Saturday, April 19, 2014

Good Friday (John 19:30-37)

“He who saw it has borne witness—his testimony is true, and he knows that he is telling the truth—that you also may believe.” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and our Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. The text for our sermon this Good Friday is the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ according to Saint John, particularly verses thirty through thirty-seven. Dear friends in Christ, in an interview not long ago, Emma Watson, star of the popular (and controversial) movie ‘Noah,’ commented on whether working on a Bible-based movie had changed her outlook on religion. Her reply was oh-so typical these days: “I already had the sense that I was someone who was more spiritual than specifically religious.” She is hardly alone. More and more people are using that label every day. What does it mean to be spiritual but not religious? It means to like the idea of an unseen realm, to be in touch with your soul, but not to actually attach any doctrines to it. It means picking and choosing from the religions of the world like a great buffet line, making God in your own image. It means praying to that vague ‘God,’ but certainly not going to church. It means to like the idea of a higher being, something bigger than yourself, but only if He never actually says anything. If God speaks, if He reveals to you anything specific at all, you instantly have a religion, you have doctrines, you have teachings. And that is to be avoided at all costs, because if God speaks, if you follow a ‘religion,’ then you are not the final authority, God is.

And that is unacceptable to the ‘spiritual but not religious’ person, because the goal of modern spirituality is to put you at the center as the final authority, deciding what is true or not for yourself. It’s no one else’s business what you believe, because your spirituality is just that: yours. People pick and choose from a smorgasbord of different teachers and philosophies, each promising to make you feel better, to make you a ‘better person.’ Even Jesus is turned into a guru, a teacher that can help you feel better about yourself. His teachings, His moral example are what matter, rather than His preaching about the kingdom of God, or especially His death and resurrection. Jesus becomes a nice subject for a pretty picture on a wall or a comforting Hallmark card, and the texts of the Scriptures, from Psalm 23 to the Lord’s Prayer, become sentimentalized to the point that they become nice thoughts, hardly recognizable as proclaiming Christ. Emotions become the driving force in the life of the Church; Christianity becomes more about what I feel rather than about actual events that really happened in history. Doctrines and teachings, the very words spoken by God Himself, are marginalized, taking a backseat to the emotional experience of having a relationship with Jesus, a relationship most often is managed on our terms and to our own goals. These end up being the same goals of the ‘spiritual but not religious’ crowd: to make me a better person who feels good about myself.

Those are the evils we fear, those are the evils that we are seeking deliverance from through a vague, fuzzy spirituality, inside the Church and without. We fear the evil of not being a nice person, of not being kind enough to others, and so each and every ‘spiritualty’ promises to make you a better neighbor, a better parent, a better leader. We fear the evil of not being well adjusted, of not feeling good about ourselves, and so we seek deliverance from prophets like Oprah and Dr. Phil. And if Jesus can help, then we’ll pick and choose from His teachings, too. No one wants to feel bad about himself, right? That’s why these spiritualties are individualistic; you pick and choose until you find the combination that works and when it works, you stick with it. And when it doesn’t, you go somewhere else. It doesn’t matter if it’s true, it only matters if it works.

That is the world that we live in, that is the air that we breathe, and it has affected us all, to some extent or another. And that is what the preaching of the cross destroys. Good Friday is the annihilation of all those vague spiritualties, the claim that one can be ‘spiritual but not religious’ is shattered by the cross. Rather than a vague deliverance from some flimsy evils, the cross is very real deliverance from very real evil. On Good Friday, Jesus isn’t suffering and dying to make us a better person, He isn’t shedding His blood to help us feel better about ourselves. He is hanging upon that cross to deliver us from evil, the very real evil that threatens us. We have enemies, real enemies, and they intend to destroy us, forever. The fuzzy spirituality of our age is shattered by each and every funeral. What is more real than death, than a person in a coffin who will never speak again? The greatest evil we face is not that we don’t feel good enough about ourselves, it’s that we are going to die. No amount of being ‘spiritual’ can defeat death. And why do we die? We die because of sin. We can’t be a nice person, because we are sinful. And even if we are nice to others, that still doesn’t change the fact that we are going to die. Sin is real, death is real, and so is Satan. People can deny his existence all they want; someone who is ‘spiritual but not religious’ has little place for him, but he likes it best that way. Satan would rather attack us when we’re unsuspecting, completely unprepared for his assault.

