“I AM the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.” 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 commemoration of the presentation of the Augsburg Confession, the foundational confession of the Lutheran Church, is the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the fifteenth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint John. Dear friends in Christ: “I will speak of your statutes before kings, O Lord, and will not be put to shame.” June 25th, 1530. Augsburg, Germany. A group of laymen were gathered before the emperor, before the representatives of the pope, before the powers and principalities of this world. They read a document, a confession, crafted by theologians, principally Philip Melanchthon, but confessed by laymen, princes and political officials. These men were fully conscious what this confession would mean; not only were they putting their lives on the line, but they were also confessing before Almighty God, to whom they would answer on Judgment Day. But they were not put to shame. They were not ashamed, they were not embarrassed, they were not timid, for they took their stand on the Word of God. They set themselves forward, in accordance with that Word, to oppose any attempt to take honor away from Christ, any attempt to achieve salvation apart from Him, in full or in part, in accord with His Word: “Apart from me you can do nothing.”
Apart from Christ, there is nothing good in this world, for apart from Christ there is no faith, apart from Christ there are no good works. Apart from Christ, there is nothing, only sin and condemnation. Apart from Christ, no one has access to their Creator. Apart from Christ, there is no heavenly joy, only the wrath of judgment. To think otherwise is to think that a branch can survive without its vine. “I AM the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.” Christ is the vine, the true vine that replaces God’s original planting, the nation of Israel, which did not produce the fruit He desired. Apart from Christ, the branches are not nourished, they are not cared for. Apart from Christ, there is not the pruning that all healthy branches need.
“I AM the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch of mine that does not bear fruit He takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.” Apart from Christ, branches wither and decay, they are cut off to be burned. But those who are in Christ are pruned, and the word used here for ‘pruned,’ has the original meaning of ‘cleansed.’ How do you cleanse a branch? By cutting off its impurities, by pruning it. How do you cleanse a person, body and soul? By washing, the washing of the water with the Word. Jesus says to you and me, “Already you are clean because of the Word that I have spoken to you.” You have been cleansed by the washing of Holy Baptism, you have been scrubbed clean in the font; through the power of the Holy Spirit, you have been attached to the true vine, Jesus Christ. You are a part of His Body, the Church, connected to Him and your fellow Christians as branches are connected to a vine. And now the Father prunes you, cutting away every imperfection, cleansing you again and again, daily putting you to death in a return to your baptism and raising you up again to live before Him in righteousness and purity forever. You are cleansed, pruned, as the Father calls you to repentance through the Law and forgives your sin by the Gospel, each and every day, with each and every sin. You are cleansed, pruned daily, until that Day when every imperfection is finally cut away, and you stand before Him in the white robes, a pure and uncorrupted branch, forever.
Apart from Christ, you can do nothing. In Christ, you are clean by virtue of your baptism, you are attached to the true vine, and God works to cleanse you, to prune you, day by day in a return to the font. Apart from Christ, there is no cleansing, there is no pruning, there is only the growth of corruption. “If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.” Apart from Christ, there is only burning. Apart from Christ, there is only destruction. Apart from Christ, there is no faith, no trust in the true God. A branch cannot live on its own; it can only have life if it receives that life from the vine. Christ is the vine; we are the branches. We receive our life from Him, by receiving His gifts, the life-giving nutrients that flow into us by the Holy Word, preached and read, and in the Sacrament of the Altar, where the sap of the true vine flows into our veins. Any and all who cut themselves off from these means will wither away. Apart from Christ, you can do nothing. There is no other way, no other path. Either we are attached to Christ, receiving life from Him, or we are apart from Him, withering away and destined to be burned.
Apart from Christ, no one can be saved. Apart from Christ, all are alike condemned. Why? Because only Christ has paid the price for our sin; only Christ hung upon the cross and faced the wrath of God over your sin and mine. Only Christ is both true man, living a perfect life in your place, able to lay down His life as a sacrifice, and also true God, offering up a sacrifice sufficient for all the sin of the world. Only Christ went into the grave to come back out again, holding the keys of death and Hades. If you can find another savior who has paid the debt you owe, who has triumphed over the grave, you are welcome to him; but only Christ has won the salvation that all men need, only Christ gives it freely to you, and therefore Christ says, “apart from me you can do nothing.”
We can do nothing apart from Christ; nothing good, that is. With these words, Jesus shatters any confidence in human works; they are quite simply no good before God apart from Christ. “Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me.” No work is good apart from Christ; we cannot keep the Law apart from being connected to the One who kept the Law on our behalf. A branch laying on the ground, cut off from the vine, cannot produce fruit; it is impossible. In the same way, anyone who is apart from Christ cannot do a good work; it is impossible. Their deeds may look good, they may help many, and we can rightly praise and encourage them in an earthly way, but before God these works are only sinful. They cannot bring salvation, they cannot bring a man to God, but only condemn him.
On the other hand, those connected to Christ, those who are attached to Him as the true vine, bear much good fruit. “By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples.” Branches connected to the true vine bear fruit; this is simply a fact. They do not bear fruit in order to be attached to the vine, but they bear fruit because they are attached to the vine. And what is that fruit? One word: love. “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in His love.” We love as Christ loved us: laying down our lives for others, placing them and their needs ahead of our own. That is the fruit that those who are in the true vine bear. That is the fruit that Christ calls on you to bear. But this fruit cannot be produced on your own, by yourself, but only through the life-giving gifts that Christ gives. “Apart from me you can do nothing.” We love as Christ has loved us; we receive love from Christ here in this place, and then we extend that love to others as God places them before us.
We do this in joy; not under compulsion, not under the threat of punishment, not out of a need to earn God’s favor. We have God’s favor, we are attached to the vine; we now serve others in freedom, with great joy. “These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.” It is no coincidence that Jesus calls Himself a vine when the picture of the joy of the kingdom of heaven almost always includes wine. Being attached to the true vine and bearing much fruit lead to joy, the very joy of heaven itself. Apart from Christ there is no faith, apart from Christ there are no good works, and apart from Christ, there is no joy.
It was on that great truth that the confessors at Augsburg took their stand. “Apart from me you can do nothing.” Their Roman opponents certainly held to Jesus as the only one who gives access to the Father. Their error was more subtle; they privileged human works by giving them a role to play in achieving salvation. Faith and works together brought the believer into a saving relationship with God. In response, the confessors went to John chapter 15 and declared: “Without faith human nature cannot possibly do the works of the First or Second Commandments. Without faith it does not call upon God, expect anything of God, or bear the cross, but it seeks and trusts in man’s help. Accordingly, when there is no faith and trust in God, all manner of lusts and human devices rule in the heart. Wherefore Christ said, ‘Apart from me you can do nothing.’” Faith comes first, then works, and those works have nothing to do with making a person righteous before God. No work that precedes faith and justification is good, but is damnable and condemned, no matter how beautiful it appears.
Melanchthon emphasizes this point in the Apology, or defense, of the Augsburg Confession. “Our opponents imagine that we are members of Moses rather than of Christ. They want to be justified by the law and to offer our works to God before being reconciled to God and becoming the branches of Christ.” The debate at Augsburg was not over whether Christians do good works, but where those good works were to be found: not before justification, not during justification, but flowing from justification, as those attached to the vine in joy bring forth the good fruit that delights the vinedresser, the fruit that will fill the foaming cups of wine in the halls of heaven, forever. In the Name of the true vine, Jesus Christ, Amen.
Thursday, June 30, 2016
St. Barnabas (Mark 6:7-13)
“And if any place will not receive you and they will not listen to you, when you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and our Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. The text for our sermon this feast of Saint Barnabas comes from the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the sixth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Mark. Dear friends in Christ, Barnabas was an apostle, a sent one. Not one of the Apostles, mind you, the chosen Twelve whom Jesus sends out on vicarage in our text, but he was certainly a ‘little a’ apostle, one sent by Christ through the Church, sent far and wide, with one task and then another. In our Epistle lesson Barnabas is first sent to Antioch, to see the firstfruits of the Gospel among Gentiles. He is next sent to Tarsus to find the newly converted Saul. He is then sent to Jerusalem with an offering for the impoverished Church, and finally, no less than the Holy Spirit Himself speaks to send Barnabas with Saul on the latter’s first missionary journey. “Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.” A ‘little a’ apostle, a ‘sent one,’ does not go on his own volition, even if he is eager to go, even if he volunteered. A sent one never sends himself. Instead, by definition a sent one is sent by another, and when it comes to the messengers of the Word, the One who sends is Jesus Himself.
“And He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits.” Sent ones have little choice in where they are sent. Saul and Barnabas didn’t choose their missionary journey, even if they were eager to go; neither did the disciples have any choice when they first became apostles on their vicarage. Even today, a pastor is sent; he does not go freely on his own volition. He may choose not to go when a call is offered, but he cannot choose when a call might come or where it might lead him. His call is just that, a call; he can choose to remain at his current call when another call is offered, but he cannot choose whether that other call ever comes. “Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.” Nor are the sent ones free to fend for themselves when they reach the place where they have been called. “He charged them to take nothing for their journey except a staff—no bread, no bag, no money in their belts—but to wear sandals and not put on two tunics.” They are to be provided for by those who are grateful to have heard the Word. On the other hand, they are expressly forbidden to shop around for the place that will give them the best accommodations. “Whenever you enter a house, stay there until you depart from there.” Their task is not to make money or live comfortably, it is to preach.
Sent ones preach, and those to whom they are sent hear. Faithful preachers are to be heard by believing hearers. According to the Third Commandment, faithful preachers are to be listened to. “We should far and love God so that we do not despise preaching and His Word, but hold it sacred and gladly hear and learn it.” Hearers owe faithful preachers attention and listening ears, for it is not the preachers, the sent ones, who are heard, but the One who sent them, God Himself. Preachers owe it to believing hearers to be faithful; they are held accountable to teach the Word of God in its truth and purity, as the First Petition of the Lord’s Prayer teaches. “God’s Name is kept holy when the Word of God is taught in its truth and purity, and we, as the children of God also lead holy lives according to it.” And when faithful preachers preach and believing hearers hear, the hearers support the physical needs of the one who is sent to them. Perhaps a congregation cannot support a sent one on their own, but if they have received the teaching Christ expects them to provide for the teacher as much as they are able. Reception of the Word a faithful preacher proclaims leads to provision for his needs.
