“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.” Did they know what they were saying? Did the crowd on Palm Sunday, or the crowd on Good Friday, have any idea what their words meant? Jerusalem received her King with shouts of ‘Hosanna’ on Sunday, then cast Him out with shouts of ‘Crucify’ on Friday. Did they know what they were saying? No. They shouted almost without thinking, caught up in the moment, stirred up by others; they shouted without stopping to ponder the meaning of the words they spoke. They were caught up in events much greater than they could even comprehend, and like many others in the life of Jesus, they spoke the truth without realizing it. They didn’t understand that the joyful, expectant cry of ‘Hosanna’ pointed to the same reality as the hateful, angry cry of ‘Crucify,’ that the shouts of Friday were the only answer to the pleas of Sunday. The two crowds didn’t realize that they were calling for the same thing: Jesus hanging dead upon a cross.
The crowds may not understand what they are saying; they may be shouting without much thinking, but Jesus does nothing haphazardly. Every action, every word, is deliberate. The King has arranged everything; He has set forth His plans and He will carry them out, instructing His disciples: “Go into the village in front of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her. Untie them and bring them to me.” He will enter the city in triumph, but He will enter in humility. He will enter not at the head of an army, but leading a motley collection of out-of-work fishermen. He enters in accord with the Scriptures: “Say to the daughter of Zion, ‘Behold, your king is coming to you, humble and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden.’” His chariot is humility; this King comes to serve.
But the crowd responds as they would for any conquering hero; they react as you would expect a people long under foreign rule to react when their King returns to the city of kings. “The crowds that went before him and that followed him were shouting, ‘Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!’” They call Him a King, their conquering hero; the Son of David come to take His rightful place on the throne. “Hosanna!” they shout, quoting the Psalms, which means: “Save us, please!” They seek salvation from this King, deliverance from oppression. This is God’s King, His instrument, the tool in the Lord’s hand to save them. What will He save them from? Foreign domination, poverty and oppression. He will deliver them politically, He will deliver them economically. How will He save them? Through armies and rebellion, or by the power of the finger of God, as in Egypt long ago. He will deliver them through a mighty display of temporal and divine strength.
This is their conquering King; the one who would fulfill all their prayers. As the Emmaus road disciples said, “We had hoped that He was the one to redeem Israel.” Many who joined the throng that triumphant Sunday were no doubt shocked to wake up Friday to see that same King nailed to a cross. Another crowd, with another cry, had turned their hope to despair. “Pilate said to them, ‘Then what shall I do with Jesus who is called Christ?’ They all said, ‘Let him be crucified!’” The crowd responds as they would to any common criminal or rabble-rouser, to one deserving of death. They cry out for His blood; they want to see Him suffer, and they will.
The crowds may not understand what they are saying; they may be shouting without much thinking, but Jesus does nothing haphazardly. Every action, every word, is deliberate. The King has arranged everything; He has set forth His plans and He will carry them out, as He spoke to His disciples: “I lay down my life for the sheep… No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord.” He, who has all power, who is God Himself in the flesh, departs the city as He entered it; in humility, with a crowd thronging around Him, crying out His Name. He departs to lay down His life willingly for the sheep. He departs to conquer, but not by military victory; He carries not a sword or shield but a cross. It is by being put to death that He will save; when the crowd cries out for His blood, they are crying out for the price of their salvation. And when they declare, “Let His blood be on us and on our children,” they are asking for the conversion of the nations. They do not know what they are saying. In Jesus, the cry ‘Hosanna’ is exactly the same as the cry ‘Crucify.’ And whether the crowd shouts in joy or in anger, He will answer their cries; Christ saves by being crucified.
That is the mystery of this Palm Sunday: the crowd that shouted ‘Hosanna’ and the crowd that shouted ‘Crucify’ were crying out for the same thing—Jesus dead upon a cross for the sin of the world. Jesus’ followers didn’t know what they were saying; they didn’t understand what kind of salvation Christ would bring, and they certainly were shocked to see how He would accomplish it. They were left, on Easter Sunday, saying in sorrow, “We had hoped that He was the One to redeem Israel.” The cries of ‘Hosanna’ seemed unfulfilled, unanswered as that day dawned. But ‘Hosanna’ and ‘Crucify’ mean the same thing; Christ saves by being crucified, and God proved it by raising His Son from the dead, triumphant over sin, death, and the power of the devil for you and your salvation.
It is this salvation for which we cry; it is for this salvation that we shout the Hosannas with the crowd on Palm Sunday. But do we truly know what we say? No. We shout almost without thinking, caught up in the moment, stirred up by others; we shout without stopping to ponder the meanings of the words we speak. Too often, we are, like the crowd, crying out for temporal deliverance by an unbloody Jesus. We would never choose suffering, for us or for Christ. We don’t understand the cost of salvation, because we underestimate our sin. We want deliverance from the symptoms without realizing the disease. But even in our more faithful moments we never fully understand the cross; these are mysteries so profound that even in heaven we will still marvel at them. Let us ponder these mysteries this Holy Week. Let us ponder how the crowd that shouted for His blood answered and fulfilled the cries of the crowd who acclaimed Him as King. Let us ponder the love of a Lord who despised the shame of the cross, going to suffering and death to free even those who nailed Him to the tree. Let us ponder the mystery of God suffering and dying in the place of sinful man, in your place and in mine. “What may I say? Heaven was His home but mine the tomb wherein He lay.” In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Thursday, March 19, 2015
Lent Midweek 4 (Fifth Commandment; 2 Samuel 11)
“Set Uriah in the forefront of the hardest fighting, and then draw back from him, that he may be struck down and die.” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and our Savior Jesus Christ. The text for our meditation tonight on the Fifth Commandment is the entirety of the eleventh chapter of 2 Samuel, the affair of David with Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah. Dear friends in Christ: the message was put in terms of comfort, comfort to a commander who had lost one of his best soldiers in a seeming tragedy, a foolish attack. “Thus shall you say to Joab, ‘Do not let this matter trouble you, for the sword devours now one and now another.’” These things happen in war, dear Joab; do not fret. The sword devours the mighty along with the weak. Stuff happens; you win some, you lose some. Keep on fighting, my honorable general, while I stay in Jerusalem and prepare to take my newest wife to bed. Oh, yes, she’s the widow of heroic Uriah, faithful Uriah, dead Uriah; out of my mercy I will comfort and provide for the widow of this great warrior. These things happen; the sword devours now one and now another. Someone had to pay the price for my sin, and Uriah was too stubbornly faithful to cover it up by performing his marital duty, and so he had to die. One night of pleasure could’ve spared his life, but he refused, and so the sword must devour, as it always does. Do not fret, dear Joab, the sword has done its duty.
David understood one thing about Uriah; a man like him would never open a private note from the king to his general. The man was faithful, he was honorable, he could be counted upon to do his duty. He honored and exalted his vocation as a soldier. While David stays behind in Jerusalem, spying on and sleeping with the wife of one of his soldiers, Uriah will not be hindered from his duty. “The ark and Israel and Judah dwell in booths, and my lord Joab and the servants of my lord are camping in the open field. Shall I then go to my house, to eat and to drink and to lie with my wife? As you live, and as your soul lives, I will not do this thing.” He is a soldier; his duty, his vocation, is to serve and protect his fellow soldiers and the people who have sent him to fight. Even though he has shed more blood than most men, Uriah serves the Fifth Commandment. “You shall not murder. What does this mean? We should fear and love God so that we do not hurt or harm our neighbor in his body, but help and support him in every physical need.”
In bearing the sword, Uriah’s vocation serves the Fifth Commandment, for he fights to protect the people of Israel from harm. Luther writes in the Large Catechism: “Anger, reproof, and punishment are the prerogatives of God and His representatives, and they are to be exercised upon those who transgress this and the other commandments.” Uriah bears the sword as a representative of God in accordance with the Fourth Commandment, there to punish evil and protect the good, just like any police officer, soldier, or judge today. Saint Paul teaches us, “[The ruler] is God's servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain.” Uriah was not sinless, not perfect, he sinned in his vocation as we do in ours, but he was innocent of any crime; he served faithfully in his vocation. He had nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of as a soldier or as a husband.
David, on the other hand, had everything to hide. Where Uriah was faithful, he was faithless. He abandoned and brought to utter disgrace his vocation as king, as ruler of God’s covenant people. “In the spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle, David sent Joab…” but he didn’t send himself. In violation of his vocation, in violation of the Fourth Commandment, “David remained at Jerusalem.” From there, the sins quickly piled up. An evening stroll leads to lust, the violation of the Sixth Commandment, “You shall not commit adultery,” then a violation of the Tenth, “You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife,” and more violations of the Sixth. In one night of sin, unrepentant sin, the man who was after God’s heart has given his own heart to Satan. Make no mistake, dear friends in Christ: the Holy Spirit will not dwell in an unrepentant heart. But God would not let go of David so easily. “The woman conceived, and she sent and told David, ‘I am pregnant.’” His sins have consequences.
The earthly consequences of our sins should drive us to repentance, they should drive us to cry out to God for mercy. But so often they don’t. Like David, we cover sin with sin; we spiral deeper into depravity. Repentance is not our first thought; instead, when the harsh light of the Law shines on our darkness, we try to obscure the view with more darkness. David, the faithless king, tries to deceive faithful Uriah, and when that fails, he condemns an innocent man to death. The king, charged with protecting his people, puts to death one who is in his care; he perverts justice by punishing the innocent for his own sin. The Fifth Commandment is violated to cover over other sin, a pattern repeated all too often in our world. There is no difference between Uriah in the Old Testament and the child in the womb today; both are killed to cover up sins against the Sixth Commandment. We bully and attack others to exalt ourselves. The innocent are raged against, insulted and hated, not because they are wicked, but because we are.
Even the guilty are not to be murdered in thought, word, or deed. Jesus warns us: “I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother will be liable to the council; and whoever says, ‘You fool!’ will be liable to the hell of fire.” The Fifth Commandment condemns physical violence against others, but also any words or acts that could lead to violence. Your neighbor’s body is sacred; what God has made is not to be the object of your rage, whether he ‘deserves it’ or not. “‘Vengeance is mine,’ says the Lord, ‘I will repay,” and He repays only through His appointed instruments.
Even inaction is condemned by this commandment. When Joab had opportunity to help and support his neighbor in every physical need, he refused to act, and Uriah perished. When we see our neighbor in need, the Fifth Commandment requires us to act. In fact, the very definition of a ‘neighbor’ is one who is in need. Luther writes: “If you send a person away naked when you could clothe him, you have let him freeze to death. If you see anyone suffer hunger and do not feed him, you have let him starve.” The Fifth Commandment will not let any of us escape; not only murder but hatred, not only murder but failure to act, leaves us condemned with faithless David.
Take heart, good Joab, David had said. “The sword devours now one and now another.” Yes it does, faithless David, and the sword of God’s judgment especially devours the unrepentant. “The thing that David had done displeased the Lord.” Nine months later—nine long months of unrepentance—David would finally see the sword poised over his own neck. From his own mouth would he speak his condemnation and yours: “As the Lord lives, the man who has done this deserves to die!” Nathan speaks to David what I this day speak to you and to myself: “You are the man!” As Uriah carried his own death sentence, so David declares his own penalty, and yours, and mine, and all who violate this commandment. You are the man, condemned by the Fifth Commandment; the light of God’s Law shines too brightly for you to cover your sin.
