Palm Sunday/Sunday of the Passion (Deuteronomy 32:36-39)

“See now that I, even I, am He, and there is no god beside me; I kill and I make alive; I wound and I heal; and there is none that can deliver out of my hand.” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and our Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. The text for our sermon this morning comes from the Old Testament lesson read a few moments ago from the thirty-second chapter of Deuteronomy. Dear friends in Christ, God gives us all things. Every good gift comes only from above, from our Creator, our sustainer, the only true God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God of you and me. He created all things, and He has not abandoned His creation. He still provides for us; nothing comes to us except through Him. Martin Luther teaches us to confess in the Small Catechism: “I believe that God has made me and all creatures; that He has given me my body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my members, my reason and all my senses, and still takes care of them. He also gives me clothing and shoes, food and drink, house and home, wife and children, land, animals, and all I have. He richly and daily provides me with all that I need to support this body and life.” Our God is a giver God, the giver of everything we need for this body and life. He delights to give, He rejoices to shower His abundance upon us. That is why He made us, so that He could give us every good thing, so that His hand could be open toward us.

We receive this abundant bounty from our Creator and immediately set to work forming it into idols. Not idols of wood or stone, but idols of everything else. This is a fundamental violation of the First Commandment, the foundation of the other nine: “You shall have no other Gods.” We learned the explanation from the Small Catechism: “We should fear, love, and trust in God above all things.” We don’t bow down before statues, but we bow down before our money, our reputation, our car, our home, our family. We bow down before ourselves. We worship the gift rather than the giver; we worship the things of this earth rather than the One who created them. We make them our gods. Martin Luther says in the Large Catechism, “A god means that from which we are to expect all good and in which we are to take refuge in all distress. So, to have a God is nothing other than trusting and believing Him with the heart.”

We depend on our idols to bring us good; we trust in them to provide for us, to protect us. We seek our good from them. Satan has made quite a career of convincing people to make the good gifts of God into idols, to worship the gift in place of the giver. The Lord gives us work, an income, money in our pocket; we form our checkbook into an idol, the place in which we put our trust, where we expect all good, our work becomes our life. The Lord gives the gift of family; we make families into idols, looking for them to satisfy our own needs and not receiving them as gift, loving them more than the God who gave them to us. The Lord gives us a body, physical abilities that allow us to work and to play; we think that this strength and ability is our own, and we derive our identity and self-worth from what we are able to do with our bodies. The Lord gives us government and medicine; we think that they can even conquer sin’s effects in society and in us. And we do the same with every other gift that God gives, from the air we breathe to the house we live in. All gods require sacrifices, and we are ready to give whatever they demand, for we believe that they will help us, that they can provide all that we need.

Idols promise great things; they promise to help us through this life, they promise to protect us, to be a rock of refuge in any storm. If we give the right worship, if we offer the right sacrifices, they will respond, and we will never live in want. They promise us the world. But they are liars. When we are faced with adversity, it is the idols that fall. A fire consumes a home, an accident destroys a car. Death attacks a family, disease assaults your body, joints and ligaments wear out and break. Suffering reveals that your idols have no power. They cannot even protect themselves, much less you. And no idol can reach beyond the grave. They may have some limited power in this life to care for you and protect you, but when death comes, there is nothing they can do. I’ve never seen a hearse pulling a U-Haul trailer; our idols crumble when confronted with the tomb.

Every obituary, every accident report, every diagnosis of cancer is a declaration that our idols are worthless. God mocks our idols, saying in our text: “Where are their gods, the rock in which they took refuge, who ate the fat of their sacrifices and drank the wine of their drink offering? Let them rise up and help you; let them be your protection!” It is in suffering, and especially in death, that idols are shown for what they are: empty, worthless, promising the world but giving nothing. They cannot rise up and help us, they cannot be our protection. They have no power, and we, who have trusted in them, who took refuge in them, are left with nothing. Worshipping idols leaves you powerless, empty, without any means to save yourself.

