prefer to be seen at their best—when they look respectable, when their actions are honorable, when their words are thoughtful and articulate. I suspect this was also true for Matthew the tax collector. I suspect that Matthew was more than a little uncomfortable when Jesus came calling. For Jesus didn’t come calling when Matthew was at his best—when Matthew was at home where he could put on the appearance of a respectable, honorable life. Jesus didn’t give Matthew the opportunity to clean up his act and distance himself from his dishonorable work as a tax collector. In fact, Jesus came calling at the very place—the exact spot—the precise location—where Matthew was at his worst. Jesus came calling at the tax collector’s booth.

Tax collectors, in those days, were considered the worst of the worst. They were notoriously dishonest and greedy; and there’s no reason to suspect that Matthew was any different. As a general rule, the salary of tax collectors was based upon the amount of tax they collected; so, of course, they always collected as much as they possibly could. Bribery, extortion, and money-laundering were all part and parcel of the tax collector’s trade. Corruption, dishonesty, and the love of money were the roots of all evil that permeated the life of most tax collectors. The Jews considered tax collectors to be unclean. And they were often forbidden even to enter the synagogue for worship. Tax collectors were not church-going folks, but despised outcasts—the worst of the worst.

Jesus, it seems, made a point to call Matthew while he was at his worst—while he was at the tax booth—while he was at the very place where his sin of greed and his love of money were on public display. Calling Matthew then and there, Jesus left no chance for Matthew to curb the corruption, or make a big donation to the United Way. There was no time to diminish the dishonesty or to distance himself from that which brought Matthew into disrepute. There was no chance for Matthew to clean up his act and make something respectable of himself before Jesus called him. No, all of a sudden, the Savior was there, seeing Matthew at his worst, and saying, “Follow me.” (You can get a sense for the scene on the cover of today’s bulletin—the Savior’s finger pointed at Matthew, and Matthew’s finger pointed at himself, dumbfounded in disbelief.)

Jesus invited Matthew to leave the tax booth behind—to walk away from the greed and corruption that seemed to have a stranglehold on him. There is, of course, something completely distinctive about the call of Matthew. He was called directly by Jesus Himself—called to be one of the Twelve Apostles. But there’s also something here for all of us. For we also have been called to follow Jesus in faith and discipleship.

We also have been called by Jesus to leave the booth behind—to walk away from whatever it is that hinders our faith and holds back our discipleship. Matthew’s place of sin and shame was the tax collector’s booth. And that’s the very place where Jesus came to call him. What is the place of your sin and shame? In what area of your life is Jesus calling you move on, and follow Him, and leave the sin behind you? At what time and place in your life would you be most shamed and shocked to have the Savior show up, pointing His finger at you, and saying, “Leave it all behind, and follow me?”

What part of your life is the Savior calling you to leave behind today? Perhaps for some of us, like Matthew, it’s the love of money and the security of money. If Jesus came calling today, would you gladly and willingly open your checkbook to show your stewardship of the treasure He has given you? Or would you like a little time to clean up your act beforehand? Perhaps for others of us there are sins of addiction from which the Savior is calling us. Alcohol, drugs, pornography, gambling—there’s an endless list of possibilities—all of them idols to which we willingly sacrifice everything. What is the Savior calling you to leave behind? Perhaps it’s the anger that erupts so often, or the gossip you can’t get enough of, or the loveless way you treat your parents. Whenever and wherever you would least like to have the Savior show up—then and there is where Jesus is calling you to leave the booth behind—to sever the sin and follow Him.

And if there’s anyone here today who doesn’t think that Jesus is calling them to make any changes in their life—well, that kind of puts you in the same camp as the Pharisees. The Pharisees thought they were clean and respectable and honorable—thought they had no need to leave anything behind. They were pure and pious—models of spiritual health. But Jesus reminded them, “It’s not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.” It is to people sick with sin that Jesus comes calling. It is to dying sinners in a dying world that Jesus comes calling with forgiveness, life and salvation.