Uriah was not spared the penalty for David’s sin; the innocent died for the guilty. But David was spared; another innocent one stood in his place. “David said to Nathan, ‘I have sinned against the Lord.’ And Nathan said to David, ‘The Lord also has put away your sin, you shall not die.’” The first offspring of Bathsheba’s womb would perish; once again the innocent would die in place of the guilty. But the womb of Uriah’s wife would produce another son, and through him the line of the Messiah would continue, the Messiah who would be born of a virgin to stand in the place of David and all who have been condemned by God’s stern word of Law.
Like Uriah, the Messiah who came from the line of Bathsheba was innocent of any crime. But Jesus was more than innocent, He was sinless. He fulfilled every vocation perfectly, He followed every command. And like Uriah, the innocent one would die in the place of the guilty. Jesus died for David’s sin, and He died for yours and mine. Where we sought revenge, He submitted to the blows of His enemies without complaint. Where we had hatred, He had love for a world that raged against Him. Where we failed to help, Jesus was the Good Samaritan who nursed our wounds. Where we even took human life, from the neighbor who sinned against us to the most innocent of human life in the womb, He pronounces His blood-bought forgiveness. Jesus Christ died so that I can this day say to all of you: You are the man! A man or woman like David, condemned by your sin but forgiven by Christ. “The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die.” You shall not die eternally, for Jesus died in your place. You are forgiven, and through Jesus, you are pleasing to God. Take heart: The sword devoured Christ; it will not devour you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
David understood one thing about Uriah; a man like him would never open a private note from the king to his general. The man was faithful, he was honorable, he could be counted upon to do his duty. He honored and exalted his vocation as a soldier. While David stays behind in Jerusalem, spying on and sleeping with the wife of one of his soldiers, Uriah will not be hindered from his duty. “The ark and Israel and Judah dwell in booths, and my lord Joab and the servants of my lord are camping in the open field. Shall I then go to my house, to eat and to drink and to lie with my wife? As you live, and as your soul lives, I will not do this thing.” He is a soldier; his duty, his vocation, is to serve and protect his fellow soldiers and the people who have sent him to fight. Even though he has shed more blood than most men, Uriah serves the Fifth Commandment. “You shall not murder. What does this mean? We should fear and love God so that we do not hurt or harm our neighbor in his body, but help and support him in every physical need.”
In bearing the sword, Uriah’s vocation serves the Fifth Commandment, for he fights to protect the people of Israel from harm. Luther writes in the Large Catechism: “Anger, reproof, and punishment are the prerogatives of God and His representatives, and they are to be exercised upon those who transgress this and the other commandments.” Uriah bears the sword as a representative of God in accordance with the Fourth Commandment, there to punish evil and protect the good, just like any police officer, soldier, or judge today. Saint Paul teaches us, “[The ruler] is God's servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain.” Uriah was not sinless, not perfect, he sinned in his vocation as we do in ours, but he was innocent of any crime; he served faithfully in his vocation. He had nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of as a soldier or as a husband.
David, on the other hand, had everything to hide. Where Uriah was faithful, he was faithless. He abandoned and brought to utter disgrace his vocation as king, as ruler of God’s covenant people. “In the spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle, David sent Joab…” but he didn’t send himself. In violation of his vocation, in violation of the Fourth Commandment, “David remained at Jerusalem.” From there, the sins quickly piled up. An evening stroll leads to lust, the violation of the Sixth Commandment, “You shall not commit adultery,” then a violation of the Tenth, “You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife,” and more violations of the Sixth. In one night of sin, unrepentant sin, the man who was after God’s heart has given his own heart to Satan. Make no mistake, dear friends in Christ: the Holy Spirit will not dwell in an unrepentant heart. But God would not let go of David so easily. “The woman conceived, and she sent and told David, ‘I am pregnant.’” His sins have consequences.
The earthly consequences of our sins should drive us to repentance, they should drive us to cry out to God for mercy. But so often they don’t. Like David, we cover sin with sin; we spiral deeper into depravity. Repentance is not our first thought; instead, when the harsh light of the Law shines on our darkness, we try to obscure the view with more darkness. David, the faithless king, tries to deceive faithful Uriah, and when that fails, he condemns an innocent man to death. The king, charged with protecting his people, puts to death one who is in his care; he perverts justice by punishing the innocent for his own sin. The Fifth Commandment is violated to cover over other sin, a pattern repeated all too often in our world. There is no difference between Uriah in the Old Testament and the child in the womb today; both are killed to cover up sins against the Sixth Commandment. We bully and attack others to exalt ourselves. The innocent are raged against, insulted and hated, not because they are wicked, but because we are.
Even the guilty are not to be murdered in thought, word, or deed. Jesus warns us: “I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother will be liable to the council; and whoever says, ‘You fool!’ will be liable to the hell of fire.” The Fifth Commandment condemns physical violence against others, but also any words or acts that could lead to violence. Your neighbor’s body is sacred; what God has made is not to be the object of your rage, whether he ‘deserves it’ or not. “‘Vengeance is mine,’ says the Lord, ‘I will repay,” and He repays only through His appointed instruments.
Even inaction is condemned by this commandment. When Joab had opportunity to help and support his neighbor in every physical need, he refused to act, and Uriah perished. When we see our neighbor in need, the Fifth Commandment requires us to act. In fact, the very definition of a ‘neighbor’ is one who is in need. Luther writes: “If you send a person away naked when you could clothe him, you have let him freeze to death. If you see anyone suffer hunger and do not feed him, you have let him starve.” The Fifth Commandment will not let any of us escape; not only murder but hatred, not only murder but failure to act, leaves us condemned with faithless David.
Take heart, good Joab, David had said. “The sword devours now one and now another.” Yes it does, faithless David, and the sword of God’s judgment especially devours the unrepentant. “The thing that David had done displeased the Lord.” Nine months later—nine long months of unrepentance—David would finally see the sword poised over his own neck. From his own mouth would he speak his condemnation and yours: “As the Lord lives, the man who has done this deserves to die!” Nathan speaks to David what I this day speak to you and to myself: “You are the man!” As Uriah carried his own death sentence, so David declares his own penalty, and yours, and mine, and all who violate this commandment. You are the man, condemned by the Fifth Commandment; the light of God’s Law shines too brightly for you to cover your sin.
Uriah was not spared the penalty for David’s sin; the innocent died for the guilty. But David was spared; another innocent one stood in his place. “David said to Nathan, ‘I have sinned against the Lord.’ And Nathan said to David, ‘The Lord also has put away your sin, you shall not die.’” The first offspring of Bathsheba’s womb would perish; once again the innocent would die in place of the guilty. But the womb of Uriah’s wife would produce another son, and through him the line of the Messiah would continue, the Messiah who would be born of a virgin to stand in the place of David and all who have been condemned by God’s stern word of Law.
Like Uriah, the Messiah who came from the line of Bathsheba was innocent of any crime. But Jesus was more than innocent, He was sinless. He fulfilled every vocation perfectly, He followed every command. And like Uriah, the innocent one would die in the place of the guilty. Jesus died for David’s sin, and He died for yours and mine. Where we sought revenge, He submitted to the blows of His enemies without complaint. Where we had hatred, He had love for a world that raged against Him. Where we failed to help, Jesus was the Good Samaritan who nursed our wounds. Where we even took human life, from the neighbor who sinned against us to the most innocent of human life in the womb, He pronounces His blood-bought forgiveness. Jesus Christ died so that I can this day say to all of you: You are the man! A man or woman like David, condemned by your sin but forgiven by Christ. “The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die.” You shall not die eternally, for Jesus died in your place. You are forgiven, and through Jesus, you are pleasing to God. Take heart: The sword devoured Christ; it will not devour you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Lent 3--Oculi (Luke 11:14-28)
“Every kingdom divided against itself is laid waste, and a divided household falls.” 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 comes from the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the eleventh chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Luke. Dear friends in Christ: there is no neutrality between God and Satan. We think that we can compromise, that we can find some middle ground, that there is gray instead of black and white. But there is no gray when it comes to God and Satan; there is no neutral ground. The crowd understood this, better than we, with our wishy-washy, relativistic and subjective ways; they understood that either Jesus is serving God or He is serving Satan. He cannot be neutral. The crowd declares: “He casts out demons by Beelzebul, the prince of demons.” They understand what Jesus’ miracles mean. Such great power can only have two sources: God or Satan. They clearly think that it’s Satan; Jesus just happens to disagree. “If Satan also is divided against himself, how will his kingdom stand?” Satan isn’t such a fool as to work against himself. No, if the demons are being driven out, there is only one explanation: “If it is by the finger of God that I cast out demons, then the kingdom of God has come upon you.” There is no neutrality between God and Satan; and if it is God who is doing these works, pay attention, for Satan’s house is about to fall.
“Every kingdom divided against itself is laid waste, and a divided household falls.” Jesus comes to divide Satan’s house, to rob it, to plunder it, to bind our evil foe for eternity. When He is finished, Satan’s house will be laid waste, and his divided household will fall. Jesus comes as the stronger one to seize those in Satan’s house and take them out as plunder. Jesus comes to cast out demons with power of the finger of God. There is no neutrality between God and Satan. Either we belong to one, or we belong to the other. And from birth—indeed from our conception—we belonged to Satan. In the heart of every human being there is a throne. And if God doesn’t occupy that throne, then Satan will, and he does. There is no neutrality. We are creatures, we are not gods, we are always subordinate to another. You dwelt in bondage to Satan, with the evil one occupying the throne. You cannot control yourself; you live following Satan’s orders. All you can will, all you can do, is sin. Satan deceives you with his old evil words, “You will be like God, knowing good and evil.” He wants you to try to occupy that throne yourself, to determine good and evil according to your own thoughts and desires. But you cannot sit on your own throne, any more than a horse can ride on its own saddle. Satan knows that; he knows that when you try to sit on the throne, it is really he who is enthroned, who occupies the house of your heart, who holds you in his chains, as his plunder. “When a strong man, fully armed, guards his own palace, his goods are safe.”
Satan’s goods are safe because he knows they aren’t going anywhere by themselves. You and I, deceived into thinking that we can sit on the throne of our heart, put the chains around ourselves; we are imprisoned, enslaved because we’ve bought the lie. Satan knows that he need not fear rebellion from inside the house. And he’s right; you and I are no threat to escape his bonds. Fast bound in Satan’s chains I lay, death brooded darkly over me. Sin was my torment night and day; in sin my mother bore me. But daily deeper still I fell; my life became a living hell, so firmly sin possessed me.