But it is precisely at that moment, when you are at your weakest, abandoned by your idols, that God takes action. “For the Lord will vindicate His people and have compassion on His servants, when He sees that their power is gone and there is none remaining, bond or free.” Idols cannot save; God does! He sees that our strength is gone, that our idols have failed us, that we are in desperate need of salvation, and He comes down to save. He enters this world in humility, as Saint Paul says, “[Jesus] made Himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.” He enters Jerusalem in triumph, as the crowd waves palm branches, acclaiming their arriving King. “Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel!” ‘Hosanna!’ they cried, ‘Save us, please!’ Our idols have left us naked, unprotected, unable to deal with sin and death on our own. Save us, please!

Jesus enters Jerusalem in triumph to response to our cries. He comes in compassion; He has seen our miserable condition and he has felt great sorrow for us. He looks on us with love, He seeks to comfort us. This compassion led Him to take our flesh; it led Him to heal the sick, to drive out demons, to feed the multitudes. Now this same compassion leads Him to sit upon a donkey and enter the Holy City. Compassion never stands alone, as simply a nice feeling on the part of Jesus; it always leads to action. Jesus will act to vindicate His people. Only He can bring judgment on their enemies; only He can defeat sin, death, and hell. No idol can do that; only Jesus, Jesus alone. Jesus comes to be the advocate of His suffering people, to judge their foes and set them free. But He can only do this by standing in their place, even unto death itself.

This week begins in triumph; it will end in death. God has entered Jerusalem to shouts of acclamation; by Friday the mob will lead Him to Pilate with shouts of anger. Today we hear “Hosanna!” On Friday we will hear “Crucify!” Only Jesus can vindicate us, and only by being given into death in our place. For He is the sinless Son of God, and He bears our sin as the perfect atoning sacrifice; living the life we couldn’t and dying the death we deserved. Only Jesus can do away with sin and death by bearing the sin of the world to the cross. As God Himself says in our text: “See now that I, even I, am He, and there is no God beside me; I kill and I make alive; I wound and I heal; and there is none that can deliver out of my hand.” Idols cannot save; God does! He put His Son to death upon the cross; He wounded Him with the scourge, the nails, and the spear of the Roman soldiers. God kills and makes alive, He wounds and He heals. He put Christ to death, but He made Him alive again; beyond Good Friday stands Easter. He wounded Christ, but He healed Him; Jesus would walk this earth again before taking His seat at the right hand of the throne of God.

Isaiah says: “He was wounded for our transgressions; He was crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with His stripes we are healed.” God kills and makes alive, He wounds and He heals. He puts Christ to death to make you alive, to remove the curse of death from you. He wounds His only begotten Son to bring you healing, to restore you to perfect health from the ravages of sin. But first He must put you to death. “See now that I, even I, am He, and there is no god beside me; I kill and I make alive; I wound and I heal, and there is none that can deliver out of my hand.” He kills you, He wounds you, through the stern proclamation of His holy Law, which points out and condemns your sins. He puts your sinful nature to death in repentance. He drowns the old evil Adam in the font. He sweeps away the idols that you have surrounded yourself with, leaving you powerless, with nowhere else to turn. But God only puts to death with His Law in order to make alive with His Gospel. The sweet proclamation of Christ’s death for your sake, the ‘for you’ of the Gospel that will ring in your ears on this most holy of weeks, creates faith within you that makes you alive, eternally alive. Your sinful nature was drowned in the font, crucified with Christ; God raises up a new man with Christ, to live before Him in righteousness and purity forever.

