Septuagesima (Matthew 20:1-16)

“So the last will be first, and the first last.” 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 morning is the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the twentieth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Matthew. Dear friends in Christ, you are a Christian, you have faith, because you have been called by Jesus. He came to you in the marketplace of this world, and He hired you to labor in His vineyard. He called you through the preaching of His Word, He hired you in the precious waters of Holy Baptism, He made you a laborer in His vineyard, and then put you to work. Some of you were called at the very beginning, promised your denarius when you were only an infant. Some of you were called at the third hour, when you were a child, as a grandparent or friend brought you to God’s house and His Word. Some of you were called at the sixth or the ninth hour, as young adults or in middle age, perhaps through the prodding of a spouse or child. And some of you were hired at the eleventh hour, toward the end of your time on this earth, having spent a lifetime idle in the marketplace; perhaps you were one of those called to work in the first hour of your life, but then left the vineyard for years, even decades, before you were hired again, with the gentle rebuke of our Lord, “Why do you stand here idle all day?” You joined those hired at the first, third, sixth, or ninth hours, fully aware of how you squandered your life chasing after the things of this world.

All of you are called to work, to labor in the vineyard, producing the fruit of love toward God and love toward your neighbor. Your work is not easy, for life as a Christian is not easy, you bear the burden of the day and its heat: the burden of dying to yourself in repentance every single day, the heat of persecution. You face the hatred of the world, you face the resistance of your own sinful nature, that Old Adam who needs to be drowned day after day. With great struggles, you seek to keep yourself from the fleeting pleasures that this world offers, and when you fall, you go to your knees in repentance. Your labor has been hard, and for some of you, it has been long. So long, and so hard, in fact, that you who were hired first, even those hired at the third or sixth hours, have begun to forget just how things work in the kingdom of God.

You have begun to forget that the Master hired you, that He promised you a denarius when the day was over, that He made you a laborer and promised you the wage before you had worked for one second in the vineyard. You take your eyes off the Master, and begin to look at yourself, you begin to examine your fellow workers. You have worked so long and so hard that you have begun to think that the Master owes you for your work. No longer are your eyes fixed on the Master, trusting His promise, the denarius that is coming, but they are fixed on yourself, as you evaluate what you deserve to receive from Jesus, and on your fellow workers, as you evaluate whether they deserve the same wage. You are no longer thinking of the denarius as grace, but as justice, Jesus giving you what He owes you, His repayment for all your work.

You who have been hired later perhaps have a different perspective. You too have let your eyes stray from your Master, you also are looking at yourself, and at your fellow laborers. You are all too aware of the life you led before, the time you wasted idle in the marketplace, chasing after the pleasures of the flesh, perhaps knowing the kind of labor that went on in the vineyard and wanting nothing to do with it. You are painfully aware of how you have stumbled and fallen since He hired you, seemingly every day. You look at your fellow laborers, your fellow Christians, and to you they all seem to be much more deserving of a denarius than you. If you could read their minds, if you knew that those who have labored all day feel entitled to their denarius, you would probably agree. You don’t feel entitled at all, you feel completely undeserving, and you have a sneaking suspicion that when the day’s end comes, the Master won’t have anything for you at all. You’ve come too late, you were idle too long; the Master will have nothing left to give.

So there is fear and there is confidence among the workers as the Master makes ready to pay the wages. “And when evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, ‘Call the laborers and pay them their wages, beginning with the last, up to the first.’” The last will be first, and the first last. As the decisive moment comes, eyes are finally all fixed on the Master. “And when those hired about the eleventh hour came, each of them received a denarius.” A denarius! You cannot believe what you hold in your hand—a denarius! The denarius of heaven, the denarius of eternal life, given to you called so late, you who were idle so long, you who have such sin in your past, you who have stumbled so often. A denarius for you, and you go your way rejoicing.

There is certainly some rejoicing among you who stand farther back in line, a smattering of applause. Your Master certainly is generous, as you who have served Him the longest know best. And now your expectations are through the roof. Yes, you’re glad that the Master has something left over for those who were idle for so long, but you are the ones who have put in all the work. “Now when those hired first came, they thought they would receive more, but each of them also received a denarius.” A denarius? You cannot believe what you hold in your hand—a denarius? The same denarius given to those who were idle, those who despised the Master’s call for so long, those who have so much sinful baggage that they might as well drive around in a U-Haul? A denarius? “And on receiving it they grumbled at the master of the house.”

Your cause is just, your argument is sound. Every other worker on this planet would agree with you. “These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.” What was the point of laboring so hard, what was the benefit of working so long? You have made him, you have made her, equal to me? Don’t you know what they’ve done, don’t you know what they’ve done to me? Mission work around the world is just fine, and we feel very good about sending our dollars overseas, but when it comes to extending the call of the Gospel to those we know, or think we know, we are less enthusiastic. We know what they’re like, and we know they don’t deserve any grace, at least not as much grace as we deserve. Does the town drunk deserve a denarius? How about a drug addict? A sex offender? A murderer or a thief? But we don’t even have to be so extreme. What about the ones who have lived much of their lives not caring what God says? What about those you see on the street that you would rather not see in your church? What about those who have sinned against you, perhaps quite terribly? Do they deserve a denarius? That is really the question: do those hired at the eleventh hour, those who hear the call of the Gospel after having lived a life of sin, or having sinned against me, or having stood idle in the marketplace, deserve the denarius at the end of the day?

Not in comparison with me. You know how I’ve worked, Lord, you know how I’ve toiled, you know the sacrifices I’ve made, the pleasures I’ve foregone to labor in your vineyard. I’ve been an elder, I’ve been on altar guild, I’ve been here every week, I’ve volunteered at every event. I’ve…yes, there’s the problem. We’ve taken our eyes off of the Master, and we’ve been looking at ourselves, we’ve been looking at our fellow laborers. If we had fixed our eyes on our Master, it wouldn’t have mattered what anyone else received. The Master chides us, “Friend, I am doing you no wrong. Did you not agree with me for a denarius? Take what belongs to you and go. I chose to give to this last worker as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or do you begrudge my generosity?” It was evil in our eyes that our Master was good, so good in fact that He gave to every laborer the same wage; He treated every repentant sinner the same. Do you feel entitled to a denarius? Do you look down upon your fellow laborers, do your eyes stray from the Master to them? Repent. Repent and rejoice that the Master has grace for every sinner, hired at every hour, even you.

