In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit
Dear Brothers and Sisters of Christ the Crucified:
... Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, “If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” They answered him, “We are offspring of Abraham and have never been enslaved to anyone. How is it that you say, ‘You will become free’?” (John 8:31-33 ESV)
The world and the world's churches have convinced themselves that the nicer they appear and the more good they can do in front of television cameras and newspaper reporters, the more the world will adore Christ, fall in love with him, and stop all its bad behavior.
And so congregations and organizations that call themselves Christian are out in the world loving everyone to death in order to make the world love the Gospel of Christ.
And shouldn't that be the way we effectively, successfully make everyone in our families, neighbors and communities Christian — by being holy and righteous and good and sinless people who are constantly doing holy and righteous and good and sinless things? If only we would end all disagreements in our church. If only we would stop all those personal idiosyncrasies that bother those around us and give a flower and a smile to everyone we meet during the day. If only we would be the perfect parent or the perfect child or the perfect next-door neighbor or the perfect employee or citizen.
If only we would overcome our fallenness and truly love God with our entire mind and heart and soul. If only we would overcome our sinfulness and love and care for our neighbor simply for the sake of our neighbor —
Then the world would stop being so mean and realize that Christ-like love is all we need. If we would only be like Christ — then the world would put away all anger and jealousy and greed and slander and hatred — and decide to be nice and play by the rules.
But that's the strategy of the world and the world's churches. And although it sounds so good, it is, in view of God's own clear revelation through the prophets and apostles, a strategy that leads nowhere but sinful pride and boasting — or total despair.
This morning, as we celebrate the 492nd anniversary of God's grace given in Luther's re-discovery of the saving Gospel, we do well to remind ourselves that the Reformation of the Christian Church of Rome that began on October 31st, 1517 had nothing to do with any man-made revitalization program for the church and the world.
Luther didn't cook up some magic formula that injected enthusiasm and excitement into Rome's plans to build the kingdom of heaven on earth through the funneling of more money into the church's coffers. Luther is not celebrated this morning because he defended the inalienable rights of the individual or because he single-handedly exposed the evils of corporate greed within the organized Christian church.
God's Word this morning tells us again exactly what we need to hear - especially when we get all puffed up with the wrong-headed notion that stubborn ol' Luther, master theological teacher, Bible-translator, hymn-writer, preacher, pastor and missionary lived such a good and Christ-like life that the gates of heaven were opened for anyone committed to follow in his saintly steps.
All that the Reformation truly stands for continues to be something that the world just can't swallow. Something that the world and the world's religions continue to spin and re-interpret to fit it's own self-deluded conclusion that humanity — if it just tries hard enough — can become holy and good and righteous — even before God himself.
Luther, after his hell-on-earth experiences as a monk, was given by God the grace to understand that even with the best of intentions, even with the greatest desire to please God and serve neighbor, our first parents have drained us of any ability to actually carry out what is truly God-pleasing.
Our care of neighbor is stained with our own preoccupation of building up our own image in the eyes of others.
Our love of God is all wrapped up in what kind of reward we think we'll be knocking down for being such good children of heaven.
We keep track of who we've saved and who we've helped and how many times we've said to someone on an airplane, "God loves you and so do I."
We are, by our very nature, list-makers of all the good we think we've contributed to the "righteousness" column that will be read on the last day by the One who knows if we've been naughty or nice.
No wonder why our old nature and the world's religions around us just can't accept the Jesus that comes to us in the Old and New Testament. The Jesus who announces in the eighth chapter of the Holy Gospel According to Saint John that all children of a real Adam and Eve are real fallen and sinful children of parents who gambled everything away — for themselves and for each of us — as they traded in faith and trust in their gracious and all-giving God for a chance at being the center of the universe.
And so any Reformation service worth it's salt begins with the acclamation that it isn't our good intentions that last forever. It isn't our nice behavior or sincerity or tears or promises or decisions or our cleaned-up lifestyle that saves ourselves or anyone else. The Church of the Reformation is, by God's unmerited grace, the church that begins Reformation Sunday with the clear confession — to the Lord Almighty and to the world — that on the basis of the unchanging Word of God, we are by our very fallen nature "sinful and unclean" and "deserving only of God's present and eternal wrath and punishment."
That's the opening note of the Reformation symphony because it is the opening note of the history of God's redemption in Christ.
We are under the oppression and shackles and curse of sin. We are worse off than the children of Israel under the thumb of Egypt's wicked Pharaoh. We are, by our very nature, able to choose, but able to choose only what appears to be good, right and salutary before the Maker of heaven and earth.
We are, in the words of Saint Paul, poor, miserable failures when it comes to carrying out the good that we wish to do, even if we've convinced ourselves and the world of our spotless intentions.
You see, the Law of God comes through Moses and the Ten Commandments to hold up the clear mirror of heaven's will, that we would get a good look at what we have lost — what we have become before our holy and perfect and righteous God. And the sight is not a pretty one. "For all have sinned and fallen woefully short of the glory of God" — that glory intended for each of us and for the whole of creation.
Jesus answered them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. The slave does not remain in the house forever; the son remains forever. So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." (John 8:34-36 ESV)
Several years ago, the great Lutheran theologian and ethicist Dr. George Forell spoke here in this sanctuary and held up the truths of Scripture reflected in the great hymns of the Reformation. And in pointing out the relevance of the Reformation for today, he pointed to the words written by Paul Speratus in the hymn we sang here last Sunday: "Salvation unto Us Has Come."
It was a false, misleading dream
That God his Law had given
That sinners could themselves redeem /
And by their works gain heaven.
The Law is but a mirror bright /
To bring the inbred sin to light
That lurks within our nature. (verse 3)
Try getting the United Nations or Washington D.C. or Sacramento (or the YMCA or many churches that call themselves Christian) to sing that next time they get together to do good and make the world a little more like heaven.
This morning it is God in his grace that gathers us together to shut-out the go-nowhere, empty programs of the world and our own fallen nature — that we would hear his Word — his Word which shows us our sin —so that we would then receive with joy and thanksgiving the only God-ordained medicine for hardened hearts — the only God-ordained cure for minds convinced that, if given just another chance, we could clean up our lives, turn everything around and thereby earn God's favor.
It is God's Word alone that clearly shows us the depth of our spiritual plight, that we would then be brought to the foot of the Cross of Christ to there see the Son of God take upon himself our sin — and atone for it and make satisfaction for it and bury it forever in his grave.
Jesus wasn't born in a humble manger just to teach us to be humble. Our Lord wasn't crucified on a cruel cross just to show us that we can redeem ourselves by always looking at the bright side of life. Christ did not come to show you how you can save yourself. He came to affirm the ministry of Moses and the Law that drives us to despair of any self-made attempt to build some staircase into heaven out of our own good works.
Outside of God's grace in Christ, we are, as the Small Catechism reminds us, spiritually blind, rebel enemies of God, even when our behavior looks so good to the world. For, as Romans 14 reveals, "whatever does not proceed from [true] faith is sin."
But if the Church of the Reformation proclaims that everything outside of God-given faith in the Christ of Scripture is sin and slavery and death, it is because only with this confession are we ready to hear the Gospel — the great Good News that alone brings true peace and salvation and the hope of heaven.
Christ did not come to show us how we can perform before God and make him applaud on account of our more civilized behavior.
Christ came to die for the shame and guilt of an entire disobedient, out-of-control world. Christ came to graciously, mercifully save undeserving sinners who were, whether they would admit it or not, dying under the weight of their own unrighteousness.
That is the one, true treasure of the Church. That is the holy Gospel of grace given to the Christian Church on earth to share with all who have given up on saving themselves by their attempts to be nicer and more love-able before God and neighbor.
The Jewish leaders in this morning's Gospel reading who began to believe were taken back when Jesus told them that their favored status as children of Abraham didn't negate the fact that on their own they could do nothing to earn heaven's reward. Even the religious elite needed another — a strong man to come and bind sin, death and the devil and set the weak and helpless free.
And what these people in John chapter 8 needed to believe is the same thing we are called to put our faith in. The clear teaching of Scripture that there is only one righteous offspring of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. There is only one righteous Son who enjoys an permanent place before God in his eternal dwelling place. There is only one righteous redeemer who offered up his very life-blood as an all-encompassing sacrifice for the transgressions of the entire human race.
Only through Christ are we declared acquitted, restored, righteous in God's sight. Only through Christ. Only through Baptism into his saving Name are we given a new nature that not only has the ability but the unwavering desire to trust in God's Word and please him with the fruits of faith.
Saint Paul said it best when he wrote these inspired words to young Timothy:
The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners... .
(1Timothy 1:15 ESV)
I am not up here this morning to wow you with everything I know about Luther and the Reformation. I am not up here this morning to give you the secret formula to get all sin out of your life so you can become just like Christ in order to win some "Holy and Righteous Christian of the Year" award. That's the junk Tetzel was selling by exchanging coins for parchment and the Pope's seal and the promise of sins paid for.
I am here, on this Reformation Sunday, to point you to that one thing — that one thing that remains forever. And it isn't the smarts of the pastor or your promise never to sin again.
I have been called to simply point sinners to the eternal Word made man — to the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world — at his Cross, at his Baptismal font, at his altar.
In God-given faith, confess your unrighteousness, and your trust in Christ — our only redeemer, our only savior, our only hope and righteousness, here and in eternity. Again, Paul Speratus:
Let me not doubt, but truly see
Your Word cannot be broken;
Your call rings out, "Come unto me!"
No falsehood have You spoken.
Baptized into your precious Name,
My faith cannot be put to shame,
And I shall never perish. (verse 7)
Let yourself be the helpless sinner. And then — let Christ be your Savior.
In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The Wheels of Salvation Set in Motion (Mark 9:30-37)
In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit
Dear Fellow Redeemed in Christ:
They [Jesus and the disciples] went on from there and passed through Galilee. And he did not want anyone to know, for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, “The Son of Man is going to be delivered into the hands of men, and they will kill him. And when he is killed, after three days he will rise.” But they did not understand the saying, and were afraid to ask him. (Mark 9:30-32 ESV)
It's already begun. The movement is now afoot. The plans are being made. The plot has already been hatched.
And Jesus knows it. And Jesus is preparing for it. And Jesus is preparing his disciples for it. And, this morning, Jesus is preparing you and me for it.
The plans are in reaction to the impending battle that will answer once-and-for-all: "Who is the greatest among us? Who's got the real power and authority? Who's got the chutzpah to step up to the plate and deliver? Who's got the passion to win what angels and archangels and the whole company of heaven have been pleading for since Adam and Eve's fall into sin?
When it comes to salvation, there is seemingly little room for the shy and squeamish. From now on, things will move irreversibly toward the great and mighty day of the Lord. "The time has now come." Jesus announces to those he has called to follow him.
Because when it comes to life in this world, God doesn't leave his own children hanging — he doesn't leave us hanging. When it comes to our redemption, our Lord puts it all on the table.
And as we heard last Sunday, the focus of Jesus' ministry now moves from performing signs and miracles as a witness to the crowds to the preparation of Jesus' own for what now lies just around the corner.
And he began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes and be killed, and after three days rise again. (Mark 8:31 ESV)
No more obtuse hints, no more innuendo. No more under the table clues and back room whispers. For the disciples, for the tribes of Israel reduced to twelve, it was out in the open now. From the mouth of Jesus himself the disciples now hear plainly what had only been sketched out by the prophets of old: "I am the Christ. And I have been anointed to be the Servant of the Lord of Hosts, sent to secure salvation for you and for the entire world — by suffering, by being rejected, by being killed — and after three days resurrected."
The Twelve had hoped that things would change for the better after Jesus' first prediction of what was in store for him — and for them — in Jerusalem. And with the glimpse of glory granted to Peter and James and John (the representatives of the Twelve who accompanied Jesus up the mount of transfiguration), they quickly forgot the far-from-glorious end Jesus had earlier predicted. With the powerful healing of the boy suffering under an unclean spirit, the disciples tucked away any thought that Jesus would end up in the hands of evil men who would strip him — strip him of his very life.
But now, Jesus had paused from performing signs and miracles in the public square to do an even greater work behind closed doors: to begin the process of readying his true followers for the cosmic firestorm that would ensue with Jesus' betrayal and arrest.
With this morning's Gospel from the 9th chapter of Saint Mark, we see that the wheels are now set in motion. The Jewish religious leaders have been convinced that this whole Jesus of Nazareth movement was not progressing toward their salvation but — if left unchecked — their undoing. Judas has been convinced that the perks he secretly enjoyed as treasurer of the band's coffers were now in real jeopardy if Jesus was preparing to end it all when he arrived in Jerusalem. Judas thought: "How in the world can this self-proclaimed messiah — this glorious son of man — allow himself to be delivered over into the hands of those who would cancel his rise to fame — like some helpless piece of bulk mail?"
I always remember what Judas sang in "Jesus Christ Superstar" as he warned Jesus about the road he was now announcing to the disciples:
Listen Jesus to the warning I give. /
Please remember that I want us to live.