Rejection of the Word a faithful preacher proclaims leads to the rejection of his needs. Faithless hearers starve faithful sent ones. Faithless hearers shut their doors, they shut their homes, they shut their hearts. Sent ones are called upon to be faithful, and when they are faithful, hearers are called upon to listen, as we confess in the Small Catechism. “I believe that when the called ministers of Christ deal with us by His divine command, in particular when they exclude openly unrepentant sinners from the Christian congregation and absolve those who repent of their sin and want to do better, this is just as valid and certain, eve in heaven, as if Christ our dear Lord had dealt with us Himself.” Faithless sent ones should be removed, but faithless hearers so often cast out faithful preachers, they ‘vote with their wallet,’ they cut benefits and salaries for no fiscal reason, they finally seek for ways to cast out the one who was sent to them. Soon the sent one finds himself with only the little that Jesus sent him out with, expecting the hearers to provide. “He charged them to take nothing for their journey.” And with nothing, faithful sent ones are cast out, they are cast aside; perhaps not physically wounded, they are mentally abused and traumatized. They took little with them as Christ sent them out, and they have little left when faithless hearers are done with them.
Jesus has one piece of advice when faithful sent ones are rejected by faithless hearers. “And if any place will not receive you and they will not listen to you, when you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” When a sent one has been unfaithful, it is he that should be cast out by believing hearers; but when a sent one has been faithful and yet rejected, even the dust should not cling to his feet when he departs. “But anyone who teaches or lives contrary to God’s Word profanes the name of God among us. Protect us from this, heavenly Father!” Faithful preachers shake off the dust to call to repentance, as a declaration of the seriousness of rejecting the Word. Like God hardening Pharaoh’s heart, it is a fearful thing for God to leave you alone in your sin because you have rejected His Word. When the sent one moves on, there is no guarantee that God will send another; the passing rain shower of the Gospel may move to another place for years, decades, even generations! Heed the Word when a faithful preacher calls on you to repent, when you are called to turn away from your sin and believe the Gospel. Do not watch God’s messengers shake their feet, but hearken to faithful sent ones when they fulfill their task in accordance with the Word they were sent to preach.
For the power is in the Word, not in the sent one who bears it. Barnabas may have been a “good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith,” as Luke describes him, and he certainly was endowed with many gifts that qualified him for the task of representing the apostles in Antioch and accompanying Paul on his first missionary journey, but the power of his proclamation didn’t rest in himself, it rested in the Word. Neither did the disciples’ seeming success come from their own powers. “And [Jesus] called the Twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits… So they went out and proclaimed that people should repent. And they cast out many demons and anointed with oil many who were sick and healed them.” The power over sin, Satan, and even death belongs to Jesus Himself. He is the One who conquered, He is the One who triumphed, He is the One who seized the victory from all of our enemies. He is the One who paid the price, who gave up His life into death, who bore the sin of the world, even your sin, and mine. And when He rose victorious on Easter morning, He left that tomb with the keys of death and hell in His hands.
“And He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits.” Sent ones have little choice in where they are sent. Saul and Barnabas didn’t choose their missionary journey, even if they were eager to go; neither did the disciples have any choice when they first became apostles on their vicarage. Even today, a pastor is sent; he does not go freely on his own volition. He may choose not to go when a call is offered, but he cannot choose when a call might come or where it might lead him. His call is just that, a call; he can choose to remain at his current call when another call is offered, but he cannot choose whether that other call ever comes. “Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.” Nor are the sent ones free to fend for themselves when they reach the place where they have been called. “He charged them to take nothing for their journey except a staff—no bread, no bag, no money in their belts—but to wear sandals and not put on two tunics.” They are to be provided for by those who are grateful to have heard the Word. On the other hand, they are expressly forbidden to shop around for the place that will give them the best accommodations. “Whenever you enter a house, stay there until you depart from there.” Their task is not to make money or live comfortably, it is to preach.
Sent ones preach, and those to whom they are sent hear. Faithful preachers are to be heard by believing hearers. According to the Third Commandment, faithful preachers are to be listened to. “We should far and love God so that we do not despise preaching and His Word, but hold it sacred and gladly hear and learn it.” Hearers owe faithful preachers attention and listening ears, for it is not the preachers, the sent ones, who are heard, but the One who sent them, God Himself. Preachers owe it to believing hearers to be faithful; they are held accountable to teach the Word of God in its truth and purity, as the First Petition of the Lord’s Prayer teaches. “God’s Name is kept holy when the Word of God is taught in its truth and purity, and we, as the children of God also lead holy lives according to it.” And when faithful preachers preach and believing hearers hear, the hearers support the physical needs of the one who is sent to them. Perhaps a congregation cannot support a sent one on their own, but if they have received the teaching Christ expects them to provide for the teacher as much as they are able. Reception of the Word a faithful preacher proclaims leads to provision for his needs.
Rejection of the Word a faithful preacher proclaims leads to the rejection of his needs. Faithless hearers starve faithful sent ones. Faithless hearers shut their doors, they shut their homes, they shut their hearts. Sent ones are called upon to be faithful, and when they are faithful, hearers are called upon to listen, as we confess in the Small Catechism. “I believe that when the called ministers of Christ deal with us by His divine command, in particular when they exclude openly unrepentant sinners from the Christian congregation and absolve those who repent of their sin and want to do better, this is just as valid and certain, eve in heaven, as if Christ our dear Lord had dealt with us Himself.” Faithless sent ones should be removed, but faithless hearers so often cast out faithful preachers, they ‘vote with their wallet,’ they cut benefits and salaries for no fiscal reason, they finally seek for ways to cast out the one who was sent to them. Soon the sent one finds himself with only the little that Jesus sent him out with, expecting the hearers to provide. “He charged them to take nothing for their journey.” And with nothing, faithful sent ones are cast out, they are cast aside; perhaps not physically wounded, they are mentally abused and traumatized. They took little with them as Christ sent them out, and they have little left when faithless hearers are done with them.
Jesus has one piece of advice when faithful sent ones are rejected by faithless hearers. “And if any place will not receive you and they will not listen to you, when you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” When a sent one has been unfaithful, it is he that should be cast out by believing hearers; but when a sent one has been faithful and yet rejected, even the dust should not cling to his feet when he departs. “But anyone who teaches or lives contrary to God’s Word profanes the name of God among us. Protect us from this, heavenly Father!” Faithful preachers shake off the dust to call to repentance, as a declaration of the seriousness of rejecting the Word. Like God hardening Pharaoh’s heart, it is a fearful thing for God to leave you alone in your sin because you have rejected His Word. When the sent one moves on, there is no guarantee that God will send another; the passing rain shower of the Gospel may move to another place for years, decades, even generations! Heed the Word when a faithful preacher calls on you to repent, when you are called to turn away from your sin and believe the Gospel. Do not watch God’s messengers shake their feet, but hearken to faithful sent ones when they fulfill their task in accordance with the Word they were sent to preach.
For the power is in the Word, not in the sent one who bears it. Barnabas may have been a “good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith,” as Luke describes him, and he certainly was endowed with many gifts that qualified him for the task of representing the apostles in Antioch and accompanying Paul on his first missionary journey, but the power of his proclamation didn’t rest in himself, it rested in the Word. Neither did the disciples’ seeming success come from their own powers. “And [Jesus] called the Twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits… So they went out and proclaimed that people should repent. And they cast out many demons and anointed with oil many who were sick and healed them.” The power over sin, Satan, and even death belongs to Jesus Himself. He is the One who conquered, He is the One who triumphed, He is the One who seized the victory from all of our enemies. He is the One who paid the price, who gave up His life into death, who bore the sin of the world, even your sin, and mine. And when He rose victorious on Easter morning, He left that tomb with the keys of death and hell in His hands.
Jesus gives to His sent ones authority to exercise those keys for your good. They are to cast out demons with the power of the Word attached to water, setting you free from the choke-hold of Satan. They are to heal those sick with death by giving them the medicine of immortality, the power of the Word attached to bread and wine. And they are to comfort you when your sin is pointed out and you are driven to your knees in repentance with the power of His Words of forgiveness. That is where the power lies; in the Word, not the man, whether Barnabas or Paul or your own pastor. For the Word is Christ’s Word, and He has won the victory—for you! In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Trinity 1 (Luke 16:19-31)
“If they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead.” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and our Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. The text for our sermon this morning is the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the sixteenth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Luke. Dear friends in Christ, ‘Appearances are deceiving;’ ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover;’ ‘You can’t see into the heart.’ These are not biblical phrases, but popular expressions, meant to keep us from judging others based on what our eyes see. Our culture’s obsession with ‘tolerance’ and ‘acceptance’ is founded on these ideas, the basic premise that appearances don’t tell the whole story, that we are not to condemn others on sight, but must learn to know their character. This is hardly new. The nineteenth century writer Jane Austen set up each of her still-popular novels with the idea that something (or usually someone) is not as they appear. Mistaken identity was the driving force behind the mishaps and misunderstandings that filled her pages, and when they were finally resolved, the heroine lived happily ever after. Austen’s message was simple: don’t trust your eyes; appearances are deceiving! But we don’t listen. We still trust our eyes, no matter how many people tell us differently. In our human relationships, this can lead to drama and comedy on the one hand, or racism and violence on the other, but theologically the stakes are even higher: trusting your eyes can lead you straight to hell.
“There was a rich man who was clothed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day.” What do your eyes see? They see luxury, they see abundance, they see success. They see a banquet table piled high, filled with abundance for this man and all his acquaintances. He is held in high esteem by all, he is exalted by the masses, envied by his friends, honored by his family. He lives the kind of life that we want to lead, he has the standard of living that we aspire to, that all the commercials promise us. But there’s even more to this, a theological element. You see, this guy’s a child of Abraham, a member of the church. This takes our observations to a whole new level. This man isn’t just successful because he pursued the right opportunity, he is blessed by God Himself! Just look at him! He oozes evidence of God’s blessings! He must have a powerful faith, he must say the right prayers, he must live the upright life that God has called him to lead. How do we know? We can see it! He is showing every evidence of God’s favor in the abundance that fills his life, the same abundance that the preachers promised him. And we can contrast the blessings we see inside the rich man’s house with the curse that we observe outside his door.