That is what grace is; a gift, not earned in any way. The laborers do not work to earn their denarius, they are given a denarius because they have been called, they were hired, it was promised to them the moment they were called to the vineyard. Not the way you would run a business, but the kingdom of heaven rarely gives a good pattern for making money. Jesus isn’t in the business of justice, He is all about grace. Justice would mean no calling, no hiring, and no wages—for anyone. Jesus doesn’t owe you, or anyone, anything. But in grace He loves you and welcomes you into His kingdom, His vineyard, by having justice done upon Him. Those hired first complain, “You have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.” Jesus could’ve replied, “No, I have made you and them equal to me, who actually has borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.” We are sorely mistaken if we think it was our labor that earned the denarius; it was the labor of Jesus, His bloody, tortuous, deadly labor on our behalf that earned the denarius for each one of us. Justice for us was death and hell, but Jesus suffered both in our place. Justice was exacted from Him, grace is given to us.

Grace by its very nature, by its very definition, is a gift undeserved, unearned. The Lord rewards those who don’t deserve it, and every laborer in His vineyard doesn’t deserve it. Yet, He still gives, He gives abundantly, He gives in overflowing measure, He gives to you. The last will be first and the first last, and we rejoice, for we were all last, and we all, together as members of the body of Christ, in every age, in every generation, called at any hour of the day, will be first. We will all receive what Christ has promised us: the denarius of forgiveness, life, and salvation. Our Master is good, He is gracious, He gives us what we do not deserve—thanks be to God! In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany/Sanctity of Life Sunday (Romans 13:8-10)

“The commandments, ‘You shall not commit adultery, You shall not murder, You shall not steal, You shall not covet,’ and any other commandment, are summed up in this word: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” 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 Sanctity of Life Sunday is the Epistle lesson read a few moments ago from the thirteenth chapter of Paul’s letter to the Church of God in Rome. Dear friends in Christ, the Law is fulfilled by love, the love of Jesus for you. In love, Jesus came to keep every Law, every command, every statute perfectly, then He died the death deserved by those who didn’t. In love, Jesus fulfilled every one of the Law’s demands, and endured every one of the Law’s punishments. Christ shows love to His friends, His companions, those who love Him and follow Him, the members of the body of Christ. Christ shows love to the other, the ones who are different, shunned by the world; His compassion is especially poured out on the poor and downtrodden. Christ shows love to His neighbors, whoever they are, in the Church or still outside, all those in need. That is how He defines the term ‘neighbor’ for us in the parable of the Good Samaritan: the neighbor is the one in need. The disciples and Peter, the thief on the cross, a world trapped in the bondage of sin, you and me: we were all in need, and Christ showed love to us, He helped us, He saved us; His life was laid down in love to fulfill the Law for us.

We were bleeding and dying in the ditch, cast there by our own sin and rebellion, and Jesus did not pass us by. He laid down His life for His friends, but more than just His friends, His enemies as well, indeed every person who ever has lived or ever will live. “Love does no wrong to a neighbor, therefore love is the fulfilling of the Law.” He did no wrong, but He loved, He forgave, He saved. His love fulfilled the Law, perfectly and completely, and now the Law has no more penalty to execute upon us, it has no more threats to make against us. The Christian is now set free to love one another as God has commanded us. The Law is fulfilled in love born of faith; the Law is fulfilled when believers, when Christians, love others. We love because Christ first loved us. Our love flows from His love, our love mirrors His love. We love as we have been loved, seeking to do no wrong to the neighbor, but freely giving of ourselves for the good of others. We love by laying down our own desires, by placing others in front of ourselves, by not seeking our own needs but the needs of others.

We love because every command God has given is fulfilled by love. We love because it is our obligation as Christians; yes, Lutherans, you heard me right, or, rather, you heard Paul right. He says, “Owe no one anything, except to love each other, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the Law.” The Lutheran Confessions say that Scripture uses such expressions “to indicate what we are bound to do because of God’s ordinance, commandment, and will.” Not to earn righteousness, not to become a Christian, but because we are Christians. Love for the neighbor is the Christian life, toward all people.

We first love our fellow Christians; indeed, Christ has placed us into congregations because our fellow Christians need our love. Love begins within the body of Christ. But our love doesn’t end inside these walls, simply with those who are in our church directory, or even with the wider body of Christ in this city or around the world. Paul says, “The one who loves another has fulfilled the Law.” We owe love to the other, to the one who is different, the poor and the downtrodden, the ones who cannot speak for themselves. We love those who are threatened, who are oppressed, who are subject to abuse and exploitation, the unlovable, the ones we would not love on our own. We love the children in the womb, helpless, without a voice, threatened by a culture of death that sees them as expendable, as less than human, as an inconvenience and a ‘choice.’ We love the girls being trafficked, without a home, trapped in a terrible situation, exploited by those who hold abusive power over them. We love the elderly and dying, often without a voice, viewed as a burden to those who should love them. We love the disabled and the infirm, who are different than us, often profoundly different, who are ignored, or exposed to ridicule and abuse. We love each and every person regardless of age, development, or any other factor that makes them different than us, because they are made in the image of God, because they are loved by God, because Christ died for them as He died for us.

If we learn anything from the book of Jonah, it is that we do not get to pick and choose who to show love to. Christians love all people, those in the body of Christ first of all, then all those in the world around us. We love those who have made mistakes, who are desperately searching for a word of hope. In a 2015 study, 65% of women facing a crisis pregnancy thought that church members were more likely to gossip about their situation than offer help. These women expected the church only to condemn, they expected members to simply talk behind their back, they expected no understanding. They expected the church to reject them because they are sinful, because they have committed that sin. And because they expect no help, no love, they so often listen to what the world offers, and what the world offers is death. The Sixth Commandment unconfessed, unforgiven, then leads to the Fifth Commandment unconfessed, unforgiven. The same women who feared to tell the church when they faced a crisis pregnancy now fear to tell the church about their abortion. 52% of Christian women who have had an abortion attend worship once a month or more, and more than half of them say that no one at their church knows about their abortion. “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” Paul tells us. We love sinners; we love them enough to preach the Law which drives to repentance, and we love them enough to bring them Jesus, who forgives their sins.