But it's sad to see our chances weakening with ev'ry hour.
All your followers are blind. / Too much heaven on their minds.
It was beautiful, but now it's sour. / Yes, it's all gone sour ... .
Judas' dreams of greatness were drying up, even as the Twelve made their way to the lakeside home of Mary, the mother of Jesus. He could see nothing but disaster and a big, fat dead end — not only for Jesus, but especially for himself and his great personal aspirations.
Something had to be done. Plans needed to be made. Alliances needed to be established and nurtured. Someone needed to stand up and take the bull by its horns and stop this mad rush off the cliff. Someone needed to rise to the occasion among Jesus' followers.
And they came to Capernaum. And when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you discussing on the way?” But they kept silent, for on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest. (Mark 9:33-34 ESV)
The private whispers of the disciples along the way had proven much more divisive than decisive. They were jostling among themselves for a seat of power and glory and honor at their master's right and left — especially now as it seemed that someone would have to take charge in Jesus' absence.
Who among the Twelve could guarantee they had the right stuff to continue what Jesus had started? Who was the heir apparent? Peter? James and John? Thomas? Andrew? Judas?
Who could make what Jesus had begun into something truly great and glorious and eternal?
Jesus, dear, long-suffering, patient Jesus brought his disciples inside and closed the door and sat down to teach them again something that seemed more and more impossible for their fallen, self-absorbed, "what's in it for me," hearts and minds to grasp. Jesus was about to teach them that "It's not about getting to the top of the ladder before anyone else."
And [Jesus] sat down and called the twelve. And he said to them, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.” And he took a child and put him in the midst of them, and taking him in his arms, he said to them,“Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.” (Mark 9:35-37 ESV)
It should increasingly disturb us that the mission of more and more of the organized Christian church swirls around a deadly obsession to gain the applause of the crowds and make a great name for those individuals who — in the eyes of the world — fought the hardest for heaven and claimed the most real estate for the kingdom of God.
Jesus calls the twelve to repentance and a complete turn-around in their understanding of the securing of salvation when he puts the simple, unquestioning faith of a child before their eyes and says, "This is what the kingdom of God is all about. This is the will of God. This is the mission of his one-and-only Son. To be a servant who's only aspiration is to obey the good and gracious will of him who sent him."
Our secret aspiration was to be thought of well by more and more people. Jesus' secret aspiration? To do the will of his Father in heaven and give his life-blood — even for fame-craving disciples. Our secret wish was to gain the accolades of those around us and have nice things said of us after we were gone. Jesus' secret wish: to do the will of his Father in heaven — to serve his Father's gracious will — even when it meant being the Suffering Servant. Even when it meant receiving the wrath of sinners too busy arguing about who's name would be announced at the next awards show to see their redemption just over the hill.
"What were you discussing along the way?" Jesus asks, as he calls each of us to let go of the desire to make a name for ourselves — that he might place his saving name upon us.
Christ would have nothing to do with the silly and endless debates about who was greatest — who deserved the service and applause of everyone around them. He came to serve, to give his life as a ransom for the many, to put on a waiter's towel and stoop down and wash away our sins with his very life-blood.
When it comes to hitting home runs in the kingdom of salvation, only Christ wears the title of designated hitter. Only he has stepped up to the plate, and forsaking all glory, won for us — and for an entire lawless, self-seeking world — the name gifted to us at the baptismal font: believing, faithful, God-pleasing child of heaven.
Put your faith in Christ and his Word spoken over you at the font, spoken over you through the prophets and apostles, spoken over his table, over bread and wine through which he forgives and strengthens.
It took something truly great to change the disciples' endless debates about who among them was the greatest and most glorious. And it takes something truly miraculous to change our old nature's fascination to look into the mirror and ask, "Who's the fairest one of all?" It takes a plunge into Christ's death and resurrection. It takes a daily drowning of that nature we drag around with us, that a new nature would arise — a Christ-like nature that serves our neighbor, even the neighbor we find it so difficult to care for.
It was the Lutheran pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer who once said, "When Christ calls a man, he bids him to come and die."
May Christ continue his great and mighty work of drowning our sin, and brining forth a new nature that serves those God places into our lives - for their sake.
In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit
Dear Fellow Redeemed in Christ:
They [Jesus and the disciples] went on from there and passed through Galilee. And he did not want anyone to know, for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, “The Son of Man is going to be delivered into the hands of men, and they will kill him. And when he is killed, after three days he will rise.” But they did not understand the saying, and were afraid to ask him. (Mark 9:30-32 ESV)
It's already begun. The movement is now afoot. The plans are being made. The plot has already been hatched.
And Jesus knows it. And Jesus is preparing for it. And Jesus is preparing his disciples for it. And, this morning, Jesus is preparing you and me for it.
The plans are in reaction to the impending battle that will answer once-and-for-all: "Who is the greatest among us? Who's got the real power and authority? Who's got the chutzpah to step up to the plate and deliver? Who's got the passion to win what angels and archangels and the whole company of heaven have been pleading for since Adam and Eve's fall into sin?
When it comes to salvation, there is seemingly little room for the shy and squeamish. From now on, things will move irreversibly toward the great and mighty day of the Lord. "The time has now come." Jesus announces to those he has called to follow him.
Because when it comes to life in this world, God doesn't leave his own children hanging — he doesn't leave us hanging. When it comes to our redemption, our Lord puts it all on the table.
And as we heard last Sunday, the focus of Jesus' ministry now moves from performing signs and miracles as a witness to the crowds to the preparation of Jesus' own for what now lies just around the corner.
And he began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes and be killed, and after three days rise again. (Mark 8:31 ESV)
No more obtuse hints, no more innuendo. No more under the table clues and back room whispers. For the disciples, for the tribes of Israel reduced to twelve, it was out in the open now. From the mouth of Jesus himself the disciples now hear plainly what had only been sketched out by the prophets of old: "I am the Christ. And I have been anointed to be the Servant of the Lord of Hosts, sent to secure salvation for you and for the entire world — by suffering, by being rejected, by being killed — and after three days resurrected."
The Twelve had hoped that things would change for the better after Jesus' first prediction of what was in store for him — and for them — in Jerusalem. And with the glimpse of glory granted to Peter and James and John (the representatives of the Twelve who accompanied Jesus up the mount of transfiguration), they quickly forgot the far-from-glorious end Jesus had earlier predicted. With the powerful healing of the boy suffering under an unclean spirit, the disciples tucked away any thought that Jesus would end up in the hands of evil men who would strip him — strip him of his very life.
But now, Jesus had paused from performing signs and miracles in the public square to do an even greater work behind closed doors: to begin the process of readying his true followers for the cosmic firestorm that would ensue with Jesus' betrayal and arrest.
With this morning's Gospel from the 9th chapter of Saint Mark, we see that the wheels are now set in motion. The Jewish religious leaders have been convinced that this whole Jesus of Nazareth movement was not progressing toward their salvation but — if left unchecked — their undoing. Judas has been convinced that the perks he secretly enjoyed as treasurer of the band's coffers were now in real jeopardy if Jesus was preparing to end it all when he arrived in Jerusalem. Judas thought: "How in the world can this self-proclaimed messiah — this glorious son of man — allow himself to be delivered over into the hands of those who would cancel his rise to fame — like some helpless piece of bulk mail?"
I always remember what Judas sang in "Jesus Christ Superstar" as he warned Jesus about the road he was now announcing to the disciples:
Listen Jesus to the warning I give. /
Please remember that I want us to live.
But it's sad to see our chances weakening with ev'ry hour.
All your followers are blind. / Too much heaven on their minds.
It was beautiful, but now it's sour. / Yes, it's all gone sour ... .
Judas' dreams of greatness were drying up, even as the Twelve made their way to the lakeside home of Mary, the mother of Jesus. He could see nothing but disaster and a big, fat dead end — not only for Jesus, but especially for himself and his great personal aspirations.
Something had to be done. Plans needed to be made. Alliances needed to be established and nurtured. Someone needed to stand up and take the bull by its horns and stop this mad rush off the cliff. Someone needed to rise to the occasion among Jesus' followers.
And they came to Capernaum. And when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you discussing on the way?” But they kept silent, for on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest. (Mark 9:33-34 ESV)
The private whispers of the disciples along the way had proven much more divisive than decisive. They were jostling among themselves for a seat of power and glory and honor at their master's right and left — especially now as it seemed that someone would have to take charge in Jesus' absence.
Who among the Twelve could guarantee they had the right stuff to continue what Jesus had started? Who was the heir apparent? Peter? James and John? Thomas? Andrew? Judas?
Who could make what Jesus had begun into something truly great and glorious and eternal?
Jesus, dear, long-suffering, patient Jesus brought his disciples inside and closed the door and sat down to teach them again something that seemed more and more impossible for their fallen, self-absorbed, "what's in it for me," hearts and minds to grasp. Jesus was about to teach them that "It's not about getting to the top of the ladder before anyone else."
And [Jesus] sat down and called the twelve. And he said to them, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.” And he took a child and put him in the midst of them, and taking him in his arms, he said to them,“Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.” (Mark 9:35-37 ESV)
It should increasingly disturb us that the mission of more and more of the organized Christian church swirls around a deadly obsession to gain the applause of the crowds and make a great name for those individuals who — in the eyes of the world — fought the hardest for heaven and claimed the most real estate for the kingdom of God.
Jesus calls the twelve to repentance and a complete turn-around in their understanding of the securing of salvation when he puts the simple, unquestioning faith of a child before their eyes and says, "This is what the kingdom of God is all about. This is the will of God. This is the mission of his one-and-only Son. To be a servant who's only aspiration is to obey the good and gracious will of him who sent him."
Our secret aspiration was to be thought of well by more and more people. Jesus' secret aspiration? To do the will of his Father in heaven and give his life-blood — even for fame-craving disciples. Our secret wish was to gain the accolades of those around us and have nice things said of us after we were gone. Jesus' secret wish: to do the will of his Father in heaven — to serve his Father's gracious will — even when it meant being the Suffering Servant. Even when it meant receiving the wrath of sinners too busy arguing about who's name would be announced at the next awards show to see their redemption just over the hill.
"What were you discussing along the way?" Jesus asks, as he calls each of us to let go of the desire to make a name for ourselves — that he might place his saving name upon us.
Christ would have nothing to do with the silly and endless debates about who was greatest — who deserved the service and applause of everyone around them. He came to serve, to give his life as a ransom for the many, to put on a waiter's towel and stoop down and wash away our sins with his very life-blood.
When it comes to hitting home runs in the kingdom of salvation, only Christ wears the title of designated hitter. Only he has stepped up to the plate, and forsaking all glory, won for us — and for an entire lawless, self-seeking world — the name gifted to us at the baptismal font: believing, faithful, God-pleasing child of heaven.
Put your faith in Christ and his Word spoken over you at the font, spoken over you through the prophets and apostles, spoken over his table, over bread and wine through which he forgives and strengthens.
It took something truly great to change the disciples' endless debates about who among them was the greatest and most glorious. And it takes something truly miraculous to change our old nature's fascination to look into the mirror and ask, "Who's the fairest one of all?" It takes a plunge into Christ's death and resurrection. It takes a daily drowning of that nature we drag around with us, that a new nature would arise — a Christ-like nature that serves our neighbor, even the neighbor we find it so difficult to care for.
It was the Lutheran pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer who once said, "When Christ calls a man, he bids him to come and die."
May Christ continue his great and mighty work of drowning our sin, and brining forth a new nature that serves those God places into our lives - for their sake.
In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit
Friday, September 18, 2009
What Fuels Faith After the Excitement Wears Off? (Mark 9:14-29)
In the Name of Jesus
Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ our Savior:
Jesus finds himself at the height of his popularity in and around the sea of Galilee. He has come and, without reservation or wavering, picked up his unique call from his Father in heaven to reveal the signs of redemption through his itinerant healing and preaching. His unexpected presence in the lives of those burdened and crushed by the weight of sin and its consequences is as unexpected as his sudden word of healing and touch of mercy upon those who had despaired that they would ever see the light of day again. The blind are given their sight. The lame are healed. The hungry are miraculously fed. And as the people get the real sense that the long-awaited kingdom of God is now breaking in, amazement and excitement give way to more and more questions. Who is this man? What kind of prophet could he be? Could he even be the only-begotten Son of God — the divine Messiah?
The questions and possible explanations whirled around the crowds, those who had been healed, and even among the twelve disciples. And seemingly adding to the confusion we hear of Jesus' clear command to those he redeems: "Don't tell anyone about this."
Jesus knew what no one else knew, including the unclean spirits themselves. Word was getting out on its own that all indicators, all miracles, all signs pointed to Jesus as the promised Messiah who would usher in the Messianic age of salvation and the restoration of all things lost in the garden of Eden.