Beloved in the Lord, whatever your sin—whatever part of your life Jesus is calling you to leave behind this day—know that this can only happen on Jesus’ terms and by His power. When Jesus called Matthew to leave the tax booth behind and follow him, we hear nothing about any deliberation or decision-making on Matthew’s part. Sinful Matthew didn’t decide to follow Jesus. He couldn’t! If Matthew wanted us to think that there was some great virtue in him that led him to devote his life to Christ, he could have written that down for us right here in the pages of his gospel. But He didn’t. What he did record for us was the one thing that made everything possible: the all-powerful Word of the Lord: “Follow me.” Brothers and sisters, with those same powerful words Jesus is inviting you, today, to leave your sin behind and follow Him.

The truth of the matter is this: Matthew couldn’t clean up his act for Jesus if he wanted to. You and I can’t clean up our acts either. Only the one who says, “Follow me,” only He can clean us up and make us worthy to be called His disciples. Whether our sins are like Matthew’s sins—or whether our sins are like those of the proud and pious Pharisees—we believe and confess that Jesus was delivered over to death for those very sins, and was raised to life for our justification. Jesus Christ came to call sinners—“Jesus Sinners Doth Receive”—tax collectors, prostitutes, people just like you and me.

The good news of this day is that Jesus has come calling here today. Jesus still comes to call sinners. To all who answer to that name, Jesus offers His mercy and steadfast love. To all who see and confess just how sick they really are, Jesus gives divine healing and perfect forgiveness. Those are the gifts Jesus won for you on the cross. There at the cross it was Jesus who needed a physician. At the cross our sins took a sickening toll on His bruised and bloody body. At the cross Jesus was denied all mercy, and all compassion. Instead, the justice and judgment of a righteous and holy God was unleashed upon His thorn-crowned flesh.

But the one who became sick unto death with our sin now has the cure. Through faith in Him, even sinners like us are counted as righteous. In the miracle of your baptism Jesus has cleaned up your act and given you the gracious invitation: “Follow me.” Here in this place Jesus shares a meal with you, just as He did at Matthew’s house. Only here today Jesus provides the main entrée—His own body and blood for the forgiveness of sins. Here today is power—the power of Jesus for you—to hear His call and leave your sin behind. Still today, Jesus eats and drinks with tax collectors and sinners. And because of that, when Jesus looks at you today, Jesus sees you at your best, forgiven by Him, with faith in Him.

I told you earlier that as a pastor I get to see people at their worst and at their best. When I saw you confess your sins earlier today, I saw you at your best. When I see you receiving the body and blood of Jesus at this altar, I see you at your best. And when I see you in heaven, gathered around the throne of God, I will see you at your best for all eternity—not because I got you there by my words, but because of the words Jesus says to you: “Follow me.” Amen.

A (Concluding) Word to the Wise

2008-06-02T07:39:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu
St. Matthew 7:15-29
June 1, 2008
Pentecost 3A-Proper 4

Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. . . . But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand.

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

These words of Jesus about the wise and foolish builders are really only last words—famous last words—the final few sentences of one of the most famous sermons Jesus ever preached. Today’s Holy Gospel is really just the conclusion—the finale—of Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount.”

Of course, when all you hear is the ending of a sermon, you’ve got a bit of a problem. You’re missing out. You’re somewhat clueless. For instance, if all you heard of Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” Speech was “Free at last! Free at last! Thank God almighty, we are free at last!” you wouldn’t really understand the sense in which those words were intended. You wouldn’t know that King was advocating for a world where a man isn’t judged by the color of his skin, but by the content of his character.

So it is with the Sermon on the Mount. You can’t fully understand the conclusion without knowing what was said before. When Jesus says that those who hear His words and put them into practice are like the wise builder who built his house on the rock, it’s easy to say, “I can do that, no problem.” Sounds simple enough: hear the word and do the word—talk the talk and walk the walk. When all you’re hearing are the final sentences of the sermon it’s easy to shout out “amen.” It’s easy to see yourself as the wise guy who builds on the rock—who hears the words of Jesus and does them—to say to yourself, “I can do that!”