Those are our enemies, those are the evils we need salvation from; they are real, and they are dangerous. Those are the evils that we are taught to ask for deliverance from in the Lord’s Prayer. “We pray in this petition, in summary, that our Father in heaven would rescue us from every evil of body and soul, possessions and reputation.” Those are the evils that threaten us; those are the evils destroyed by the cross of Christ. Jesus answers this petition on Good Friday. At the moment of the cross, as our Lord Jesus hangs there suffering and dying, you and I are delivered from evil, the very real evil that threatens us. He destroys death through His own death on our behalf; He delivers us from the bondage of sin by paying its price; He crushes Satan by robbing his accusations of their power. This deliverance isn’t vague, it isn’t ambiguous, it’s raw and real. What is more real, more definitive, than a crucifixion? The Gospels don’t just preserve detached teachings, a ‘spirituality’ proclaimed by our guru Jesus. The Gospels declare that this Jesus died on a cross and rose again in real history, for real sinners. The writers of the New Testament are preserving eyewitness testimony to events that really happened, events that have eternal significance. John was there when the spear pierced Christ’s side. “He who saw it has borne witness—his testimony is true, and he knows that he is telling the truth—that you also may believe.”

John’s witness declares that the harsh reality of death is destroyed, overcome by the death of Jesus in history, “under Pontus Pilate.” On a Friday afternoon, death was destroyed, sin paid for, and Satan conquered. On a Sunday morning, that victory was sealed and proclaimed by a tomb that is still empty. That is reality. And now our reality is life forever, a life in the new heavens and the new earth. This isn’t conveyed to us by some sort of vague ‘spirituality,’ but in actual water, physical bread and wine. The cross brings you forgiveness for when you are not such a nice person; the cross gives you an identity as a child of God that endures even when you aren’t feeling so good about yourself. The cross is reality in the midst of the changes and chances of life. Emotions are good, and we do feel sorrow over our sin and great joy over Christ’s deliverance, but our feelings cannot tell us how we stand before God. To know that, we look to the cross, and there God says, “I love you.”

We look to the cross as Zechariah prophesied: “They will look on Him whom they have pierced.” All humanity will look to Jesus, the one pierced for our transgressions, on the Last Day. Some will look in joy, in faith at their deliverer. Some will look in sorrow, for they refused to believe. That is reality. No one in need of real salvation from real evil can bypass Jesus. And we have the assurance that when we look in faith, we will be delivered, as we confess in the Small Catechism. We pray that when our last hour comes God would “ give us a blessed end, and graciously take us from this valley of sorrow to Himself in heaven.” God’s answer is yes, because of the reality of the cross. It is finished; that is reality. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Holy Saturday: My Song is Love Unknown

God is love. His love sent Jesus to this earth; His love sent Jesus to the cross. Jesus’ love for you and for His Father meant that He accepted this charge willingly, going forth to suffer and die for you and your salvation. Saint John understood this love, writing in his first letter: “In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.” There is no greater example of love than Good Friday, as the last verse of our hymn declares, “Never was love, dear King, never was grief like Thine.” The grief of the cross means that you will live even though you die, the suffering and humiliation of the cross means that you will be delivered from suffering and exalted to heaven. Christ’s death means your life, Christ’s tomb means your resurrection.

“In life no house, no home my Lord on earth might have; in death no friendly tomb but what a stranger gave. What may I say? Heaven was His home but mine the tomb wherein He lay. Here might I stay and sing, no story so divine! Never was love, dear King, never was grief like Thine. This is my friend, in whose sweet praise I all my days could gladly spend.”

Christ died in your place, and He was buried in your place. Heaven is His home, the place where He belonged, but in death He lay in your tomb. He suffered all that you deserved: the wrath of God and the penalty of death, then He rested in the earth. He lay in the tomb for you, to sanctify your grave, for as the grave couldn’t hold Him, so it will not hold you. His tomb stands empty, broken, with all of its power destroyed, demonstrating that death itself has been crushed. He stayed in the tomb, but He didn’t remain there, and so your tomb is transformed from a place of defeat to a place of rest, where you will wait for the victory. For the trumpet will sound, and you will be raised, to be with your friend, your Savior, “in whose sweet praise I all my days could gladly spend.”

O God, creator of heaven and earth, grant that as the crucified body of your dear Son was laid in the tomb and rested on the holy Sabbath, so we may await with Him the coming of the third day, and rise with Him to newness of life, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever, Amen.