However, the discussions among the crowds and disciples and the Jewish religious leaders got ugly when it came to what kind of Messiah this carpenter's son from Nazareth could be. No one could deny that he was performing miracles — but as just another prophet? Or as someone completely different than Elijah or even Moses?
Inspired by the Holy Spirit, Saint Mark puts before us the pattern within which our Gospel this morning is found. Take a look at the larger section that surrounds today's Gospel reading. The end of chapter eight consists of Jesus healing the blind man at Bethsaida, followed by Peter's God-inspired confession, followed by Jesus' first plain announcement about who he truly is and what he's come to do.
And [Jesus] began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes and be killed, and after three days rise again. And he said this plainly. (Mark 8:31-32a ESV)
Jesus announces to the Twelve that being Messiah is all about the glorious redemption of the world through the sacrificial death of the only-begotten in the place of the spiritually blind and lame — those who were dead in sin.
That's the unexpected, jaw-dropping reality that the inner core of the Twelve were kicking around in their heads as Jesus lead them up the mountain, there to be transfigured before them — there to be strengthened for the grueling journey ahead. Jesus' glory would be his departure — his exodus. Jesus' triumph would be the cross. That's the God-pleasing revelation from heaven — and from Moses and from Elijah.
It is this context that frames Jesus healing of the boy with the unclean spirit. And it will give Jesus the second opportunity to tell the disciples again what kind of Messiah he has been sent to be.
The Holy Gospel According to saint Mark, the ninth chapter:
And when they [Jesus and Peter and James and John] came to the disciples, they saw a great crowd around them, and scribes arguing with them. And immediately all the crowd, when they saw him, were greatly amazed and ran up to him and greeted him. (Mark 9:14-15 ESV)
When Jesus is thought of as just another philosopher or spiritual guru or human miracle-worker or mere moral example to follow, things very quickly become muddled — to the point of confusion and uncertainty and doubt. We see it here in the Gospel according to Mark, and we see it in much of what calls itself Christian today: everyone seeking after a Jesus of prosperity, a Jesus that will justify the lifestyle or behavior or self-centered desires that have already been chosen.
The crowd in Mark chapter 9 knows of the amazing, miracle-working Jesus, but in their doubt and uncertainty they do not yet believe in Jesus as the Christ — the Messiah — of the cross.
And he [Jesus] asked them, “What are you arguing about with them?” And someone from the crowd answered him, “Teacher, I brought my son to you, for he has a spirit that makes him mute. And whenever it seizes him, it throws him down, and he foams and grinds his teeth and becomes rigid." (Mark 9:16-18a ESV)
In desperation, the father has brought his son and gotten in line for his chance at getting some of the glories others in desperate straights have received. But is Jesus willing, or able to redeem this situation? A son — an only son — ravaged since childhood with an unclean spirit that throws him into the water as easily as he throws him into the fire. Will this "teacher" — can this "teacher" — rescue this boy from such a tight grip by the forces of oppression, darkness and evil? Can this Jesus save from these seemingly permanent effects of sin? The distraught father continues:
"So I asked your disciples to cast it out, [but] they were not able.” And [Jesus] answered them, “O faithless generation, how long am I to be with you? How long am I to bear with you? Bring him to me.” (Mark 9:18b-19 ESV)
Even the empty-handed Twelve join in the desperation of the father. As the situation grows more hopeless, those gathered around our Lord wonder: "Has this Jesus met his match in this unclean spirit — this spirit that has tormented this boy to the precipice of death?"
And they brought the boy to [Jesus]. And when the spirit saw him, immediately it convulsed the boy, and he fell on the ground and rolled about, foaming at the mouth. And Jesus asked his father, “How long has this been happening to him?” And he said, “From childhood. And it has often cast him into fire and into water, to destroy him." (Mark 9:20-22a ESV)
The effects of sin are as oppressive today as they were the day after Jesus and Peter, James and John came down off the mount of transfiguration. We see it not only in physical weakness, disease and suffering, not only in the demonic acts on the evening news and in the local newspaper. We even get a glimpse of sin's oppressive consequences in our own lives — in the effects of sin that cause us to doubt in the goodness of our heavenly Father and cause us to fall into the temptation to believe that my situation — my sin — is all too much for even the Word of Christ to overcome.
"But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.” [the father says.] And Jesus said to him, “‘If you can’! All things are possible for one who believes.” Immediately the father of the child cried out and said, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:22b-24 ESV)
A cry of mercy and faith and hope that clings to the invitation of the Lord to put trust in him. Here Jesus is doing his proper work — his life-giving work — of bestowing on poor, nothing-to-offer sinners the gift of faith that grabs hold of the savior's work in our place. Jesus calls forth faith in this most desperate of men, and God-given faith responds "Amen. In spite of my doubt, let it be so for me, Jesus."
And when Jesus saw that a crowd came running together, he rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, “You mute and deaf spirit, I command you, come out of him and never enter him again.” And after crying out and convulsing him terribly, it came out, and the boy was like a corpse, so that most of them said, “He is dead.” But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he arose. (Mark 9:25-27 ESV)
Jesus rebukes, that he might then forgive. Jesus condemns, that he might then show abundant mercy. Jesus exposes sin as sin, that he might then take our sin, and the deadly consequences of sin and rid us of it — forever.
And when [Jesus] had entered the house, his disciples asked him privately, “Why could we not cast it out?” And he said to them, “This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer.” (Mark 9:28-29 ESV)
It seems more and more apparent that the beginning of the Christian life seems to go along just fine fueled with the excitement and adrenaline of the glories of one's new life in Christ. We see it often in the newly-baptized, the young Christian, the just-born congregation. Everything is, for a time, so alive and fresh and new.
Remember the glories of those days when you first believed — as an individual Christian, as a Christian family, as a Christian congregation.
Here at Redeemer the newly-formed congregation met in a simple, modest real estate office. Members were excited — to the point of energetically mowing the lawn and sweeping the floors and setting up the metal folding chairs week after week after week. Members would volunteer without being asked to bring flowers cut from their backyards to be placed before the little make-shift altar.
But the joys of those first glorious days usually don't last forever. We see that here — in our own lives, and in the lives of those presented to us in Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
The disciples in this morning's Gospel are beginning to realize that they've run out of gas. Their excitement is waning as doubt gets the best of them. In their increased confusion about Jesus and his Word and his work, the Twelve stumble, as we stumble, when we put our trust in anything other than the true object of saving faith: Jesus Christ, son of God and Mary's son, given up — lifted up — for you and for the world. The Christ who calls his prophetic and apostolic Church to recklessly sow the seed of his Word wherever the Lord opens a door.
The ninth chapter of Saint Mark is the turing point — for Jesus, for the crowds, for the Twelve. It is the turning point for you, for me and this congregation as we wonder what will sustain us when the newness of being redeemed finally wears off, when the honeymoon seems to be all but over.
This morning God announces that our resolve can only be based on the resolve of the Father in the Son through the Holy Spirit to save us from the oppressive forces of this sinful and fallen world.
Where will we find hope when we discover that we cannot free ourselves from the demands of God's holy will? From the demands of the Law, the commandments touched upon in this morning's epistle? Where will we find hope when we realize we have trampled the eighth commandment and made an irreparable mess as a result of our sins of the tongue?
We look to the Christ of the Scriptures — the Christ revealed to us through the prophets and apostles. We look to our savior who journeyed to Jerusalem, to the Cross, to God's heavenly altar — sustained not by the excitement of the disciples or the thrill of performing miracles for the crowds.
We dare not put our trust and enthusiasm in a new discipleship program, a new spiritual method, a new worship experience, a new charismatic pastor or teacher or religious guide, even when they give us goosebumps.
We put our trust in Christ, in his journey into the darkness of our sin, his journey into the darkness of an entire rebel race, his prayer for us, his sacrifice for us — that you and all who believe might be delivered from sin and it's deadly consequences — forever.
May God in his mercy deliver us from the confusion of the world, the faith-destroying effects of sin, and the desire to motivate the Church with anything other than the Gospel of the glory and grace of God.
May it be so, for his glory, for our salvation and the salvation of many. In the Name of Christ.
Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ our Savior:
Jesus finds himself at the height of his popularity in and around the sea of Galilee. He has come and, without reservation or wavering, picked up his unique call from his Father in heaven to reveal the signs of redemption through his itinerant healing and preaching. His unexpected presence in the lives of those burdened and crushed by the weight of sin and its consequences is as unexpected as his sudden word of healing and touch of mercy upon those who had despaired that they would ever see the light of day again. The blind are given their sight. The lame are healed. The hungry are miraculously fed. And as the people get the real sense that the long-awaited kingdom of God is now breaking in, amazement and excitement give way to more and more questions. Who is this man? What kind of prophet could he be? Could he even be the only-begotten Son of God — the divine Messiah?
The questions and possible explanations whirled around the crowds, those who had been healed, and even among the twelve disciples. And seemingly adding to the confusion we hear of Jesus' clear command to those he redeems: "Don't tell anyone about this."
Jesus knew what no one else knew, including the unclean spirits themselves. Word was getting out on its own that all indicators, all miracles, all signs pointed to Jesus as the promised Messiah who would usher in the Messianic age of salvation and the restoration of all things lost in the garden of Eden.
However, the discussions among the crowds and disciples and the Jewish religious leaders got ugly when it came to what kind of Messiah this carpenter's son from Nazareth could be. No one could deny that he was performing miracles — but as just another prophet? Or as someone completely different than Elijah or even Moses?
Inspired by the Holy Spirit, Saint Mark puts before us the pattern within which our Gospel this morning is found. Take a look at the larger section that surrounds today's Gospel reading. The end of chapter eight consists of Jesus healing the blind man at Bethsaida, followed by Peter's God-inspired confession, followed by Jesus' first plain announcement about who he truly is and what he's come to do.
And [Jesus] began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes and be killed, and after three days rise again. And he said this plainly. (Mark 8:31-32a ESV)
Jesus announces to the Twelve that being Messiah is all about the glorious redemption of the world through the sacrificial death of the only-begotten in the place of the spiritually blind and lame — those who were dead in sin.
That's the unexpected, jaw-dropping reality that the inner core of the Twelve were kicking around in their heads as Jesus lead them up the mountain, there to be transfigured before them — there to be strengthened for the grueling journey ahead. Jesus' glory would be his departure — his exodus. Jesus' triumph would be the cross. That's the God-pleasing revelation from heaven — and from Moses and from Elijah.
It is this context that frames Jesus healing of the boy with the unclean spirit. And it will give Jesus the second opportunity to tell the disciples again what kind of Messiah he has been sent to be.
The Holy Gospel According to saint Mark, the ninth chapter:
And when they [Jesus and Peter and James and John] came to the disciples, they saw a great crowd around them, and scribes arguing with them. And immediately all the crowd, when they saw him, were greatly amazed and ran up to him and greeted him. (Mark 9:14-15 ESV)
When Jesus is thought of as just another philosopher or spiritual guru or human miracle-worker or mere moral example to follow, things very quickly become muddled — to the point of confusion and uncertainty and doubt. We see it here in the Gospel according to Mark, and we see it in much of what calls itself Christian today: everyone seeking after a Jesus of prosperity, a Jesus that will justify the lifestyle or behavior or self-centered desires that have already been chosen.
The crowd in Mark chapter 9 knows of the amazing, miracle-working Jesus, but in their doubt and uncertainty they do not yet believe in Jesus as the Christ — the Messiah — of the cross.
And he [Jesus] asked them, “What are you arguing about with them?” And someone from the crowd answered him, “Teacher, I brought my son to you, for he has a spirit that makes him mute. And whenever it seizes him, it throws him down, and he foams and grinds his teeth and becomes rigid." (Mark 9:16-18a ESV)
In desperation, the father has brought his son and gotten in line for his chance at getting some of the glories others in desperate straights have received. But is Jesus willing, or able to redeem this situation? A son — an only son — ravaged since childhood with an unclean spirit that throws him into the water as easily as he throws him into the fire. Will this "teacher" — can this "teacher" — rescue this boy from such a tight grip by the forces of oppression, darkness and evil? Can this Jesus save from these seemingly permanent effects of sin? The distraught father continues:
"So I asked your disciples to cast it out, [but] they were not able.” And [Jesus] answered them, “O faithless generation, how long am I to be with you? How long am I to bear with you? Bring him to me.” (Mark 9:18b-19 ESV)
Even the empty-handed Twelve join in the desperation of the father. As the situation grows more hopeless, those gathered around our Lord wonder: "Has this Jesus met his match in this unclean spirit — this spirit that has tormented this boy to the precipice of death?"
And they brought the boy to [Jesus]. And when the spirit saw him, immediately it convulsed the boy, and he fell on the ground and rolled about, foaming at the mouth. And Jesus asked his father, “How long has this been happening to him?” And he said, “From childhood. And it has often cast him into fire and into water, to destroy him." (Mark 9:20-22a ESV)
The effects of sin are as oppressive today as they were the day after Jesus and Peter, James and John came down off the mount of transfiguration. We see it not only in physical weakness, disease and suffering, not only in the demonic acts on the evening news and in the local newspaper. We even get a glimpse of sin's oppressive consequences in our own lives — in the effects of sin that cause us to doubt in the goodness of our heavenly Father and cause us to fall into the temptation to believe that my situation — my sin — is all too much for even the Word of Christ to overcome.