Something similar happens when you install new software on your computer, and that little window pops up with all the terms and conditions. If you’re like me, you get about three lines into those terms and conditions before your eyes glaze over, you scroll to the bottom of the page and click on the box that says you “agree” with these terms and conditions—not really knowing at all what you have just agreed to.

Brothers and sisters, if we’re going to be like the wise builder who built his house on the rock, then we ought to know the terms and conditions to which we are saying, “amen, I agree, I can do that.” We need to know what came before—what words preceded the conclusion.

There’s not enough time to cover the entire Sermon on the Mount, but here are some of the highlights. Last Sunday, you may recall, we heard Jesus’ invitation not to worry—to consider the birds of the air and the lilies of the field—to trust that our Father in heaven will provide us with everything we need. Many of you told me these words were just what you needed to hear. So how well did you do with putting those words of Jesus into practice during the past week? Was it a worry-free week? Was your anxiety absent? Or was it your trust in the Father’s care that was absent? After hearing those words about worry last week, how well did you put them into practice?

Another highlight of the Sermon on the Mount was when Jesus re-stated the fifth commandment: You shall not murder. Sounds easy enough. I can do that. But Jesus also said that anyone who harbors hatred or anger against another stands under the same condemnation as a murderer (5:21-22). In other words, it’s not just enough to refrain from actually murdering someone. You need to go and be reconciled to the one from whom you’re separated by anger or hatred. Can you do that?

Another highlight of the Sermon on the Mount was when Jesus re-stated the sixth commandment: You shall not commit adultery. Sounds easy enough. I can do that. But then Jesus went on to say that anyone who looks at another lustfully has already committed adultery in his heart. In other words, it’s not just about living a sexually pure and decent life in what we say and do, but also living a sexually pure and decent life in what we think. Sound easy to you? Can you do that?

Another highlight of the Sermon on the Mount is that part where Jesus tells us to love our enemies and to pray for those who persecute us. Sounds easy enough. I can do that. But what about that “enemy” who’s a member of your own family? What about that enemy who’s stolen from you or lied about you? What about that enemy—the lazy one—who makes you do all the work and then blames you when things go wrong? Jesus says, “Love them. Pray for them.” Can you do that?

After hearing some of what Jesus preached before His conclusion, it kind of takes the wind out of my sails. I’m not feeling quite so wise anymore. Because if putting these teachings of Jesus into practice is what it will take to weather the storms of life, then maybe I should start praying for fair skies and storm-free weather.

In one sense, hearing the sermon on the mount reminds us of what St. Paul wrote in Romans chapter three: “There is no difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” All have sinned. All of us rightly deserve to be condemned by God as murderers and adulterers who create far more enemies than we reconcile with. If the truly wise man builds his house on the rock by doing and keeping all of Jesus’ teachings, then we’re in trouble. We’re more foolish than wise—living in a trailer park and the storm sirens are sounding. We simply cannot weather the storm of God’s wrath against our sin.

But one man looked at our hopeless condition and our need for rescue and He said, “I can do that.” One man looked ahead and saw the sacrifice that would be needed to reconcile you to God—to atone for your sin—and He said, “I can do that.” That man was the God-man, Jesus Christ. He weathered the storm of God’s wrath for you and in your place. On Good Friday it was shouts and sneers and sarcasm that rained down upon Jesus. It was nails and thorns and spear that blasted His body in the stormy darkness of a Friday afternoon. It wasn’t just the wrath of soldiers and centurions that pounded and pummeled the body of Jesus that day. It wasn’t just a Roman tool of torture that took the Savior’s life. It was the wrath of God the Father poured out against your sin-bearing substitute.