Satan has nothing to fear from you and me; his house will not be divided from within. “But when one stronger than he attacks him and overcomes him, he takes away his armor in which he trusted and divides his spoil.” Satan’s defeat did not come from us; it came from the outside, from an invader, a mighty warrior who is God Himself in the flesh, Jesus who is called the Christ. His royal power disguised He bore; a servant’s form, like mine, He wore to lead the devil captive. He came to do battle with the strong man in his own house, and all of Satan’s weapons, in which he trusted, proved powerless. The sword of temptation lay broken as Jesus triumphed over it in the wilderness. His mighty army of demons was cast out left and right by the power of the finger of God. And even his greatest weapon and ally, death itself, could not conquer Jesus. “Though he will shed my precious blood, me of my life bereaving, all this I suffer for your good; be steadfast and believing. Life will from death the victory win; my innocence shall bear your sin, and you are blest forever.” Satan put his trust in the armor and chains of death; he counted on them to defeat Christ our Lord. But when Jesus rose on Easter morning, He took Satan’s armor from him, transforming even death into the portal of life. And He takes the spoil, you and me, purchased and won not with gold or silver but with His holy, precious blood and His innocent suffering and death.
Jesus plunders the strong man’s house, casting Satan from the thrones of human hearts. “Get behind me, Satan!” He cries out through the baptismal liturgy, “and make room for the Holy Ghost.” There is no neutrality between God and Satan. The throne within the human heart has room for only one occupant. And in the waters of baptism, the former occupant is cast out, driven away. Every baptism is an exorcism, a driving away of Satan from his place in our hearts, the breaking of the chains the held us fast. The stronger one does battle with the strong man, and in the end it is Satan who is chained, not Jesus, not you or me. God promised through Isaiah, “Even the captives of the mighty shall be taken, and the prey of the tyrant be rescued, for I will contend with those who contend with you, and I will save your children.” Christ went to battle for us during His life on this earth, through His bloody suffering and death, and His victorious resurrection. And in the waters of Baptism, He brings that victory to you and me, casting Satan from his throne, cleansing the house of our heart and setting things in order.
There is no neutrality between God and Satan. Either one or the other will occupy the throne in every human heart. In a world where demons roam, there are no empty houses. “When the unclean spirit has gone out of a person, it passes through waterless places seeking rest, and finding none it says, ‘I will return to my house from which I came.’” Satan cannot dwell where the baptismal waters are present. He must seek rest in ‘waterless places,’ in those locales where baptism isn’t spoken of or practiced, where the waters do not flow freely over sinners’ heads. But even there he finds no rest, and he returns to his former haunt.
There he finds a remarkable thing: the house is empty! “And when it comes, it finds the house swept and put in order.” There is the appearance of order; the house has been decorated, cleaned up, it looks good on the outside. An older gentleman lives a good life, he is likable and honorable, he is held in high esteem by all. But the throne is empty; the house is in order, he was baptized long ago, but he has long since quit coming to worship more than a couple times a year, his bible collects dust, the name of God is only used in vain. Christ has been driven away through indifference and unbelief. A child is being raised according to all the accepted conventions; she is healthy, well-nourished, she is learning her numbers and letters, and she brings joy into the lives of family and friends. But the throne is empty; the house is in order, she has been brought to the font, but she has never seen the inside of the church since; her parents do not bring her to worship or Sunday School, there is no reading of Scripture or prayer at home. Christ has been driven away by the negligence of those who brought her to the font.
There is no neutrality between God and Satan; either one or the other will occupy the throne of the human heart. And if the house is left empty for Satan to return, woe to that house! “Then it goes and brings seven other spirits more evil than itself, and they enter and dwell there. And the last state of that person is worse than the first.” Christ cast Satan from his throne, but if Jesus is cast out through laziness, indifference, or negligence, Satan is ready to return, and he returns with a vengeance. There no neutrality between God and Satan; a house divided against itself will not stand. “Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters.”
Woe to those who do not fill the cleansed houses of their own hearts or that of their children with Christ! They do not gather but scatter! Repent! Turn from Satan, take his assaults seriously and fill the empty house with Christ. It is only Christ that can release you and me from the bondage of sin and Satan, it is only Christ who, day after day, through Law and Gospel, can cleanse the house of the human heart and place Himself on its throne. Christ is the stronger one, who has defeated the strong man and plundered his house, and only He can keep that house clean. How does He do this? He works only through the Word. “Blessed rather are those who hear the Word of God and keep it!”
Blessed are those who hear the Word of God and keep it, not in the sense of following the rules and never sinning; keeping the Word of God is instead a matter of faith, of repentance and the forgiveness of sins. It is that Word of forgiveness that drives out Satan day after day, that keeps Him from taking that throne again for himself. That is why the Church exists, that is why we proclaim from this pulpit God’s pure Word, why we give from this altar His Body and Blood. It is for no other reason than filling the hearts of the baptized with Christ that we teach Sunday School and offer Bible classes; it is the sole reason why this congregation has established and supports a school. The Word of Christ flows from this place into the hearts of the baptized, into your heart and mine, driving Satan away and placing Christ in His rightful place on the throne. This sanctuary is the place of divine combat, of spiritual warfare, for here the stronger one rules, and He has already overcome by His shed blood. He has conquered, Satan’s kingdom is divided, and it has fallen, never to rise again. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
“Every kingdom divided against itself is laid waste, and a divided household falls.” Jesus comes to divide Satan’s house, to rob it, to plunder it, to bind our evil foe for eternity. When He is finished, Satan’s house will be laid waste, and his divided household will fall. Jesus comes as the stronger one to seize those in Satan’s house and take them out as plunder. Jesus comes to cast out demons with power of the finger of God. There is no neutrality between God and Satan. Either we belong to one, or we belong to the other. And from birth—indeed from our conception—we belonged to Satan. In the heart of every human being there is a throne. And if God doesn’t occupy that throne, then Satan will, and he does. There is no neutrality. We are creatures, we are not gods, we are always subordinate to another. You dwelt in bondage to Satan, with the evil one occupying the throne. You cannot control yourself; you live following Satan’s orders. All you can will, all you can do, is sin. Satan deceives you with his old evil words, “You will be like God, knowing good and evil.” He wants you to try to occupy that throne yourself, to determine good and evil according to your own thoughts and desires. But you cannot sit on your own throne, any more than a horse can ride on its own saddle. Satan knows that; he knows that when you try to sit on the throne, it is really he who is enthroned, who occupies the house of your heart, who holds you in his chains, as his plunder. “When a strong man, fully armed, guards his own palace, his goods are safe.”
Satan’s goods are safe because he knows they aren’t going anywhere by themselves. You and I, deceived into thinking that we can sit on the throne of our heart, put the chains around ourselves; we are imprisoned, enslaved because we’ve bought the lie. Satan knows that he need not fear rebellion from inside the house. And he’s right; you and I are no threat to escape his bonds. Fast bound in Satan’s chains I lay, death brooded darkly over me. Sin was my torment night and day; in sin my mother bore me. But daily deeper still I fell; my life became a living hell, so firmly sin possessed me.
Satan has nothing to fear from you and me; his house will not be divided from within. “But when one stronger than he attacks him and overcomes him, he takes away his armor in which he trusted and divides his spoil.” Satan’s defeat did not come from us; it came from the outside, from an invader, a mighty warrior who is God Himself in the flesh, Jesus who is called the Christ. His royal power disguised He bore; a servant’s form, like mine, He wore to lead the devil captive. He came to do battle with the strong man in his own house, and all of Satan’s weapons, in which he trusted, proved powerless. The sword of temptation lay broken as Jesus triumphed over it in the wilderness. His mighty army of demons was cast out left and right by the power of the finger of God. And even his greatest weapon and ally, death itself, could not conquer Jesus. “Though he will shed my precious blood, me of my life bereaving, all this I suffer for your good; be steadfast and believing. Life will from death the victory win; my innocence shall bear your sin, and you are blest forever.” Satan put his trust in the armor and chains of death; he counted on them to defeat Christ our Lord. But when Jesus rose on Easter morning, He took Satan’s armor from him, transforming even death into the portal of life. And He takes the spoil, you and me, purchased and won not with gold or silver but with His holy, precious blood and His innocent suffering and death.
Jesus plunders the strong man’s house, casting Satan from the thrones of human hearts. “Get behind me, Satan!” He cries out through the baptismal liturgy, “and make room for the Holy Ghost.” There is no neutrality between God and Satan. The throne within the human heart has room for only one occupant. And in the waters of baptism, the former occupant is cast out, driven away. Every baptism is an exorcism, a driving away of Satan from his place in our hearts, the breaking of the chains the held us fast. The stronger one does battle with the strong man, and in the end it is Satan who is chained, not Jesus, not you or me. God promised through Isaiah, “Even the captives of the mighty shall be taken, and the prey of the tyrant be rescued, for I will contend with those who contend with you, and I will save your children.” Christ went to battle for us during His life on this earth, through His bloody suffering and death, and His victorious resurrection. And in the waters of Baptism, He brings that victory to you and me, casting Satan from his throne, cleansing the house of our heart and setting things in order.
There is no neutrality between God and Satan. Either one or the other will occupy the throne in every human heart. In a world where demons roam, there are no empty houses. “When the unclean spirit has gone out of a person, it passes through waterless places seeking rest, and finding none it says, ‘I will return to my house from which I came.’” Satan cannot dwell where the baptismal waters are present. He must seek rest in ‘waterless places,’ in those locales where baptism isn’t spoken of or practiced, where the waters do not flow freely over sinners’ heads. But even there he finds no rest, and he returns to his former haunt.
There he finds a remarkable thing: the house is empty! “And when it comes, it finds the house swept and put in order.” There is the appearance of order; the house has been decorated, cleaned up, it looks good on the outside. An older gentleman lives a good life, he is likable and honorable, he is held in high esteem by all. But the throne is empty; the house is in order, he was baptized long ago, but he has long since quit coming to worship more than a couple times a year, his bible collects dust, the name of God is only used in vain. Christ has been driven away through indifference and unbelief. A child is being raised according to all the accepted conventions; she is healthy, well-nourished, she is learning her numbers and letters, and she brings joy into the lives of family and friends. But the throne is empty; the house is in order, she has been brought to the font, but she has never seen the inside of the church since; her parents do not bring her to worship or Sunday School, there is no reading of Scripture or prayer at home. Christ has been driven away by the negligence of those who brought her to the font.
There is no neutrality between God and Satan; either one or the other will occupy the throne of the human heart. And if the house is left empty for Satan to return, woe to that house! “Then it goes and brings seven other spirits more evil than itself, and they enter and dwell there. And the last state of that person is worse than the first.” Christ cast Satan from his throne, but if Jesus is cast out through laziness, indifference, or negligence, Satan is ready to return, and he returns with a vengeance. There no neutrality between God and Satan; a house divided against itself will not stand. “Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters.”
Woe to those who do not fill the cleansed houses of their own hearts or that of their children with Christ! They do not gather but scatter! Repent! Turn from Satan, take his assaults seriously and fill the empty house with Christ. It is only Christ that can release you and me from the bondage of sin and Satan, it is only Christ who, day after day, through Law and Gospel, can cleanse the house of the human heart and place Himself on its throne. Christ is the stronger one, who has defeated the strong man and plundered his house, and only He can keep that house clean. How does He do this? He works only through the Word. “Blessed rather are those who hear the Word of God and keep it!”