But we do not stop with words, as Saint James exhorts us: “If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, be warmed and filled,’ without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that?” We love them in tangible ways, we love them so that the voices of death are left with nothing to say. We shower these women with love, not to ignore or excuse sin, but to forgive it, and then to help broken sinners deal with the consequences of sin. We do this with every other sin, every other sinner; that is what why the Church exists, and it is no different for sins of the Sixth and Fifth Commandments. In that same 2015 study, 54% of women who have had an abortion said that they would not recommend that anyone discuss their crisis pregnancy with a local congregation. Certainly many avoid the church because they are not repentant in the least and don’t want to hear the Law, but for many more, they stay away because they expect no love from Christians. Dear friends, the Christian church, this congregation, should be the first place that women can go when they have fallen into sin, when they face a crisis pregnancy, or after they have had an abortion. We have what they need: first and foremost, the free and abundant grace of God in the forgiveness of sins, and then a community of believers who will love and support them and their child. We love our neighbor, and as Jesus teaches us, the neighbor is the one who is in need. The unborn child is in need of our protection, his mother is in need of our love.

We love them because Christ loves them, because Christ loves us. Every command is summed up by love, it is only fulfilled by love; keeping a commandment out of fear of punishment or to earn brownie points before God is actually sinful. Only good works done in faith are good; the commandments are only kept by love born of faith. We do not love others for our own good; that is spiritual abuse, using my neighbor as a means for me to earn something before God or men. We do not love the unlovable so that others will be impressed, so that we will exalted in the eyes of others. We do not love our neighbor so that we can get into heaven or have a better place in heaven. We love them because Christ loves them, because Christ loves us.

The new man delights to love one another in the body of Christ, the new man delights to love the other who is different, indeed the new man delights to love any neighbor who is in need. But you do not only have the new man dwelling within you. The old man has love for no one but yourself. There are times when you have lived according to the flesh, when you have failed to love your neighbor, the unborn children of America, a child in your womb, or any other person. There are times when you have failed to show love to desperate sinners, but have callously let the woman in crisis remain in crisis, you have looked down upon one hungering for a word of grace. Repent, and hear the Gospel. If you have committed a sin, any sin, but especially the sins of the Sixth and Fifth Commandments, come to the waters of life, come to the forgiveness pouring from the riven side of Jesus, come to this place. Do not come clinging to your sin, seeking affirmation, but come in repentance, despairing of your sin. Come and hear the words which heal, the words which bring you the very love of Christ Himself: “In the stead and by the command of my Lord Jesus Christ I forgive you all your sins in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.” Come and hear these words as often as they are proclaimed; call on your pastor to proclaim them to you one on one; the sin of abortion, as devastating as it is, is not unforgivable, and neither is any other sin. Christ’s love has fulfilled the Law for you; Christ in love has taken your judgment upon Himself, Christ loves you, and His love is eternal. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Second Sunday after the Epiphany/Mission Festival (Romans 12:6-16)

“Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them.” 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 morning is the Epistle lesson read a few moments ago from the twelfth chapter of Paul’s letter to the church of God in Rome. Dear friends in Christ: Jesus is the One with the gift of prophecy, as He proclaimed to us the will of God, especially God’s salvation through His Son. Jesus is the One with the gift of service, as He came not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many. Jesus is the One with the gift of teaching, as He taught all who would listen about the nature of the kingdom of God that was breaking into this sinful world like light in a dark place. Jesus is the One with the gift of exhortation, as He encourages us to repent, to turn away from our sins, and believe in the redemption that He has brought. Jesus is the One with the gift of contribution, as He gave all that He had, laying aside His glory to take humble flesh and then laying aside His life to die in your place. Jesus is the One with the gift of ruling, as He is the head of His body, the Church, and He leads and guides her to green pastures and streams of living water, where He will wipe away tears from all faces. Jesus is the One with the gift of showing mercy, divine mercy, overflowing mercy, not giving us what we deserve, but taking that judgment, that punishment upon Himself.

Jesus is the One who possesses every spiritual gift; they are His, and they are His perfectly, in full and complete measure. And He who possesses every spiritual gift then delights to give them away, to you and to me. Spiritual gifts are just that—gifts!—they belong to Jesus, but He entrusts them to our care, we are stewards of them, not owners. He gives them to each person individually, for us to use for the good of others, as Saint Paul says, “Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, in proportion to our faith; if service, in our serving; the one who teaches, in his teaching; the one who exhorts, in his exhortation; the one who contributes, in generosity; the one who leads, with zeal; the one who does acts of mercy, with cheerfulness.” Spiritual gifts are given on an individual basis, to each person as Jesus, the possessor of every spiritual gift, sees fit. Different gifts are given to different people, and the same gift is not given in the same way to any two Christians. Jesus gives them in exactly the way that they are needed, not for our own good, but for the good of the body of Christ and the good of a world trapped in the darkness of sin.

Spiritual gifts are not given for the purposes of pride, to puff out chests and inflate egos, to lead us to look down upon those who we don’t think are quite as gifted as we are. Paul warns against such arrogance later in our text. “Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight.” I’m just old enough to remember the fervor, really the nonsense, that once accompanied the subject of spiritual gifts. It was once quite trendy, and a quick Google search will tell you that in many places it still is today, for churches to give out ‘spiritual gift inventories’ to help you to identify your gifts, and then give you opportunities to exercise them in various roles within the congregation. This was a Christian version of a personality or career test: find your gift, and we’ll slot you in the right job.

Spiritual gifts then become a mystery, something that I can’t find out until I take this test; often the language of ‘discovery’ is used, as if Jesus makes us search around for how He has blessed us. Spiritual gifts, instead of being received as a gift, are then a source of pride, as we identify for ourselves (using someone’s test) what gifts we have and then call on others to recognize them. Spiritual gifts are then simply a synonym for personality strengths, that I must be allowed to exercise in the way I think they should be used. Most devastating, spiritual gifts are then set up against and above the vocations that God has called us to, they are used as excuses to leave vocations God has given or to seek vocations that He has not. Scripture forbids a woman to serve as a pastor, but many sought that office after a spiritual gift inventory claimed to identify the gift of preaching.

Such a perspective on spiritual gifts is completely contrary to how Paul would have us use the gifts Jesus has given. Spiritual gifts are not given for the self, they are not given for our own good. They are not given to benefit our own life, to exalt ourselves in the eyes of others, or as leverage for church offices. Spiritual gifts don’t belong to us, they are not our possession; Jesus possesses them all, and He gives them how and where He wills, all for the good of the body, His Body, the Church, and for the extension of the kingdom of God throughout the world. The question then is not, ‘what spiritual gift do I have?’ but instead, ‘where has God placed me and what has He called on me to do in that vocation?’ The spiritual gifts that Paul lists here are all general and generic, and that’s the point: the focus isn’t on the gift, the focus is on using whatever God has given you, in whatever vocation He has placed you, in genuine love for your neighbor, as Saint Paul teaches: “Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor.”