What we deserve for our murder, our adultery, our hate, our worry and so much more—that’s what was doled out against Jesus, as Jesus faithfully followed His Father’s will. Jesus put the Words of His Father into practice. Jesus talked the talk and walked the walk and died the death we deserve. He gets what we deserve. You get what He deserves. His innocence, His righteousness, His holiness goes to you though faith. By His death and resurrection Jesus has become your sure and solid foundation. “On Christ, the solid rock, [we] stand; all other ground is sinking sand.”

Now, here’s a concluding word to the wise: Building by faith on Jesus, you can live securely. Through faith in Jesus, you have an eternal house in heaven—a home unaffected by surging winds or flooding rains. In this earthly life—make no mistake—the winds will blow and the rains will fall. The flood will rage all around you. You will be no stranger to storms and struggles. But in the end you will stand—you will stand on the one foundation that will never give way. You will stand secure in Jesus. Amen.

Don't Worry: Father Knows Best

2008-05-27T07:25:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu
St. Matthew 6:24-34
May 25, 2008
Pentecost 2A-Proper 3

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. . . . For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

I’m going to take a great professional risk here this morning, and ask you, my listeners, to handle the introduction to today’s sermon. I have confidence in you, even if you are rank amateurs when it comes to preaching. I’ll handle the heavy lifting, but the introduction is yours. To introduce this sermon, here’s what I’d like you to do: I would like you to name all the good things that you’ve accomplished by worrying. Just go ahead and shout out all the success you’ve achieved through worry. The goals you’ve reached—the inspiration you’ve felt—the joy and happiness that worrying has won for you. Don’t be shy. This is your chance to say, “I helped preach today’s sermon.” Let’s hear all about the wonderful effects of worrying in your life. . . . .

Well, let me just say, thanks for all your help. I mean that! In fact, I couldn’t have said it better myself. For by your silence, you have spoken volumes. Worrying, indeed, serves no good purpose—accomplishes nothing, achieves nothing, always assumes that the worst can and will happen in every situation. Martin Luther said it best with regard to worry: “All that we achieve with our [worry] is that we stand in God’s way and [we] hinder His work in us.”

Why all the words about worry today? Well, today’s Holy Gospel comes to us from the center of what is perhaps Jesus’ best-known sermon—the Sermon on the Mount. In the midst of that sermon, Jesus saw fit to gently draw His hearers away from worry by reminding them that their heavenly Father knows best—knows just what they need.

This text shows why Jesus was such a great preacher. To help get across His point about the futility of worry, He uses two everyday examples: birds of the air and lilies of the field. The birds of the air don’t sow or reap or store away in barns. And yet, says Jesus, “Your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” And bear in mind that Jesus was preaching this sermon outside. There were likely birds overhead when Jesus spoke of them. There were likely flowers growing nearby when Jesus spoke of them. Those flowers were clothed with more beauty than even King Solomon in all his splendor. Jesus asks, “Will not [your Father in heaven] much more clothe you, O you of little faith?”

That’s what worry and anxiety indicate—little faith. That’s our problem. That’s our sin. It’s not that we have no faith; we do have faith. It’s just that our faith too often is small and little. Once again Jesus diagnoses the problem perfectly. Jesus knows that the worry prompted by our little faith is indeed sinful. But notice how Jesus carefully addresses the sin of worry in a different manner than, say, the sin of adultery. Earlier in the Sermon on the Mount Jesus took on the sin of adultery with a stiff dose of law and condemnation. But do you know what happens when you threaten sinful worriers with condemnation and the fires of hell? They just get more worried. They get worried that they worry too much! They become anxious over their anxiety! So Jesus takes a different approach. Instead of condemning you—instead of threatening you, Jesus invites you—gently—to leave your worries behind—to live your life in a better way.