God kills and makes alive; He wounds and He heals. He is doing this work constantly, each and every day, as He points out your sin and destroys your idols, then speaks the life-giving words of the Gospel to forgive that sin. Christ enters this day in triumph to die in humiliation for you. God made Him alive as the seal and guarantee that death will have no hold upon you, that you will receive perfect healing in the halls of the New Jerusalem. He entered the old Jerusalem in triumph to the waving of palm branches; one day you will enter the New Jerusalem celebrating the same victory. Christ’s death means your resurrection; Christ’s wounds mean your healing; God intends to make you alive, now and forevermore. No idol can defeat death; Christ already has, and His victory is for you, for your forgiveness, for your life, for your salvation. In the name of Jesus, who entered Jerusalem this day with shouts of ‘Hosanna!’ to depart on Friday with shouts of ‘Crucify!’ showing compassion to you, me, and all people. Amen.

Lenten Midweek Service (Luke 22:39-46)

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 text just read from Luke chapter twenty-two. Dear friends in Christ, one of the more popular biblical scenes to paint or enshrine in stained glass is the image of Christ praying in the Garden of Gethsemane; in fact, if I’m remembering correctly, there are at least four different renditions of this event at St. John’s. In 1730 the Italian painter Sebastiano Ricci tried his hand at this familiar scene, painting the work that you have as a bulletin insert this evening. His brushstrokes illuminate both the angel and Jesus with heavenly light: our Lord is on His knees, His head bowed to the ground, the angel floating between earth and heaven, covered in glory. First-century Jews typically prayed standing up, but Jesus is so weighed down by the burden of this world’s sin that He falls to the ground, He cannot find the strength even to stand. The disciples are there, shrouded by the darkness of that evening. In short, all the characters of our text for tonight are in this painting, except one: Satan.

It isn’t very surprising that Ricci fails to paint Satan explicitly into the scene; Luke fails to mention him, too. But make no mistake, Satan is there. His presence is acknowledged by the exhortation of Jesus, “Pray that you may not enter into temptation.” Christ wants them to pray the Lord’s Prayer, the prayer that He gave as one of His greatest gifts to them, the prayer that contains the petition, “Lead us not into temptation.” Luther gives us the explanation: “We pray in this petition that God would guard and keep us so that the devil, the world, and our sinful nature may not deceive us or mislead us into false belief, despair, and other great shame and vice.” In the Garden that night, Satan will deceive, he will mislead. He wants the disciples to be led into false belief, despair, and other great shame and vice. He wants the disciples to be scandalized by the cross. He wants them to reject the sufferings of Jesus, to reject His cross, which Satan correctly tells them will lead to their own. Satan wants to them to seek their own good, to avoid Christ’s sufferings to save their own skins.

Ricci shows us that Satan’s temptations have had their effect. Jesus called on His disciples to “Pray that you may not enter into temptation.” They should be in the light, praying with Jesus, fighting against Satan, asking the Father to keep them all from temptation, asking for strength to face the hours and days ahead. But instead, they are in the darkness. So much so, that on your black-and-white copy, you can barely see them. Luke tells us, “And when [Jesus] rose from prayer, He came to the disciples, and found them sleeping for sorrow.” They fail to stay awake and pray, “Lead us not into temptation.” They are lulled to sleep by Satan, and so they will be completely unprepared for what will come; they will flee at the sight of the cross. Zechariah prophesied, “Strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.” The sheep are ready to scatter; the offense of the cross will drive them away. Satan has triumphed over the disciples; they have failed to be faithful.

But the conflict between Satan and the disciples is only a sideshow; the main event is happening in the very center of the painting. Ricci has portrayed for us the decisive moment of Christ’s passion, the moment that has the potential to change history. Luke tells us what is happening. “And [Jesus] withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, and knelt down and prayed, saying, ‘Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me.’” We cannot see Satan, but he is there, giving to Jesus the same temptation that he offered in the wilderness: ‘You can have all the glory without the cross.’ And Jesus is on the very edge of giving in. He asks for the cup to be removed, the cup of suffering, the cup of divine wrath, the cup that you deserved to drink for your sins and rebellion against God. That is what ashes upon your head declare: the cup doesn’t belong to Christ, it belongs to you! And here, in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus asks for the cup to be given back to you, to drink down to the dregs. Jesus asks the Father to spare Him from the cross—the whole reason He became man and walked this earth in the first place. Your eternal salvation hangs in the balance. No wonder Luke tells us: “And being in agony He prayed more earnestly; and His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground.”