Jesus gives spiritual gifts to individuals for the good of the body of Christ, in each and every place, to show love to our brothers and sisters in our congregation and around the world. He gives gifts to you and to me, spiritual gifts, and also material gifts, to supply what others lack, what is needed in the body of Christ. He uses us in our vocation, He uses us according to the gifts He has given to us, as we, hearing the exhortation of Paul, “Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality.” What we have, what gifts have been given to us, we use to supply what is lacking among others, trusting that God will use others to then supply what we lack. This happens in a congregation, as the body of Christ comes together to educate our young, maintain a building, and spread the Gospel, not only the direct preaching of the Word from this pulpit, but those who support this proclamation in numerous ways, and who take it into their vocations during the week. The Christian congregation is an assembly of saints with different gifts, each using them for the good of the body, each one supplying what the other lacks; each member is vital, each is blessed individually for the good of the whole. We see this on a much larger scale when we look at a church body or at the body of Christ spread throughout the world; individuals, congregations, and church bodies in love supply what others lack, using all gifts for the good of the body and the extension of the kingdom of God.

Lutheran Theological Seminary in Pretoria, South Africa has students, men who wish to become pastors and spread the Gospel in their native land, who hunger and thirst for Lutheran theology, but what don’t they have? They don’t have enough teachers, they don’t have enough materials, and they don’t have enough money. What do we have? We have men who can teach, we have the books, and we have been blessed to live in a prosperous land; we can supply what they need. That is what mission work is all about: we supply what others lack, but we are not left unchanged, as they supply what we lack, exhorting us to be faithful to God’s Word and the Lutheran Confessions, and refreshing us with their zeal to know and learn more about the truths of the faith.

This exchange of love in the body of Christ is a source of joy, because we are not looking to our own pride, but to the good of others. Saint Paul encourages us, “Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight.” The Church is a body, and we do not exalt ourselves over other members of that body, we do not look down on them in pride for any deficiency they may have, but with joy we fervently seek their good, for we all are loved by a God who seeks our good—it is His love, first shown to us, that we then show to others.

Jesus is the One whose love is genuine, never false, never fake, never a show, but always sincere, always honest, always true. Jesus is the One who abhorred what is evil, refusing to give in to Satan’s temptations, refusing to abandon the road of the cross, and instead chose the good: what was good for us, His death, in our place, on a Friday we still call ‘Good.’ Jesus is the One who loves us with brotherly affection, for we have been made His brothers and sisters, brought into His family, by our baptism into His Name. Jesus is the One who shows honor to all, especially the lowly, especially the downtrodden, especially those whom the world has forgotten. Jesus is the One whose zeal is never slothful, but is fervent in His service of you and me with His gifts, pouring out His love and forgiveness in manifest ways. Jesus is the One who rejoiced in the hope of His Father’s vindication, was patient in the tribulations inflicted upon Him for your sake, who constantly cried out to His Father in prayer, and was heard. Jesus is the One who contributes all He has for the needs of the saints, and He shows hospitality to us, calling on us to take shelter under His wings. Jesus is the One who blessed those who persecuted Him, asking God to forgive them as they nailed Him to the tree. Jesus is the One who rejoices with you who rejoice, as you celebrate that gifts and blessings that flow into your life, provision from a generous God, and Jesus is the One who weeps with you who weep, as you face the struggles and challenges of living in a still-fallen world. Jesus is the One who is never haughty, who is not embarrassed to associate with sinners; in fact, He never associates with anyone else. He associates with sinners in order to forgive them. He associates with you, He forgives you, because He loves you; He has every gift in full measure, He has fulfilled every exhortation on your behalf. His love is genuine, and it will never fail, it is His greatest gift. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

The Epiphany of our Lord (Matthew 2:1-12)

“And you, O Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who will shepherd my people Israel.” 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 on this celebration of the Epiphany of our Lord is the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the second chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Matthew. Dear friends in Christ, in the days of Herod the king, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, strange visitors came to Jerusalem, asking an even stranger question: “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews?” They come seeking a child, already declared king—why? “For we saw His star when it rose.” The word ‘epiphany’ is Greek, and it simply means ‘revelation’ or ‘manifestation.’ The star epiphanied to these strange visitors, called magi by Matthew—magicians, sorcerers, or, as we have sanitized it today, ‘wise men’—the star epiphanied to them that a special child was born, so special, so unique, that these magi declare that they “have come to worship Him.” This is no ordinary king, but One worthy of worship, One to whom they will bow; this king was epiphanied to them, and they are compelled to make this journey, they are compelled to worship Him, and they have come to Jerusalem to find Him.

Where else would they go? If these men have any of the wisdom we humans are so proud of they know that the One born King of the Jews must reside where all the other kings of the Jews lived: Jerusalem, the holy city, the seat of Israel’s kings. If a king worthy of worship has been born to the Jews, He must reside in a magnificent palace. The star epiphanied to them that a child was born king of the Jews; it did not give them the address. Where else would you go to find the king of the Jews? But there is no epiphany in Jerusalem, only the darkness of unbelief. “When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.” Herod’s heart is darkened by jealousy and rage; the child is not in his palace, nor in the temple, no great birth has been reported. So the magi know a child is born, but they have no power to find Him; their wisdom fails them, indeed, it’s a hindrance—they’ve come to the wrong place. In fact, their wisdom has placed the King they have come to worship in jeopardy, as a jealous Herod is now alerted to the presence of a rival. The magi are failures, their ‘wisdom’ is a sham, their journey a fiasco, all their powers of reason and understanding are completely and utterly worthless.