“And at his gate was laid a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who desired to be fed with what fell from the rich man’s table. Moreover, even the dogs came and licked his sores.” What do your eyes see? They see poverty, they see deprivation, they see failure. They see ribs sticking out, an emaciated frame, a life that has little to live for. He is looked down upon by all, he is ignored by the masses, rejected by his friends, abandoned by his family. He lives the kind of life that we are glad to have avoided, because we worked hard, while he obviously didn’t, and now he subsists only on the generosity of others and the welfare of the state. ‘Get a job’ we mutter as we pass him by, ‘Quit trying to make me feel sorry for you!’ But there’s even more to this, a theological element. You see, this man is a child of Abraham, a member of the church. This takes our observations to a whole new level. This man isn’t just impoverished because he has no work ethic, he is cursed by God Himself! Just look at him! He quite literally oozes evidence of God’s abandonment, God’s curse! He must have a weak faith, he must not say the right prayers, he must not live the upright life that God has called him to lead. He must not believe hard enough, pray hard enough, and must be truly wicked, rotten to the core. How do we know? We can see it! He is showing every evidence of God’s curse in the poverty and suffering that fills his life, the same poverty and suffering that the preachers warned him about.
These men have nothing in common; absolutely nothing. One shows every evidence of faithfulness to God in the material blessings that fill his life. The other shows every evidence of wickedness in the poverty that has consumed him. Our eyes tell us that one has God’s blessing, while the other has been condemned by God’s curse. But then they die. The one thing they have in common is death. And at death, what our eyes have seen, what we have observed, is proved to be completely and utterly false.
“The poor man died and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s side.” Death makes all things clear. It removes all the external trappings of this life, all those material things which we use to make our judgments. All those things are gone, and when they are gone, the truth is plain. This man, who suffered so completely in this life, was not cursed by God, He was not abandoned and rejected by Him. No, instead he was blessed, so blessed in fact, that after a lifetime of suffering he is given an eternity of comfort. Appearances are deceiving. Lazarus was not saved by his poverty, he was saved because he heard the Word and believed it. He is saved because He has a Savior, Jesus Christ, who hung upon a cross to deliver him from the poverty that consumed him, the sores that covered him, the death that one day would take him. He is saved because he did not put his trust in what his eyes saw. He did not look to his life as evidence of God’s favor or curse. No, instead he looked to Jesus. No matter how poor and miserable his life became, Lazarus looked to Jesus to know what God thought of him. He rests at the side of Abraham because Jesus made Himself poor and miserable, even submitting to death for Lazarus’ sake. Now, Lazarus feasts eternally, for he is covered with the victory of Jesus; no more will he be deprived, no more will he hunger. Like father Abraham, Lazarus “believed the Lord, and He counted it to him as righteousness.”
The rich man is an entirely different story. “The rich man also died and was buried, and in Hades, being in torment, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus at his side.” Death makes all things clear. Certainly the rich man had a lavish funeral, while the body of Lazarus was more than likely tossed in a ditch, but there was no mistaking that the same death had claimed them both. And on the day of his death, the rich man discovered, to his eternal sorrow, that appearances are deceiving. He thought his wealth was evidence of God’s great favor, but his wealth had nothing to do with God’s eternal pleasure or displeasure. Instead, it was a blessing in this world, given freely by the God that gives all good things, given as an opportunity to show love. “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.” The rich man’s refusal to show Lazarus love flowed from a heart that had no love toward God, a heart that had not been converted. “We love because He first loved us.”
The rich man refused to relieve the suffering of Lazarus, even though he passed him every single day, and now, for eternity, the rich man suffers. The rich man was not condemned for being rich; he was not even condemned for his lack of love toward Lazarus (Jesus died for that sin, too!), he was condemned for refusing the love of God in Christ, for refusing to repent and receive forgiveness for his greed, for trusting himself rather than in Jesus. Having rejected God’s love, having refused to receive or give such love, he can only receive wrath. His trust, his dependence, was in what his eyes saw; he thought that his material blessings were evidence of God’s favor, but he abandoned and rejected the Word, the Word of Law which called on him to love his neighbor, and the Word of Gospel which proclaimed the Savior who loved him and died to deliver him from that awful place.
Even in hell he continues to distrust the Word. Having failed to obtain relief for his sufferings, the rich man now thinks of those who are left behind, his brothers who, like him, trust in what their eyes see. “Then I beg you, father, to send [Lazarus] to my father’s house—for I have five brothers—so that he may warn them, lest they also come to this place of torment.” Abraham’s answer is to point to the very thing the rich man had constantly rejected: the Word. “They have Moses and the Prophets; let them hear them.” The rich man’s response is telling. “No, father Abraham, but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.” The Word is not sufficient, the Word is not enough, only miracles will suffice. He who trusted his eyes throughout his life continues to trust them even in hell. But Abraham points us all to our ears. “If they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead.”
Appearances are deceiving. In your hands you hold a Bible, a book bound and printed like any other book, published and distributed throughout the world. You come to this place and hear a man, an ordinary man, a sinful man, stand up here and talk, reading from the Bible, applying and explaining it to you. You go home, and maybe your bank account increases, maybe not; perhaps you suffer greatly. But you do not trust what your eyes see, whether they see good or bad, success or suffering. You trust what the Word says, even though it seems to contradict all you see. Do not trust your eyes, do not let them tell you what God thinks of you; trust your ears, for into your ears comes the Word, and the Word proclaims to you the One who did rise from the dead, lives and reigns to all eternity. It is at the cross that you are told what God thinks of you: He loves you, He took on human flesh to bear your sin to the cross and there pay the price for them, and He pours out these gifts in abundance in the Word. You have a place in the bosom of father Abraham, and on the day when the angels carry you to his side, you will enjoy the banquet of heaven forever, knowing that nothing will ever snatch you from your seat at the table, that there your eyes will see what your ears heard, forever. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
“There was a rich man who was clothed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day.” What do your eyes see? They see luxury, they see abundance, they see success. They see a banquet table piled high, filled with abundance for this man and all his acquaintances. He is held in high esteem by all, he is exalted by the masses, envied by his friends, honored by his family. He lives the kind of life that we want to lead, he has the standard of living that we aspire to, that all the commercials promise us. But there’s even more to this, a theological element. You see, this guy’s a child of Abraham, a member of the church. This takes our observations to a whole new level. This man isn’t just successful because he pursued the right opportunity, he is blessed by God Himself! Just look at him! He oozes evidence of God’s blessings! He must have a powerful faith, he must say the right prayers, he must live the upright life that God has called him to lead. How do we know? We can see it! He is showing every evidence of God’s favor in the abundance that fills his life, the same abundance that the preachers promised him. And we can contrast the blessings we see inside the rich man’s house with the curse that we observe outside his door.
“And at his gate was laid a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who desired to be fed with what fell from the rich man’s table. Moreover, even the dogs came and licked his sores.” What do your eyes see? They see poverty, they see deprivation, they see failure. They see ribs sticking out, an emaciated frame, a life that has little to live for. He is looked down upon by all, he is ignored by the masses, rejected by his friends, abandoned by his family. He lives the kind of life that we are glad to have avoided, because we worked hard, while he obviously didn’t, and now he subsists only on the generosity of others and the welfare of the state. ‘Get a job’ we mutter as we pass him by, ‘Quit trying to make me feel sorry for you!’ But there’s even more to this, a theological element. You see, this man is a child of Abraham, a member of the church. This takes our observations to a whole new level. This man isn’t just impoverished because he has no work ethic, he is cursed by God Himself! Just look at him! He quite literally oozes evidence of God’s abandonment, God’s curse! He must have a weak faith, he must not say the right prayers, he must not live the upright life that God has called him to lead. He must not believe hard enough, pray hard enough, and must be truly wicked, rotten to the core. How do we know? We can see it! He is showing every evidence of God’s curse in the poverty and suffering that fills his life, the same poverty and suffering that the preachers warned him about.
These men have nothing in common; absolutely nothing. One shows every evidence of faithfulness to God in the material blessings that fill his life. The other shows every evidence of wickedness in the poverty that has consumed him. Our eyes tell us that one has God’s blessing, while the other has been condemned by God’s curse. But then they die. The one thing they have in common is death. And at death, what our eyes have seen, what we have observed, is proved to be completely and utterly false.
“The poor man died and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s side.” Death makes all things clear. It removes all the external trappings of this life, all those material things which we use to make our judgments. All those things are gone, and when they are gone, the truth is plain. This man, who suffered so completely in this life, was not cursed by God, He was not abandoned and rejected by Him. No, instead he was blessed, so blessed in fact, that after a lifetime of suffering he is given an eternity of comfort. Appearances are deceiving. Lazarus was not saved by his poverty, he was saved because he heard the Word and believed it. He is saved because He has a Savior, Jesus Christ, who hung upon a cross to deliver him from the poverty that consumed him, the sores that covered him, the death that one day would take him. He is saved because he did not put his trust in what his eyes saw. He did not look to his life as evidence of God’s favor or curse. No, instead he looked to Jesus. No matter how poor and miserable his life became, Lazarus looked to Jesus to know what God thought of him. He rests at the side of Abraham because Jesus made Himself poor and miserable, even submitting to death for Lazarus’ sake. Now, Lazarus feasts eternally, for he is covered with the victory of Jesus; no more will he be deprived, no more will he hunger. Like father Abraham, Lazarus “believed the Lord, and He counted it to him as righteousness.”
The rich man is an entirely different story. “The rich man also died and was buried, and in Hades, being in torment, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus at his side.” Death makes all things clear. Certainly the rich man had a lavish funeral, while the body of Lazarus was more than likely tossed in a ditch, but there was no mistaking that the same death had claimed them both. And on the day of his death, the rich man discovered, to his eternal sorrow, that appearances are deceiving. He thought his wealth was evidence of God’s great favor, but his wealth had nothing to do with God’s eternal pleasure or displeasure. Instead, it was a blessing in this world, given freely by the God that gives all good things, given as an opportunity to show love. “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.” The rich man’s refusal to show Lazarus love flowed from a heart that had no love toward God, a heart that had not been converted. “We love because He first loved us.”
The rich man refused to relieve the suffering of Lazarus, even though he passed him every single day, and now, for eternity, the rich man suffers. The rich man was not condemned for being rich; he was not even condemned for his lack of love toward Lazarus (Jesus died for that sin, too!), he was condemned for refusing the love of God in Christ, for refusing to repent and receive forgiveness for his greed, for trusting himself rather than in Jesus. Having rejected God’s love, having refused to receive or give such love, he can only receive wrath. His trust, his dependence, was in what his eyes saw; he thought that his material blessings were evidence of God’s favor, but he abandoned and rejected the Word, the Word of Law which called on him to love his neighbor, and the Word of Gospel which proclaimed the Savior who loved him and died to deliver him from that awful place.