It’s important to mention that Jesus is teaching us here about the necessities of life—about the things we need—things like food and drink and clothing. And the things that we need comprise a far shorter list than the things we want and desire. Needs and wants are sometimes identical, but not always. Jesus isn’t preaching here that we shouldn’t worry because He will always give us everything we want. Nor is Jesus giving us a guarantee that we will never be in situations of extreme physical need. To draw from Jesus’ own examples, our heavenly Father feeds the birds, it’s true. But we’ve all seen how those same birds can be attacked by predators. Our heavenly Father clothes the lilies of the field, it’s true. But we’ve all seen those same flowers shrivel up in hot, dry conditions. But even if we were truly starving, dehydrated, naked and under attack, we could still confess our God as the one who richly provides for all our needs for this life and for the life to come.

So do not worry, says the Savior. Why not worry? Because, He says, your heavenly Father knows. He knows your individual, personal needs. Whatever it is that causes you restless days and sleepless nights—the worry that causes you to bounce off the walls and the anxiety that leaves you paralyzed with fear—beloved in the Lord, your heavenly Father knows. And that knowing is not just an informational knowing. No, your heavenly Father knows your needs as if they were His own needs—knows your troubles as if they were happening to Him. The fact is, your heavenly Father is even more acutely aware of your needs than you are! Your heavenly Father always knows best.

After all, it was that intimate knowledge of your situation that led your Father to send His Son. In Jesus, God made you a part of His royal kingdom. In Jesus, God gave you His righteousness. In Jesus, God took from you the source of every worry and the cause of every trouble. Your sins of thought, word and deed—your sins of worry and adultery and everything in between—sins that would otherwise torture us with worry and dread—they were laid upon Jesus. His body was affixed to that Roman tool of torture and death called the cross. By those nails God’s everlasting love for you has been engraved forever on the palms of Jesus (Is. 49:16). In those holy wounds, worry comes to an end. In those holy wounds, worry meets its match.

I don’t know how it is for you, but I tend to do most of my worrying when I’ve got downtime—when I’m not busy or otherwise engaged. Perhaps this is why Jesus tells us to stop worrying and get busy seeking. “Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness.” Literally, those words could be translated, “Be continually seeking, as a first priority, both the kingdom and the righteousness of God.”

In Luther’s day people mistakenly thought that you could seek the kingdom and righteousness of God by forsaking the world to join a monastery or a convent. But running away from our troubles is not the solution to worry. Jesus is the solution to worry! The kingdom and the righteousness of God are found in Jesus. And Jesus is found here in the power of His gospel, His Word preached and proclaimed, and in the bread that is His body and the wine that is His blood.

And when you go seeking the gifts of God in the Scriptures and the Sacraments, you will also find something else: people—a community of fellow disciples, brothers and sisters who like you are children of the same heavenly Father—people who love you and support you—people whom God is using to provide for your every need. Orient your life around the gifts of God and people of God, and there you will find faith—big faith—faith to overcome worry and courage to face tomorrow. Your heavenly Father knows—knows best—knows just what you need. Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Amen.

Abundant Life in the Good Shepherd

2008-04-15T09:16:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu
Jn. 10:10, Acts 2:42-47

April 13, 2008
Easter 4A

Jesus said, “I have come that they may have life and have it abundantly.”

[And this summary statement from Acts chapter 2, concerning the life of the first Christians:]
And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

How’s your life? I’m guessing that everyone here today could give a different answer to that question. How’s your life? Would you say it’s fulfilling, successful and going according to plan? Or would you be more inclined to say it’s draining, difficult, or careening wildly out of control? How’s your life?

Jesus said this about you and about your life: “I have come that they may have life and have it abundantly.” Other translations express it this way: “I have come that they may have life and have it to the full.” But what is this full, abundant life? What does it mean to have life “to the full?” Does it mean that you should expect your best life now? Does it mean that you can expect to climb every mountain and dream the impossible dream? Do you have this life?