Friday, April 18, 2014

Maundy Thursday (Matthew 26:17-46)

“Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and our Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. The text for our sermon this Maundy Thursday comes from the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the twenty-sixth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Matthew. Dear friends in Christ: Satan works overtime in the shadow of the cross. He is always casting temptations our way, but he never works harder than when the cross comes into view. His goal is to separate us from the cross, from Christ’s death on our behalf. He wants us to live in sin and despair; that is the goal of temptation, as Luther teaches us in the Small Catechism: “We pray in this petition that God would guard and keep us so that the devil, the world, and our sinful nature may not deceive us or mislead us into false belief, despair, and other great shame and vice.” False belief, despair, other great shame and vice—these are the goals of temptation. The devil, and his allies—the world and our sinful nature—want to separate us from the cross, they want to separate us from Jesus. That is their goal this Maundy Thursday, and it was their goal the first Maundy Thursday.

Temptation swirled around in the darkness of that night; for good reason Jesus told His disciples, “Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation.” The temptation was to see the cross and take offense, to see Christ’s sufferings and fall away, to want nothing to do with a dying Savior. Jesus predicted those temptations would come. He told the twelve, “Truly I say to you, one of you will betray me.” Judas wanted a warrior-king, he was offended by the meek and suffering Savior, and so he handed Him over to His enemies. But he was not the only one to take offense at the cross. Jesus said, “You will all fall away because of me this night. For it is written, ‘I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’” The disciples would see the cross and flee from it; they would want nothing to do with crucifixion and the agony of suffering, for they knew that Christ’s death would lead to their own. How many of you would keep coming to worship if you were threatened with beatings or arrest? I wonder how full this church would be if it were a target of persecution, or if you would have anyone to preach to you if pastors were threatened with death. Don’t answer too quickly; Peter had much confidence in his own ability to stay firm, and Jesus said to him, “Truly, I tell you this very night, before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.”

Instead of praying that their faith wouldn’t fail, Peter and the rest boasted of their loyalty. But events would quickly show that there was no reason for such trust in their own abilities to withstand Satan, just as Jesus had predicted. He goes off to pray, to wrestle with His Father in agony, and He calls on His trusted companions to keep vigil with Him, but they cannot. “And He came to the disciples and found them sleeping. And He said to Peter, ‘So, could you not watch with me one hour?’” Satan’s temptation is for us to become lazy, to fall asleep, when we should be watchful in prayer. We should be watching for Satan’s temptations, we should be looking to Christ to counter them, but we are soothed to sleep by Satan’s lullaby. He distracts us with the things of this world; even good things, like family and friends, are used by our enemy to divert us, to take our sleepy eyes away from the cross. I might stay away from worship or bible study because of sin, but also because I’m busy with work, feeding my family. I can neglect reading the Bible or prayer because I have other things to do, even good and noble things. A thousand different distractions, sinful or not, keep us from focusing on Christ’s cross, for Satan has one goal in mind. He wants you to have nothing to do with the proclamation of the cross, because Satan wants you, and he knows that the only way to get you is to separate you from Jesus, to lead you into “false belief, despair, and other great shame and vice.”

He wants us to despise the cross; to take offense at Jesus’ sufferings or to hear of them as little as possible. He wants you to deny your Lord, to take offense at suffering for His name, or to live your life in a contented, drowsy spiritual sleep. He wants you to live your life as far as possible from the cross of Christ, because Satan knows that at the cross he is defeated. That’s why the temptations the disciples faced were only a sideshow; the main event was his temptation of Jesus. And this greatest of all temptations was the same as his whisperings in your ear and in mine: “Have nothing to do with the cross.” 

Jesus falls in agony to His knees in the Garden of Gethsemane. He says, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death.” The cross is staring Him in the face; He knows the agony, the suffering ahead of Him, and He would not be true man if He did not struggle with that future. Satan is there, whispering the same temptation that he spoke in the wilderness: “Take the glory without the cross.” It was the prince of hell that filled His soul with the dread of death, who made Him shrink back from the tortures of the cross, who called on Him to refuse obedience to His Father in heaven. Jesus is tempted to refuse that cup, to leave it for you and me to drink, to escape the tortures of hell, leaving us to endure them forever. Make no mistake, with a word Christ could’ve avoided the cross; and Satan tempts Him to speak that word.