Even in hell he continues to distrust the Word. Having failed to obtain relief for his sufferings, the rich man now thinks of those who are left behind, his brothers who, like him, trust in what their eyes see. “Then I beg you, father, to send [Lazarus] to my father’s house—for I have five brothers—so that he may warn them, lest they also come to this place of torment.” Abraham’s answer is to point to the very thing the rich man had constantly rejected: the Word. “They have Moses and the Prophets; let them hear them.” The rich man’s response is telling. “No, father Abraham, but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.” The Word is not sufficient, the Word is not enough, only miracles will suffice. He who trusted his eyes throughout his life continues to trust them even in hell. But Abraham points us all to our ears. “If they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead.”
Appearances are deceiving. In your hands you hold a Bible, a book bound and printed like any other book, published and distributed throughout the world. You come to this place and hear a man, an ordinary man, a sinful man, stand up here and talk, reading from the Bible, applying and explaining it to you. You go home, and maybe your bank account increases, maybe not; perhaps you suffer greatly. But you do not trust what your eyes see, whether they see good or bad, success or suffering. You trust what the Word says, even though it seems to contradict all you see. Do not trust your eyes, do not let them tell you what God thinks of you; trust your ears, for into your ears comes the Word, and the Word proclaims to you the One who did rise from the dead, lives and reigns to all eternity. It is at the cross that you are told what God thinks of you: He loves you, He took on human flesh to bear your sin to the cross and there pay the price for them, and He pours out these gifts in abundance in the Word. You have a place in the bosom of father Abraham, and on the day when the angels carry you to his side, you will enjoy the banquet of heaven forever, knowing that nothing will ever snatch you from your seat at the table, that there your eyes will see what your ears heard, forever. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Pentecost (John 14:23-31)
“These things I have spoken to you while I am still with you. But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, He will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and our Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. The text for our sermon on this, the festival of Pentecost, is the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the fourteenth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint John. Dear friends in Christ: On the day of Pentecost, “there came from heaven a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting,” but that was not the greatest miracle of that day. On the day of Pentecost, “divided tongues as of fire appeared to them and rested on each one of them,” but that was not the greatest miracle of that day. On the day of Pentecost, the disciples “began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit gave them utterance,” but even that was not the greatest miracle of that day. The greatest miracle of that day is attested to by the crowd who gathered there. “We hear them telling in our own tongues the mighty works of God.” Not wind, not fire, not even tongues, but what those tongues proclaimed is the most amazing miracle of that day. For on the day of Pentecost, the assembled crowd heard the Word of God; they heard the Gospel, and they believed.
The Holy Spirit comes through the Word, the Holy Spirit comes bringing the Word, the Holy Spirit does nothing apart from the Word. The signs and wonders He brings are not an end in themselves, they point us to the Word. His task is twofold: “The Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my Name, He will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.” Teach and remind, teach and remind. That is His task until Christ comes again. He teaches us the Gospel, proclaiming to us the rich and abundant promise of Christ’s dwelling in, with, and under the Church; in, with, and under Christians. “If anyone loves me, he will keep my Word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him.” Those who believe the Word, the Word brought by the Holy Spirit, the Word which brings the Holy Spirit, by the faith which the Holy Spirit Himself creates, receive the very indwelling of God Himself. Your body quite literally is made into a temple, a place where God Himself is present. That is the Spirit’s work, to bring the Trinity to dwell with you, so that one day you will dwell with the Trinity. What the pagans desired, what the mystics yearned for, you receive only through the Word.
That’s right. The Trinity dwells within you through the Word, the Word which is outside of you, the Word written in the Scriptures, the Word proclaimed by preachers. Not by the strength of your faith, not by the fervency of your prayers, not by the power of your emotions, not by dreams or visions, but by the Word, and the Word alone, does the Triune God make His home within you. The Holy Spirit teaches us that Gospel promise, but the other side is the Law, that any who refuse to heed the Word have no place in Christ or Christ in them. “Whoever does not love me does not keep my words. And the Word that you hear is not mine but the Father’s who sent me.” We cannot love Christ and despise His Word; we cannot expect the Spirit to work in any other way than through the Word. But we certainly do try, don’t we? We need books recounting visions and dreams to convince us that heaven is for real, because we don’t trust the Word. We construct our own moral code, giving approval to behaviors that we are already engaged in, because we don’t trust the Word. We change churches to ‘feel the Spirit,’ because we don’t trust the Word. We pick and choose which commandments suit us at the moment, because we don’t trust the Word. We are much more apt to believe the signs and wonders of a TV preacher than the proclamation of a faithful pastor, because we don’t trust the Word. We gauge the Spirit’s work in our own lives by our emotional response, because we don’t trust the Word. “Whoever does not love me does not keep my words.” The Spirit’s task is to condemn all self-chosen spiritualties, to call out any who would minimize, ignore, or explain away the Word.
He does this for our good, for basing our hope, our faith, our certainty on anything other than God’s Word is laying a foundation on shifting sand. Christ’s Word is certain, Christ’s Word is sure, Christ’s Word alone can bring us hope. That is the Holy Spirit’s second great task: to remind us of the beautiful comfort that the Word gives. “The Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my Name, He will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.” Teach and remind, teach and remind. The Spirit reminds us of Christ’s parting words. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” In a world filled with danger, in a world filled with confusion, in a world that quite literally appears to be losing its mind, we grasp after any source of certainty that we can find. It is in uncertain times that people turn to visions and dreams, emotional experiences and their own feelings. We are looking for something to cling to.
And it is the Holy Spirit’s task to give us that anchor, that sure foundation we need: Christ’s Word, Christ’s Word of peace. Peace is His gift to His disciples, and these are no idle words. This isn’t some cheap gift; He does not give as the world gives, with a shaking hope and throw-away wish. He is now at the point of going away on a journey in which He will have to fight for that peace against the powers of darkness of violence, a peace that He will have to bring back from the depths of death. But He also knows where and to whom He is going, and His promise of peace is therefore a benediction full of grace and divine power.
He departs to the Father’s throne, but that path will lead into the very pit of hell, through death itself. He is preparing for a confrontation with the evil we deplore, the evil one who holds this world in his sway. “I will no longer talk much with you, for the ruler of his world is coming.” The ruler of this world is coming, with swords and clubs, torches and a betrayer, the cross and cruel death. But the outcome is not in doubt; the Spirit reminds you of Christ’s victory. “He has no claim on me, but I do as the Father has commanded me, so that the world may know that I love the Father.” That is the great task of the Spirit, to remind the world, to remind the Church, to remind you and me that Christ has triumphed over the ruler of this world. The Spirit reminds us that when evil tried to conquer Jesus, when it marshalled all of its cruelty and violence against Him, when it even put Him to death, Christ still emerged alive on the third day. Jesus goes boldly to His death, for the way of the cross is a march of victory in the midst of defeat, glory in the midst of humiliation, joy in the midst of sorrow. “Rise, let us go from here,” He tells His disciples. He is ready to go, He is ready to take on the ruler of this world head on, for that is the Father’s will to win your salvation.
“You heard me say to you, ‘I am going away, and I will come to you.’ If you loved me, you would have rejoiced, because I am going to the Father, for the Father is greater than I. And now I have told you before it takes place, so that when it does take place you may believe.” Christ’s departure is for your good, because He departs to win a place for you and then He takes His rightful seat at the Father’s throne to prepare for your arrival. In humility, He submits to the Father’s will, going to the cross to win your salvation. Jesus leaves that night with you in mind; He is thinking of you as He prepares to meet the powers of darkness in the final confrontation of the cross. That is the Spirit’s work: to remind you that Christ departed for you.
He continues this work here in this place, on this very day. Today, on the Lord’s Day, this celebration of Pentecost, the great miracle of Pentecost is repeated. There will be no rushing winds, no tongues of fire, not even the speaking of many languages. But yet the miracle of Pentecost is happening again, right before your eyes. “We hear them telling in our own tongues the mighty works of God.” Here, in this place, the Word is being proclaimed, preached to all who will hear. Here, in this place, the Holy Spirit is doing His work, teaching and reminding, bringing the Trinity to dwell among us and even in us. Here the saints of God are told, boldly and unequivocally, “Your sins are forgiven.” Here a child, little Eleanor is told, “I baptize you in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” Here you are told, “Take eat, this is my Body; take drink, this is my Blood.” Nothing flashy, no visions or dreams or speaking in tongues going on here today; just the Word, doing its work, bringing the Holy Spirit, to do His work in you, creating faith, sustaining faith, assuring trembling hearts, hears searching for certainty, hearts searching for something to hold on to, with the very words of Christ: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
The Holy Spirit comes through the Word, the Holy Spirit comes bringing the Word, the Holy Spirit does nothing apart from the Word. The signs and wonders He brings are not an end in themselves, they point us to the Word. His task is twofold: “The Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my Name, He will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.” Teach and remind, teach and remind. That is His task until Christ comes again. He teaches us the Gospel, proclaiming to us the rich and abundant promise of Christ’s dwelling in, with, and under the Church; in, with, and under Christians. “If anyone loves me, he will keep my Word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him.” Those who believe the Word, the Word brought by the Holy Spirit, the Word which brings the Holy Spirit, by the faith which the Holy Spirit Himself creates, receive the very indwelling of God Himself. Your body quite literally is made into a temple, a place where God Himself is present. That is the Spirit’s work, to bring the Trinity to dwell with you, so that one day you will dwell with the Trinity. What the pagans desired, what the mystics yearned for, you receive only through the Word.