There is perhaps no other moment in Christ’s life that we see His human nature so clearly as when He asks to be spared the cross. But that isn’t the end of His prayer. “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours be done.” Sebastiano Ricci shows us the Father’s answer. The angel comes down from heaven, carrying a cup, the cup of God’s wrath over sin, the full weight of the punishment that the rebellion of all people has earned. Ricci doesn’t paint it this way, but that cup is marked with a cross of ashes, for it is your cup, and mine. And that cup is offered to Jesus to drink, down to the dregs. The angel has one finger extended to heaven; without a word, he is declaring to Jesus that yes, this is the Father’s will. He has called upon His Son to drink this cup; this is the only way that creation can be delivered from the bondage of sin and death. This cup is His will. The decisive moment has come; will Jesus take that cup, or will He leave it for us to drink? Our eyes turn toward our Lord for the answer. The angel bears the cup that fulfills the Father’s will; the open hand of Jesus tells us He has accepted that will. The angel points to the Father, Jesus points to the ground; His path lies on this earth, from the garden, to the courtroom, to the cross. He submits to the Father’s will; He will drink the cup, He will face the cross. Satan is conquered; Jesus has triumphed where His disciples failed.

You and I are also in this painting; we too are hiding in the darkness, facing the assaults of Satan. He wants us to be scandalized by the cross this Lenten season, to flee from it like the disciples did. He wants us to seek to save our own skin rather than willingly take up the cross and follow Jesus. He wants us to be timid, cowering with fear, fear that paralyzes us from serving our neighbor, from speaking the words of the Gospel, from bolding standing for Christ in a world under the sway of the anti-christ. His tune has never changed; he wants us to desire to be gods, and no god, he whispers, should bear a cross.

Like the disciples, we are lulled to sleep. We fail to pray, “Lead us not into temptation,” and instead we slumber. We fail to confess Christ when we are confronted with the cross. It’s easy to speak of Christ, to serve your neighbor, when there is no cost, when we’re safely within the borders of the Christian Church. But when confessing Jesus, when serving your neighbor in body and soul, when standing against this world all carry a hefty price tag, we cower, we fear, we fail, we flee. Like the disciples on that Maundy Thursday evening, we are scattered when the cross comes into view. That is why we are here, because we have failed, we have fallen for Satan’s lies, we have been unable to “Pray that you may not enter into temptation.” But where we have failed, Christ has overcome.

The moment that Sebastiano Ricci captures is the decisive moment; our salvation stands on the edge of a knife. But with the submission of Jesus to the Father’s will, our salvation is as good as done. Our Lord was on His knees, wrestling with the cross, wrestling with His sufferings, wrestling with the Father’s will, the plan of salvation. But then He rose. Luke tells us, “And when He rose from prayer, He came to the disciples and found them sleeping for sorrow.” This is a word of resurrection; as Jesus rose from prayer obedient to the Father’s will, so He will rise from the grave having accomplished that will. There is now no question of Christ’s obedience to the Father’s will, even unto death. He conquers where we fail; He conquers for us, in our place. His obedience is given in place of our disobedience, and He takes that cup and drains it, so that we never have to. His triumph over Satan’s attacks makes all the difference, for you, for me, for all eternity. In the Name of Jesus, who conquered temptation by submitting to the Father’s will for our salvation, Amen.