I’d like to suggest that today’s reading from Acts chapter 2 gives us a pretty good picture of what it means to have life to the full in Jesus—to have the abundant life of our Lord. That reading tells us what life was like for those very first Christians right after Jesus ascended into heaven—right after the coming of the Holy Spirit on the Day of Pentecost. Those first Christians devoted themselves completely to four things. With all their hearts they persisted in four things. Their very lives revolved around these things: the apostles’ teaching, the fellowship, the breaking of bread, and the prayers.

As the first Christians listened eagerly to the teaching and preaching of the apostles—as they broke bread together and received the body and blood of Jesus in the Lord’s Supper—as they joined together in prayer for the needs of all—as they combined their resources to provide for the poor and needy—as they did these things they had life, and they had it to the full. They had real life and abundant life that was centered in the Savior and in His gifts. Oh, they had problems. There was persecution. There was suffering. But they had life, and had it abundantly.

Dear members of Our Savior, I’m glad to tell you that these same things are still at the heart of our life together as sheep of the Good Shepherd. In this, our 75th year, these things are still the main things. What the Apostles themselves taught and preached in the days following Pentecost—written down and recorded for us in the pages of the New Testament—this is still the same message taught and proclaimed here every Sunday. We don’t add anything to it; we don’t subtract anything from it—that the Lord Jesus Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree of the cross, that we might die to sin and live for righteousness. This is the good news we proclaim. We have devoted ourselves to the teaching of the Apostles.

Together with the Lord’s message comes the Lord’s Supper—the breaking of the bread, St. Luke calls it. Here at Our Savior, we have devoted ourselves to the breaking of the bread. Not all that many years ago this congregation studied and recovered the ancient, historic practice of offering the Lord’s Supper on every Lord’s Day—decided not to deny the Lord’s body and blood to those who hungered and thirsted for it—decided that this congregation—like the congregation in Acts chapter 2—would be devoted to the breaking of the bread every week.

Having received the Lord’s gifts in word and in meal, we can’t help but pray, praise and give thanks. From beginning to end, the Divine Service is filled with prayer—words addressed to the Lord Himself. Here at Our Savior, we have devoted ourselves to the prayers. We pray for the whole people of God in Christ Jesus and for all people according to their needs. We pray the prayer which our Lord Himself has given us to pray. We express both our helplessness and our thankfulness in prayer.

How’s your life? Inasmuch as your life is grounded in these good gifts, you have life to the full. You have abundant life in our Lord Jesus Christ. You have faith. You have forgiveness. You have peace that passes understanding.

But did you also notice this about those first Christians? They had a unique approach to stewardship. They sold their possessions. They sold their belongings. They liquidated their assets and essentially gave it all to the church. Having all things in common, they were able to meet the needs of all. Now, you will be glad to know that I’m not recommending this approach for our stewardship here at Our Savior. In teaching this part of the Scriptures I’ve always been careful to explain that the decision of those first Christians to pool all of their assets together was never intended as an example which all Christians were obligated to follow. You don’t have to sign over the title to your house before you leave today.

But let me ask this: Why, then, did God the Holy Spirit tell us these facts? What should we Christians today learn from the stewardship model of the first Christians? I’m here to tell you: Those men and women had a vested interest in the life of their congregation. Their congregation mattered more to them than did their own home mortgage. Their congregation didn’t just occupy a spot on their Sunday “to do” list. No, the text says every day—“day by day”—they concerned themselves with receiving the gifts of God and showing mercy to those in need. Their lives were fully invested in the life of their congregation. There was among them an attitude—an attitude of gratitude—that caused all of them—from the greatest to the least—to step up and strive for the success and faithfulness of their congregation.

We live in a different time and place, to be sure. Things have certainly changed since then. But the gifts of God haven’t changed. The gospel hasn’t changed. We still have the apostles’ teaching, the breaking of the bread, the fellowship, the prayers . . . but where’s the attitude? Where are the people fully invested in the life of the church? Where are the people who refuse to say, “That’s not my job,” but who instead are committed to asking, “What can I do? How can I help this congregation?” Can you even begin to imagine how things would change if everyone every week stepped up with the attitude that what happens here at Our Savior matters for eternity—if everyone devoted themselves to asking, “What can I do? How can I help? How can I use the blessings I have received from God . . . to be a blessing for His church . . . in this place?”