That’s right. The Trinity dwells within you through the Word, the Word which is outside of you, the Word written in the Scriptures, the Word proclaimed by preachers. Not by the strength of your faith, not by the fervency of your prayers, not by the power of your emotions, not by dreams or visions, but by the Word, and the Word alone, does the Triune God make His home within you. The Holy Spirit teaches us that Gospel promise, but the other side is the Law, that any who refuse to heed the Word have no place in Christ or Christ in them. “Whoever does not love me does not keep my words. And the Word that you hear is not mine but the Father’s who sent me.” We cannot love Christ and despise His Word; we cannot expect the Spirit to work in any other way than through the Word. But we certainly do try, don’t we? We need books recounting visions and dreams to convince us that heaven is for real, because we don’t trust the Word. We construct our own moral code, giving approval to behaviors that we are already engaged in, because we don’t trust the Word. We change churches to ‘feel the Spirit,’ because we don’t trust the Word. We pick and choose which commandments suit us at the moment, because we don’t trust the Word. We are much more apt to believe the signs and wonders of a TV preacher than the proclamation of a faithful pastor, because we don’t trust the Word. We gauge the Spirit’s work in our own lives by our emotional response, because we don’t trust the Word. “Whoever does not love me does not keep my words.” The Spirit’s task is to condemn all self-chosen spiritualties, to call out any who would minimize, ignore, or explain away the Word.
He does this for our good, for basing our hope, our faith, our certainty on anything other than God’s Word is laying a foundation on shifting sand. Christ’s Word is certain, Christ’s Word is sure, Christ’s Word alone can bring us hope. That is the Holy Spirit’s second great task: to remind us of the beautiful comfort that the Word gives. “The Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my Name, He will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.” Teach and remind, teach and remind. The Spirit reminds us of Christ’s parting words. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” In a world filled with danger, in a world filled with confusion, in a world that quite literally appears to be losing its mind, we grasp after any source of certainty that we can find. It is in uncertain times that people turn to visions and dreams, emotional experiences and their own feelings. We are looking for something to cling to.
And it is the Holy Spirit’s task to give us that anchor, that sure foundation we need: Christ’s Word, Christ’s Word of peace. Peace is His gift to His disciples, and these are no idle words. This isn’t some cheap gift; He does not give as the world gives, with a shaking hope and throw-away wish. He is now at the point of going away on a journey in which He will have to fight for that peace against the powers of darkness of violence, a peace that He will have to bring back from the depths of death. But He also knows where and to whom He is going, and His promise of peace is therefore a benediction full of grace and divine power.
He departs to the Father’s throne, but that path will lead into the very pit of hell, through death itself. He is preparing for a confrontation with the evil we deplore, the evil one who holds this world in his sway. “I will no longer talk much with you, for the ruler of his world is coming.” The ruler of this world is coming, with swords and clubs, torches and a betrayer, the cross and cruel death. But the outcome is not in doubt; the Spirit reminds you of Christ’s victory. “He has no claim on me, but I do as the Father has commanded me, so that the world may know that I love the Father.” That is the great task of the Spirit, to remind the world, to remind the Church, to remind you and me that Christ has triumphed over the ruler of this world. The Spirit reminds us that when evil tried to conquer Jesus, when it marshalled all of its cruelty and violence against Him, when it even put Him to death, Christ still emerged alive on the third day. Jesus goes boldly to His death, for the way of the cross is a march of victory in the midst of defeat, glory in the midst of humiliation, joy in the midst of sorrow. “Rise, let us go from here,” He tells His disciples. He is ready to go, He is ready to take on the ruler of this world head on, for that is the Father’s will to win your salvation.
“You heard me say to you, ‘I am going away, and I will come to you.’ If you loved me, you would have rejoiced, because I am going to the Father, for the Father is greater than I. And now I have told you before it takes place, so that when it does take place you may believe.” Christ’s departure is for your good, because He departs to win a place for you and then He takes His rightful seat at the Father’s throne to prepare for your arrival. In humility, He submits to the Father’s will, going to the cross to win your salvation. Jesus leaves that night with you in mind; He is thinking of you as He prepares to meet the powers of darkness in the final confrontation of the cross. That is the Spirit’s work: to remind you that Christ departed for you.
He continues this work here in this place, on this very day. Today, on the Lord’s Day, this celebration of Pentecost, the great miracle of Pentecost is repeated. There will be no rushing winds, no tongues of fire, not even the speaking of many languages. But yet the miracle of Pentecost is happening again, right before your eyes. “We hear them telling in our own tongues the mighty works of God.” Here, in this place, the Word is being proclaimed, preached to all who will hear. Here, in this place, the Holy Spirit is doing His work, teaching and reminding, bringing the Trinity to dwell among us and even in us. Here the saints of God are told, boldly and unequivocally, “Your sins are forgiven.” Here a child, little Eleanor is told, “I baptize you in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” Here you are told, “Take eat, this is my Body; take drink, this is my Blood.” Nothing flashy, no visions or dreams or speaking in tongues going on here today; just the Word, doing its work, bringing the Holy Spirit, to do His work in you, creating faith, sustaining faith, assuring trembling hearts, hears searching for certainty, hearts searching for something to hold on to, with the very words of Christ: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Thursday, April 21, 2016
Easter 4 (Isaiah 40:25-31)
“But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” 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 Old Testament lesson read a few moments ago from the fortieth chapter of the prophet Isaiah. Dear friends in Christ: Where is God? ‘Where is God?’ asks a nation, a community, a neighborhood ravaged by disaster or touched by tragedy. ‘Where is God?’ asks the unbeliever, seeing suffering all around him. ‘Where is God?’ asks the father, as he buries his daughter. ‘Where is God?’ asks the man who has just lost his job, who has hungry mouths at home to feed. ‘Where is God?’ asks the couple, who has lost a child in the womb. ‘Where is God?’ asks the woman, who has just received a diagnosis of cancer. ‘Where is God?’ asks the widow, destitute and alone. ‘Where is God?’ asks the child, standing beside the coffin of his mother. Where is God? “My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God’?”
Is God powerless? Can He save? Are our sufferings too powerful for Him to deal with? Can cancer conquer Him, can Alzheimer’s or dementia? Is He weak and helpless against the tornado, the flood? Where is God as a child suffers, as families gather in funeral homes, as the young woman lies in a hospital bed surrounded with wires and tubes? Where is God? Is He absent from the nursing home, from the hospital, the ICU, the NICU? Is depression, alcoholism, mental illness too much for Him to heal? Where is God? “My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God.” Where is God? He does not save right now, so He must not be able to save. If God will not intervene, where do we turn? If God is powerless, who is powerful? In whom should we place our fear, love, and trust? Is it tougher laws, a more powerful government, that will save us from destitution and chaos? Do we place our reliance on doctors, specialists, experts who know all things? Do we trust in courts, in judges, to make right what God has left wrong? If our suffering is greater than God can handle, then the solution must be greater than God. If God is absent, if God will not answer, then we must turn to men, to the things of this world. They will become our gods; they will act, they will save. They must, we have no other hope: Where is God?
“My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God.” Where is God? Why does He not act? Why doesn’t He intervene, why doesn’t He save? Why does He leave me alone? Is His eye elsewhere, is He looking in favor on someone else? Why do others, even those who despise you, have everything going well, while I suffer? Why doesn’t He act, why doesn’t He save? Why doesn’t He see, why doesn’t He realize the pain and hurt that fills my life? I am lost, abandoned, forsaken; God has hidden Himself from me, I am hidden from His sight. He has disregarded my cause; He has left me to face the evil of this world by myself. Where is God’s justice? Has He forgotten me? Does He remember me at all?
“Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.” God remembers you. Have you not known? Have you not heard? God remembers you. He does not forget any member of His creation, and He has not forgotten you, His beloved. He who holds all creation in His loving hands is not too great to remember you, He is too great to forget you. “Lift up your eyes on high and see: who created these? He who brings out their host by number, calling them all by name, by the greatness of His might, and because He is strong in power not one is missing.” He who knows every star by name knows you by name. He knows your sufferings, He knows your struggles, He knows your pain. Even the hairs on your head are numbered; much more does He know your sufferings. And He is not idle, He is not absent; He goes into action. He has not forgotten you, and He sets Himself forth to do something about your sufferings.
There is your God. There, on the cross, hanging there, suffering, dying for you. There is your God. Your God is Jesus Christ, God made flesh, the Good Shepherd who lays down His life for the sheep, the Suffering Servant who serves up even His own life. Your God suffers all in you place, taking on your flesh and blood, then bearing your sin and your sin’s penalty. Your God takes up your cause, He acts to vindicate you by giving Himself into death in your place. On the Last Day, your righteousness, now hidden in suffering, will be seen by all, you will be vindicated. Your pleas have not gone unanswered; they have not been ignored. Jesus is God’s reply to your cries for help; Jesus is God’s answer to your sufferings. There is your God. He has not forgotten you, He has not abandoned you, He has not left you. There is your God.
Have you not known? Have you not heard? “The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; His understanding is unsearchable.” Your God does not become fatigued; He does not become weary. He will not tire; He will not end. He is eternal, He is all powerful, and that power is directed toward your good. “Even youths shall faint and be weary; and young men shall fall exhausted.” All human powers will fail; their ability to end the suffering you deplore is only temporary, if they can relieve you at all. They cannot bring you the deliverance that you need. They cannot conquer suffering, they can only mitigate it, and even those efforts will ultimately fail. Only your God can conquer sin and suffering, and only your God has.
“To whom then shall you compare me, that I should be like him? says the Holy One.” Not cancer, not heart disease, not Alzheimer’s, not Lou Gehrig’s, not tornados, not floods, not alcoholism, not depression, not death, not hell, not sin, not Satan—nothing can conquer your God, nothing is His equal, nothing is like Him. Nothing that you suffer in this world is more powerful than your God who hangs upon the tree. How do you know? Because your God, who hung upon the cross, rose again in victory on the third day. Alleluia, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen! Easter gives you the promise that all you suffer will end, that all you suffer will be eliminated, that sin, death, and the power of the devil are defeated and will be eliminated, that you will be vindicated. “He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might He increases strength.” Your sufferings, no matter what they are, have been overcome, they have been defeated, your God is the crucified One, and the One who was crucified is the One who is raised, who lives nevermore to die. God has not forgotten you, God has not left you, God has not abandoned you. Your God lives—and you will live also. Your God lives—and your sufferings will end.