"But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.” [the father says.] And Jesus said to him, “‘If you can’! All things are possible for one who believes.” Immediately the father of the child cried out and said, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:22b-24 ESV)
A cry of mercy and faith and hope that clings to the invitation of the Lord to put trust in him. Here Jesus is doing his proper work — his life-giving work — of bestowing on poor, nothing-to-offer sinners the gift of faith that grabs hold of the savior's work in our place. Jesus calls forth faith in this most desperate of men, and God-given faith responds "Amen. In spite of my doubt, let it be so for me, Jesus."
And when Jesus saw that a crowd came running together, he rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, “You mute and deaf spirit, I command you, come out of him and never enter him again.” And after crying out and convulsing him terribly, it came out, and the boy was like a corpse, so that most of them said, “He is dead.” But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he arose. (Mark 9:25-27 ESV)
Jesus rebukes, that he might then forgive. Jesus condemns, that he might then show abundant mercy. Jesus exposes sin as sin, that he might then take our sin, and the deadly consequences of sin and rid us of it — forever.
And when [Jesus] had entered the house, his disciples asked him privately, “Why could we not cast it out?” And he said to them, “This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer.” (Mark 9:28-29 ESV)
It seems more and more apparent that the beginning of the Christian life seems to go along just fine fueled with the excitement and adrenaline of the glories of one's new life in Christ. We see it often in the newly-baptized, the young Christian, the just-born congregation. Everything is, for a time, so alive and fresh and new.
Remember the glories of those days when you first believed — as an individual Christian, as a Christian family, as a Christian congregation.
Here at Redeemer the newly-formed congregation met in a simple, modest real estate office. Members were excited — to the point of energetically mowing the lawn and sweeping the floors and setting up the metal folding chairs week after week after week. Members would volunteer without being asked to bring flowers cut from their backyards to be placed before the little make-shift altar.
But the joys of those first glorious days usually don't last forever. We see that here — in our own lives, and in the lives of those presented to us in Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
The disciples in this morning's Gospel are beginning to realize that they've run out of gas. Their excitement is waning as doubt gets the best of them. In their increased confusion about Jesus and his Word and his work, the Twelve stumble, as we stumble, when we put our trust in anything other than the true object of saving faith: Jesus Christ, son of God and Mary's son, given up — lifted up — for you and for the world. The Christ who calls his prophetic and apostolic Church to recklessly sow the seed of his Word wherever the Lord opens a door.
The ninth chapter of Saint Mark is the turing point — for Jesus, for the crowds, for the Twelve. It is the turning point for you, for me and this congregation as we wonder what will sustain us when the newness of being redeemed finally wears off, when the honeymoon seems to be all but over.
This morning God announces that our resolve can only be based on the resolve of the Father in the Son through the Holy Spirit to save us from the oppressive forces of this sinful and fallen world.
Where will we find hope when we discover that we cannot free ourselves from the demands of God's holy will? From the demands of the Law, the commandments touched upon in this morning's epistle? Where will we find hope when we realize we have trampled the eighth commandment and made an irreparable mess as a result of our sins of the tongue?
We look to the Christ of the Scriptures — the Christ revealed to us through the prophets and apostles. We look to our savior who journeyed to Jerusalem, to the Cross, to God's heavenly altar — sustained not by the excitement of the disciples or the thrill of performing miracles for the crowds.
We dare not put our trust and enthusiasm in a new discipleship program, a new spiritual method, a new worship experience, a new charismatic pastor or teacher or religious guide, even when they give us goosebumps.
We put our trust in Christ, in his journey into the darkness of our sin, his journey into the darkness of an entire rebel race, his prayer for us, his sacrifice for us — that you and all who believe might be delivered from sin and it's deadly consequences — forever.
May God in his mercy deliver us from the confusion of the world, the faith-destroying effects of sin, and the desire to motivate the Church with anything other than the Gospel of the glory and grace of God.
May it be so, for his glory, for our salvation and the salvation of many. In the Name of Christ.
Monday, July 13, 2009
The Word Sacrificed and Silenced? (Mark 6:14-29)
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.
Dear Fellow Redeemed by Christ the Crucified:
"I have made my choice. I have weighed the odds and considered the consequences — and I have made my decision." In each of our lives we announce our verdict on choices and decision and circumstances each and every day. Who to be loyal to, and who to walk away from. What to do with our skills and talents and time and resources.
A day doesn't go by that we don't choose something over something else — someone over someone else. "I have made my decision — about my job, about my studies, about my family, about my neighbor across the street — about me."
We live in an age that demands it's freedom to choose. We decide what we do and what we refuse to do. We decide when and where we will go, and who we will hang out with. We decide under what circumstances we will expend our blood and sweat and tears. We decide if we will make a difference or if we will just muddle through.
And so it happens on a regular basis that preachers are asked, "When did you decide to become a pastor? When did you make the decision to become a minister of Christ and his Word? When you were a little boy? When you were in college? When you realized that you had the touch — or the spirit — or the calling?"
This morning's Old Testament reading from the prophet Amos sets all of that straight. Like the prophets before him and after him, Amos becomes a prophet — not when he turned his life around — not when he decided to make a difference for his people and his God. Amos, like the greatest of the prophets — like all the prophets — became a prophet not when he signed a contract with the local parish or knelt down and prayed the prophet's prayer.
Amos became a prophet the same way that Christians become Christians: when the Word of the Lord came to him and called him to faith and his particular station in life. "I was no prophet, nor a prophet's son, but I was a herdsman and a dresser of sycamore trees" Amos announces to those who think he can just turn it on and turn it off. For he knew by faith that the decision — the credit — the burden and cross — that went along with being a prophet didn't rest with him. He was just a herdsman of sheep. He was simply a caretaker of fruit trees.
No outstanding score on a prophet aptitude test. No Sunday School teacher recommending him to divinity school. No Uncle Fred who saw in him the beginnings of a great man of God. He was just like the guy next to him. Amos was nothing special, nothing glorious, nothing that made the world stand up and take notice.
But being a prophet or being a deaconess or being an elder — or being a Christian — isn't about turning it on or turing it off. As you have heard from Scripture, as you have heard from the Small Catechism, as you have heard from the liturgy and the hymnal and the baptismal font and the altar and pulpit, it never was about our seemingly great human abilities to clean up our spiritual life and turn our heart over to Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
"When did you choose to be a prophet, Amos? When did you decide to be the forerunner of Christ, John? When did you determine to preach against sin and the consequences of sin and God's most unlikely remedy for it all? Who gave you the authority to announce God's wrath and judgment against sin and God's gift of forgiveness for all who look to his only-begotten Son and his sacrifice in our place?"
In Amos' day those in power wanted the prophet of God to either deliver a sermon that would go along with what their fallen minds and hearts had already decided to believe in — or go somewhere else so they wouldn't have to listen to what he had been given by the Almighty Lord to proclaim.
And so many in Amos' day sacrificed the Word of the Lord for their own fallen, self-glorifying desires. The Word of the Lord was silenced in favor of sinful pride and prestige and personal gain.
"If the Word of the Lord is going to unmask our sin and condemn our rebellion, then take the Word of the Lord somewhere else. Close your mouth Amos, or we'll close it for you." they threatened.
But what was Amos to do? What was John the Baptist to do? What was the Word of God made flesh to do? The seed of the Word was to be sown and scattered and broadcast in every place, among every people, in every tongue, to those (as the hymn-writer says) — to those who like or like it not. Come what may, the prophets were called to announce the Word of God he had placed in their mouths to speak.
Amos did not ask the Lord for credit when it came to his calling as a prophet, just as John the Baptist did not look for a merit badge from God or applause from the world, as he called Herod — as he called all — to receive the Word of the Lord — the Word of the Lord that alone convicts us of sin. The Word of the Lord that alone creates faith in our heart. The Word of the Lord that alone begins and sustains and finishes our salvation and the salvation of all who believe.
Amos didn't decide, John the Baptist didn't determine to be the mouthpiece of the Word of God — just as you didn't turn on faith in your heart or make yourself acceptable to the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.
The seed planted by Christ did that. The Word announced by the Prophets and Apostles did that. The Scriptures in the liturgy and the hymns and the Catechism and the Creed did that. God did all of it — all out of fatherly love and pure, divine, undeserved mercy and grace.
It is in this way that the Word does it's convicting, restoring work in our minds and hearts and lives this day. It is the Word that has called us to God's house this morning. It is the Word of God that has sat you down in that pew this morning. And it is the Word of God who will sustain you in the one, holy, Christian faith and keep you with our Lord and with fellow Christians in the communion of the Church until he comes again in glory.
Hear how Martin Luther explains it in his Explanation of the Third Article of the Creed:
I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him; but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with His gifts, sanctified and kept me in the true faith.
In the same way He calls, gathers, enlightens, and sanctifies the whole Christian church on earth, and keeps it with Jesus Christ in the one true faith.
In this Christian church He daily and richly forgives all my sins and the sins of all believers.
On the Last Day He will raise me and all the dead, and give eternal life to me and all believers in Christ.
This is most certainly true.
You see, it is the Word that gives us a hunger for the Word. It is the Word that gives us a thirst for hearing and reading and marking and taking to heart what Moses foretold, what Amos foretold, what John the Baptist foretold: the Word that won our salvation as he took our skin and bones and flesh and blood upon himself to carry our sin to the Cross and atone for it once and for all.
And it is the Word of God alone that compels us as Christians, as Christian families, as a Christian congregation, to speak what the Lord has given us to speak — no more and no less. A double Word. A word of Law for those comfortable with their sin, and a word of Gospel for those who are terrified and crushed by their sin.
The religious leaders of Israel in Amos' day couldn't silence the Word. Herod couldn't silence the Word in his day, even when he sacrificed and silenced a righteous and holy man sent by the maker of heaven and earth to announce the advent of the world's redemption.
And so it is with those forces today that want nothing more than to sacrifice and silence the Word of God. To remove — as we say on our front sign — Scripture alone.
And yes we can point our finger at those who would demand that churches not share the Word of God with those of other "faith traditions." We are called to speak the truth in a winsome way even to those from within Christian denominations who now say the Word of God says nothing about the sanctity of human life, the sanctity of marriage, the sanctity of the family — the sanctity of the Scriptures and the Sacraments.
But our own old nature is also condemned when the spotlight is put on those who would sacrifice and attempt to silence the Word of God. It is the old nature that we as Christians drag around with us that continues to fight against what Amos has to say, what John the Baptist has to say, what the Word incarnate has to say about our poor, miserable, completely helpless condition before the Almighty.
And so we ask ourselves this morning:
Have I neglected the reading of the Bible thinking that hearing it on Sunday is enough? Do I let other daily activities take presidence over prayer and meditation on God's Word? Have I kept every day holy with the reading and meditation upon God's Word? Has the hearing and reading of God's Word become boring and meaningless to me? Have I despised the preaching of God's Word by not coming to services and studies as regularly as I should? Have I allowed my mind to wander during services and studies and become distracted by my thoughts? Have I been an unfaithful witness to God's Word to others in this congregation by my absence or inattention during services and studies? Do I reflect on the readings and sermon after the service, or do I quickly forget it all? Do I have a desire to learn from the readings and sermon and apply it to my own faith and life?
In other words, do I take seriously the Third Commandment which announces that: "We should fear and love God that we may not despise preaching and his Word, but hold it sacred, and gladly hear and learn it."
Stubborn, unbelieving Herod offered up to half of his kingdom — and received the full weight of God's condemnation for agreeing to have John the Baptist's Word sacrificed and silenced.
But our Lord Christ didn't sacrifice half his kingdom for those who had performed well or made the right "life choices."
Christ offered up all that he had, all that he was, his very life-blood, for those who could only decide to sin, for those who could only dedicate themselves to unfulfilled intentions and self-centered, sin-stained works for God and for their neighbor. Christ promised life for all — even for those whose old nature desired to hear any voice except the one God had sent.
We take a good hard look at our mind and heart and life this day. Where are we sacrificing the Word of God? Where are we turning a deaf ear to God's Word in, with and under water — in, with and under bread and wine — in, with and under the prophets and apostles?
Let the Word have its way with you. Let it come and convict — that it might then come and comfort. Let it come and diagnose your rebellion and unbelief and sin — that it might then come and announce the sweet medicine of Christ offered up for you.
In a land and in a culture that believes it's all about personal decisions, it is a redeeming comfort to hear Scripture's revelation that when it comes to our salvation — when it comes to being baptized, when it comes to believing in Christ and remaining in Christ — it all rests not with any of us, but with God and his precious Word, his gracious Spirit, his life-giving Son.