Blessed are those who hear the Word of God and keep it, not in the sense of following the rules and never sinning; keeping the Word of God is instead a matter of faith, of repentance and the forgiveness of sins. It is that Word of forgiveness that drives out Satan day after day, that keeps Him from taking that throne again for himself. That is why the Church exists, that is why we proclaim from this pulpit God’s pure Word, why we give from this altar His Body and Blood. It is for no other reason than filling the hearts of the baptized with Christ that we teach Sunday School and offer Bible classes; it is the sole reason why this congregation has established and supports a school. The Word of Christ flows from this place into the hearts of the baptized, into your heart and mine, driving Satan away and placing Christ in His rightful place on the throne. This sanctuary is the place of divine combat, of spiritual warfare, for here the stronger one rules, and He has already overcome by His shed blood. He has conquered, Satan’s kingdom is divided, and it has fallen, never to rise again. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Friday, February 27, 2015
Lenten Midweek 2: The Eighth Commandment (Matthew 26:59-61)
“You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor.” 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 evening comes from the twenty-sixth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Matthew, which reads as follows: “Now the chief priests and the whole Council were seeking false testimony against Jesus that they might put Him to death, but they found none, though many false witnesses came forward. At last two came forward and said, ‘This man said, “I am able to destroy the temple of God, and to rebuild it in three days.”’” Dear friends in Christ, the courtroom is the home of the Eighth Commandment. There, among judges and juries, defendants and prosecutors, it rules. It is the task of those in authority to provide justice, to make sure that the truth wins out, that the guilty are punished, and the innocent freed. Only the truth should be told in court. No lies—not even little ones! No slander, no falsehood, no tall tales of any kind. A judge must be fearless; he must be consumed by the search for truth. And the witnesses must be the same; they must be upright and trustworthy, for the reputation of their neighbor is in their hands. That’s why, if you are a witness, you are required to swear a solemn oath; you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God. Serious stuff, especially if you happen to believe in the almighty God who gave the Eighth Commandment. The court wants to hear and determine the truth, nothing but the truth.
Surely, that is what the Sanhedrin wants to hear, right? They want to hear the truth about Jesus, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, correct? For the Eighth Commandment, though it rules our entire lives, especially governs the courtroom. These men have been charged with justice, and they will certainly make it their task to ensure that Jesus receives a fair hearing, right? Wrong! “Now the chief priests and the whole Council were seeking false testimony about Jesus that they might put Him to death.” Did you hear that? The Council is seeking out false witnesses! They want the liars, they want those who will willingly break the Eighth Commandment. Jesus will only receive the pretense of justice; He will be tried, but in the middle of the night, and with a crowd of false witnesses testifying against Him. The ones who know the Law subvert it; they want nothing to do with the truth. They lust for liars so that they can put Him to death.
It’s hard to believe that upstanding, ‘good religious people,’ those who pride themselves on their keeping of the Law, could subvert justice in this way. The authorities, those charged with administering justice, would do that—even to an innocent man? Sure, they would, without a second thought, for their hatred blinded them. And so would you. And so do you. Martin Luther teaches us the meaning of the Eighth Commandment: “We should fear and love God so that we do not tell lies about our neighbor, betray him, slander him, or hurt his reputation, but defend him, speak well of him, and explain everything in the kindest way.” The courtroom is the Eighth Commandment’s natural home, but the thing is, this world is a courtroom, everyone is on trial.
And you are an expert in giving false witness. You bear false witness by lying about your friend, saying things you know aren’t true, intending to exalt yourself by bringing her down. You bear false witness by revealing secrets, betraying the trust of another by making what was private public. You bear false witness when you take someone’s sin not to him, but to the entire world. You bear false witness when you explain your neighbor’s action in the worst possible way. You destroy someone’s reputation from a safe distance with your I-Pad or Smartphone, seemingly isolated from the consequences. You don’t give them a fair hearing in the courtroom of this world; your goal is not the good of your neighbor, but his destruction. You see, the Eighth Commandment doesn’t only deal with telling lies, but also with how you use the truth. Even if what you say is true, if it hurts your neighbor’s reputation, you are called to silence. “Defend him, speak well of him, and explain everything in the kindest way.” Public sin should be reproved publically; the Eighth Commandment is not a shield for those living a publically sinful life or preaching false doctrine. But the private sins of your neighbor are to be taken to her privately, seeking repentance, not trumpeted before the world.
For you see, false witness is dangerous. It takes a lifetime to build up a good reputation; only moments are necessary to destroy it. Words can wound, words can destroy; false witness can lead to the violation of numerous other commandments. We saw this last week when poor Naboth was falsely accused on the orders of the king and put to death. And tonight, it happens to Jesus. The false witnesses come against Him, one after the other, but something is wrong. They can’t agree. Even though no one defends His reputation or speaks well of Him, Jesus appears to be winning! But then two last witnesses come forward, and they decide to quote Jesus. They declare, “This man said, ‘I am able to destroy the temple of God, and to rebuild it in three days.’” This clinches it. They have quoted one of Jesus’ most provocative and confrontational sermons, the one where He appears not only to be not only a nut, but a dangerous nut, a terrorist, one who threatens buildings, and the most important building of all—the temple.
Despite this accusation, Jesus doesn’t protest. Why? He did preach this sermon! The false witnesses, desperately sought by the court, have actually spoken the truth! They preach Christ despite themselves, declaring before the whole court who Jesus is and what He has come to do. For Jesus isn’t speaking of Herod’s temple in Jerusalem; He is, as we are told in John chapter two, speaking about the temple of His body. His body is the new temple, the greater temple, the temple to replace Herod’s temple forever—this man, standing before them, is also true God, Immanuel, God with us. “In Him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell,” and so it is His body, His own flesh and blood that is God’s new temple; Jesus points not to brick and mortar, but to Himself.
And Jesus is no terrorist; His opponents have twisted His words, for He didn’t threaten to destroy anything when He first spoke these words. Instead, amidst the ruin of His wrath against the money-changers, Jesus calls on His opponents to “destroy this temple,” and He knows that they will. In fact, when these words are repeated in the darkness between Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, the Sanhedrin will set this prophecy in motion. They will destroy the temple of His body; now that they have their conviction, gained by twisting His words, they send Him to Pilate for sentencing, and more false witness will be borne. Then, upon the cross, the temple of His body will be destroyed, thrown down; the false witness of many will end up in murder. The ruined temple will be laid in a tomb. But the false witnesses have spoken more truly than they know; three days later the temple will be rebuilt, Christ will rise, victorious over the false witness of His opponents, victorious even over death.
What the Sanhedrin meant for evil Jesus turned into good; they fulfilled His prophecy despite themselves. He went to the cross as the sacrifice for sin, bearing every violation of the Eighth Commandment, even the ones which sent Him there to die, and He rose in victory over their evil. Now Jesus speaks the truth about you: you, yes you, sinner, are forgiven. The courtroom is a place for truth, a place where the Eighth Commandment is to rule. In the courtroom of God’s justice, there is no way to put a good construction upon it; you are guilty, condemned for your callous and evil disregard for the reputations of others, along with all of your other sins. That is the truth. But there is another truth that is greater. God doesn’t count your sin against you anymore for the sake of His Son. That is the truth, and it is greater than any word of condemnation.
Now Jesus has only good things to say about you; He declares to the entire world: ‘Do you see these people? Yes, they are sinners, through and through. But they are my sinners—I died for them! I’ve forgiven them. I’ve put my name upon them when I washed them at the font. They are my holy ones!’ Jesus speaks well of you in the heavenly courtroom, freeing you to speak well of your neighbor in the courtroom of this world, to use your words to edify your neighbors, to build up your friends, to stand up for others and explain everything in the kindest way. And you are now free to tell the truth about Jesus, to confess that He is Lord, that His death and resurrection have brought you deliverance. You confess to yourself and to others that this Jesus is ‘for you’ for the forgiveness of your sins. That is His reputation, declared by the Church to the world: He is the Savior of sinners—even you, even me. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Surely, that is what the Sanhedrin wants to hear, right? They want to hear the truth about Jesus, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, correct? For the Eighth Commandment, though it rules our entire lives, especially governs the courtroom. These men have been charged with justice, and they will certainly make it their task to ensure that Jesus receives a fair hearing, right? Wrong! “Now the chief priests and the whole Council were seeking false testimony about Jesus that they might put Him to death.” Did you hear that? The Council is seeking out false witnesses! They want the liars, they want those who will willingly break the Eighth Commandment. Jesus will only receive the pretense of justice; He will be tried, but in the middle of the night, and with a crowd of false witnesses testifying against Him. The ones who know the Law subvert it; they want nothing to do with the truth. They lust for liars so that they can put Him to death.
It’s hard to believe that upstanding, ‘good religious people,’ those who pride themselves on their keeping of the Law, could subvert justice in this way. The authorities, those charged with administering justice, would do that—even to an innocent man? Sure, they would, without a second thought, for their hatred blinded them. And so would you. And so do you. Martin Luther teaches us the meaning of the Eighth Commandment: “We should fear and love God so that we do not tell lies about our neighbor, betray him, slander him, or hurt his reputation, but defend him, speak well of him, and explain everything in the kindest way.” The courtroom is the Eighth Commandment’s natural home, but the thing is, this world is a courtroom, everyone is on trial.
And you are an expert in giving false witness. You bear false witness by lying about your friend, saying things you know aren’t true, intending to exalt yourself by bringing her down. You bear false witness by revealing secrets, betraying the trust of another by making what was private public. You bear false witness when you take someone’s sin not to him, but to the entire world. You bear false witness when you explain your neighbor’s action in the worst possible way. You destroy someone’s reputation from a safe distance with your I-Pad or Smartphone, seemingly isolated from the consequences. You don’t give them a fair hearing in the courtroom of this world; your goal is not the good of your neighbor, but his destruction. You see, the Eighth Commandment doesn’t only deal with telling lies, but also with how you use the truth. Even if what you say is true, if it hurts your neighbor’s reputation, you are called to silence. “Defend him, speak well of him, and explain everything in the kindest way.” Public sin should be reproved publically; the Eighth Commandment is not a shield for those living a publically sinful life or preaching false doctrine. But the private sins of your neighbor are to be taken to her privately, seeking repentance, not trumpeted before the world.
For you see, false witness is dangerous. It takes a lifetime to build up a good reputation; only moments are necessary to destroy it. Words can wound, words can destroy; false witness can lead to the violation of numerous other commandments. We saw this last week when poor Naboth was falsely accused on the orders of the king and put to death. And tonight, it happens to Jesus. The false witnesses come against Him, one after the other, but something is wrong. They can’t agree. Even though no one defends His reputation or speaks well of Him, Jesus appears to be winning! But then two last witnesses come forward, and they decide to quote Jesus. They declare, “This man said, ‘I am able to destroy the temple of God, and to rebuild it in three days.’” This clinches it. They have quoted one of Jesus’ most provocative and confrontational sermons, the one where He appears not only to be not only a nut, but a dangerous nut, a terrorist, one who threatens buildings, and the most important building of all—the temple.
Despite this accusation, Jesus doesn’t protest. Why? He did preach this sermon! The false witnesses, desperately sought by the court, have actually spoken the truth! They preach Christ despite themselves, declaring before the whole court who Jesus is and what He has come to do. For Jesus isn’t speaking of Herod’s temple in Jerusalem; He is, as we are told in John chapter two, speaking about the temple of His body. His body is the new temple, the greater temple, the temple to replace Herod’s temple forever—this man, standing before them, is also true God, Immanuel, God with us. “In Him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell,” and so it is His body, His own flesh and blood that is God’s new temple; Jesus points not to brick and mortar, but to Himself.