The wisdom of this world, the wisdom peddled by these magicians and sorcerers, these ‘wise men,’ cannot apprehend the child born King of the Jews. Such wisdom only hides Him. This world is not going to find the child born King of the Jews simply by observing creation and using the power of human reason. People are not going to become Christians by watching a beautiful sunset or climbing a mountain. You won’t find Christ in a fishing boat or in the casino. People won’t even be converted simply by seeing Christians live upright lives among them. At best, they will come to Jerusalem, to the seat of power and glory, looking for a God who is big and powerful, a generic God who either likes me because I’m likeable and wants to give me everything I ask for, or hates me because I’m hatable and wants to crush me. The best that human reason can do, thinking as deeply as it can, examining this creation as closely as it can, is that there is a God, and this God has two characteristics: He’s big, and He’s mad. And that’s the best human reason can do; the worst is complete and total unbelief, the hatred against the child exemplified by Herod. There is no epiphany by human reason; nothing is epiphanied that gives any hope, certainly not the child born King of the Jews.

Epiphany only comes through the means God has appointed. The magi are in the wrong city, they have no idea where the child is, their human wisdom and learning is not worth one pinch of owl dung. But Herod—sinful, jealous, unbelieving Herod—he actually knows where to go. He goes to the Church. “And assembling all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Christ was to be born.” God’s Old Testament Church, now corrupted and led by status-seeking men concerned only with the outward show of the Law, still serves the purpose that it has had since the very beginning. From the first message of the Gospel given to the first preacher, Adam, through many centuries and countless prophets and priests, the Church has been given the solemn responsibility to point people to the child born King of the Jews, the seed of the woman who will crush the serpent’s head, the star coming out of Jacob, the righteous Branch, God’s Servant Immanuel. There is epiphany within the Church, an epiphany that human reason cannot attain, an epiphany that the Church has a command from God Himself to show to the world, a command that still stands, by the way, reemphasized by Christ Himself. And so the chief priests and scribes, despite themselves, fulfill their God-given task, pointing the magi to the child born King of the Jews.

“They told him, ‘In Bethlehem of Judea, for so it is written by the prophet: “And you, O Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who will shepherd my people Israel.”’” The Church points the magi to Bethlehem, to the child born King of the Jews, by preaching the Word. The Church doesn’t start a soup kitchen, it doesn’t send out people to dig wells or clean up a park, as God-pleasing as such things may be; it preaches the Word. The Church must speak, Christians must speak. You cannot expect your neighbor to believe simply by watching you drive to church every Sunday, you cannot think you have spread the Gospel when you double your waitress’ tip. It is the Word alone that epiphanies the Christ child. The Christian must finally speak; we cannot expect the world to believe by osmosis, as if a church building in a neighborhood automatically makes Christians, as if a Bible sitting on our shelf can convert our relatives. Jesus does not want to be known in any other way than through His Word; He cannot be apprehended in any other way—the Church, Christians, must speak. Even Herod pointed the magi to Bethlehem; the Church, on the other hand, speaks not out of jealousy and murderous schemes, but out of love, love for Christ who has called us to speak and love for neighbors lost in the darkness of sin, death, and hell, who desperately need us to speak. Human wisdom will fail every time, the beauty of nature will always fall short, good works by themselves never converted anyone; the Word epiphanies Jesus, and His Word never returns void.

The magi heard this Word, spoken by the Church, and through the work of the Holy Spirit, a miracle indeed, they believed. “After listening to the king, the went on their way. And behold, the star that they had seen when it rose went before them until it came to rest over the place where the child was.” Note well, dear friends: the star guides them to the house only after they have heard the Word and believed. It is the Word that points them to Jesus, and then God sends the star to get them to the proper address. Only in the Word is Jesus revealed to be who He is, against all appearances: the ruler of the nations, the Lord of creation, the shepherd of His people Israel. Apart from the Word, God is an angry judge; He is big, and He is mad. But the Word epiphanies Him as the God of love, a God who would send His Son to save not only the Jews, but all the Gentiles, starting with the magi, converted from trust in wisdom to trust in the Word. The Word epiphanies Jesus as the Good Shepherd, the Shepherd who lays down His life for you and for me. The Word epiphanies Jesus as the King of the Jews, the title that will be placed above His head as He sheds His blood for the magi, for you and for me, for all the world. The Word epiphanies Jesus, the baby lying in a manger, the child living humbly in Bethlehem, the man presented to the angry crowd by Pilate, the man hung upon the cross, as your Savior, your Lord, your King. He is epiphanied in the Word, He is epiphanied in the Church, He is epiphanied to and for you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Christmas Day (John 1:1-14)

Of the Father’s love begotten Ere the worlds began to be

He is Alpha and Omega, He the source, the ending He.

Of the things that are that have been, and that future years shall see

Evermore and evermore.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.” Before the worlds began to be, before there was anything in all creation, from all eternity, is the Word; uncreated, outside of time, eternally begotten of the Father. The Word is with God, in fellowship with God, as God’s only-begotten Son. He dwells in heaven with God, enthroned in the splendor of the only true God. The Word is no creature, but is Himself eternal, Himself true God. The Word is God, the second person of the Trinity, one God with the Father and the Holy Spirit. There are not three Lords, but one Lord, just as there are not three almighties, but one almighty, and not three eternals, but one eternal. Yet, in the mystery of the Godhead, the Word is one person, the Father another, and the Holy Spirit another. There is plurality in the unity; one God, three persons, three persons, one God. The Father is God, the Spirit is God, the Word is God.

He is Alpha and Omega, evermore and evermore. He is the beginning and the end, He is the source of all things, and He is their end. “All things were made through Him, and without Him was not any thing made that was made.” God spoke, and it happened, “God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.” God spoke a Word, God spoke the Word, and all things came into being, the Word that was with God and the Word that is God. He is the source of all in creation; every creature, every detail, came forth by the Word, the Word that created in the beginning, the Word that still sustains creation, through the mandate given to all creatures: “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth.” Nothing has its being apart from the Word, nothing has life without Him. “In Him was life, and the life was the light of men.” The Word who is God dwells in heaven, with the Father, enthroned in glory, evermore and evermore. We sing stanza two.

Oh, that birth forever blessed, When the virgin, full of grace

By the Holy Ghost conceiving, Bore the Savior of our race.

And the babe, the world’s redeemer, First revealed His sacred face

Evermore and evermore.

“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.” The Word who is with God, the Word who is God, the Word by whom and through whom all things were created, the Alpha and the Omega, the source and ending of all things, this very Word took flesh. Very God of very God, the eternal Word, who exists outside of time, who created time, entered time. The Creator entered creation as a creature. In the womb of a virgin, without human participation, by an act of the Holy Spirit, the Word became flesh and took up residence among us. God of God and Lord of Lords is now a man, He has become flesh. God takes up residence among His people; as the tabernacle of old was the place where God was present in the midst of His people for their good, so now, in the body of Jesus, God dwells among His people once again. The cloud covered the tabernacle, and the glory of the Lord filled it, but now the glory of the Lord dwells in flesh; the glory of the Lord is a man, a human being, one of us, the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.