We didn't choose our parents or our family or any of the circumstances surrounding our birth — and we didn't choose the circumstances of our eternal life either.
It is the eternal Word of God in Christ that brings life to things that were all but dead, illuminating our darkened minds and giving life to sinful and hardened hearts.
We have been called by the Gospel, enlightened with the Holy Spirit, and brought to faith by the Word sent out by the prophets — Amos and John the Baptist — by the apostles — Paul and Peter, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
It is Christ who decided — to die for our sin. It is God who chose us — before the foundations of the world — to be a daughter, to be a son. To be a husband, a wife. A father, a mother. A citizen. A student or worker.
God gets every bit of the credit and praise for making each of us a baptized Christian who lives in Christ and his Word and Spirit — to freely live a life that gives glory to God, that serves what is best for our neighbor-in-need.
In an age that demands the right to decide, what do we contribute to our salvation? Simply our sin.
In faith, let Christ and his Word continue to gift you with salvation and guard and keep you always.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.
Dear Fellow Redeemed by Christ the Crucified:
"I have made my choice. I have weighed the odds and considered the consequences — and I have made my decision." In each of our lives we announce our verdict on choices and decision and circumstances each and every day. Who to be loyal to, and who to walk away from. What to do with our skills and talents and time and resources.
A day doesn't go by that we don't choose something over something else — someone over someone else. "I have made my decision — about my job, about my studies, about my family, about my neighbor across the street — about me."
We live in an age that demands it's freedom to choose. We decide what we do and what we refuse to do. We decide when and where we will go, and who we will hang out with. We decide under what circumstances we will expend our blood and sweat and tears. We decide if we will make a difference or if we will just muddle through.
And so it happens on a regular basis that preachers are asked, "When did you decide to become a pastor? When did you make the decision to become a minister of Christ and his Word? When you were a little boy? When you were in college? When you realized that you had the touch — or the spirit — or the calling?"
This morning's Old Testament reading from the prophet Amos sets all of that straight. Like the prophets before him and after him, Amos becomes a prophet — not when he turned his life around — not when he decided to make a difference for his people and his God. Amos, like the greatest of the prophets — like all the prophets — became a prophet not when he signed a contract with the local parish or knelt down and prayed the prophet's prayer.
Amos became a prophet the same way that Christians become Christians: when the Word of the Lord came to him and called him to faith and his particular station in life. "I was no prophet, nor a prophet's son, but I was a herdsman and a dresser of sycamore trees" Amos announces to those who think he can just turn it on and turn it off. For he knew by faith that the decision — the credit — the burden and cross — that went along with being a prophet didn't rest with him. He was just a herdsman of sheep. He was simply a caretaker of fruit trees.
No outstanding score on a prophet aptitude test. No Sunday School teacher recommending him to divinity school. No Uncle Fred who saw in him the beginnings of a great man of God. He was just like the guy next to him. Amos was nothing special, nothing glorious, nothing that made the world stand up and take notice.
But being a prophet or being a deaconess or being an elder — or being a Christian — isn't about turning it on or turing it off. As you have heard from Scripture, as you have heard from the Small Catechism, as you have heard from the liturgy and the hymnal and the baptismal font and the altar and pulpit, it never was about our seemingly great human abilities to clean up our spiritual life and turn our heart over to Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
"When did you choose to be a prophet, Amos? When did you decide to be the forerunner of Christ, John? When did you determine to preach against sin and the consequences of sin and God's most unlikely remedy for it all? Who gave you the authority to announce God's wrath and judgment against sin and God's gift of forgiveness for all who look to his only-begotten Son and his sacrifice in our place?"
In Amos' day those in power wanted the prophet of God to either deliver a sermon that would go along with what their fallen minds and hearts had already decided to believe in — or go somewhere else so they wouldn't have to listen to what he had been given by the Almighty Lord to proclaim.
And so many in Amos' day sacrificed the Word of the Lord for their own fallen, self-glorifying desires. The Word of the Lord was silenced in favor of sinful pride and prestige and personal gain.
"If the Word of the Lord is going to unmask our sin and condemn our rebellion, then take the Word of the Lord somewhere else. Close your mouth Amos, or we'll close it for you." they threatened.
But what was Amos to do? What was John the Baptist to do? What was the Word of God made flesh to do? The seed of the Word was to be sown and scattered and broadcast in every place, among every people, in every tongue, to those (as the hymn-writer says) — to those who like or like it not. Come what may, the prophets were called to announce the Word of God he had placed in their mouths to speak.
Amos did not ask the Lord for credit when it came to his calling as a prophet, just as John the Baptist did not look for a merit badge from God or applause from the world, as he called Herod — as he called all — to receive the Word of the Lord — the Word of the Lord that alone convicts us of sin. The Word of the Lord that alone creates faith in our heart. The Word of the Lord that alone begins and sustains and finishes our salvation and the salvation of all who believe.
Amos didn't decide, John the Baptist didn't determine to be the mouthpiece of the Word of God — just as you didn't turn on faith in your heart or make yourself acceptable to the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.
The seed planted by Christ did that. The Word announced by the Prophets and Apostles did that. The Scriptures in the liturgy and the hymns and the Catechism and the Creed did that. God did all of it — all out of fatherly love and pure, divine, undeserved mercy and grace.
It is in this way that the Word does it's convicting, restoring work in our minds and hearts and lives this day. It is the Word that has called us to God's house this morning. It is the Word of God that has sat you down in that pew this morning. And it is the Word of God who will sustain you in the one, holy, Christian faith and keep you with our Lord and with fellow Christians in the communion of the Church until he comes again in glory.
Hear how Martin Luther explains it in his Explanation of the Third Article of the Creed:
I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him; but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with His gifts, sanctified and kept me in the true faith.
In the same way He calls, gathers, enlightens, and sanctifies the whole Christian church on earth, and keeps it with Jesus Christ in the one true faith.
In this Christian church He daily and richly forgives all my sins and the sins of all believers.
On the Last Day He will raise me and all the dead, and give eternal life to me and all believers in Christ.
This is most certainly true.
You see, it is the Word that gives us a hunger for the Word. It is the Word that gives us a thirst for hearing and reading and marking and taking to heart what Moses foretold, what Amos foretold, what John the Baptist foretold: the Word that won our salvation as he took our skin and bones and flesh and blood upon himself to carry our sin to the Cross and atone for it once and for all.
And it is the Word of God alone that compels us as Christians, as Christian families, as a Christian congregation, to speak what the Lord has given us to speak — no more and no less. A double Word. A word of Law for those comfortable with their sin, and a word of Gospel for those who are terrified and crushed by their sin.
The religious leaders of Israel in Amos' day couldn't silence the Word. Herod couldn't silence the Word in his day, even when he sacrificed and silenced a righteous and holy man sent by the maker of heaven and earth to announce the advent of the world's redemption.
And so it is with those forces today that want nothing more than to sacrifice and silence the Word of God. To remove — as we say on our front sign — Scripture alone.
And yes we can point our finger at those who would demand that churches not share the Word of God with those of other "faith traditions." We are called to speak the truth in a winsome way even to those from within Christian denominations who now say the Word of God says nothing about the sanctity of human life, the sanctity of marriage, the sanctity of the family — the sanctity of the Scriptures and the Sacraments.
But our own old nature is also condemned when the spotlight is put on those who would sacrifice and attempt to silence the Word of God. It is the old nature that we as Christians drag around with us that continues to fight against what Amos has to say, what John the Baptist has to say, what the Word incarnate has to say about our poor, miserable, completely helpless condition before the Almighty.
And so we ask ourselves this morning:
Have I neglected the reading of the Bible thinking that hearing it on Sunday is enough? Do I let other daily activities take presidence over prayer and meditation on God's Word? Have I kept every day holy with the reading and meditation upon God's Word? Has the hearing and reading of God's Word become boring and meaningless to me? Have I despised the preaching of God's Word by not coming to services and studies as regularly as I should? Have I allowed my mind to wander during services and studies and become distracted by my thoughts? Have I been an unfaithful witness to God's Word to others in this congregation by my absence or inattention during services and studies? Do I reflect on the readings and sermon after the service, or do I quickly forget it all? Do I have a desire to learn from the readings and sermon and apply it to my own faith and life?
In other words, do I take seriously the Third Commandment which announces that: "We should fear and love God that we may not despise preaching and his Word, but hold it sacred, and gladly hear and learn it."
Stubborn, unbelieving Herod offered up to half of his kingdom — and received the full weight of God's condemnation for agreeing to have John the Baptist's Word sacrificed and silenced.
But our Lord Christ didn't sacrifice half his kingdom for those who had performed well or made the right "life choices."
Christ offered up all that he had, all that he was, his very life-blood, for those who could only decide to sin, for those who could only dedicate themselves to unfulfilled intentions and self-centered, sin-stained works for God and for their neighbor. Christ promised life for all — even for those whose old nature desired to hear any voice except the one God had sent.
We take a good hard look at our mind and heart and life this day. Where are we sacrificing the Word of God? Where are we turning a deaf ear to God's Word in, with and under water — in, with and under bread and wine — in, with and under the prophets and apostles?
Let the Word have its way with you. Let it come and convict — that it might then come and comfort. Let it come and diagnose your rebellion and unbelief and sin — that it might then come and announce the sweet medicine of Christ offered up for you.
In a land and in a culture that believes it's all about personal decisions, it is a redeeming comfort to hear Scripture's revelation that when it comes to our salvation — when it comes to being baptized, when it comes to believing in Christ and remaining in Christ — it all rests not with any of us, but with God and his precious Word, his gracious Spirit, his life-giving Son.
We didn't choose our parents or our family or any of the circumstances surrounding our birth — and we didn't choose the circumstances of our eternal life either.
It is the eternal Word of God in Christ that brings life to things that were all but dead, illuminating our darkened minds and giving life to sinful and hardened hearts.
We have been called by the Gospel, enlightened with the Holy Spirit, and brought to faith by the Word sent out by the prophets — Amos and John the Baptist — by the apostles — Paul and Peter, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
It is Christ who decided — to die for our sin. It is God who chose us — before the foundations of the world — to be a daughter, to be a son. To be a husband, a wife. A father, a mother. A citizen. A student or worker.
God gets every bit of the credit and praise for making each of us a baptized Christian who lives in Christ and his Word and Spirit — to freely live a life that gives glory to God, that serves what is best for our neighbor-in-need.
In an age that demands the right to decide, what do we contribute to our salvation? Simply our sin.
In faith, let Christ and his Word continue to gift you with salvation and guard and keep you always.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Abandoned by the Lord?
In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit
Dear Redeemed by our Crucified, Risen and Ascended Lord:
This morning we find ourselves in twilight time, in that fuzzy gray time of transition between day and night. These days in the Church year are like no other as Christians around the world observe both Ascension Day (last Thursday — forty days after Easter Sunday) and the Feast of Pentecost next Sunday (fifty days after Easter Sunday).
For all who follow Christ these ten days are peculiar days, days to mark and ponder and take to heart. Days between our Lord's triumphal ascension to the right hand of God Almighty and the sending of the Holy Spirit upon all his children.
These ten days between Ascension Day and Pentecost were difficult days for the disciples. They remained — for the most part — clueless as Jesus gave his final farewell — his final commands and promise — before being taken up into heaven.
We hear how the disciples were left with their mouths open and their heads and feet motionless on that Ascension Day through the inspired pen of Saint Luke when he writes these words in the first chapter of the book of Acts:
In the first book, O Theophilus, I have dealt with all that Jesus began to do and teach, until the day when he was taken up, after he had given commands through the Holy Spirit to the apostles whom he had chosen. He presented himself alive to them after his suffering by many proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God.
And while staying with them he ordered them not to depart from Jerusalem, but to wait for the promise of the Father, which, he said, “you heard from me; for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now.”
So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?” He said to them, “It is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.” And when he had said these things, as they were looking on, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. [Christ candle extinguished.] And while they were gazing into heaven as he went, behold, two men stood by them in white robes, and said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”
Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a Sabbath day’s journey away. And when they had entered, they went up to the upper room, where they were staying, Peter and John and James and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James the son of Alphaeus and Simon the Zealot and Judas the son of James. All these with one accord were devoting themselves to prayer, together with the women and Mary the mother of Jesus, and his brothers. (Acts 1:1-14 ESV)
Confused, under threat of persecution and death, numb from the events of the last forty days, and tempted to believe they had been abandoned by their Lord.
But, with words of encouragement from the two heavenly angels, the disciples held tight to Jesus' Word and Promise, the one thing that could keep them together and give direction and words to their continuous prayers during those ten "up-in-the-air" days between Ascension Day and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost.
This is the reason why more than a few Christian groups have, for generations, set aside these ten days between Ascension Day and Pentecost as a time of fasting and prayer and devotion and acts of mercy to their neighbor-in-need. Some congregations observe this week-and-a-half by offering a continuous (240 hour) prayer vigil in the sanctuary.