Beloved in the Lord, this kind of living is what Jesus calls the abundant life. This is life to the full. It’s not an easy life. It’s not a life that’s free from trouble and sorrow. It’s a life where wolves and thieves and robbers come to steal and kill and destroy, Jesus says. But with Jesus it’s a life that’s devoted to receiving the gifts of Jesus in Word and sacrament—the forgiveness of sins that He earned for you on the cross. Life to the full begins with being served by Jesus, and continues as we serve others in the name of Jesus. Life to the full is also the life that never ends—resurrection life that lasts forever.

Jesus—the Jesus who is your life—is completely devoted to you. He has invested Himself completely in your eternal good—an investment not made with gold or silver, but with His holy, precious blood. He has a vested interest in seeing you enter through the door of eternal life. He Himself makes that possible. Through Holy Baptism He added you to the number of those being saved. His Holy Spirit had made your body His temple. This morning He has prepared a table before you—invites you to the breaking of the bread. Here His voice is heard, guiding you in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. And He Himself will lead you right through the valley of the shadow of death. How’s your life? It is full. It is abundant. It is blessed . . . with Jesus. Amen.

Christ Gives Contentment

2007-08-06T13:32:00.000-07:00

In Nomine Iesu

Ecc. 2:24-25/Luke 12:15

August 5, 2007
Pentecost 10C/Proper 13

There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God, for apart from him who can eat or who can have enjoyment?
[Jesus said,] “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~

Do you know what it sounds like when something gets deflated? You know the sound of your bicycle tire losing air: PSSSSSSSSssssss . . . . That’s what it sounds like when something gets deflated. Let me tell you what it sounds like when a pastor gets deflated: It had been a glorious Sunday morning. The church had been packed. The music and singing had been heavenly. God’s people had been fed and nourished on the Word of God and with the body and blood of Christ. The beauty of the gospel and the promise of the resurrection had rung out loud and clear. It had been heaven on earth. As the service concluded and the pastor made his way out into the narthex, a woman came running up to him, “Pastor! Pastor! Do you know that there’s no toilet paper in the women’s restroom?” PSSSSSSSSSSssssssssss. That’s what we call deflation. And I suspect you know that feeling too.

Jesus also knows just what that feels like. Like the time in today’s Holy Gospel when He was preaching to literally thousands (12:1) of people—so many people that they were trampling one another. Jesus was preaching the kingdom of God—preaching with power, precision and insight—moving the hearts and minds of His hearers to turn from their sin and be embraced by the good news of salvation. When all of a sudden a man in the crowd stands up and yells out at Jesus, “Hey, tell my brother to split the inheritance with me!” (PPPSSSSSSSssssssssssss!) St. Luke doesn’t report it, but I wonder if Jesus sighed at that moment. It was a deflating sentence—the kind of sentence that takes the wind right out of a preacher’s sails.

This wasn’t a question about the kingdom. This wasn’t a question about Jesus or the gospel or even religion in general. It was financial, not spiritual. It reflected greed, not faith. But rather than ignore the question—rather than throw up his hands in despair—Jesus’ preaching takes a detour as He tells a story—the parable of the rich fool.

And what’s so surprising about the rich fool is that—on the surface at least—his actions don’t really seem all that foolish. Please notice that the rich man’s wealth is not ill-gotten. He didn’t get his riches through scheming or stealing or gaming or betting. No, Jesus says that his land “produced plentifully.” The land produced a good harvest—a bumper crop. His wealth came from God. Nor was the plan to built bigger barns an especially foolish plan. Without barns to store it, his crop would pile up on the ground and eventually rot. Nor is there anything foolish with his plan to “relax, eat, drink, and be merry.” Would you have done anything differently if you had been in his shoes?