We have seen that glory, “glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” John saw the glory upon the mountain; He saw Jesus revealed to be the Word from the Father, the very Son of God, full of grace and truth. The glory of the Creator, present in a creature, the glory that filled the tabernacle, once again present among His people. The light that shone forth in the darkness on the first day of creation, the light that existed before sun and moon and stars, had its source in the Word, who is Himself the Light, and now that uncreated, eternal light shines in the darkness of this sinful world. “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.” We sing stanza three.

This is He whom seers in old time Chanted of with one accord,

Whom the voices of the prophets Promised in their faithful word.

Now He shines, the long expected; Let creation praise its Lord

Evermore and evermore.

“There was a man sent from God, whose name was John.” Like a choir, an assembly of beautiful voices, the prophets sang in unity. Each sang a different note, each brought their own unique voice to the choir, each added to the rich tapestry, but all were singing same song: the Word made flesh, the long expected Messiah, the coming the Savior of the world. Moses and Isaiah, David and Micah, Malachi and Jeremiah, Ezekiel and Daniel, Elijah and Elisha, and finally, the last prophet, the final member of the choir, John. “He was not the light, but came to bear witness about the light.” They were not the light, no matter how bold their words, no matter how powerful their miracles, no matter how strong their voice. They came to bear witness to the light.

Their word was faithful, for it pointed away from themselves and toward the Word who was coming in the flesh. “He came as a witness to bear witness about the light, that all might believe through Him.” The Light, the Word, must increase, they must decrease; they pointed away from themselves and toward Jesus, crying out with John, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” One who follows Moses must believe in Jesus, he who clings to Isaiah’s words of hope must worship the One he proclaimed, those in awe of Elijah and Elisha’s great deeds must marvel at the One who fulfills their works. With their voices, voices raised in one accord, the prophets, the saints of old, from Adam and Eve who received the first prophecy to John who baptized the seed of a woman promised to them, the prophets pointed to Jesus, and cried out, “Let creation praise its Lord!” We sing stanza four.

O ye heights of heaven adore Him; Angel hosts, His praises sing.

Powers, dominions, bow before Him And extol our God and King.

Let no tongue on earth be silent, Every voice in concert ring.

Evermore and evermore.

“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.” The prophets proclaimed Him, the angels sang His praises, the shepherd and the magi were His ambassadors, John pointed to Him, and God the Father Himself declared of Him, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” But the world did not know Him. He created all things, He was the instrument by which God spoke creation into being, but the creatures He gave life to did not receive Him. He was the One proclaimed by the prophets, promised to our first parents and every generation since, but when He came, His own people rejected Him. He came to save, and they put Him to death. He came of the Father’s love begotten, and they hated Him. They spat in His face, they scourged His back, they pressed thorns into His brow. Heaven sings His praises, and the world shouts, ‘Crucify!’ The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness gathers around it, the darkness tries to destroy it.

But the darkness has not overcome it. “To all who did receive Him, who believed in His Name, He gave the right to become children of God.” Let creation praise its Lord, high and exalted upon the throne of the cross, winning there the peace promised by the angels on the night of His birth. Let the angel hosts sing as He sheds His blood for the life of the world. Let powers and dominions bow before them, acknowledging as Lord the One declared the King of the Jews. Let no tongue on earth be silent, let every voice echo the concert of the prophets, singing with them, pointing to the cross, “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” And all who thus sing, all who thus believe, are reborn, made the children of God, “not of blood or of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.” All who sing His praises are His children, all who sing His praises are reborn, all who receive Him have a new identity: children of God. We sing stanza five.

Christ, to Thee, with God the Father, and O Holy Ghost to Thee

Hymn and chant and high thanksgiving And unending praises be,

Honor, glory, and dominion, and eternal victory

Evermore and evermore.

Evermore and evermore, heaven and earth is joined together in praise of the Word made flesh. Evermore and evermore, heaven and earth, long divided, long separated, stands unified by the peace promised at the manger, the peace won at the cross, the peace delivered by the risen Christ. Evermore and evermore, this Jesus is praised in heaven and on earth in unity with the Father and the Holy Ghost. Evermore and evermore, we who are children of God, born of God through Christ, will stand praising our Lord. Evermore and evermore, creation is restored, evermore and evermore, the curse will be removed, evermore and evermore, the Word is flesh and ever will be flesh. Evermore and evermore, His praises ring, evermore and evermore His saints sing, evermore and evermore the manger, the cross, the empty tomb stand as tokens of our salvation. Honor, glory, and dominion, and eternal victory; evermore and evermore. Amen.

Advent Midweek service (Psalm 85)

“Lord, you were favorable to your land; you restored the fortunes of Jacob.” You acted in salvation, you saw your people in distress and you did not remain idle. You rent the heavens and came down; you came down to deliver, you came down to save, you came down bring your people out of captivity. When your people languished in slavery, with backs bowed in hard labor, you came; when your people dwelt in exile, far from home, you came; when your people were threatened with annihilation again and again, you came. “You withdrew all your wrath; you turned from your hot anger.” You were angry with your people, and justly, for they sinned, they turned away from you. They rebelled again and again, but in love, in mercy, you turned back to them. You rent the heavens and came down, releasing them from the bondage they deserved, the cruel overlords who were the agents of your wrath. But all of this was preliminary. When your people dwelt in the dark night of sin, subject to death, in the captivity of Satan, you came. You rent the heavens and came down, taking up residence in the womb of the virgin, and coming forth to walk the way of the cross. You came to die, to die in the place of your rebellious people, to die bearing their iniquity. You are the God who comes, and you came in humility, you came in victory, you came with healing in your wings.

“You forgave the iniquity of your people; you covered all their sin.” You did not ignore my sin, you did not turn your face from it, you did not make an exception in my case. No, your hot anger burned against my sin with as much intensity as it deserved. My sin deserved death and hell, and that is what you poured out against it. You did not spare one ounce of your wrath, but you raged against your Son, not against me. You did not ignore my sin, or the sin of anyone on this planet, but you placed it on Jesus, and your hot anger burned against Him. You covered my sin with the blood of Jesus, with His righteousness; because He died under your wrath, your wrath will not come upon me. “You withdrew all your wrath; you turned from your hot anger.” That is what happened at the baptismal font: your anger turned away, your wrath was withdrawn. I am saved, I am delivered, because you came, you came to this world at your first Advent, taking on flesh to walk the way of the cross, and you came on the day of my baptism, rending the heavens and coming down to make me one of your dear children.