But what do you pray for for 240 hours?
Well, what did the disciples pray in that upper room — that upper room in which they had celebrated the Lord's Supper, that upper room in which they had seen the risen Christ and the saving marks of his sacrificial death upon a cross, that upper room in which they had — as apostles and pastors of the Church — received through the Holy Spirit their calling to forgive sins in the stead and by the command of Christ himself.
What did the disciples — the Church — pray in their time of need and bewilderment and fear and uncertainty?
That is a good question to ask for congregations who find themselves in their own "twilight time" as they struggle with declining membership and resources and changing neighborhoods — for husbands and wives who find themselves in times of temptation and uncertainty — for parents and children who find themselves at odds with their respective roles in the family and the world around them — for individual Christians who find their faith under attack and their hope in heaven shaken.
What do we pray?
The prayer the Church has always prayed — a prayer based on the sure foundation of Christ's Word for us: the collect for the seventh Sunday of Easter — the collect for the Sunday between Ascension Day and Pentecost:
O King of glory, Lord of the heavenly hosts, uplifted in triumph far above all heavens, leave us not without consolation but send us the Spirit of truth whom you promised from the Father.
The prayer of Christ's Church — our prayer — your prayer — is to be found in the one source of all hope and comfort and consolation: the Holy Scriptures. In the Introit — the entrance psalm — for the Seventh Sunday of Easter (also known as "Waiting Sunday"). Psalm 27 — a psalm from the inspired king David as he proclaims from God:
"Wait for the Lord. Be strong, and let your heart take courage, and wait for the Lord!" (Psalm 27:14 ESV)
This is the same Lord who spoke pure comfort and hope and strength to his own as he prepared them for his betrayal — his holy, innocent, suffering and death.
Imagine, if you will, the head of the household gathering his family around the Thanksgiving Day table. Everyone is in attendance. Everyone in the family is seated in their proper place. All individual quarrels are put aside as the household circles around the gifts presented: an enjoyable meal and the enjoyable company of each other's presence. The head of the household leads those gathered in giving thanks for the table prepared, for the fellowship created in, with and under bread and wine and the care of the Master of the house.
But as the plates are cleared, the householder announces that he has decided to go ahead with the plans he had made to join the armed forces and fight to defend the life and liberties of his family and fellow countrymen. He will be leaving them now, to lay down his life that the life of his family might be defended, preserved, secured.
Think of the resolve of the Master of the house as he announces what will happen in the days ahead. Think of the fear and despair of those gathered at table as they hear the words:
"I am leaving you now. But it is for your good. If I don't go this house cannot survive and flourish. I must leave you now. And you must wait for my return — in faith and hope and confidence that this is the way it must be — for your good. Hold tight to my word of promise: you will see me again. I will not leave you as orphans."
Hear again Jesus as he prays for his own on the night he was betrayed. The Holy Gospel According to Saint John, the Seventeenth chapter:
[Jesus prayed,] "Holy Father, keep them in your name, which you have given me, that they may be one, even as we are one. While I was with them, I kept them in your name, which you have given me. I have guarded them, and not one of them has been lost except the son of destruction, that the Scripture might be fulfilled. But now I am coming to you, and these things I speak in the world, that they may have my joy fulfilled in themselves. I have given them your word, and the world has hated them because they are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. I do not ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. And for their sake I consecrate myself, that they also may be sanctified in truth." (John 17:11b-19 ESV)
For a Church that would rather hide in a bomb shelter — behind closed doors of an upper room — until their Lord's return, Jesus sends out his own into the world. But he sends them out as his own — marked by his holy Cross, his holy Name, his sanctifying Word.
In these ten uncomfortable days between our Lord's Ascension and the pouring out of Christ's Spirit at Pentecost, we are called to live Christian lives of faith in Christ's Word, lives that reflect Christ's Word and Promise — in our prayers and worship, in our Christian witness, and in our service to those God himself has placed in our lives.
Our Lord has gone out to do battle for us and for all fallen children of Adam and Eve. But he has not left us to helplessly try to fend for ouselves. We have not been made orphans — for we are, even now, held safe in his saving Name, his eternal Word, his enlivening Spirit and Baptism — that we may live lives of thanksgiving by serving each other in the bond of peace.
Is your world upside-down this morning? Are you wondering why Christ has left his own to return to heaven?
Hold tight to Christ's Word of promise as he embraces you, treasures you, keeps you and preserves you for eternity.
Wait for the Lord. Be strong. Take heart. And wait for the Lord. He is faithful.
In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.
Dear Redeemed by our Crucified, Risen and Ascended Lord:
This morning we find ourselves in twilight time, in that fuzzy gray time of transition between day and night. These days in the Church year are like no other as Christians around the world observe both Ascension Day (last Thursday — forty days after Easter Sunday) and the Feast of Pentecost next Sunday (fifty days after Easter Sunday).
For all who follow Christ these ten days are peculiar days, days to mark and ponder and take to heart. Days between our Lord's triumphal ascension to the right hand of God Almighty and the sending of the Holy Spirit upon all his children.
These ten days between Ascension Day and Pentecost were difficult days for the disciples. They remained — for the most part — clueless as Jesus gave his final farewell — his final commands and promise — before being taken up into heaven.
We hear how the disciples were left with their mouths open and their heads and feet motionless on that Ascension Day through the inspired pen of Saint Luke when he writes these words in the first chapter of the book of Acts:
In the first book, O Theophilus, I have dealt with all that Jesus began to do and teach, until the day when he was taken up, after he had given commands through the Holy Spirit to the apostles whom he had chosen. He presented himself alive to them after his suffering by many proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God.
And while staying with them he ordered them not to depart from Jerusalem, but to wait for the promise of the Father, which, he said, “you heard from me; for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now.”
So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?” He said to them, “It is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.” And when he had said these things, as they were looking on, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. [Christ candle extinguished.] And while they were gazing into heaven as he went, behold, two men stood by them in white robes, and said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”
Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a Sabbath day’s journey away. And when they had entered, they went up to the upper room, where they were staying, Peter and John and James and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James the son of Alphaeus and Simon the Zealot and Judas the son of James. All these with one accord were devoting themselves to prayer, together with the women and Mary the mother of Jesus, and his brothers. (Acts 1:1-14 ESV)
Confused, under threat of persecution and death, numb from the events of the last forty days, and tempted to believe they had been abandoned by their Lord.
But, with words of encouragement from the two heavenly angels, the disciples held tight to Jesus' Word and Promise, the one thing that could keep them together and give direction and words to their continuous prayers during those ten "up-in-the-air" days between Ascension Day and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost.
This is the reason why more than a few Christian groups have, for generations, set aside these ten days between Ascension Day and Pentecost as a time of fasting and prayer and devotion and acts of mercy to their neighbor-in-need. Some congregations observe this week-and-a-half by offering a continuous (240 hour) prayer vigil in the sanctuary.
But what do you pray for for 240 hours?
Well, what did the disciples pray in that upper room — that upper room in which they had celebrated the Lord's Supper, that upper room in which they had seen the risen Christ and the saving marks of his sacrificial death upon a cross, that upper room in which they had — as apostles and pastors of the Church — received through the Holy Spirit their calling to forgive sins in the stead and by the command of Christ himself.
What did the disciples — the Church — pray in their time of need and bewilderment and fear and uncertainty?
That is a good question to ask for congregations who find themselves in their own "twilight time" as they struggle with declining membership and resources and changing neighborhoods — for husbands and wives who find themselves in times of temptation and uncertainty — for parents and children who find themselves at odds with their respective roles in the family and the world around them — for individual Christians who find their faith under attack and their hope in heaven shaken.
What do we pray?
The prayer the Church has always prayed — a prayer based on the sure foundation of Christ's Word for us: the collect for the seventh Sunday of Easter — the collect for the Sunday between Ascension Day and Pentecost:
O King of glory, Lord of the heavenly hosts, uplifted in triumph far above all heavens, leave us not without consolation but send us the Spirit of truth whom you promised from the Father.
The prayer of Christ's Church — our prayer — your prayer — is to be found in the one source of all hope and comfort and consolation: the Holy Scriptures. In the Introit — the entrance psalm — for the Seventh Sunday of Easter (also known as "Waiting Sunday"). Psalm 27 — a psalm from the inspired king David as he proclaims from God:
"Wait for the Lord. Be strong, and let your heart take courage, and wait for the Lord!" (Psalm 27:14 ESV)
This is the same Lord who spoke pure comfort and hope and strength to his own as he prepared them for his betrayal — his holy, innocent, suffering and death.
Imagine, if you will, the head of the household gathering his family around the Thanksgiving Day table. Everyone is in attendance. Everyone in the family is seated in their proper place. All individual quarrels are put aside as the household circles around the gifts presented: an enjoyable meal and the enjoyable company of each other's presence. The head of the household leads those gathered in giving thanks for the table prepared, for the fellowship created in, with and under bread and wine and the care of the Master of the house.
But as the plates are cleared, the householder announces that he has decided to go ahead with the plans he had made to join the armed forces and fight to defend the life and liberties of his family and fellow countrymen. He will be leaving them now, to lay down his life that the life of his family might be defended, preserved, secured.
Think of the resolve of the Master of the house as he announces what will happen in the days ahead. Think of the fear and despair of those gathered at table as they hear the words:
"I am leaving you now. But it is for your good. If I don't go this house cannot survive and flourish. I must leave you now. And you must wait for my return — in faith and hope and confidence that this is the way it must be — for your good. Hold tight to my word of promise: you will see me again. I will not leave you as orphans."
Hear again Jesus as he prays for his own on the night he was betrayed. The Holy Gospel According to Saint John, the Seventeenth chapter:
[Jesus prayed,] "Holy Father, keep them in your name, which you have given me, that they may be one, even as we are one. While I was with them, I kept them in your name, which you have given me. I have guarded them, and not one of them has been lost except the son of destruction, that the Scripture might be fulfilled. But now I am coming to you, and these things I speak in the world, that they may have my joy fulfilled in themselves. I have given them your word, and the world has hated them because they are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. I do not ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. And for their sake I consecrate myself, that they also may be sanctified in truth." (John 17:11b-19 ESV)
For a Church that would rather hide in a bomb shelter — behind closed doors of an upper room — until their Lord's return, Jesus sends out his own into the world. But he sends them out as his own — marked by his holy Cross, his holy Name, his sanctifying Word.
In these ten uncomfortable days between our Lord's Ascension and the pouring out of Christ's Spirit at Pentecost, we are called to live Christian lives of faith in Christ's Word, lives that reflect Christ's Word and Promise — in our prayers and worship, in our Christian witness, and in our service to those God himself has placed in our lives.
Our Lord has gone out to do battle for us and for all fallen children of Adam and Eve. But he has not left us to helplessly try to fend for ouselves. We have not been made orphans — for we are, even now, held safe in his saving Name, his eternal Word, his enlivening Spirit and Baptism — that we may live lives of thanksgiving by serving each other in the bond of peace.
Is your world upside-down this morning? Are you wondering why Christ has left his own to return to heaven?
Hold tight to Christ's Word of promise as he embraces you, treasures you, keeps you and preserves you for eternity.
Wait for the Lord. Be strong. Take heart. And wait for the Lord. He is faithful.
In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Life After Easter - Only in the Word Crucified.
In the Name of our Crucified and Risen Lord Christ. Amen
Dear fellow Christians redeemed through the blood of Jesus:
In the old days, the Church pulled out all the stops for services on Easter Dawn and Easter Morning — and Easter Evening and Easter Monday and Easter Tuesday. Forty days of Lent followed by fifty days of Easter Light, Easter Joy, Easter Alleluias. Fifty full days of responding in faith — with our mouths and hearts — to the announcement of the angels, "You seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here. He has risen. See the place where they laid him."
But these days we are all wiped out after Easter Morning. Our energies are spent, our batteries dead and our service to the Lord and his Church worn out. No wonder why, more often than not, in Christian Churches around the country, this Sunday, the Sunday after Easter, suffers from the worst attendance of any Sunday of the Church Year. "What's wrong with this picture?"
Is there life after Easter? And if so, what kind of life is there for the Church, for us as Christians, for all who are true children of God and his salvation given through Christ's Word and Spirit?
Life for the believer in the light of Easter is to be understood in light of seven verses in the third chapter of the book of Genesis:
Now the serpent was more crafty than any other beast of the field that the LORD God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden’?” And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.’” But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate. Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths. (Genesis 3:1-7 ESV)
The temptation to follow our fallen eyes instead of our redeemed ears is as much a reality for us as it was for Eve in the Garden under the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The world, in it's unbelief, knows everything about seeing, but very little about listening. Our old nature will always prefer what is glorious to the eyes over the truth and hidden glory of the Word. As Satan whispered, "Look at it. Touch it. Feel it. Take it." to our great-great-grandmother, so he whispered to the disciples and to Thomas: "Seeing is believing. Follow your eyes and finger and hand. Don't trust mere words. Don't put your faith in what comes out of some man's mouth. Demand evidence that you can grab and hold on to."