But God calls the man a “fool.” I wonder why. Well, the text doesn’t say directly, but perhaps it was because the man called the crops “my crops.” Perhaps it’s because he called the barns “my barns.” Perhaps it’s because he called the grain and the goods “my grain and my goods.” The man was a fool because he didn’t acknowledge the God who is the Giver of every good and perfect gift. He simply didn’t make the connection that it’s God who gives clothing and shoes, food and drink, house and home, wife and children, land, animals, and all we have. He simply couldn’t fathom that all this was done for him only out of fatherly divine goodness and mercy, without any merit or worthiness in him.

It all reminds me of that old story about the farmer who was showing off his well-tended and well-developed property to his pastor. It was one of those immaculate, postcard-quality farms with a big red barn and lush fields and pastures full of livestock. The pastor kept saying things like, “My, you and the Lord have sure done well here,” and “You and the Lord have got quite an operation here.” About the fifth time the pastor used that phrase, the irate farmer finally sputtered, “Now just a doggone minute, preacher. Ya shoulda seen this place when ‘the Lord’ had it all by himself!”

No farmers here today, but we all face that farmer’s temptation—to see our goods and our money and our possessions—not as gifts from the God who loves us—but as trophies of our own achievement. Hear this loud and clear: to be wealthy is not a sin. To build bigger barns is not a sin. But to deny that God is the giver of every good thing we have—or to deny God the portion of our income that He wants us to return to Him—well, that breaks commandment number one. That’s idolatry. It’s placing ourselves and our work and our labor and our toil over and above the grace and love of God in Christ Jesus.

I’m here to tell you that if we’re just working to get more “things” and more “stuff” and a bigger bank account—well, then, we’re just a bunch of rich fools. If we’re never content and satisfied with the good things we already have—well, that’s greed, idolatry, covetousness. King Solomon writes that it’s like “chasing after the wind.” In other words, the chase for more and more and better and better is an endless chase that never satisfies.

What we need is the gift of contentment. “Godliness with contentment is great gain,” the Scriptures say (1 Tim. 6:6). I love the way King Solomon describes contentment in today’s OT reading: “There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This . . . I saw is from the hand of God.” Being satisfied with what we have—being content with what God so graciously gives us—that itself is a gift from God. It’s the gift of contentment. Do you have that gift?

There was one man who was perfectly content—a man who found perfect fulfillment in the work He was given to do. His work, He said, was to do the will of the Father. And the work He did, He did for you and for your salvation. As a true man like you, Jesus toiled and labored under the same hot sun that shines down on us on these dog days of summer. With all knowledge, wisdom and skill Jesus set out to do the work His Father had appointed for Him. On Good Friday His work reached its climax. His work on that day was a labor of pain and grief. And all that He accomplished at that place called “Golgotha”—the forgiveness of sins, opening of the kingdom of heaven to all believers—these precious gifts Jesus gives away—gives away to those who follow Him in faith. You didn’t work for it. You didn’t earn it. You don’t deserve it. That’s why we call it “grace.”

In your baptism Jesus filled that empty void inside of you with His Holy Spirit, who daily and richly forgives all your sins. And in place of those sins, Jesus gives you His perfect record of obedience. His perfect work record now belongs to you, and your future is now tied to Christ. “You died,” Paul writes, “and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with Him in glory.” In that resurrection promise you have contentment. You don’t have to run on empty. You don’t have to wear yourself ragged in the rat race of life. You can be content with what you have because God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you” (Heb. 13:5).

Jesus Christ gives contentment. His work and His labor give eternal meaning and significance to your life. As a baptized child of God, as one who hears His Word, as one fed and nourished with the body and blood of Jesus—your God is pleased with you for Jesus’ sake. And to the one who pleases Him, God gives wisdom, knowledge, joy and contentment. So let it begin today. Quit chasing after the wind—after bigger and better and more. Be content with what God has given you. Count your blessings instead. Rejoice in your work. And find real contentment in Christ Jesus. Amen.