And Jesus is no terrorist; His opponents have twisted His words, for He didn’t threaten to destroy anything when He first spoke these words. Instead, amidst the ruin of His wrath against the money-changers, Jesus calls on His opponents to “destroy this temple,” and He knows that they will. In fact, when these words are repeated in the darkness between Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, the Sanhedrin will set this prophecy in motion. They will destroy the temple of His body; now that they have their conviction, gained by twisting His words, they send Him to Pilate for sentencing, and more false witness will be borne. Then, upon the cross, the temple of His body will be destroyed, thrown down; the false witness of many will end up in murder. The ruined temple will be laid in a tomb. But the false witnesses have spoken more truly than they know; three days later the temple will be rebuilt, Christ will rise, victorious over the false witness of His opponents, victorious even over death.
What the Sanhedrin meant for evil Jesus turned into good; they fulfilled His prophecy despite themselves. He went to the cross as the sacrifice for sin, bearing every violation of the Eighth Commandment, even the ones which sent Him there to die, and He rose in victory over their evil. Now Jesus speaks the truth about you: you, yes you, sinner, are forgiven. The courtroom is a place for truth, a place where the Eighth Commandment is to rule. In the courtroom of God’s justice, there is no way to put a good construction upon it; you are guilty, condemned for your callous and evil disregard for the reputations of others, along with all of your other sins. That is the truth. But there is another truth that is greater. God doesn’t count your sin against you anymore for the sake of His Son. That is the truth, and it is greater than any word of condemnation.
Now Jesus has only good things to say about you; He declares to the entire world: ‘Do you see these people? Yes, they are sinners, through and through. But they are my sinners—I died for them! I’ve forgiven them. I’ve put my name upon them when I washed them at the font. They are my holy ones!’ Jesus speaks well of you in the heavenly courtroom, freeing you to speak well of your neighbor in the courtroom of this world, to use your words to edify your neighbors, to build up your friends, to stand up for others and explain everything in the kindest way. And you are now free to tell the truth about Jesus, to confess that He is Lord, that His death and resurrection have brought you deliverance. You confess to yourself and to others that this Jesus is ‘for you’ for the forgiveness of your sins. That is His reputation, declared by the Church to the world: He is the Savior of sinners—even you, even me. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Quinquagesima (Luke 18:31-43)
“‘What do you want me to do for you?’ He said, ‘Lord, let me recover my sight.’ And Jesus said to him, ‘Recover your sight; your faith has made you well.’” 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 comes from the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the eighteenth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Luke. Dear friends in Christ: we envy the people of the New Testament, don’t we? We don’t envy their lack of indoor plumbing, their short lifespans or their lack of freedom, but still we envy them. We envy those found in the pages of the Scriptures because they had the privilege of walking this earth with Jesus. They saw Him, they heard Him, they touched Him. “If only I had seen Jesus,” we say, “my faith would be so much stronger!” What a privilege to look Jesus in the eye when He gave the Sermon on the Mount, to sit with Him in the boat, to walk the dusty roads alongside Him, or to eat the miraculous fish and loaves with the rest of the five thousand! We look back on that three-year span with longing, wishing that we would’ve been there to be part of that great story told by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. We even add a beatitude to Jesus’ list: “Blessed are those who have seen!” Blessed are the seeing ones; not us, who stand two thousand years later, beset by doubts, assailed by the world, depending solely on the words that other have spoken. Seeing is believing, and we know that if we had seen, then our faith would be unshakable.
The disciples, yes, they were blessed; more than anyone else in all of history, they had a personal relationship with Jesus. They followed Him from place to place; they witnessed His miracles, they saw His great signs. They heard His preaching, the powerful declarations of divine identity, His expositions of God’s Holy Word. And before the gates of Jericho, Jesus paused to give these blessed men the plainest, clearest sermon He would ever preach: “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written about the Son of Man by the prophets will be accomplished.” The disciples nod their heads—so far, so good. Jesus is going to enter the holy city to bring all that is written about Himself to completion, to end it, to finish it, to conclude all that God said before, putting an exclamation point on the Old Testament. But how will He do this?
“He will be delivered over to the Gentiles and will be mocked and shamefully treated and spit upon. And after flogging Him, they will kill Him, and on the third day He will rise.” Jesus couldn’t have spoken any more clearly; His journey to Jerusalem will end in death. In graphic detail our Lord describes His humiliation at the hands of the Gentiles. The King of creation, the Son of God in human flesh, will be mocked as an imposter and executed as a common criminal. All that the prophets wrote about Him will come to a bloody end; the exclamation point of the Old Testament will be a cry of agony. This was God’s intent from the beginning; the Seed of the woman must have His foot struck so that the serpent’s head will be crushed. The completion of God’s plan of salvation is the agony of the cross. No one takes Jesus’ life from Him; He gives it up willingly, and with His dying breath, He will preach another clear sermon: “It is finished!”
We simply read these words today, two thousand years later. The disciples—blessed are they!—heard Jesus speak with their own ears; they could see the emotion on His face, they could watch each syllable escape His lips. Seeing is believing—blessed are those who have seen! “But they understood none of these things. This saying was hidden from them, and they did not grasp what was said.” The disciples heard. The disciples saw. But the disciples did not believe. And so when the sword struck the shepherd, the sheep were scattered. When they laid Him in a tomb, the disciples did not gather there, waiting for the third day to come, they hid behind locked doors. Even though Jesus could not put it any more clearly, His death and resurrection came as a surprise. It is not hard to surprise a blind man, and the disciples were blind.
The message of the cross is foolishness to man. Did the disciples want to see? No, because all that Jesus had to show them was the cross, the sight from which men turn their heads in shame. Two thousand years of history has perhaps sanitized the cross, as it hangs from rapper’s necks and stands tall on church roofs. But when Jesus shows it to us in all of its gory detail, we recoil. We would rather remain blind. For the cross shows us the high price of our sin; the cross shows us what it took for God to save us from sin, death, and the power of the devil. For sinful man, for you and me, the cross is the death of any attempt to work our way back to our God, and as the disciples understood quite clearly, a cross for Jesus meant a cross for them. The cross always puts men to death. Do you want to see? No, we would rather, like the disciples, remain blind, because all that Jesus wants to show us is the cross—His and ours. Seeing, it turns out, is not believing.
Faith comes not from sight; otherwise, it is not faith at all. Faith instead leads to sight. Jesus stood before a blind man and asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” An odd question, to be sure. What else would a blind man want? He certainly didn’t need a vacation or a lottery ticket. He needed sight! But did he really want to see? Our sinful nature finds that it is much more comfortable to bury our heads in the sand and remain blind. We can’t deal with the consequences of sight—a cross for Jesus and a cross for us. Jesus asks the blind man if he really wants to follow the Son of Man who goes to Jerusalem to die. How about you: do you want to see? Do you want to see the cross that puts you to death, that calls you to a life of cross-bearing, suffering before glory? Or would you rather remain comfortably blind, living in your sin, going through the motions, believing in the Jesus who is a great pal and a help for your life, but never bloody, never dead? Whether you hear the words from the lips of Jesus or read them on a page, the natural man wants to remain blind; your sinful nature wants nothing to do with the cross.
The disciples see and do not believe; they take offense at the cross. But this blind man who cannot see believes; he cries out to Jesus despite the opposition of the crowd. They simply call this wandering rabbi “Jesus of Nazareth.” They see, but they do not believe; the blind man believes, even though he cannot see, and he names Jesus the Messiah: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Have mercy. The blind man sees Jesus for who He truly is; the Messiah come to save. Kyrie Eleeson. Lord, have mercy. The crowd tells him to be quiet, that Jesus has better thing to do than heal beggars, but this blind man knows His Savior, and he grabs hold of him in faith, begging for mercy.
The blind man knows that Jesus has come to save beggars; that it is only beggars, only those who have nothing to give and everything to receive, who will find mercy. The others around him try to quiet him, they tell him not to badger Jesus like this; but this blind man knows his Lord. He isn’t going to wait until he’s worthy before he asks, but he asks in the midst of his affliction, he clings to the promises of almighty God in faith, and with tenacity he hangs on. What matters is not his sin or his station in life, but God’s promises. The Messiah has come, and He brings mercy, mercy for beggars, mercy for the blind. This man refuses to be tempted by the crowd; he stops his ears and deals with God directly, and his God hears him. “He said, ‘Lord, let me recover my sight.’ And Jesus said to him, ‘Recover your sight; your faith has made you well.’” Believing is seeing. Jesus speaks a plain and clear sermon once again. This man sees because he believes. Faith, created by the working of the Holy Spirit through the proclamation of the Word, leads to sight, seeing Jesus for who He truly is: God in the flesh come to bring mercy.
You see, Jesus came to open blind eyes. “And immediately he recovered his sight and followed Him, glorifying God. And all the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God.” The people saw the great reversal in action; they saw a beggar turned into a believer, a sinner into a saint, a blind man restored to sight, and they believed, they praise God. The blind man sees, spiritually and physically, and his response is the same: He gives glory to God, God in the flesh who has had mercy upon him. And he follows Him; he follows this Jesus on the way to the cross. Faith characterizes the journey to the cross; faith that the One who will be crucified will also rise. Believing is seeing.
On the first Sunday after Easter, Jesus will speak His own beatitude: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” We think that those who walked with Jesus, who saw Him with their own eyes, who touched even the hem of His garments, are the blessed ones. But Jesus consistently and emphatically declares that it is not the generation that saw him the flesh who was blessed; so many saw and yet did not believe. Instead, it is you and me, who did not see but yet believe by the Holy Spirit, who are blessed. Seeing is not believing; believing is seeing. On Easter afternoon, despite the words of Jesus, despite the testimony of the women, the disciples were still blind. But the risen Jesus, disguised from their physical eyes, gave them spiritual sight by opening up the Scriptures and explaining why the cross was necessary for the salvation of the world. And in the breaking of the bread, they saw Him, for only a moment, and He was gone.
At Emmaus the pattern is set: believing is seeing; eyes are opened by Word and Sacrament. The same Jesus who opened the eyes of the blind man, who gave the disciples spiritual sight, has opened your blinded eyes in your baptism; His cross is seen no longer an offense, but the instrument of your salvation, and even though you bear your cross, by faith you cry out with the blind man, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” You cling to His promises in the midst of affliction, as you carry the cross, trusting that He will have mercy, for believing is seeing. And there will be a Day when faith is no longer needed, for all that will remain is sight: “Now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.” Believing is seeing, until that Day of eternal sight. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
The disciples, yes, they were blessed; more than anyone else in all of history, they had a personal relationship with Jesus. They followed Him from place to place; they witnessed His miracles, they saw His great signs. They heard His preaching, the powerful declarations of divine identity, His expositions of God’s Holy Word. And before the gates of Jericho, Jesus paused to give these blessed men the plainest, clearest sermon He would ever preach: “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written about the Son of Man by the prophets will be accomplished.” The disciples nod their heads—so far, so good. Jesus is going to enter the holy city to bring all that is written about Himself to completion, to end it, to finish it, to conclude all that God said before, putting an exclamation point on the Old Testament. But how will He do this?