You acted in the past; will you not act again? “Restore us again, O God of our salvation, and put away your indignation toward us!” We are languishing, dying in this world of sin and death, a world filled with decay, a world that still faces the just penalties of its sin. The sin and suffering of this world seems to have no end; every day we hear of violence and poverty, the incredible cruelty that humans show to one another only reaches new heights, terrible things happen to the innocent. A seven-year-old was hit by a car crossing the street last week, trying to get to school; will you not act? “Will you be angry with us forever? Will you prolong your anger to all generations?” How long will you wait, O Lord, how long will you delay? How much more suffering must this world endure? Why don’t you do something? You acted in the past, will you not act again? The world has been in the throes of death since the day Adam and Eve fell into sin, death has reigned over man and beast since teeth sunk into the fruit. How much longer must we endure this penalty? How much longer must we return to the dust, must the ground bring forth thorns and thistles?

“Will you not revive us again, that your people may rejoice in you?” Make us alive, we are dying! Bring us some joy, we are filled with sadness! This world sucks the joy from us, it brings us down into the depths of sorrow. We face the pain of loss, the shame and humiliation of our own weaknesses, the guilt of our sin. We live with aches and pains, our bodies rebel against us, they are racked with cancer, our hearts are ticking time bombs, diabetes lurks around every corner. This world fills us with tears, as we mourn those who are lost to us, those who have died and those who are estranged, those we don’t talk to anymore, those who have hurt us or we have hurt, and the relationships left tattered and torn. All who have hurt us, all who have left us, leave a hole in our heart. Deliver us from this corrupted world! O Lord, how long? “Show us your steadfast love, O Lord, and grant us your salvation.” Show us your love, we are drowning in hate, the false and fleeting love this world offers. Grant us your salvation, we are surrounded by sin and its corruption. We can’t endure this world much longer, we are hanging on by a thread—do you want us to fall? We are at the end of our endurance—would you have us give up? Your people are dying—what do you have to say for yourself?

“Let me hear what God the Lord will speak, for He will speak peace to His people, to His saints; but let them not turn back to folly.” What you have for me is a Word. A Word, not a miracle, not a spectacular show of strength, power, and majesty. A Word. You won’t take all my problems away, you won’t give me heaven on earth, you won’t remove every instance of suffering from my life. Health and wealth aren’t your promise; an easy life is not your guarantee. Instead, you will give me a Word, a Word of peace. “Surely His salvation is near to those who fear Him, that glory may dwell in our land.” In the darkness of sin, in the bleak night of death, under the shadow that envelops this earth, the Light shines. The Light comes into this world, and the darkness of this fallen creation cannot overcome it. His salvation comes near to His people, His glory shines in the night. He rends the heavens and comes down this Advent, speaking peace to His people, His saints, those who fear Him, and His glory dwells in the midst of our land. His glory dwells in this place, it dwells wherever this Word of hope, this Word of peace is spoken. Do not turn back to folly, dear friends, do not give into despair, do not cry out to return to Egypt when the scarcity of the wilderness overwhelms you. Do not take comfort in the pleasures of sin, but in the assurance of the Word. A Word is His gift to you, a Word that assures you in the midst of your suffering, a Word that gives you His promises, a Word that guarantees for you sure and certain victory.

Because Jesus came at His first Advent, sin, death, and the devil have already been defeated, they will not triumph over you. Because Jesus comes every Lord’s day, you are constantly reassured in the midst of your sufferings that He will never leave you nor forsake you. Because Jesus will come again on the Last Day, you have the assurance that nothing, and no one, can destroy you, that no suffering will last forever, that death itself is an empty shell. In Jesus, “Steadfast love and faithfulness meet, righteousness and peace kiss each other.” God’s faithfulness and justice met with His love in Jesus, as the sinless Son of God was put to death in your place, fulfilling God’s justice against your sin to bring you His perfect, abundant love. God’s perfect righteousness and His everlasting peace kissed in Jesus, as the sinless Son of God fulfilled all righteousness upon the cross, dying to make you righteous so that you would be at peace with God forever. In Jesus, “Faithfulness springs up from the ground, and righteousness looks down from the sky.” God was faithful to His promises, preached by His prophets of old as they walked this earth, and righteousness, perfect righteousness, rent the heavens and came down to cover you on the day you were baptized into Christ’s name.

“Yes, the Lord will give what is good, and our land will yield its increase.” There is a place where suffering will be no more, where death will not even be a rumor, where conflict will be erased, where the divisions we once had will no longer matter. In that place, “Righteousness will go before him, and make his footsteps a way.” Righteousness, perfect righteousness, will characterize that place, and it is your home, the Promised Land that is your inheritance, when at long last, and for one final time, Christ rends the heavens and comes down, answering your prayers, and the prayers of the Church of all ages, forever. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Second Sunday in Advent (Luke 21:25-36)

“Now when these things begin to take place, straighten up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” 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 morning is the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the twenty-first chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Luke. Dear friends in Christ: is the world prepared for the Last Day? Does the world know that it’s end is coming, that the Savior it rejected is returning to judge both the living and the dead? The strange thing is, I think this world knows that the end is coming, this world has an inkling that progress will not continue unabated forever, deep down this world knows that eventually the institutions and technologies that we trust in will fail. My evidence? Movies, books, TV shows, and video games. Our popular entertainment is filled with stories about the world falling apart, about the end of our current way of life, the destruction of those pillars of society that we cling to so tightly. The vision of the future presented in movies is not utopia anymore, but dystopia, a ruined future, populated by villains and zombies, a world devastated by war or ecological disaster. From Wall-E to the Hunger Games to the Walking Dead, this world has some sense, deep down, that the end is coming. Maybe these movies and shows are meant to be prophecies, maybe they simply give expression to our deepest fears, but in some limited way, the world is reading the signs of the end, and the world is terrified.