But not yet. Your victory has been won, but you do not yet see it. Your sufferings have been defeated, but they still cling to your flesh. God doesn’t promise you a life of ease and victory when you become a Christian; instead He calls on you to wait. “But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” Where is God when you suffer? He is with you, beside you, even to the end of the age, strengthening you, enabling you to wait, filling you with His Word and promises. Jesus is God with you in the darkness of the valley of the shadow of death, feeding you with His Body and Blood, filling your ears with His promises, answering your cries of anguish by pointing you to His victory. There is your God. He is the crucified One, the risen One, who triumphed over your enemies for you, to give you the promise of an place where suffering will be eliminated, where death will be no more. There, for eternity, you “shall run and not be weary,” you “shall walk and not faint.” Alleluia, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen! In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Is God powerless? Can He save? Are our sufferings too powerful for Him to deal with? Can cancer conquer Him, can Alzheimer’s or dementia? Is He weak and helpless against the tornado, the flood? Where is God as a child suffers, as families gather in funeral homes, as the young woman lies in a hospital bed surrounded with wires and tubes? Where is God? Is He absent from the nursing home, from the hospital, the ICU, the NICU? Is depression, alcoholism, mental illness too much for Him to heal? Where is God? “My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God.” Where is God? He does not save right now, so He must not be able to save. If God will not intervene, where do we turn? If God is powerless, who is powerful? In whom should we place our fear, love, and trust? Is it tougher laws, a more powerful government, that will save us from destitution and chaos? Do we place our reliance on doctors, specialists, experts who know all things? Do we trust in courts, in judges, to make right what God has left wrong? If our suffering is greater than God can handle, then the solution must be greater than God. If God is absent, if God will not answer, then we must turn to men, to the things of this world. They will become our gods; they will act, they will save. They must, we have no other hope: Where is God?
“My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God.” Where is God? Why does He not act? Why doesn’t He intervene, why doesn’t He save? Why does He leave me alone? Is His eye elsewhere, is He looking in favor on someone else? Why do others, even those who despise you, have everything going well, while I suffer? Why doesn’t He act, why doesn’t He save? Why doesn’t He see, why doesn’t He realize the pain and hurt that fills my life? I am lost, abandoned, forsaken; God has hidden Himself from me, I am hidden from His sight. He has disregarded my cause; He has left me to face the evil of this world by myself. Where is God’s justice? Has He forgotten me? Does He remember me at all?
“Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.” God remembers you. Have you not known? Have you not heard? God remembers you. He does not forget any member of His creation, and He has not forgotten you, His beloved. He who holds all creation in His loving hands is not too great to remember you, He is too great to forget you. “Lift up your eyes on high and see: who created these? He who brings out their host by number, calling them all by name, by the greatness of His might, and because He is strong in power not one is missing.” He who knows every star by name knows you by name. He knows your sufferings, He knows your struggles, He knows your pain. Even the hairs on your head are numbered; much more does He know your sufferings. And He is not idle, He is not absent; He goes into action. He has not forgotten you, and He sets Himself forth to do something about your sufferings.
There is your God. There, on the cross, hanging there, suffering, dying for you. There is your God. Your God is Jesus Christ, God made flesh, the Good Shepherd who lays down His life for the sheep, the Suffering Servant who serves up even His own life. Your God suffers all in you place, taking on your flesh and blood, then bearing your sin and your sin’s penalty. Your God takes up your cause, He acts to vindicate you by giving Himself into death in your place. On the Last Day, your righteousness, now hidden in suffering, will be seen by all, you will be vindicated. Your pleas have not gone unanswered; they have not been ignored. Jesus is God’s reply to your cries for help; Jesus is God’s answer to your sufferings. There is your God. He has not forgotten you, He has not abandoned you, He has not left you. There is your God.
Have you not known? Have you not heard? “The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; His understanding is unsearchable.” Your God does not become fatigued; He does not become weary. He will not tire; He will not end. He is eternal, He is all powerful, and that power is directed toward your good. “Even youths shall faint and be weary; and young men shall fall exhausted.” All human powers will fail; their ability to end the suffering you deplore is only temporary, if they can relieve you at all. They cannot bring you the deliverance that you need. They cannot conquer suffering, they can only mitigate it, and even those efforts will ultimately fail. Only your God can conquer sin and suffering, and only your God has.
“To whom then shall you compare me, that I should be like him? says the Holy One.” Not cancer, not heart disease, not Alzheimer’s, not Lou Gehrig’s, not tornados, not floods, not alcoholism, not depression, not death, not hell, not sin, not Satan—nothing can conquer your God, nothing is His equal, nothing is like Him. Nothing that you suffer in this world is more powerful than your God who hangs upon the tree. How do you know? Because your God, who hung upon the cross, rose again in victory on the third day. Alleluia, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen! Easter gives you the promise that all you suffer will end, that all you suffer will be eliminated, that sin, death, and the power of the devil are defeated and will be eliminated, that you will be vindicated. “He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might He increases strength.” Your sufferings, no matter what they are, have been overcome, they have been defeated, your God is the crucified One, and the One who was crucified is the One who is raised, who lives nevermore to die. God has not forgotten you, God has not left you, God has not abandoned you. Your God lives—and you will live also. Your God lives—and your sufferings will end.
But not yet. Your victory has been won, but you do not yet see it. Your sufferings have been defeated, but they still cling to your flesh. God doesn’t promise you a life of ease and victory when you become a Christian; instead He calls on you to wait. “But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” Where is God when you suffer? He is with you, beside you, even to the end of the age, strengthening you, enabling you to wait, filling you with His Word and promises. Jesus is God with you in the darkness of the valley of the shadow of death, feeding you with His Body and Blood, filling your ears with His promises, answering your cries of anguish by pointing you to His victory. There is your God. He is the crucified One, the risen One, who triumphed over your enemies for you, to give you the promise of an place where suffering will be eliminated, where death will be no more. There, for eternity, you “shall run and not be weary,” you “shall walk and not faint.” Alleluia, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen! In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Easter 3 (Ezekiel 34:11-16)
“I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I myself will make them lie down, declares the Lord God.” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord, our Savior, our Shepherd Jesus Christ, Amen. The text for our sermon this morning is the Old Testament lesson read a few moments ago from the thirty-fourth chapter of the prophet Ezekiel. Dear friends in Christ: Who do you trust? That’s the question of the day, isn’t it? That is what the pollsters on your phone want to know, that is what the TV commercials and e-mail blasts are asking, that is what the discussion is around the breakroom. Who do you trust? Many of you probably are saying, ‘no one,’ but that’s a cop-out, and it isn’t really true. Every person you vote for, from the president of the United States, to your Nebraska legislator, to the chairman of a church board, is someone you trust. You may not trust them much, but you do trust them to pursue your interests, to govern in a way that you support. You trust them to represent you, to protect you, to provide for you and your family. You trust them to ‘Make America great again’ or to ‘Keep America great,’ depending on what you think of America at this moment. You trust them to shake things up or to keep things the same; that is how they earn your support, that is how they earn your vote.
The ancient peoples, both God’s own chosen people and the nations around them, called their rulers ‘shepherds,’ applying this common, almost universal picture to those placed in authority over them. The king as shepherd was supposed to protect his flock from enemies, he was to lead them to quiet waters and green pastures. He was to provide for their needs. Now we moderns may find this picture a bit overbearing, too oppressive and paternalistic, but we fall into it all the time, especially in an election season. Even the most cynical among us can get excited about the next big thing, the shepherd who will guide and protect us, who will serve our interests. As Christians who feel increasingly marginalized in our world, we look for the secular or religious ruler who will protect the Church, who we can trust to defend us, to save us from our enemies. If we only elect so-and-so, we will be delivered, from whatever evils we deplore. This idea infects us, it drives us to trust, to hope, to think that with one election the course of our nation or our church body can be reversed, that we can have salvation. There is a great error in thinking along those lines: we are putting our trust in men. God tells us all about earthly shepherds, just before our text: “The weak you have not strengthened, the sick you have not healed, the injured you have not bound up, the strayed you have not brought back, the lost you have not sought, and with force and harshness you have ruled them.”
Trust not in princes, they are but mortal; earthbound they are and soon decay. As shepherds they will always fail, for they are no different than you or I: they are sinful. Not service, but self-interest will too often govern their actions, once again because they are just like you. Therefore, the mismanagement of the Church and the world by sinful men throughout history is truly a marvel to behold. The historical record of the Old Testament itself is a depressing list of unfaithful rulers who mismanaged and abused the flock they were given charge over. In the New Testament era, it is a miracle that the Holy Christian Church has survived the ‘care’ it has received from its shepherds. You don’t need a doctorate in history to know how often rulers have lost their spine on the one hand or have become despotic on the other, failing the trust and hope that people placed in them. Men have failed and men will fail.
Jesus knows what earthly shepherds will do when threats come. “He who is a hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. He flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep.” Hired hands flee the wolf, they cannot save the Church or the world; they quickly find that their power, their resolve, their ability to bring the salvation that people truly need is quite limited. And so the flock is scattered, scattered by the assaults of the wolves, left disoriented and disillusioned. Their trust has been let down, their hopes have been disappointed, they have been abused and neglected, knowing only one thing: trust not in princes.
God looks at this depressing mess, this hopeless picture that has been painted for you this morning, and He speaks with conviction. “Behold, I, I myself will search for my sheep and will seek them out.” God looks backwards to the history of His people, the rulers that have been set over them, good and bad, He looks forward into all that will attempt to govern Church and world, and He says, “Enough! I will shepherd my people.” He will do it Himself, He will no longer leave it to others. “I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I myself will make them lie down, declares the Lord God.” None who led His people had the ability to deliver His people, to give them the salvation that they truly need. When the wolf came, they fled, for they have no power over wolves. Yes, they can beat back an enemy army, they can put criminals in prison, they can avoid a famine—some of the time—but they have no power over the wolves that truly matter: they cannot eliminate sin (though some try), they cannot defeat death, and they cannot conquer Satan. When those wolves show up, the hired hands all flee.
But Jesus stands tall. He is God in the flesh, the same God who promised to shepherd His people Himself has come as man to do exactly that. He places Himself between us and those wolves and denies them passage. He gives up His own life to save the sheep. “I am the good shepherd. I know my own, and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep.” He lays down His life for sheep that love to wander, giving Himself into the wolf’s belly, only to burst that tomb three days later.
He lays down His life for sheep who love to wander, who have been led astray and abused by the shepherds who have attempted to have authority over them. “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.” We were lost, scattered, left without help or deliverance. Our own sin left us condemned to death, and those placed over us as our shepherds had no ability to save us. But then came a new shepherd, the Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ. God laid on Him the iniquity of us all, and He laid down His life for us upon the cross, giving Himself to the wolves so that their power over us would be broken forever. Now, He goes forth from the empty tomb to gather the sheep in. “As a shepherd seeks out his flock when he is among his sheep that have been scattered, so will I seek out my sheep, and I will rescue them from all places where they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness.” He seeks you out, from every place that you have been scattered; He has sought you out and brought you into His flock, claiming you with the quiet waters of Baptism, giving to you the wondrous promise of green pastures and fertile fields forevermore.