“He will be delivered over to the Gentiles and will be mocked and shamefully treated and spit upon. And after flogging Him, they will kill Him, and on the third day He will rise.” Jesus couldn’t have spoken any more clearly; His journey to Jerusalem will end in death. In graphic detail our Lord describes His humiliation at the hands of the Gentiles. The King of creation, the Son of God in human flesh, will be mocked as an imposter and executed as a common criminal. All that the prophets wrote about Him will come to a bloody end; the exclamation point of the Old Testament will be a cry of agony. This was God’s intent from the beginning; the Seed of the woman must have His foot struck so that the serpent’s head will be crushed. The completion of God’s plan of salvation is the agony of the cross. No one takes Jesus’ life from Him; He gives it up willingly, and with His dying breath, He will preach another clear sermon: “It is finished!”
We simply read these words today, two thousand years later. The disciples—blessed are they!—heard Jesus speak with their own ears; they could see the emotion on His face, they could watch each syllable escape His lips. Seeing is believing—blessed are those who have seen! “But they understood none of these things. This saying was hidden from them, and they did not grasp what was said.” The disciples heard. The disciples saw. But the disciples did not believe. And so when the sword struck the shepherd, the sheep were scattered. When they laid Him in a tomb, the disciples did not gather there, waiting for the third day to come, they hid behind locked doors. Even though Jesus could not put it any more clearly, His death and resurrection came as a surprise. It is not hard to surprise a blind man, and the disciples were blind.
The message of the cross is foolishness to man. Did the disciples want to see? No, because all that Jesus had to show them was the cross, the sight from which men turn their heads in shame. Two thousand years of history has perhaps sanitized the cross, as it hangs from rapper’s necks and stands tall on church roofs. But when Jesus shows it to us in all of its gory detail, we recoil. We would rather remain blind. For the cross shows us the high price of our sin; the cross shows us what it took for God to save us from sin, death, and the power of the devil. For sinful man, for you and me, the cross is the death of any attempt to work our way back to our God, and as the disciples understood quite clearly, a cross for Jesus meant a cross for them. The cross always puts men to death. Do you want to see? No, we would rather, like the disciples, remain blind, because all that Jesus wants to show us is the cross—His and ours. Seeing, it turns out, is not believing.
Faith comes not from sight; otherwise, it is not faith at all. Faith instead leads to sight. Jesus stood before a blind man and asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” An odd question, to be sure. What else would a blind man want? He certainly didn’t need a vacation or a lottery ticket. He needed sight! But did he really want to see? Our sinful nature finds that it is much more comfortable to bury our heads in the sand and remain blind. We can’t deal with the consequences of sight—a cross for Jesus and a cross for us. Jesus asks the blind man if he really wants to follow the Son of Man who goes to Jerusalem to die. How about you: do you want to see? Do you want to see the cross that puts you to death, that calls you to a life of cross-bearing, suffering before glory? Or would you rather remain comfortably blind, living in your sin, going through the motions, believing in the Jesus who is a great pal and a help for your life, but never bloody, never dead? Whether you hear the words from the lips of Jesus or read them on a page, the natural man wants to remain blind; your sinful nature wants nothing to do with the cross.
The disciples see and do not believe; they take offense at the cross. But this blind man who cannot see believes; he cries out to Jesus despite the opposition of the crowd. They simply call this wandering rabbi “Jesus of Nazareth.” They see, but they do not believe; the blind man believes, even though he cannot see, and he names Jesus the Messiah: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Have mercy. The blind man sees Jesus for who He truly is; the Messiah come to save. Kyrie Eleeson. Lord, have mercy. The crowd tells him to be quiet, that Jesus has better thing to do than heal beggars, but this blind man knows His Savior, and he grabs hold of him in faith, begging for mercy.
The blind man knows that Jesus has come to save beggars; that it is only beggars, only those who have nothing to give and everything to receive, who will find mercy. The others around him try to quiet him, they tell him not to badger Jesus like this; but this blind man knows his Lord. He isn’t going to wait until he’s worthy before he asks, but he asks in the midst of his affliction, he clings to the promises of almighty God in faith, and with tenacity he hangs on. What matters is not his sin or his station in life, but God’s promises. The Messiah has come, and He brings mercy, mercy for beggars, mercy for the blind. This man refuses to be tempted by the crowd; he stops his ears and deals with God directly, and his God hears him. “He said, ‘Lord, let me recover my sight.’ And Jesus said to him, ‘Recover your sight; your faith has made you well.’” Believing is seeing. Jesus speaks a plain and clear sermon once again. This man sees because he believes. Faith, created by the working of the Holy Spirit through the proclamation of the Word, leads to sight, seeing Jesus for who He truly is: God in the flesh come to bring mercy.
You see, Jesus came to open blind eyes. “And immediately he recovered his sight and followed Him, glorifying God. And all the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God.” The people saw the great reversal in action; they saw a beggar turned into a believer, a sinner into a saint, a blind man restored to sight, and they believed, they praise God. The blind man sees, spiritually and physically, and his response is the same: He gives glory to God, God in the flesh who has had mercy upon him. And he follows Him; he follows this Jesus on the way to the cross. Faith characterizes the journey to the cross; faith that the One who will be crucified will also rise. Believing is seeing.
On the first Sunday after Easter, Jesus will speak His own beatitude: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” We think that those who walked with Jesus, who saw Him with their own eyes, who touched even the hem of His garments, are the blessed ones. But Jesus consistently and emphatically declares that it is not the generation that saw him the flesh who was blessed; so many saw and yet did not believe. Instead, it is you and me, who did not see but yet believe by the Holy Spirit, who are blessed. Seeing is not believing; believing is seeing. On Easter afternoon, despite the words of Jesus, despite the testimony of the women, the disciples were still blind. But the risen Jesus, disguised from their physical eyes, gave them spiritual sight by opening up the Scriptures and explaining why the cross was necessary for the salvation of the world. And in the breaking of the bread, they saw Him, for only a moment, and He was gone.
At Emmaus the pattern is set: believing is seeing; eyes are opened by Word and Sacrament. The same Jesus who opened the eyes of the blind man, who gave the disciples spiritual sight, has opened your blinded eyes in your baptism; His cross is seen no longer an offense, but the instrument of your salvation, and even though you bear your cross, by faith you cry out with the blind man, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” You cling to His promises in the midst of affliction, as you carry the cross, trusting that He will have mercy, for believing is seeing. And there will be a Day when faith is no longer needed, for all that will remain is sight: “Now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.” Believing is seeing, until that Day of eternal sight. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Septuagesima (1 Corinthians 9:24-10:5)
“I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.” 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 evening comes from the Epistle lesson read a few moments ago from the ninth and tenth chapters of Paul’s first letter to the Church of God in Corinth. Dear friends in Christ: do you want to compete at the highest level? Do you want to win championships? Is it your dream to catch passes in the Super Bowl or hit big-league pitching? Or are your goals more modest, like fighting back the effects of age or achieving greater health? You cannot get there on talent alone; you cannot achieve such lofty goals by sitting on the couch and thinking about it. Every athlete who has reached the pinnacle of their profession will tell you that it takes work; they know that the first opponent you struggle against isn’t on the other side of the line of scrimmage, it is within yourself. It is your own body that will hold you back, because its goals are completely opposed to yours. It seeks the easy way out; if left to its own devices, your body doesn’t desire what is good, it won’t eat healthy or run a mile or lift weights. You must force your body to do those things, and your body doesn’t go quietly. The athlete must go to war against himself, beating and pummeling his body to put it into submission. Your toughest task is to struggle against yourself, fighting your flesh every step of the way in order to achieve your goals.
Every athlete knows this, as does everyone who has ever tried to lose weight or run a marathon; your body struggles against you, it will resist every attempt to make it better. But few stop to ask ‘why?’ The answer is easy: your body is sinful. And the same sinful flesh that resists your every attempt to train it for health or competition is even more stubborn when it comes to spiritual matters. At the Baptismal font you were made a Christian, claimed by Christ Himself; you are truly a saint. But your old sinful Adam still hangs around your neck, and he will not leave until the day when your baptism is fulfilled with your death. So, from the moment that the water touched your head, your flesh has been at war with the Holy Spirit, fighting every attempt to put it under submission.
Saint Paul writes, “I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.” As a saint, he delights in God’s Law; but his sinful nature goes to war against him, putting him into slavery. And your sinful nature wants nothing else than to drag you to hell; the old evil Adam wants to see you fall into open sin and give up the faith delivered to you at the font. The danger is real; even Paul, the great apostle, speaks of finding himself excluded if his flesh is given free reign: “I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.” And then, as a clincher, he mentions Israel in the wilderness. Even though they had been baptized into Moses in the Red Sea, even though they had received miraculous manna and water from the Rock, even though they partook of Christ Himself, their fate is well-known: “Nevertheless, with most of them God was not pleased, for they were overthrown in the wilderness.” Paul isn’t kidding around, and neither is your sinful flesh; its intent is to drive you from the faith and straight into hell.
So do battle with your flesh; put it into submission under Christ. Pummel your flesh; beat it down with all of its evil desires; do not let it gain the upper hand. “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable.” The stakes are high; higher than game seven of the World Series; this is life or death, heaven or hell. Keep watch over yourself, recognize when your sinful Adam is exerting himself and beat him back down again. Put your flesh into slavery; no, better than that: put him to death, crucify him each and every day. Saint Paul tells the Romans: “For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.”
How? How do we put the old man to death? How do we pummel our flesh and put it into slavery under Christ? For an athlete, the answer is easy: ‘work harder.’ It’s up to you to control that flesh through your own efforts if you want to lose a few pounds or hoist the Stanley Cup. But things are completely different in spiritual matters. Martin Luther teaches us in the Small Catechism: “[Baptizing with water] indicates that the old Adam in us should, by daily contrition and repentance, be drowned and die with all sins and evil desires, and that a new man should daily emerge and arise to live before Him in righteousness and purity forever.”
You were baptized, covered by the water and the Word? Drown that old Adam each and every day by contrition and repentance. This is the discipline that puts the flesh to death. See your sin, pointed out to you by God’s clear Word of Law; see that sin, and repent of it, turn away from it by receiving the gift of the absolution. Drown your flesh in repentance and faith; cling to your Savior’s suffering and death by running to hear the blood-bought absolution. The flesh isn’t overcome by trying harder not to sin, but by repenting of that sin and trusting in Jesus, receiving His precious words of absolution. So it is Christ who disciplines your flesh and puts it to death; He is the One who proclaims the Law to condemn your sin, He is the One who speaks the Gospel to forgive it.
It is His forgiveness that overcomes the flesh; the forgiveness purchased and won not with gold or silver, but with His holy, precious blood and His innocent suffering and death. Luther teaches us: “Fasting and bodily preparation are certainly fine outward training, but that person is truly worthy and well-prepared who has faith in these words: ‘Given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.’” The only true spiritual discipline is faith, the faith created and sustained by the Holy Spirit in the means of grace. The flesh is disciplined by Christ and His work in both Law and Gospel, not by us or our own efforts. But that doesn’t mean that other discipline is without value. Luther praises fasting and bodily preparation, in their proper place. They are tools that can be used against your sinful nature in service of God’s Law, pummeling the flesh and its desires.