“There will be signs in sun and moon and stars, and on the earth distress of nations in perplexity because of the roaring of the sea and the waves, people fainting with fear and with foreboding of what is coming on the world. For the powers of the heavens will be shaken.” The world fears the end because all the world can see is the sweeping away of everything that it holds dear. There is no safety in these dystopic futures; there is tyranny and oppression, there is violence and poverty. This is not a world that you want to dwell in, this is not a reality that you want to have happen to you. So people are spurred on to seek solutions, to safeguard themselves from apocalyptic disaster. Everything from stronger governments to powerful medicines, to things like recycling and doomsday shelters are all enlisted to avoid the disaster that is coming.

There’s a fundamental problem with these solutions: the end of the world isn’t coming from any action of man, and so no solution of man can halt it. The end of the world is an act of God Himself, and the only solution, therefore, is repentance, crying out for deliverance. Every minute that this world endures is due to the patience of God over the corruption wrought by sin, but eventually, that patience will run out. The only answer is to turn from the sins that fix your eyes on this doomed world and lift up your head toward God, begging for salvation. “But watch yourselves lest your hearts be weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and cares of this life, and that day come upon you suddenly like a trap. For it will come upon all who dwell on the face of the whole earth.” This world, as much as it might fear the destruction of all that it holds dear, steadfastly refuses the only hope that is has been given to it: repentance.

Their hope comes from somewhere else. You see, these doomsday stories always have the ‘good guys,’ who are working their way through that terrible, destroyed world, and they will be the ones to rebuild. There is the potential of a new day, a resurgence of human culture, that from the ashes society will rise again. At the end of the movie, The Book of Eli, Denzel Washington’s character reaches an island where culture is preserved, and he gives them a copy of the Bible, to shelve next to the Koran. The message is clear: humanity will survive. What these stories try to get across to us is the same as any war movie: the triumph of the human spirit, that we as humans can overcome anything, even the utter destruction of our society. Yes, there is much to fear, but there is hope, and it is founded upon you and your fellow man, the heroism that dwells within. Salvation comes from you, and only from you; and together with other heroes, you can overcome.

That is where all of these stories fail so utterly. When the Last Day comes, you cannot save yourself, no matter how much ammo or canned goods you have stored in your cellar. No band of spunky humans will have the ability to rebuild anything, for everything will be destroyed. “The powers of the heavens will be shaken,” Jesus says; they will indeed be shaken, shaken apart. All that God so carefully put into place; the order that once characterized creation, will utterly fall apart. This is no disease, no ecological disaster, not even World War Three; this is the unraveling of creation itself. Environmentalists claim that we can destroy this world; they’re wrong—man can’t do it, but God can, and He will. The Last Day is complete, and it is total, and the only savior on that Day is the Savior that is coming on the clouds to greet His own.

“And then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory.” The world should fear; it is bowed low, engrossed in its sins, refusing to repent. When that Day comes, there will only be fear, “people fainting with fear and with foreboding of what is coming on the world.” But for those who repent, those who believe, those who cling to the One who is coming on the clouds, that Day will be a Day of victory. “Now when these things begin to take place, straighten up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” Lift up your heads, straighten your backs, dear friends. Do not be bowed low with sin, do not let this world drag you down into the filth, but stand tall in repentance, in faith. For the One coming on the clouds is the One who descended once before, who descended from heaven for your salvation. The One who is coming on the Last Day is the One who shed His blood for your sins, who rose again from the dead. The One who is coming is your crucified and risen Savior.

The angels told the disciples as they gazed 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.” The One who is returning from heaven on the Last Day is the One who ascended into heaven having destroyed sin, death, and Satan. So rejoice, dear friends, rejoice to see the signs that are coming on this earth. We do not rejoice that these terrible things have happened to us or our neighbors, we rejoice in what these events point to—the end of all sin and suffering when Christ returns in glory. The world is coming do an end because your Savior is returning. Rejoice to see this world hasten toward its end; rejoice that your redemption is drawing near. The One who is coming is your Savior, your Lord, who forsook His rightful place at the right hand of God to take on human flesh for your salvation. The One who is coming is Jesus, who suffered at the hands of evil men, who faced the whip and scourge for you. The One who is coming is the One who loved you so much that He would not leave you in your sins; when the Last Day comes, so does your redemption: do not fear, rejoice!

There is no fear for the one who is in Christ, only joy. There is no fear for the one who is in Christ, only anticipation of what is to come. The tumults and terrors of this world, as horrifying as they are, as much as they may impact your property, your health, even your life, are signs that Jesus is drawing near. “Look at the fig tree, and all the trees. As soon as they come out in leaf, you see for yourselves and know that the summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near.” Every natural disaster, every market crash, every outbreak of disease should cause us to rejoice that Christ is drawing near—again, not in the disaster itself and the suffering it causes, but in the promise that the disaster points to. We cry out, ‘O Lord, how long?’ and rejoice to know that He is drawing ever nearer; the signs tell us that this world will not last for long.

There is no need for fear; the end of all these signs is your redemption. There is no need for fear; the end of all these signs is your Savior returning on the clouds. Jesus’ advice? “Now when these things begin to take place, straighten up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” Straighten you backs; raise your heads. Stand tall, not bowed down with fear, not troubled by the terrible events described in the Scriptures. These signs must happen, but they are precursors to a reality that is indescribable, a reality without sin, a reality without evil, the new heavens and the new earth where you will dwell with Jesus, body and soul, forever. That is what the Last Day will bring, that is what we anticipate, that is what Christ brings with Him when He returns upon the clouds.

Are you ready? You must be, for all the signs point to Christ’s return at any moment; every sign of the end that Jesus gives us has happened and is happening right now. There is nothing left to be accomplished. Jesus can come at any moment, before the end of this sentence or the end of this sermon. He says it best Himself: “Watch yourselves lest your hearts be weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and cares of this life, and that day come upon you suddenly like a trap.” The very point of a trap is that it goes off suddenly—are you ready? The world would keep you drowsy, with your head down; the advice of Jesus is to be awake, alert in prayer, with your head lifted in anticipation of His return. “Stay awake at all times, praying that you may have strength to escape all these things that are going to take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.” Are you ready to stand before Jesus? The answer is found in our text. “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.” You are ready because you are in Christ, you are covered by His blood, you are redeemed by His death. The only shelter on that Day is to be in Jesus. You are ready because you have a life in Christ that is indestructible, you have been claimed by the Word which endures even when all else passes away. His Word will not pass away, and neither will you, for the One who is coming is Jesus, your Savior, your Lord. In His Name, Amen.