Christ is left alone; the disciples were to pray with Him and for Him, but they have failed; they sleep and soon will scatter. With Satan whispering in His ear, Jesus alone wrestles with the Father’s will. He says, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me.” He wrestles in agony, the torment of these dark hours are impossible to describe, but where man fell into the temptations of Satan, Christ refused to listen. He cries out, “My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.” God’s will be done, not Jesus’ will or Satan’s will. God’s will be done. Jesus rises from His wrestling triumphant over temptation, triumphant over Satan; He will go to the cross. It’s over; the cross lies ahead, but Christ will not avoid it, He will go forth resolute, ready to suffer and die. There is no hesitation, no shrinking now. He emerges from the Garden not like a fugitive who must be drawn out from hiding; He is as a conqueror meeting the vanquished. “Sleep and take your rest later on. See, the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us be going; see, my betrayer is at hand.”

Satan tried to keep Jesus from the cross because he knew that the cross would be his end. He thought that in the face of all the torture, humiliation, and suffering that was ahead of Him, Christ would grasp after glory, He would seek to escape, but He didn’t. He was resolute, and Satan’s defeat was as good as done. He refused to be separated from the cross, but He boldly walked that path for you and for me. And now He who refused to be separated from the cross refuses to let you be separated from it either. That is Satan’s goal, each and every day, to separate you from the cross, too keep you from the forgiveness found there, the defeat over death won by Christ’s death. But take heart, Jesus fights for you; He brings His cross near to you, overcoming Satan’s attempts to isolate you from your Lord or His cross. That’s why Jesus instituted the Lord’s Supper, to bring the cross to us, to forgive our sins and to strengthen us against all the whisperings of the enemy. 

“Lead us not into temptation,” Jesus teaches us to pray. He gave the Supper to His disciples in answer to that prayer, to strengthen them for the temptations that lay ahead. That same Body and Blood is given to you in the midst of your temptations; in the Supper, the cross of Christ is brought near to you. In the Small Catechism we read, “Although we are attacked by these things, we pray that we may finally overcome them and win the victory.” Jesus overcame the temptations of Satan, He won the victory, and in the Supper He brings that victory to you for the forgiveness of your sins. Jesus will let nothing come between Him and you; not Satan’s temptations, not your sin, not even death itself. He is resolute, He is unshaken, He is firm; He who went to the cross will not allow Satan to divide you from Him. He went to the cross for you, and this night He brings the cross to you. Take eat, take drink, the fruits of the cross are for you. In the name of Jesus, Amen.

Good Friday: My Song is Love Unknown

Jesus loved Barabbas. He loved this murderer, this insurrectionist, this despicable man languishing in a Roman prison, given the sentence of death. He loved Barabbas to such an extent that He was willing to die for him. Barabbas was guilty, in fact as guilty as any man could be; Jesus was innocent, more holy and righteous than any person who had ever lived. But Jesus died and Barabbas lived. Jesus died in the place of Barabbas.

“They rise and needs will have my dear Lord made away; a murderer they save, the Prince of Life they slay. Yet cheerful He to suffering goes that He His foes from thence might free.”

Jesus loves you. He loves you, even though you are sinful, even though you are corrupted, even though you are under the sentence of death. He loves you to such an extent that He was willing to die for you. You are guilty, in fact as guilty as every human since Adam and Eve. Jesus is innocent, more holy and righteous than any person who had ever lived. But Jesus died, and you will live. Jesus died in your place. “Yet cheerful He to suffering goes that He His foes from thence might free.” He died in the place of His greatest enemies; He died in place of His friends. He died in place of the ones who nailed Him to the cross; He died for you and me. Martin Luther called this the ‘great exchange.’ Jesus takes all that is ours: our sin, our shame, and our guilt, and makes it His own. In return, He gives us all that is His: His righteousness, His holiness, and His standing before God. Through His death and resurrection, all that is Christ’s is now yours.  “Yet cheerful He to suffering goes.” Christ goes to the cross cheerfully because of His love for you and me. This is truly love unknown, love incomprehensible, love divine. God is love, and He demonstrates this most clearly on Good Friday, in the cross of Christ.

Almighty God, graciously behold this your family for whom our Lord Jesus Christ was willing to be betrayed and delivered into the hands of sinful men to suffer death upon the cross; through the same Jesus Christ, your Son, our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever, Amen.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Maundy Thursday: My Song is Love Unknown

The love of Jesus didn’t begin at the cross; it defined His incarnation and life in this world. In love He drove out demons from the possessed, in love He healed disease, in love He raised the dead. When Jesus wept outside of the tomb of Lazarus, the gathered mourners exclaimed, “See how He loved him!” Jesus poured out His love on this sinful and corrupted creation, for that is what He came to do. The Creator was present in His creation to renew and restore it, to make right what had gone so terribly wrong. Jesus came to show love, and the creation responded with hate.