You have received the Body and Blood of Christ? Feed the new man on that heavenly food and starve the old Adam, refuse to let him feast on what he desires. Exercise self-control over your passions; rule over them, do not let them rule you. Be deliberate; Paul says, “I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air.” See what enslaves you, what seeks to replace God in your life, and deny those things to your sinful flesh. But do not rely on this discipline, do not think that through it you are earning anything before God, that it is you who are winning the victor’s wreath. The discipline that matters is not external fasting, but the discipline that Christ inflicts: death through the Law and life through the Gospel. So drink deeply from the Rock, which is Christ, feed on His Body and Blood in repentance and faith; that is the only discipline that can put the flesh into submission, because it is Christ’s work in you.
For the wreath comes solely through grace alone. The denarius comes to the workers because they have been called, not because they have worked (although they still do work). It is Christ who has done the work to earn that denarius, and He gives it away as He pleases. He labored under the burden of the cross; He carried the weight of your sin unto death; He earned salvation, and He gives salvation, by putting to death old Adams and raising up new men, first at the font, and then every day after, until that glorious Day when the old Adam in all of His saints is destroyed, immersed and drowned forever, and all that is left is the new man, to live before Him in righteousness and purity forever. In this life, your flesh will resist and oppose you, but these are only the throes of death; your flesh has been defeated, and the day of its doom is quickly approaching. Your sinful flesh will die, but you will live, with a sinless body and a pure soul, forever. You make war against your flesh with the victory already won, by Jesus and Him alone. In His Name, Amen.
Every athlete knows this, as does everyone who has ever tried to lose weight or run a marathon; your body struggles against you, it will resist every attempt to make it better. But few stop to ask ‘why?’ The answer is easy: your body is sinful. And the same sinful flesh that resists your every attempt to train it for health or competition is even more stubborn when it comes to spiritual matters. At the Baptismal font you were made a Christian, claimed by Christ Himself; you are truly a saint. But your old sinful Adam still hangs around your neck, and he will not leave until the day when your baptism is fulfilled with your death. So, from the moment that the water touched your head, your flesh has been at war with the Holy Spirit, fighting every attempt to put it under submission.
Saint Paul writes, “I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.” As a saint, he delights in God’s Law; but his sinful nature goes to war against him, putting him into slavery. And your sinful nature wants nothing else than to drag you to hell; the old evil Adam wants to see you fall into open sin and give up the faith delivered to you at the font. The danger is real; even Paul, the great apostle, speaks of finding himself excluded if his flesh is given free reign: “I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.” And then, as a clincher, he mentions Israel in the wilderness. Even though they had been baptized into Moses in the Red Sea, even though they had received miraculous manna and water from the Rock, even though they partook of Christ Himself, their fate is well-known: “Nevertheless, with most of them God was not pleased, for they were overthrown in the wilderness.” Paul isn’t kidding around, and neither is your sinful flesh; its intent is to drive you from the faith and straight into hell.
So do battle with your flesh; put it into submission under Christ. Pummel your flesh; beat it down with all of its evil desires; do not let it gain the upper hand. “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable.” The stakes are high; higher than game seven of the World Series; this is life or death, heaven or hell. Keep watch over yourself, recognize when your sinful Adam is exerting himself and beat him back down again. Put your flesh into slavery; no, better than that: put him to death, crucify him each and every day. Saint Paul tells the Romans: “For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.”
How? How do we put the old man to death? How do we pummel our flesh and put it into slavery under Christ? For an athlete, the answer is easy: ‘work harder.’ It’s up to you to control that flesh through your own efforts if you want to lose a few pounds or hoist the Stanley Cup. But things are completely different in spiritual matters. Martin Luther teaches us in the Small Catechism: “[Baptizing with water] indicates that the old Adam in us should, by daily contrition and repentance, be drowned and die with all sins and evil desires, and that a new man should daily emerge and arise to live before Him in righteousness and purity forever.”
You were baptized, covered by the water and the Word? Drown that old Adam each and every day by contrition and repentance. This is the discipline that puts the flesh to death. See your sin, pointed out to you by God’s clear Word of Law; see that sin, and repent of it, turn away from it by receiving the gift of the absolution. Drown your flesh in repentance and faith; cling to your Savior’s suffering and death by running to hear the blood-bought absolution. The flesh isn’t overcome by trying harder not to sin, but by repenting of that sin and trusting in Jesus, receiving His precious words of absolution. So it is Christ who disciplines your flesh and puts it to death; He is the One who proclaims the Law to condemn your sin, He is the One who speaks the Gospel to forgive it.
It is His forgiveness that overcomes the flesh; the forgiveness purchased and won not with gold or silver, but with His holy, precious blood and His innocent suffering and death. Luther teaches us: “Fasting and bodily preparation are certainly fine outward training, but that person is truly worthy and well-prepared who has faith in these words: ‘Given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.’” The only true spiritual discipline is faith, the faith created and sustained by the Holy Spirit in the means of grace. The flesh is disciplined by Christ and His work in both Law and Gospel, not by us or our own efforts. But that doesn’t mean that other discipline is without value. Luther praises fasting and bodily preparation, in their proper place. They are tools that can be used against your sinful nature in service of God’s Law, pummeling the flesh and its desires.
You have received the Body and Blood of Christ? Feed the new man on that heavenly food and starve the old Adam, refuse to let him feast on what he desires. Exercise self-control over your passions; rule over them, do not let them rule you. Be deliberate; Paul says, “I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air.” See what enslaves you, what seeks to replace God in your life, and deny those things to your sinful flesh. But do not rely on this discipline, do not think that through it you are earning anything before God, that it is you who are winning the victor’s wreath. The discipline that matters is not external fasting, but the discipline that Christ inflicts: death through the Law and life through the Gospel. So drink deeply from the Rock, which is Christ, feed on His Body and Blood in repentance and faith; that is the only discipline that can put the flesh into submission, because it is Christ’s work in you.
For the wreath comes solely through grace alone. The denarius comes to the workers because they have been called, not because they have worked (although they still do work). It is Christ who has done the work to earn that denarius, and He gives it away as He pleases. He labored under the burden of the cross; He carried the weight of your sin unto death; He earned salvation, and He gives salvation, by putting to death old Adams and raising up new men, first at the font, and then every day after, until that glorious Day when the old Adam in all of His saints is destroyed, immersed and drowned forever, and all that is left is the new man, to live before Him in righteousness and purity forever. In this life, your flesh will resist and oppose you, but these are only the throes of death; your flesh has been defeated, and the day of its doom is quickly approaching. Your sinful flesh will die, but you will live, with a sinless body and a pure soul, forever. You make war against your flesh with the victory already won, by Jesus and Him alone. In His Name, Amen.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Transfiguration (Matthew 17:1-9)
“This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well-pleased; listen to Him!” 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 Transfiguration Day comes from the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the seventeenth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Matthew. Dear friends in Christ, the mountain was high, the glory was great. A voice spoke of the power and majesty that would belong to Jesus. All the earth and its kingdoms lay before His feet, promised to Him, if Jesus would only be obedient to the voice who spoke. But He refused. He rejected this voice, He rejected its offer, He rejected its promise. Instead, He said, “Be gone, Satan! For it is written, ‘You shall worship the Lord your God and Him only shall you serve.’” He refused to transfigure Himself, to grasp after the glory that Satan held before Him; He refused to give worship to any who promised rule over this world apart from the will and plan of His Father. It was the Father who would transfigure His Son, and He would do so at the proper time.
That time came just a couple years later. The mountain was high, the glory was great. A voice spoke of the power and majesty that would belong to Jesus. All the earth and its kingdoms lay before His feet, promised to Him, if Jesus would only be obedient to the voice who spoke. He was clothed in the very glory of God Himself; all that was kept hidden as Jesus walked this earth was brilliantly revealed; the veil was pulled away, if only for a moment. “He was transfigured before them, and His face shone like the sun, and His clothes became white as light.” Although the angels acclaimed Him, all the shepherds saw on Christmas Eve was a baby; although they worshipped Him with great gifts, all the magi saw on Epiphany was a child; although the voice spoke from heaven, all that John saw at His Baptism was a man; but on this day, Transfiguration Day, the three disciples saw the very glory of God, they viewed the unveiled majesty of the Creator of the universe in the flesh. There was no mistaking on this day, on this mountain, that this Jesus is God. As if any additional proof was needed, Moses and Elijah—the one whose grave no man knows and the one who has no grave, the two men who stood on Mount Sinai and conversed with God Himself—appeared in the midst of this glory, talking to the Christ, pointing to Him, as they ever did during their lives on this earth.
The mountain of Transfiguration seems far different than the mountain of self-transfiguration, the mountain of temptation where Satan ever dwells. But Satan is on this mountain, too, still speaking his enticing words: “All these I will give you, if you fall down and worship me.” Take the glory without suffering, Easter without the cross. He doesn’t speak directly here, instead using an emissary, the one whom Jesus called ‘Satan’ just six days earlier. “And Peter said to Jesus, ‘Lord, it is good that we are here.’” Peter is simply echoing the words of our Introit: “How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord of hosts! My soul longs, yes, faints for the courts of the Lord.” His desire to dwell in the glory of the Lord is good and godly, but his words are filled with poison for Jesus. As usual, Satan has twisted the Scriptures and human desires for his own use, to set a stumbling block before Jesus. Even the good and godly desire to dwell in God’s glorious courts can be used to Satan’s ends, if it keeps the Messiah from the cross.
And Peter’s next words reveal that this is exactly the evil one’s strategy. “If you wish, I will make three tents here, one for you and one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He wants to stay on the mountain; He wants to dwell there forever. He is experiencing heaven, and he never wants the experience to end. Peter is overwhelmed by the glory of Jesus, but he is also impressed to be among such select company. Not one tent, but three tents. He exalts Moses and Elijah to the level of Jesus as three great saints of God; He is as awed by their reflected glory as he is by the glory Christ has in Himself. His focus is not solely on Jesus, but also on those who are with Him. Let us stay here, Lord, worshipping, adoring, conversing with this glorious company!
It is not Jesus who answers Satan’s temptations on this mountain; here God the Father speaks. Peter wanted to build some tents; God makes His own tent, a tent of His glory. “He was still speaking when, behold, a bright cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well-pleased. Listen to Him!’” Listen to Jesus; He is my beloved Son. Moses and Elijah are faithful servants, but they are here to point to Jesus, they stand upon this mountain to witness to my Son. They have no desire to exalt themselves; they are not my beloved Son, even though they pointed forward to Him in word and in deed. Listen to no voice that tells you to exalt another human being; my Son is the object of your adoration, because He is your salvation. Listen to Him! It is His voice that you should hear, His voice you should heed.
There are plenty of voices in this world, each claiming to speak with authority. They tell you how to transfigure yourself, how to gain the whole world, as Satan promised on the mountain of temptation. These voices scratch your itching ears, they tell you to seek after glory, to glorify yourself and your own desires, no matter what the cost, no matter what Scripture says about it. They tell you that you deserve to get what you want, that it doesn’t matter whose reputation you destroy on your way to the top. They tell you, as Satan told Peter, to exalt mere humans as God has exalted His Son, whether political leaders, celebrities, football players, or even pastors, but especially yourself, to give sinful humans the honor and worship reserved for God in the flesh. These voices tell you to glory in man. They tell you, as Satan told Peter, to seek glory without suffering, to grasp after victory and majesty without the cross. These voices promise glory, they promise healing, they promise increase, all without the inconvenience of suffering. If your faith is strong enough, if you are a truly a Christian, your life will get better; you can have glory without the suffering. Do not listen to them! Refuse to indulge in their lies!