The women had — despite their great fear and the great possibility that the disciples would write them off as silly — faithfully reported what the angel at the tomb had announced. As the first Easter dawn witnesses of their Lord's resurrection, the women had not only reported what they had seen, but, bottom line, what they had heard from heaven's messenger:
Now after the Sabbath, toward the dawn of the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And behold, there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. And for fear of him the guards trembled and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen, [just] as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples that he has risen from the dead, and behold, he is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him. See, I have told you.” (Matthew 28:1-6 ESV)
There are too many congregations that believe the center of the saving Gospel in light of the Lord's Resurrection is: "Jesus isn't dead anymore. He lives on." But Easter is as much a celebration of Jesus not being dead anymore as Good Friday is a funeral service.
This is the dirty little secret that the devil, the world and our old sinful nature loves to perpetuate. This is the Gospel that isn't really the Gospel at all. And this is the reason why we feel so burned out and lifeless after all the busyness and hoopla of Easter activities.
The festival of the Resurrection of our Lord can't be an event "for our eyes only." It must be a fifty day "Amen!" to what we have heard from heaven, a fifty day "Alleluia!" to the words of the angels, a life-long response in faith to the Word of God — the Word of God in, with and under the prophets and apostles; the Word of God in, with and under water; the Word of God in, with and under bread and wine; the Word of God in, with, and under human flesh and blood.
When Saint John began his inspired narrative of salvation fulfilled in Christ, he focused not on Jesus' good looks and charismatic personality that made teenage girls scream and faint. Saint John follows the revealed history of creation when he presents the history of creation restored by centering not only the first chapter but the entire Gospel account on the Word — the Word with a capital W. The Word that creates and redeems and restores a fallen creation and a sin-enslaved humanity.
Thomas doubted the reports of the women and the other disciples because he let his unbelieving old nature lead. "I need proof — proof that my eyes can see, my finger touch, my hand confirm. Without evidence that I can grab on to — I will never believe!"
That's why churches have thrown out the hymnal and the pipe organ and the piano and the choir and replaced it with sub-woofers, liturgical dancers and a drum set. "I don't want to hear the worship service, I want to feel it." they say.
But feeling that Jesus is alive again does us no good at all. Sometimes, when it comes to the true Christian faith, seeing isn't believing.
That was exactly the problem with the Jewish religious leaders. They demanded signs because they didn't want the Word of God given in grace and received in faith. They hungered for a religious circus. The religious leaders at the foot of the cross became the mouthpiece of Satan himself as they tempted Jesus with the words, "Come down from the cross, that we may see and believe!"
They followed evil King Herod himself in demanding that Jesus perform for them. "Show me." Herod demanded. "Do a little performance for me, and maybe I won't do to you what I did to your friend, John the Baptist."
But, as Jesus had told the Pharisees, no performance would be given. No song and dance for those who refused to hear the Word of the Lord — for those who refused to open their ears and hearts to the Word of God made flesh and blood. No miraculous sightings in bleeding marble statues. No miraculous appearances in patterns of granite cut for a church altar. No miraculous images on bagels or tortillas or Cheetos or frozen fish stick. Nothing we can see today save the words handed down from the pen of the prophets and apostles; the words of the Divine Service, the words of the Creed; the words of the hymnal and Small Catechism; the words from the font and altar.
So when Jesus shows up before the disciples in the upper room that first Easter Sunday evening, the first thing our Lord does is not give out hugs or pull a rabbit out of his tunic. He speaks as the Word of God — the Word of God crucified, dead and buried, raised on the third day.
He speaks as the great Good Shepherd — the great Good Shepherd who bears in his wrists and feet and side the marks of laying his life down — for the eternal salvation of sheep that loved to wander.
This is the only thing that could bring the shaking-in-their-boots disciples peace, and it is the only thing that can give any of us the peace that surpasses all human understanding. Jesus is giving witness to all that he had been sent to accomplish as he shows the marks of his sacrificial death in his hands and feet and side — marks of the crucifixion that will bear witness to God's grace and Christ's love for the world — even in eternity.
Only with Christ the crucified can we hear the Word of eternal peace graciously given for doubting, grumbling, unbelieving, rebel children of Adam and Eve who would rather see a floor show than close their mouths and listen to the Word of God with the ears and heart of faith.
"Peace be unto you." our risen-from-the-dead Lord announces on that first Easter evening. "I given you my peace — the fruit of my birth, for you; the fruit of my perfect life, for you; the fruit of my agony in the garden, for you; the fruit of my passion, for you; the fruit of my bitter suffering and death, for you; the fruit of my three day rest in the tomb, for you; the fruit of my resurrection and ascension into heaven — all for you and for the world."
When Jesus appeared to his disciples it was in the same upper room in which he instituted his Holy Supper: the culmination and fulfillment of everything the Passover and Exodus pointed to. The same room in which he announced how this particular peace would be won. "Take, drink. This is the cup of the new testament [my last will and testament] poured out for many for the forgiveness of sin."
This is how central the forgiveness of sins is for the Church and for each of us as Christians — because it was everything that Christ came to fulfill for us all. Eternal, life-giving peace between God and neighbor through the forgiveness of sins. That is what was on Jesus' mind during the Last Supper, the walk to the Garden of Gesthemane, the agonizing prayer a stone's throw away from sleeping disciples, the scourging, the mockery and temptation from the foot of the cross, the unimaginable forsakenness upon the Cross. "This will win peace for the world. This will secure forgiveness for all my Father's children."
There is life after Easter — only if there is life given and received and kept safe in our Lord Christ. Even after the Easter lilies have faded and the family get-togethers forgotten and the Easter left-overs consumed, there is life in Christ wherever he is present to announce: "Stop being faithless and believe that I have secured the forgiveness of sins through my sacrificial death and resurrection. Freely I give to you my saving Word. Hold tight to it as I declare unto all who will receive my Word in faith: Peace be with you — always."
May we, with Thomas, hear the Word of God with redeemed ears, that we might respond with a mouth and heart of faith, "Alleluia. He is risen from the dead, lives and reigns to all eternity — for me."
In the Name of our Crucified and Risen Lord Christ. Amen
Dear fellow Christians redeemed through the blood of Jesus:
In the old days, the Church pulled out all the stops for services on Easter Dawn and Easter Morning — and Easter Evening and Easter Monday and Easter Tuesday. Forty days of Lent followed by fifty days of Easter Light, Easter Joy, Easter Alleluias. Fifty full days of responding in faith — with our mouths and hearts — to the announcement of the angels, "You seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here. He has risen. See the place where they laid him."
But these days we are all wiped out after Easter Morning. Our energies are spent, our batteries dead and our service to the Lord and his Church worn out. No wonder why, more often than not, in Christian Churches around the country, this Sunday, the Sunday after Easter, suffers from the worst attendance of any Sunday of the Church Year. "What's wrong with this picture?"
Is there life after Easter? And if so, what kind of life is there for the Church, for us as Christians, for all who are true children of God and his salvation given through Christ's Word and Spirit?
Life for the believer in the light of Easter is to be understood in light of seven verses in the third chapter of the book of Genesis:
Now the serpent was more crafty than any other beast of the field that the LORD God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden’?” And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.’” But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate. Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths. (Genesis 3:1-7 ESV)
The temptation to follow our fallen eyes instead of our redeemed ears is as much a reality for us as it was for Eve in the Garden under the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The world, in it's unbelief, knows everything about seeing, but very little about listening. Our old nature will always prefer what is glorious to the eyes over the truth and hidden glory of the Word. As Satan whispered, "Look at it. Touch it. Feel it. Take it." to our great-great-grandmother, so he whispered to the disciples and to Thomas: "Seeing is believing. Follow your eyes and finger and hand. Don't trust mere words. Don't put your faith in what comes out of some man's mouth. Demand evidence that you can grab and hold on to."
The women had — despite their great fear and the great possibility that the disciples would write them off as silly — faithfully reported what the angel at the tomb had announced. As the first Easter dawn witnesses of their Lord's resurrection, the women had not only reported what they had seen, but, bottom line, what they had heard from heaven's messenger:
Now after the Sabbath, toward the dawn of the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And behold, there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. And for fear of him the guards trembled and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen, [just] as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples that he has risen from the dead, and behold, he is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him. See, I have told you.” (Matthew 28:1-6 ESV)
There are too many congregations that believe the center of the saving Gospel in light of the Lord's Resurrection is: "Jesus isn't dead anymore. He lives on." But Easter is as much a celebration of Jesus not being dead anymore as Good Friday is a funeral service.
This is the dirty little secret that the devil, the world and our old sinful nature loves to perpetuate. This is the Gospel that isn't really the Gospel at all. And this is the reason why we feel so burned out and lifeless after all the busyness and hoopla of Easter activities.
The festival of the Resurrection of our Lord can't be an event "for our eyes only." It must be a fifty day "Amen!" to what we have heard from heaven, a fifty day "Alleluia!" to the words of the angels, a life-long response in faith to the Word of God — the Word of God in, with and under the prophets and apostles; the Word of God in, with and under water; the Word of God in, with and under bread and wine; the Word of God in, with, and under human flesh and blood.
When Saint John began his inspired narrative of salvation fulfilled in Christ, he focused not on Jesus' good looks and charismatic personality that made teenage girls scream and faint. Saint John follows the revealed history of creation when he presents the history of creation restored by centering not only the first chapter but the entire Gospel account on the Word — the Word with a capital W. The Word that creates and redeems and restores a fallen creation and a sin-enslaved humanity.
Thomas doubted the reports of the women and the other disciples because he let his unbelieving old nature lead. "I need proof — proof that my eyes can see, my finger touch, my hand confirm. Without evidence that I can grab on to — I will never believe!"
That's why churches have thrown out the hymnal and the pipe organ and the piano and the choir and replaced it with sub-woofers, liturgical dancers and a drum set. "I don't want to hear the worship service, I want to feel it." they say.
But feeling that Jesus is alive again does us no good at all. Sometimes, when it comes to the true Christian faith, seeing isn't believing.
That was exactly the problem with the Jewish religious leaders. They demanded signs because they didn't want the Word of God given in grace and received in faith. They hungered for a religious circus. The religious leaders at the foot of the cross became the mouthpiece of Satan himself as they tempted Jesus with the words, "Come down from the cross, that we may see and believe!"
They followed evil King Herod himself in demanding that Jesus perform for them. "Show me." Herod demanded. "Do a little performance for me, and maybe I won't do to you what I did to your friend, John the Baptist."
But, as Jesus had told the Pharisees, no performance would be given. No song and dance for those who refused to hear the Word of the Lord — for those who refused to open their ears and hearts to the Word of God made flesh and blood. No miraculous sightings in bleeding marble statues. No miraculous appearances in patterns of granite cut for a church altar. No miraculous images on bagels or tortillas or Cheetos or frozen fish stick. Nothing we can see today save the words handed down from the pen of the prophets and apostles; the words of the Divine Service, the words of the Creed; the words of the hymnal and Small Catechism; the words from the font and altar.
So when Jesus shows up before the disciples in the upper room that first Easter Sunday evening, the first thing our Lord does is not give out hugs or pull a rabbit out of his tunic. He speaks as the Word of God — the Word of God crucified, dead and buried, raised on the third day.
He speaks as the great Good Shepherd — the great Good Shepherd who bears in his wrists and feet and side the marks of laying his life down — for the eternal salvation of sheep that loved to wander.
This is the only thing that could bring the shaking-in-their-boots disciples peace, and it is the only thing that can give any of us the peace that surpasses all human understanding. Jesus is giving witness to all that he had been sent to accomplish as he shows the marks of his sacrificial death in his hands and feet and side — marks of the crucifixion that will bear witness to God's grace and Christ's love for the world — even in eternity.
Only with Christ the crucified can we hear the Word of eternal peace graciously given for doubting, grumbling, unbelieving, rebel children of Adam and Eve who would rather see a floor show than close their mouths and listen to the Word of God with the ears and heart of faith.
"Peace be unto you." our risen-from-the-dead Lord announces on that first Easter evening. "I given you my peace — the fruit of my birth, for you; the fruit of my perfect life, for you; the fruit of my agony in the garden, for you; the fruit of my passion, for you; the fruit of my bitter suffering and death, for you; the fruit of my three day rest in the tomb, for you; the fruit of my resurrection and ascension into heaven — all for you and for the world."
When Jesus appeared to his disciples it was in the same upper room in which he instituted his Holy Supper: the culmination and fulfillment of everything the Passover and Exodus pointed to. The same room in which he announced how this particular peace would be won. "Take, drink. This is the cup of the new testament [my last will and testament] poured out for many for the forgiveness of sin."