“Why, what hath my Lord done? What makes this rage and spite? He made the lame to run, he gave the blind their sight. Sweet injuries! Yet they at these, themselves displease and against Him rise.”

In hatred this world raged against the God who is love. What has Jesus done? What makes this world scorn and abuse Him? He has done what Isaiah prophesied He would do: “The Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound.” He came in love to free this creation from its bondage to sin and death. Every disease healed, every demon driven away, every leper cleansed was an indication that Jesus had come to destroy sin’s effects forever. But this cleansing and restoration would only come through His rejection, His suffering, through the facing of the rage of this world. Why was He hated by men? So that He could save them, so that He could show them love. Only His death could destroy sin and all of its corruption. Our hymn exclaims, “Sweet injuries!” The injuries of Christ are sweet because through them the disease of sin and death is cast from us, as Isaiah wrote, “With His stripes we are healed.”

Almighty and everlasting God, grant us by your grace so to pass through this holy time of our Lord’s passion that we may obtain the forgiveness of our sins; through Jesus Christ, your Son, our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever, Amen.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Wednesday of Holy Week: My Song is Love Unknown

We do not honor our love in Lent. Our love is fickle, it is wavering, it is unsteady. Our love is weak, even when turned toward those closest to us, but especially when it is turned toward God. Holy Week isn’t about the love of the people for Christ, because their love failed, and the crowds turned against our Lord.

“Sometimes they strew His way and His sweet praises sing; resounding all the day hosannas to their King. Then ‘Crucify!’ is all their breath, and for His death they thirst and cry.”

Jerusalem rejoiced to receive her King on Palm Sunday. Jesus even said, “I tell you, if these [people] were silent, the very stones would cry out.” The cries of ‘Hosanna’ rose up to Jesus, cloaks and palm branches covered His path. The people showed Jesus glory, honor, and love. But by Friday that all had changed. The cry was no longer ‘Hosanna!’ but ‘Crucify!’ Man’s love had faltered and failed. The crowds who once had adored Him now cried out for His death. 

We do not honor our love in Lent, for we too are like the crowds of Jerusalem. Our love for Christ falters and fails. On some days we cry out ‘Hosanna!’ praising our King for all that He has done for us. On others, we are like the mob on Good Friday, rejecting Christ through our words and actions. Our love is completely corrupted by the sin that fills all of our members. Lent isn’t about our love for Christ, but His love for us. Even you and I, who have love that is so weak, so faltering, so unsteady, are shown love by Jesus, the love that led Him to the cross. His love is shown to the “loveless that they might lovely be.”

Most merciful God, as the people of Jerusalem, with palms in their hands, gathered to greet your dearly beloved Son when he came into His Holy City, grant that we may ever hail Him as our King and, when He comes again, may go forth to meet Him with trusting and steadfast hearts and follow Him in the way that leads to eternal life; through the same Jesus Christ, our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever, Amen.

Tuesday of Holy Week: My Song is Love Unknown

On Christmas we see God’s love. The Father shows His love in that He sends His Son into this world; the Son shows His love in that He willingly lays aside the glory that is rightfully His and is born in humility. Saint Paul ponders this mystery in the second chapter of Philippians: “[He] made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” The love of the Son points in two directions: Jesus shows love toward God in that He is born, lives, and dies in obedience to the Father’s will for our salvation; Jesus shows love toward you in that He is born, lives, and dies for your great need of deliverance from sin and death. He had all glory, but He laid it aside in love for His Father and for you.

“He came from His blest throne salvation to bestow; but men made strange, and none the longed-for Christ would know. But, oh, my friend, my friend indeed, who at my need His life did spend!”

Because Jesus came in humility, He was rejected. He was long expected, but when He came, He didn’t fulfill expectations, and so men refused to know Him for who He was. He took the form of a servant, Isaiah’s suffering servant. Isaiah chapter fifty-three runs throughout this hymn. The prophet writes: “He had not form or majesty that we should look at Him, and no beauty that we should desire Him. He was despised and rejected by men.” This Jesus, true God from eternity, is born in the likeness of man, born in humility, despised and rejected by all for you. Your need is salvation from sin and from death. It is a desperate need, for you can do nothing to deliver yourself. And at your need “His life did spend.”

Merciful and everlasting God, you did not spare your only Son but delivered Him up for us all to bear our sins on the cross. Grant that our hearts may be so fixed with steadfast faith in Him that we fear not the power of sin, death, and the devil; through the same Jesus Christ, our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever, Amen.