“I will feed them with good pasture, and on the mountain heights of Israel shall be their grazing land. There they shall lie down in good grazing land, and on rich pasture they shall feed on the mountains of Israel.” He has good pasture for you, the only food that satisfies, just as He gives the only salvation that truly matters. Here, in the Church, He shepherds you, He feeds you, He provides for you. Here in the Church you graze on His Word; here in the Church, you feast on His Body and His Blood. Here you are shepherded by your Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ. Here what earthly shepherds could not do, He does. “I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak, and the fat and the strong I will destroy. I will feed them in justice.”
The ancient peoples, both God’s own chosen people and the nations around them, called their rulers ‘shepherds,’ applying this common, almost universal picture to those placed in authority over them. The king as shepherd was supposed to protect his flock from enemies, he was to lead them to quiet waters and green pastures. He was to provide for their needs. Now we moderns may find this picture a bit overbearing, too oppressive and paternalistic, but we fall into it all the time, especially in an election season. Even the most cynical among us can get excited about the next big thing, the shepherd who will guide and protect us, who will serve our interests. As Christians who feel increasingly marginalized in our world, we look for the secular or religious ruler who will protect the Church, who we can trust to defend us, to save us from our enemies. If we only elect so-and-so, we will be delivered, from whatever evils we deplore. This idea infects us, it drives us to trust, to hope, to think that with one election the course of our nation or our church body can be reversed, that we can have salvation. There is a great error in thinking along those lines: we are putting our trust in men. God tells us all about earthly shepherds, just before our text: “The weak you have not strengthened, the sick you have not healed, the injured you have not bound up, the strayed you have not brought back, the lost you have not sought, and with force and harshness you have ruled them.”
Trust not in princes, they are but mortal; earthbound they are and soon decay. As shepherds they will always fail, for they are no different than you or I: they are sinful. Not service, but self-interest will too often govern their actions, once again because they are just like you. Therefore, the mismanagement of the Church and the world by sinful men throughout history is truly a marvel to behold. The historical record of the Old Testament itself is a depressing list of unfaithful rulers who mismanaged and abused the flock they were given charge over. In the New Testament era, it is a miracle that the Holy Christian Church has survived the ‘care’ it has received from its shepherds. You don’t need a doctorate in history to know how often rulers have lost their spine on the one hand or have become despotic on the other, failing the trust and hope that people placed in them. Men have failed and men will fail.
Jesus knows what earthly shepherds will do when threats come. “He who is a hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. He flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep.” Hired hands flee the wolf, they cannot save the Church or the world; they quickly find that their power, their resolve, their ability to bring the salvation that people truly need is quite limited. And so the flock is scattered, scattered by the assaults of the wolves, left disoriented and disillusioned. Their trust has been let down, their hopes have been disappointed, they have been abused and neglected, knowing only one thing: trust not in princes.
God looks at this depressing mess, this hopeless picture that has been painted for you this morning, and He speaks with conviction. “Behold, I, I myself will search for my sheep and will seek them out.” God looks backwards to the history of His people, the rulers that have been set over them, good and bad, He looks forward into all that will attempt to govern Church and world, and He says, “Enough! I will shepherd my people.” He will do it Himself, He will no longer leave it to others. “I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I myself will make them lie down, declares the Lord God.” None who led His people had the ability to deliver His people, to give them the salvation that they truly need. When the wolf came, they fled, for they have no power over wolves. Yes, they can beat back an enemy army, they can put criminals in prison, they can avoid a famine—some of the time—but they have no power over the wolves that truly matter: they cannot eliminate sin (though some try), they cannot defeat death, and they cannot conquer Satan. When those wolves show up, the hired hands all flee.
But Jesus stands tall. He is God in the flesh, the same God who promised to shepherd His people Himself has come as man to do exactly that. He places Himself between us and those wolves and denies them passage. He gives up His own life to save the sheep. “I am the good shepherd. I know my own, and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep.” He lays down His life for sheep that love to wander, giving Himself into the wolf’s belly, only to burst that tomb three days later.
He lays down His life for sheep who love to wander, who have been led astray and abused by the shepherds who have attempted to have authority over them. “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.” We were lost, scattered, left without help or deliverance. Our own sin left us condemned to death, and those placed over us as our shepherds had no ability to save us. But then came a new shepherd, the Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ. God laid on Him the iniquity of us all, and He laid down His life for us upon the cross, giving Himself to the wolves so that their power over us would be broken forever. Now, He goes forth from the empty tomb to gather the sheep in. “As a shepherd seeks out his flock when he is among his sheep that have been scattered, so will I seek out my sheep, and I will rescue them from all places where they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness.” He seeks you out, from every place that you have been scattered; He has sought you out and brought you into His flock, claiming you with the quiet waters of Baptism, giving to you the wondrous promise of green pastures and fertile fields forevermore.
“I will feed them with good pasture, and on the mountain heights of Israel shall be their grazing land. There they shall lie down in good grazing land, and on rich pasture they shall feed on the mountains of Israel.” He has good pasture for you, the only food that satisfies, just as He gives the only salvation that truly matters. Here, in the Church, He shepherds you, He feeds you, He provides for you. Here in the Church you graze on His Word; here in the Church, you feast on His Body and His Blood. Here you are shepherded by your Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ. Here what earthly shepherds could not do, He does. “I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak, and the fat and the strong I will destroy. I will feed them in justice.”
But He does this shepherding work through means, through people. He sends you pastors, under-shepherds whose task it is to be the hands and voice of your Good Shepherd. He does His seeking and His feeding through means, through men called for this purpose. After all that has been said, that may shock you. You have heard this day from your God in Ezekiel 34 and John 10 what to expect from earthly shepherds, and then Jesus sends you more!? Yes, just as surely as He continues to send you presidents and legislators. He is your shepherd; all earthly shepherds are to serve Him and to serve you. Your hope and trust is not in your pastor, but in the Word that he brings, the gifts he is honored to distribute. You do not follow him blindly; your shepherd is Christ, and you judge all under-shepherds by their faithfulness to His Word. Trust not the man, trust the office he has been given, trust Christ. He alone you are to fear, love, and trust. Your pastor, no more than your president, is a sinner like you; call on both to shepherd God’s people in accord with His Word. Trust not in men, trust in Christ.
So vote; take your responsibility seriously to choose and hold accountable those who will shepherd your city, state, country, congregation or church body. Do so wisely, guiding your reason by the Word of God and seeking to elect those who will in humility serve those whom they shepherd. If the Lord is calling you to such service, be willing to assist in the task of shepherding. We need more Christians in the political square, and we certainly need more who are willing to serve this congregation and in the Church at large, as pastors or lay leaders. But put no trust in yourself, put no trust in those who you vote for. Do not look to them for salvation, for deliverance. Trust not in men, trust in Christ. He is Himself the Good Shepherd, who won for you green pastures and quiet waters, who will gather you into the rich pastureland of the new heavens and the new earth on the day of His return. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
So vote; take your responsibility seriously to choose and hold accountable those who will shepherd your city, state, country, congregation or church body. Do so wisely, guiding your reason by the Word of God and seeking to elect those who will in humility serve those whom they shepherd. If the Lord is calling you to such service, be willing to assist in the task of shepherding. We need more Christians in the political square, and we certainly need more who are willing to serve this congregation and in the Church at large, as pastors or lay leaders. But put no trust in yourself, put no trust in those who you vote for. Do not look to them for salvation, for deliverance. Trust not in men, trust in Christ. He is Himself the Good Shepherd, who won for you green pastures and quiet waters, who will gather you into the rich pastureland of the new heavens and the new earth on the day of His return. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
Easter Sunrise (John 20:1-18)
“Do not cling to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Alleluia, Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen. Alleluia, Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen. Alleluia, Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen. 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 of joy is the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the twentieth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint John. Dear friends in Christ: confusion; misunderstanding; chaos. Women run to the tomb, and run back. Mary Magdalene comes alone, sees the gaping hole. Peter runs. John runs. John arrives, but doesn’t go in. Peter arrives, and walks right in. Angels. One angel? Two angels? No body. Where’s the body? Where are the soldiers? Gravecloths. Head coverings. Gardeners. Fear. Trembling. Weeping. Where is Jesus? The tomb is empty; Jesus is gone. The cloths are there, neatly folded; no evidence of robbery, of forceful removal. “Then the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed.” He believes, but he does not understand. “For as yet they did not understand the Scripture, that He must rise from the dead.”
No alleluia’s yet; just confusion and misunderstanding, people running to and from the tomb, muddled reports coming to the disciples in their bunker. What has happened? What does it mean? The tomb is empty, that much is certain, but where is Jesus? “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” No one understands, no one comprehends; something has happened, but the world doesn’t understand. In Rome, in Gaul, in Asia, in Egypt, people rise and go about their work, the difficult struggle to keep alive in the ancient world. The sun comes up as it always does, warming the Mediterranean world, on its journey to warm places that haven’t heard the name of Rome, much less the name of Jesus. The world doesn’t understand; for them, Easter hasn’t changed anything. In Lincoln, Nebraska, two thousand years later, people sleep in, they enjoy a few days off from work, but Easter hasn’t changed their lives. Even in the pews of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, Easter simply means a yearly trip to church, some nice clothes, and an egg hunt in the afternoon. Then back to our routine. Nothing has changed. The world continues to turn, people continue to live as they always have, whether the tomb is empty or not.
Mary Magdalene stands at the entrance of that tomb, weeping. The gaping emptiness of the tomb matches the gaping emptiness of her heart. She turns, and she sees Jesus, but she doesn’t recognize her Savior. “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” His response? One word. “Mary.” “I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me.” He calls His sheep by name, and in a moment, everything has changed. Alleluia, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen. Easter has changed everything. Or has it? With His one-word greeting, Mary could hope that Good Friday was simply an interruption, that everything would go back to the way it was before, that He would be with His friends again, doing miracles, preaching and teaching. “For as yet they did not understand the Scripture, that He must rise from the dead.”