This is how central the forgiveness of sins is for the Church and for each of us as Christians — because it was everything that Christ came to fulfill for us all. Eternal, life-giving peace between God and neighbor through the forgiveness of sins. That is what was on Jesus' mind during the Last Supper, the walk to the Garden of Gesthemane, the agonizing prayer a stone's throw away from sleeping disciples, the scourging, the mockery and temptation from the foot of the cross, the unimaginable forsakenness upon the Cross. "This will win peace for the world. This will secure forgiveness for all my Father's children."
There is life after Easter — only if there is life given and received and kept safe in our Lord Christ. Even after the Easter lilies have faded and the family get-togethers forgotten and the Easter left-overs consumed, there is life in Christ wherever he is present to announce: "Stop being faithless and believe that I have secured the forgiveness of sins through my sacrificial death and resurrection. Freely I give to you my saving Word. Hold tight to it as I declare unto all who will receive my Word in faith: Peace be with you — always."
May we, with Thomas, hear the Word of God with redeemed ears, that we might respond with a mouth and heart of faith, "Alleluia. He is risen from the dead, lives and reigns to all eternity — for me."
In the Name of our Crucified and Risen Lord Christ. Amen
Friday, April 10, 2009
Easter Vigil Sermon - John 1:5
In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit
Dear Brothers and Sisters Brought into the Light of Christ:
And when the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. (Mark 15:33 ESV)
Things couldn't have been darker on that Good Friday. The sun and the moon hid their faces from the unimaginable. The earth quaked at the sight of the very Son of God receiving the cruelest of deaths as a barbaric murderer, a capital offender, a renegade deserving no show of humane treatment. Those who passed by turned their heads at the sight. The disciples had looked on from a distance, and then left, overpowered with grief and trembling with fear.
The darkness of the sky paled in comparison to the darkness of despair, for now the Promised One, the Messiah, the Savior and Redeemer of the World hung suspended motionless between the heavens and the earth, slain at the hands of evil men bent on preserving their power and prestige at any cost.
Jesus had announced the coming of "the hour" throughout his three and a half year public ministry — to his mother, to his brothers, to the disciples, to the Samaritan woman at the well, to his heavenly Father. And now the hour had finally arrived.
On the day that our Lord Christ was sacrificed upon the wood of the cross, the God-appointed substitute for an entire rebel race was plunged into the dark chaos of time before God spoke his Word of light and order and life. The Light of the World lay lifeless upon a borrowed Cross. The Light of the World lay lifeless in a borrowed tomb.
The night of despair for those who had placed their trust in this Jesus of Nazareth kept the disciples and the women who had followed him from any sense of certainty or peace. There was no consolation. There was no solace. There would be no restful sleep this night.
And so the women threw themselves into making preparations for their Sunday visit to the tomb to array the dead body of Jesus with their tokens of love and devotion.
Yes, the darkness was suffocating for Christ's own. The silence and cold damp of the night. The wrestling of mind and heart. "Why had Jesus walked down this road? Why didn't he see what was coming? What are we to do when we have no power to bring him back to us or restore the light of life in our souls? How can we meet another day void of hope and gripped in confusion and fear? Who will rescue us from this overwhelming darkness and despair?"
The hour of darkness had fallen upon Jesus, and all his disciples who found themselves blindly groping for anything that would help make sense of a completely senseless situation. We see that unshakeable despondency in the disciples on the road to Emmaus, in Mary weeping at the tomb, in the disciples cowering behind bolted doors, in Thomas' pledge to himself that he would never be hurt this way again.
But Christ had not left them without his Word. He had announced that his Passion would be followed with his being raised form the dead. He had preached the sign of Jonah. He had proclaimed that he was the fulfillment of the very Passover eaten by the children of Israel the night before their deliverance from the darkness and death of Egypt's oppression. He had promised them deliverance and life and light.
But they were asking themselves, "What use are mere words now that darkness has overtaken us?" That's the question each of us as believers must settle in our own hearts and minds. "What are mere words in the midst of such dark uncertainty — in the midst of such dark sin and despair and death?"
That is the question of the hour this hour as we await in darkness — in faith — as we await the appearance of the Light of salvation. That is the question that frames the entire fourth Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ:
The Holy Gospel According to Saint John, the first chapter:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.
And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.
And from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father’s side, he has made him known. (John 1:1-5, 9-14, 16-18 ESV)
For those of us who are on the verge of despair, for those of us who are fighting against the enveloping darkness of our sin, for those of us who are shaking in the cold damp of our helplessness and hopelessness, God announces clearly that there is One who was before the darkness, One who is above the darkness: the enlightening Word of God through whom all things were made; the life-giving Word of God who overcame the darkness — through the darkness of the sky on Good Friday, through the darkness and chill of the grave on Holy Saturday.
For, when it comes to the redeeming Word of God made flesh, it is as the old proverb says, "The darkest hour is just before the dawn."
Moses confirms that the darkness of night gives way to the light of day when he writes, "God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day." (Genesis 1:5 ESV)
And so the faithful, even in the midst of darkness, wait in faith for the morning light to come and restore all things.
Faith, created by the same Word that created the sun and the moon and the stars, keeps vigil for the appearance of Christ, even on the most hopeless of nights. Faith in the Word of God that keeps us awake and alert and watching for the first rays of his appearing.
This is the Christian faith that triumphs over fear and sin and death itself. This is the gift of trust in the Word of Christ that prevents us from scurrying back into the darkness of our ignorance, guilt and shame when the Light of Heaven reveals himself to us.
Christ has not come to simply expose our sin and then leave us to our own pitiful abilities to rescue ourselves out of the gloom of our own spiritual quicksand. That was the job of the Law and Moses and the Ten Commandments: exposing sin in the light of God's holy will for his creatures.
No, Christ has come to bring sin to light, that he might take it and drag it to Calvary.
The light of Easter morning is the light of God's own revelation —that Christ's sacrifice for sin has been accepted, — that Christ is raised to life never to die again, — that the Light of all Grace and Mercy has illuminated our hearts and minds as the Word comes and announces: you are now baptized into my name, my death and resurrection.
The Holy Gospel According to Saint John, the Sixteenth Chapter:
[Jesus'] disciples said, “Ah, now you are speaking plainly and not using figurative speech! Now we know that you know all things and do not need anyone to question you; this is why we believe that you came from God.” Jesus answered them, “Do you now believe? Behold, the hour is coming, indeed it has come, when you will be scattered, each to his own home, and will leave me alone. Yet I am not alone, for the Father is with me. I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:29-33 ESV)
As the first rays of Easter dawn approach, let us sing the praises of him who is our light that no darkness can overcome. Let us give thanks to him who by his death destroyed death. Let us offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving to him who has brought life and immortality to light for all who believe.
Mighty Victim from the sky
Hell's fierce pow'rs beneath you lie;
You have conquered in the fight;
You have brought us life and light. Alleluia!
(At the Lamb's High Feast We Sing. LSB 633:5)
Let us pray:
O thou that art the Light eternal, the Sun of Righteousness, evermore arising and never going down, giving light, food, and gladness unto all, mercifully vouchsafe to shine upon us, and cast thy blessed beams upon the dullness of our understanding and upon the dark mists of our sins and errors; for thine only merits, who art alone our Savior, Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen
Dear Brothers and Sisters Brought into the Light of Christ:
And when the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. (Mark 15:33 ESV)
Things couldn't have been darker on that Good Friday. The sun and the moon hid their faces from the unimaginable. The earth quaked at the sight of the very Son of God receiving the cruelest of deaths as a barbaric murderer, a capital offender, a renegade deserving no show of humane treatment. Those who passed by turned their heads at the sight. The disciples had looked on from a distance, and then left, overpowered with grief and trembling with fear.
The darkness of the sky paled in comparison to the darkness of despair, for now the Promised One, the Messiah, the Savior and Redeemer of the World hung suspended motionless between the heavens and the earth, slain at the hands of evil men bent on preserving their power and prestige at any cost.
Jesus had announced the coming of "the hour" throughout his three and a half year public ministry — to his mother, to his brothers, to the disciples, to the Samaritan woman at the well, to his heavenly Father. And now the hour had finally arrived.
On the day that our Lord Christ was sacrificed upon the wood of the cross, the God-appointed substitute for an entire rebel race was plunged into the dark chaos of time before God spoke his Word of light and order and life. The Light of the World lay lifeless upon a borrowed Cross. The Light of the World lay lifeless in a borrowed tomb.
The night of despair for those who had placed their trust in this Jesus of Nazareth kept the disciples and the women who had followed him from any sense of certainty or peace. There was no consolation. There was no solace. There would be no restful sleep this night.
And so the women threw themselves into making preparations for their Sunday visit to the tomb to array the dead body of Jesus with their tokens of love and devotion.
Yes, the darkness was suffocating for Christ's own. The silence and cold damp of the night. The wrestling of mind and heart. "Why had Jesus walked down this road? Why didn't he see what was coming? What are we to do when we have no power to bring him back to us or restore the light of life in our souls? How can we meet another day void of hope and gripped in confusion and fear? Who will rescue us from this overwhelming darkness and despair?"
The hour of darkness had fallen upon Jesus, and all his disciples who found themselves blindly groping for anything that would help make sense of a completely senseless situation. We see that unshakeable despondency in the disciples on the road to Emmaus, in Mary weeping at the tomb, in the disciples cowering behind bolted doors, in Thomas' pledge to himself that he would never be hurt this way again.
But Christ had not left them without his Word. He had announced that his Passion would be followed with his being raised form the dead. He had preached the sign of Jonah. He had proclaimed that he was the fulfillment of the very Passover eaten by the children of Israel the night before their deliverance from the darkness and death of Egypt's oppression. He had promised them deliverance and life and light.
But they were asking themselves, "What use are mere words now that darkness has overtaken us?" That's the question each of us as believers must settle in our own hearts and minds. "What are mere words in the midst of such dark uncertainty — in the midst of such dark sin and despair and death?"
That is the question of the hour this hour as we await in darkness — in faith — as we await the appearance of the Light of salvation. That is the question that frames the entire fourth Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ:
The Holy Gospel According to Saint John, the first chapter:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.
And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.
And from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father’s side, he has made him known. (John 1:1-5, 9-14, 16-18 ESV)
For those of us who are on the verge of despair, for those of us who are fighting against the enveloping darkness of our sin, for those of us who are shaking in the cold damp of our helplessness and hopelessness, God announces clearly that there is One who was before the darkness, One who is above the darkness: the enlightening Word of God through whom all things were made; the life-giving Word of God who overcame the darkness — through the darkness of the sky on Good Friday, through the darkness and chill of the grave on Holy Saturday.
For, when it comes to the redeeming Word of God made flesh, it is as the old proverb says, "The darkest hour is just before the dawn."
Moses confirms that the darkness of night gives way to the light of day when he writes, "God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day." (Genesis 1:5 ESV)
And so the faithful, even in the midst of darkness, wait in faith for the morning light to come and restore all things.
Faith, created by the same Word that created the sun and the moon and the stars, keeps vigil for the appearance of Christ, even on the most hopeless of nights. Faith in the Word of God that keeps us awake and alert and watching for the first rays of his appearing.
This is the Christian faith that triumphs over fear and sin and death itself. This is the gift of trust in the Word of Christ that prevents us from scurrying back into the darkness of our ignorance, guilt and shame when the Light of Heaven reveals himself to us.
Christ has not come to simply expose our sin and then leave us to our own pitiful abilities to rescue ourselves out of the gloom of our own spiritual quicksand. That was the job of the Law and Moses and the Ten Commandments: exposing sin in the light of God's holy will for his creatures.
No, Christ has come to bring sin to light, that he might take it and drag it to Calvary.
The light of Easter morning is the light of God's own revelation —that Christ's sacrifice for sin has been accepted, — that Christ is raised to life never to die again, — that the Light of all Grace and Mercy has illuminated our hearts and minds as the Word comes and announces: you are now baptized into my name, my death and resurrection.
The Holy Gospel According to Saint John, the Sixteenth Chapter:
[Jesus'] disciples said, “Ah, now you are speaking plainly and not using figurative speech! Now we know that you know all things and do not need anyone to question you; this is why we believe that you came from God.” Jesus answered them, “Do you now believe? Behold, the hour is coming, indeed it has come, when you will be scattered, each to his own home, and will leave me alone. Yet I am not alone, for the Father is with me. I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:29-33 ESV)
As the first rays of Easter dawn approach, let us sing the praises of him who is our light that no darkness can overcome. Let us give thanks to him who by his death destroyed death. Let us offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving to him who has brought life and immortality to light for all who believe.
Mighty Victim from the sky
Hell's fierce pow'rs beneath you lie;
You have conquered in the fight;
You have brought us life and light. Alleluia!
(At the Lamb's High Feast We Sing. LSB 633:5)
Let us pray:
O thou that art the Light eternal, the Sun of Righteousness, evermore arising and never going down, giving light, food, and gladness unto all, mercifully vouchsafe to shine upon us, and cast thy blessed beams upon the dullness of our understanding and upon the dark mists of our sins and errors; for thine only merits, who art alone our Savior, Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen
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