Listen to Jesus! He alone has the words of eternal life. Listen to Him! He tells you that He cannot stay on that mountain, and neither can you. The mountain-top is not your home, as much as you may want it to be, at least not yet. The voices want you to live on the mountain; aloof from this world, seeking to dwell in that spiritual high that you captured at a youth gathering or concert, or at the Christmases of your youth. The voices want you to chase that feeling, to seek it again and again to keep your faith running strong. The voices want you to make three tents: one for Jesus, one for your pastor, and one for the band (or the organ!). Do not listen to them! Listen to Jesus! He calls you to come down from the mountain and into the valley, for that is the path He must tread. The mountain of Transfiguration has given a glimpse of the glory yet to be, but that glory will only come after suffering. If Jesus stays on that mountain, there will be no glory, for you, for me, for anyone. There will only be darkness for us, even if Jesus continues to shine like a beacon. Listen to Jesus; He must go to the cross. There He will find another kind of glory, but like the glory of Transfiguration, it will drive men to their knees. On that day, Good Friday, as this same Jesus hung dead upon the cross, with the earth shaking and the sun refusing to shine, the centurion in terror cried out, “Truly this was the Son of God!”
The centurion wasn’t on the mountain of Transfiguration, but at the mountain of Christ’s death, Mount Calvary, he understands, at least in part, what is going on. This man, beaten, bloodied, dead, is the Son of God. There is glory hidden there, the glory of God Himself. The Transfiguration was a gift of Jesus to His disciples, a vision of glory to hold on to in the midst of the horrors that were to come, the promise that on the other side of suffering lies exaltation, for Jesus and for us. The Transfiguration is the promise of Easter, of resurrection; His and yours. The Transfiguration shows us what Jesus went down that mountain to win; it is a foretaste of the glory yet to be when He comes again on the Last Day. The Transfiguration shows us the price that needed to be paid for our sin; the cross shows us that Christ was willing to pay it. He goes into the valley of the shadow of death to destroy death; and thus He is with you in the valley, in your suffering, with the promise of deliverance, the promise of glory. The glory will come; that is His promise, His guarantee, sealed by His shed blood. That is your comfort, no matter what your eyes see; He has not left you alone.
The disciples were overwhelmed by the voice of the Father, rebuking Peter, pointing to His Son. They fell on their faces in fear. Then the vision ended, and there was no one left but Jesus only. “Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Rise, and have no fear.’ And when they lifted up their eyes, they saw no one but Jesus only.” Jesus only. Only Jesus is the beloved Son of the Father, the Messiah promised long ago. Only Jesus went to the cross to win glory for us, giving up His life into death to destroy death. Only Jesus can give comfort to you in the midst of affliction, in the midst of suffering; He doesn’t stay up on the mountain-top, but He goes with you into the muck of this sinful world to speak words of comfort. Listen to Jesus. He says, “I forgive you all your sins;” He says, “You are baptized into my name;” He says, “This is my Body, this is my Blood;” He says, “Behold, I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” He says these things to you, and He doesn’t lie. His resurrection proves it. The next time someone would say, ‘Have no fear,’ it was an angel, standing outside of an empty tomb. Have no fear, the promise of the Transfiguration has been fulfilled in the glories of Easter. Have no fear, the sufferings of this present age are not worth comparing to the glories that are yet to come. Suffering comes before glory, but O the glory Chris has for us! There, on Mount Zion, we will say for eternity, “Lord, it is good that we are here.” In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
That time came just a couple years later. The mountain was high, the glory was great. A voice spoke of the power and majesty that would belong to Jesus. All the earth and its kingdoms lay before His feet, promised to Him, if Jesus would only be obedient to the voice who spoke. He was clothed in the very glory of God Himself; all that was kept hidden as Jesus walked this earth was brilliantly revealed; the veil was pulled away, if only for a moment. “He was transfigured before them, and His face shone like the sun, and His clothes became white as light.” Although the angels acclaimed Him, all the shepherds saw on Christmas Eve was a baby; although they worshipped Him with great gifts, all the magi saw on Epiphany was a child; although the voice spoke from heaven, all that John saw at His Baptism was a man; but on this day, Transfiguration Day, the three disciples saw the very glory of God, they viewed the unveiled majesty of the Creator of the universe in the flesh. There was no mistaking on this day, on this mountain, that this Jesus is God. As if any additional proof was needed, Moses and Elijah—the one whose grave no man knows and the one who has no grave, the two men who stood on Mount Sinai and conversed with God Himself—appeared in the midst of this glory, talking to the Christ, pointing to Him, as they ever did during their lives on this earth.
The mountain of Transfiguration seems far different than the mountain of self-transfiguration, the mountain of temptation where Satan ever dwells. But Satan is on this mountain, too, still speaking his enticing words: “All these I will give you, if you fall down and worship me.” Take the glory without suffering, Easter without the cross. He doesn’t speak directly here, instead using an emissary, the one whom Jesus called ‘Satan’ just six days earlier. “And Peter said to Jesus, ‘Lord, it is good that we are here.’” Peter is simply echoing the words of our Introit: “How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord of hosts! My soul longs, yes, faints for the courts of the Lord.” His desire to dwell in the glory of the Lord is good and godly, but his words are filled with poison for Jesus. As usual, Satan has twisted the Scriptures and human desires for his own use, to set a stumbling block before Jesus. Even the good and godly desire to dwell in God’s glorious courts can be used to Satan’s ends, if it keeps the Messiah from the cross.
And Peter’s next words reveal that this is exactly the evil one’s strategy. “If you wish, I will make three tents here, one for you and one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He wants to stay on the mountain; He wants to dwell there forever. He is experiencing heaven, and he never wants the experience to end. Peter is overwhelmed by the glory of Jesus, but he is also impressed to be among such select company. Not one tent, but three tents. He exalts Moses and Elijah to the level of Jesus as three great saints of God; He is as awed by their reflected glory as he is by the glory Christ has in Himself. His focus is not solely on Jesus, but also on those who are with Him. Let us stay here, Lord, worshipping, adoring, conversing with this glorious company!
It is not Jesus who answers Satan’s temptations on this mountain; here God the Father speaks. Peter wanted to build some tents; God makes His own tent, a tent of His glory. “He was still speaking when, behold, a bright cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well-pleased. Listen to Him!’” Listen to Jesus; He is my beloved Son. Moses and Elijah are faithful servants, but they are here to point to Jesus, they stand upon this mountain to witness to my Son. They have no desire to exalt themselves; they are not my beloved Son, even though they pointed forward to Him in word and in deed. Listen to no voice that tells you to exalt another human being; my Son is the object of your adoration, because He is your salvation. Listen to Him! It is His voice that you should hear, His voice you should heed.
There are plenty of voices in this world, each claiming to speak with authority. They tell you how to transfigure yourself, how to gain the whole world, as Satan promised on the mountain of temptation. These voices scratch your itching ears, they tell you to seek after glory, to glorify yourself and your own desires, no matter what the cost, no matter what Scripture says about it. They tell you that you deserve to get what you want, that it doesn’t matter whose reputation you destroy on your way to the top. They tell you, as Satan told Peter, to exalt mere humans as God has exalted His Son, whether political leaders, celebrities, football players, or even pastors, but especially yourself, to give sinful humans the honor and worship reserved for God in the flesh. These voices tell you to glory in man. They tell you, as Satan told Peter, to seek glory without suffering, to grasp after victory and majesty without the cross. These voices promise glory, they promise healing, they promise increase, all without the inconvenience of suffering. If your faith is strong enough, if you are a truly a Christian, your life will get better; you can have glory without the suffering. Do not listen to them! Refuse to indulge in their lies!
Listen to Jesus! He alone has the words of eternal life. Listen to Him! He tells you that He cannot stay on that mountain, and neither can you. The mountain-top is not your home, as much as you may want it to be, at least not yet. The voices want you to live on the mountain; aloof from this world, seeking to dwell in that spiritual high that you captured at a youth gathering or concert, or at the Christmases of your youth. The voices want you to chase that feeling, to seek it again and again to keep your faith running strong. The voices want you to make three tents: one for Jesus, one for your pastor, and one for the band (or the organ!). Do not listen to them! Listen to Jesus! He calls you to come down from the mountain and into the valley, for that is the path He must tread. The mountain of Transfiguration has given a glimpse of the glory yet to be, but that glory will only come after suffering. If Jesus stays on that mountain, there will be no glory, for you, for me, for anyone. There will only be darkness for us, even if Jesus continues to shine like a beacon. Listen to Jesus; He must go to the cross. There He will find another kind of glory, but like the glory of Transfiguration, it will drive men to their knees. On that day, Good Friday, as this same Jesus hung dead upon the cross, with the earth shaking and the sun refusing to shine, the centurion in terror cried out, “Truly this was the Son of God!”
The centurion wasn’t on the mountain of Transfiguration, but at the mountain of Christ’s death, Mount Calvary, he understands, at least in part, what is going on. This man, beaten, bloodied, dead, is the Son of God. There is glory hidden there, the glory of God Himself. The Transfiguration was a gift of Jesus to His disciples, a vision of glory to hold on to in the midst of the horrors that were to come, the promise that on the other side of suffering lies exaltation, for Jesus and for us. The Transfiguration is the promise of Easter, of resurrection; His and yours. The Transfiguration shows us what Jesus went down that mountain to win; it is a foretaste of the glory yet to be when He comes again on the Last Day. The Transfiguration shows us the price that needed to be paid for our sin; the cross shows us that Christ was willing to pay it. He goes into the valley of the shadow of death to destroy death; and thus He is with you in the valley, in your suffering, with the promise of deliverance, the promise of glory. The glory will come; that is His promise, His guarantee, sealed by His shed blood. That is your comfort, no matter what your eyes see; He has not left you alone.
The disciples were overwhelmed by the voice of the Father, rebuking Peter, pointing to His Son. They fell on their faces in fear. Then the vision ended, and there was no one left but Jesus only. “Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Rise, and have no fear.’ And when they lifted up their eyes, they saw no one but Jesus only.” Jesus only. Only Jesus is the beloved Son of the Father, the Messiah promised long ago. Only Jesus went to the cross to win glory for us, giving up His life into death to destroy death. Only Jesus can give comfort to you in the midst of affliction, in the midst of suffering; He doesn’t stay up on the mountain-top, but He goes with you into the muck of this sinful world to speak words of comfort. Listen to Jesus. He says, “I forgive you all your sins;” He says, “You are baptized into my name;” He says, “This is my Body, this is my Blood;” He says, “Behold, I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” He says these things to you, and He doesn’t lie. His resurrection proves it. The next time someone would say, ‘Have no fear,’ it was an angel, standing outside of an empty tomb. Have no fear, the promise of the Transfiguration has been fulfilled in the glories of Easter. Have no fear, the sufferings of this present age are not worth comparing to the glories that are yet to come. Suffering comes before glory, but O the glory Chris has for us! There, on Mount Zion, we will say for eternity, “Lord, it is good that we are here.” In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)