She does not yet understand: Easter has changed everything. “Do not cling to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Good Friday was not an interruption, and now that Easter has come, Jesus can get back to His ministry; no, Good Friday and Easter have changed everything. Nothing will remain the same. Jesus is on a journey to the right hand of the throne of God; Easter leads to the Ascension. The sheep cannot cling to their shepherd in the same way they did before; Jesus will no longer walk among them as He did for the past thirty years. But this is no reason for sorrow and despair. Easter has changed everything. When He ascends to the right hand of the throne of God, you, along with all believers of every time and place, will cling to Him in faith. In the Word, in the Supper, He has a fellowship with you that is more intimate than any He had when He walked this earth. That is what He will teach the disciples at Emmaus; in the Holy Supper, He is with you physically, with His Body and Blood, in a way that He never was before. And eternity has been set aside for you to see Him face to face.
Easter has changed everything; all things are made new. “Go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” My brothers. Jesus calls them ‘my brothers.’ Easter has changed everything. That rotten mess of failures, who abandoned their Lord at His most desperate hour, Jesus calls them ‘my brothers.’ They ran, the fled, they denied, and then they cowered behind locked doors. But Easter has changed everything. They are now His brothers. Restored, forgiven, redeemed. The blood shed upon the cross of Calvary was shed for them; He is their Savior, their brother. Satan’s lie to you, Satan’s lie to the world, is that Easter hasn’t changed anything. It’s just a holiday on the calendar, a day to dress up, or a chance to sleep in, a four-day weekend. Look around you, Satan says. You still see sin, death, and suffering, everywhere, but especially in your own life. Easter hasn’t changed anything. You are still in your sins; God is still a wrathful judge. You must cower, hide, live in fear of God’s judgment. But the empty tomb, the risen Jesus, and these words expose the lie; Easter has truly changed everything.
You were an enemy of Jesus, His denier, His betrayer, but no more. He now calls you ‘my brother.’ The One who conquered death and hell, who triumphed over Satan, who the grave could not keep, calls you ‘my brother.’ And as His brother, everything that Christ has is yours, everything that He won He gives to you. Easter has changed everything; most importantly, it has changed you. You are no longer an enemy of God, you are no longer in your sins, suffering has no hold on you, you are no longer held captive by the grave. “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.” Christ rises, and the Creator of the universe is your Father, your God. Christ rises, and you are no longer estranged, no longer severed from God, no longer subject to His wrath. Easter has changed everything. Easter has changed you. You are Christ’s brother, you are part of the family, Christ’s victory is your own, and He is eagerly awaiting the moment when He will raise you up with Him. No one could tell on that first Easter morning, but when Jesus left the grave behind, the clock started, the countdown began. This world is passing away, for Christ has conquered it, and it will be remade on His return. He ascends in order to return, to return in glory to give to you all that He won, to put a final end to sin, death, and Satan, to raise you up to live before Him, body and soul, in the new heavens and the new earth, forever.
That is what the empty grave means; that is what the risen Jesus means. That is what the disciples would learn to understand and then proclaim to the world. “For as yet they did not understand the Scripture, that He must rise from the dead.” He must rise, for He died bearing the sin of the world. He must rise, for His death was not for Himself, but for you. He must rise, for His death conquered death. He must rise, for the Father must vindicate His Son. He must rise, so that His victory can be proclaimed throughout the world. He must rise, for the bonds of death cannot hold the One who paid the price for all sin. He must rise, for He crushed the serpent’s head. He must rise, because He is the firstborn from the death. He must rise, for this is what the Scriptures foretold. “It was the will of the Lord to crush Him; He has put Him to grief; when His soul makes an offering for guilt, He shall see His offspring; He shall prolong his days; the will of the Lord shall prosper in His hand.”
Do not cling to a Jesus who was simply a good teacher, a miracle worker in ancient Palestine. Do not cling to a Jesus who is a good friend, but little else. Do not cling to a Jesus who didn’t really rise from the dead. Cling to the Jesus who made an offering for guilt; His perfect life and innocent death in the place of your sin. Cling to the Jesus who has risen in victory over the grave. Cling to the Jesus who comes to you in water and Word, the bread and wine which are His Body and Blood, which give you a more intimate fellowship than any who clung to His garments or His hand as He walked this earth. Cling to the Jesus who is risen from the dead, lives and reigns to all eternity. Easter has changed everything. It has changed you, it has changed this world. Death no longer rules you, Satan no longer accuses you, your sin no longer condemns you. Christ is risen, and nothing will ever be the same. Alleluia, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen. Alleluia, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen. Alleluia, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen.
No alleluia’s yet; just confusion and misunderstanding, people running to and from the tomb, muddled reports coming to the disciples in their bunker. What has happened? What does it mean? The tomb is empty, that much is certain, but where is Jesus? “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” No one understands, no one comprehends; something has happened, but the world doesn’t understand. In Rome, in Gaul, in Asia, in Egypt, people rise and go about their work, the difficult struggle to keep alive in the ancient world. The sun comes up as it always does, warming the Mediterranean world, on its journey to warm places that haven’t heard the name of Rome, much less the name of Jesus. The world doesn’t understand; for them, Easter hasn’t changed anything. In Lincoln, Nebraska, two thousand years later, people sleep in, they enjoy a few days off from work, but Easter hasn’t changed their lives. Even in the pews of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, Easter simply means a yearly trip to church, some nice clothes, and an egg hunt in the afternoon. Then back to our routine. Nothing has changed. The world continues to turn, people continue to live as they always have, whether the tomb is empty or not.
Mary Magdalene stands at the entrance of that tomb, weeping. The gaping emptiness of the tomb matches the gaping emptiness of her heart. She turns, and she sees Jesus, but she doesn’t recognize her Savior. “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” His response? One word. “Mary.” “I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me.” He calls His sheep by name, and in a moment, everything has changed. Alleluia, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen. Easter has changed everything. Or has it? With His one-word greeting, Mary could hope that Good Friday was simply an interruption, that everything would go back to the way it was before, that He would be with His friends again, doing miracles, preaching and teaching. “For as yet they did not understand the Scripture, that He must rise from the dead.”
She does not yet understand: Easter has changed everything. “Do not cling to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Good Friday was not an interruption, and now that Easter has come, Jesus can get back to His ministry; no, Good Friday and Easter have changed everything. Nothing will remain the same. Jesus is on a journey to the right hand of the throne of God; Easter leads to the Ascension. The sheep cannot cling to their shepherd in the same way they did before; Jesus will no longer walk among them as He did for the past thirty years. But this is no reason for sorrow and despair. Easter has changed everything. When He ascends to the right hand of the throne of God, you, along with all believers of every time and place, will cling to Him in faith. In the Word, in the Supper, He has a fellowship with you that is more intimate than any He had when He walked this earth. That is what He will teach the disciples at Emmaus; in the Holy Supper, He is with you physically, with His Body and Blood, in a way that He never was before. And eternity has been set aside for you to see Him face to face.
Easter has changed everything; all things are made new. “Go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” My brothers. Jesus calls them ‘my brothers.’ Easter has changed everything. That rotten mess of failures, who abandoned their Lord at His most desperate hour, Jesus calls them ‘my brothers.’ They ran, the fled, they denied, and then they cowered behind locked doors. But Easter has changed everything. They are now His brothers. Restored, forgiven, redeemed. The blood shed upon the cross of Calvary was shed for them; He is their Savior, their brother. Satan’s lie to you, Satan’s lie to the world, is that Easter hasn’t changed anything. It’s just a holiday on the calendar, a day to dress up, or a chance to sleep in, a four-day weekend. Look around you, Satan says. You still see sin, death, and suffering, everywhere, but especially in your own life. Easter hasn’t changed anything. You are still in your sins; God is still a wrathful judge. You must cower, hide, live in fear of God’s judgment. But the empty tomb, the risen Jesus, and these words expose the lie; Easter has truly changed everything.
You were an enemy of Jesus, His denier, His betrayer, but no more. He now calls you ‘my brother.’ The One who conquered death and hell, who triumphed over Satan, who the grave could not keep, calls you ‘my brother.’ And as His brother, everything that Christ has is yours, everything that He won He gives to you. Easter has changed everything; most importantly, it has changed you. You are no longer an enemy of God, you are no longer in your sins, suffering has no hold on you, you are no longer held captive by the grave. “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.” Christ rises, and the Creator of the universe is your Father, your God. Christ rises, and you are no longer estranged, no longer severed from God, no longer subject to His wrath. Easter has changed everything. Easter has changed you. You are Christ’s brother, you are part of the family, Christ’s victory is your own, and He is eagerly awaiting the moment when He will raise you up with Him. No one could tell on that first Easter morning, but when Jesus left the grave behind, the clock started, the countdown began. This world is passing away, for Christ has conquered it, and it will be remade on His return. He ascends in order to return, to return in glory to give to you all that He won, to put a final end to sin, death, and Satan, to raise you up to live before Him, body and soul, in the new heavens and the new earth, forever.
That is what the empty grave means; that is what the risen Jesus means. That is what the disciples would learn to understand and then proclaim to the world. “For as yet they did not understand the Scripture, that He must rise from the dead.” He must rise, for He died bearing the sin of the world. He must rise, for His death was not for Himself, but for you. He must rise, for His death conquered death. He must rise, for the Father must vindicate His Son. He must rise, so that His victory can be proclaimed throughout the world. He must rise, for the bonds of death cannot hold the One who paid the price for all sin. He must rise, for He crushed the serpent’s head. He must rise, because He is the firstborn from the death. He must rise, for this is what the Scriptures foretold. “It was the will of the Lord to crush Him; He has put Him to grief; when His soul makes an offering for guilt, He shall see His offspring; He shall prolong his days; the will of the Lord shall prosper in His hand.”
Do not cling to a Jesus who was simply a good teacher, a miracle worker in ancient Palestine. Do not cling to a Jesus who is a good friend, but little else. Do not cling to a Jesus who didn’t really rise from the dead. Cling to the Jesus who made an offering for guilt; His perfect life and innocent death in the place of your sin. Cling to the Jesus who has risen in victory over the grave. Cling to the Jesus who comes to you in water and Word, the bread and wine which are His Body and Blood, which give you a more intimate fellowship than any who clung to His garments or His hand as He walked this earth. Cling to the Jesus who is risen from the dead, lives and reigns to all eternity. Easter has changed everything. It has changed you, it has changed this world. Death no longer rules you, Satan no longer accuses you, your sin no longer condemns you. Christ is risen, and nothing will ever be the same. Alleluia, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen. Alleluia, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen. Alleluia, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen.
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