Lent 4 of Series C (Luke 15:1-3, 11-32)

“Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and our Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. The text for our sermon this morning comes from the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the fifteenth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Luke. Dear friends in Christ, repentance, repentance, repentance! It seems that is all we’ve been talking about the past few weeks. Repentance isn’t a feeling, repentance isn’t living a perfect life, repentance isn’t going around being gloomy. Repentance is the mighty work of God within you through Law and Gospel, turning you away from sin and toward God in faith. Repentance is the theme of Lent, it is the theme of this day, it is the theme of your life. Repentance is the theme of the parable of the Prodigal Son. But if we call it the parable of the Prodigal Son, then we are in great danger of missing the point. The Prodigal is by no means the main character. He is only one of two rebellious sons, but the star of this show isn’t either of them, it is their father. It is his crazy antics that should draw our attention: Jesus has instead told us the parable of the Foolish Father.

This father truly is foolish. His younger son comes to him one day and says, “Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me.” His youngest son comes to him and asks for the inheritance—before he is dead! The Prodigal Son is telling his father to hurry up and die, because he wants the money. There is no love, no care or compassion there; greed fills his heart, rebellion and rejection of his father, who gave him life. The Prodigal Son deserved a beating, some would even say he deserved death, but what does this Foolish Father do? “He divided his property between them.” What a fool! He allows his son to run all over him, to insult him to his face! And then he lets him go! “Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in reckless living.” Instead of punishment, instead of death, instead of the penalties that no one would fault him for dealing out, this Foolish Father lets him leave and waste the fortune he had earned for him; his son is dead and lost to him, dead in sin and lost in depravity.

Sounds like another Father, who lovingly formed children from the dust of the ground, who formed you in your mother’s womb. And his children rebelled, they took the gifts that He had given them and squandered them. They exchanged love for lust, they exchanged hard work for greed, they traded in heavenly treasures for the fleeting pleasures of this earth. Every time that you or I sin, we are telling God to drop dead and we are taking the gifts and abilities He has given us to a far off country, far from Him, far from His love. And He is a fool to let us go. Anyone else would’ve sent us punishment, and many would’ve simply put us to death right then and there. But our Father lets us go; with tears He allows Himself to be rejected. He created us to be living beings, alive in body and soul; with sorrow he watches as we put our souls to death with sin.

In the midst of his depravity, seeing the complete emptiness in his life, the Prodigal Son comes to repentance. “I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” He cannot imagine grace, he cannot conceive of forgiveness, and so his repentance is incomplete, it has a condition, a bargain: “Treat me as one of your hired servants.” The Foolish Father sees his son at a distance, but he doesn’t wait for him, instead he runs to his son to greet him. Does he bear an angry fist, a death sentence? Is he ready to bargain, to negotiate a return into the family? No, all he has is grace. “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.” What a fool! The Prodigal Son rejected him, squandered his wealth and was as good as dead, and the Foolish Father welcomes him back with love. The gospel overwhelms his attempts to bargain; the Prodigal can now only confess, “Father I have sinner against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” He is unworthy to be a son; anyone can see that. But the Foolish Father doesn’t act like any normal person; he shows reckless grace. The Prodigal Son is given the best robe—the father’s robe—a ring on his finger, and sandals on his feet; he kills the fattened calf and begins to celebrate. What a fool! He doesn’t require punishment, he doesn’t want him to work his way back—he receives him with joy, no questions asked! The Prodigal is a son again; not by his good life (he has lived the worst of lives), not by his bargaining (he had no chance to bargain), but by the Foolish Father’s lavish grace. As the Foolish Father said himself, “This my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.”

Our Father doesn’t wait for us to return; He runs to us and showers us with compassion. He finds us and lavishes us with grace. Having been confronted by the Law’s grim reality and the Gospel’s free offer of rich and abundant love, we repent: “I, a poor miserable sinner…” He pours out His love upon us: “I forgive you all your sins in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” This grace is reckless, some would even say foolish. The Father sacrifices not a calf, but His own Son to reconcile you with Him. The Father places on you His own robe, the robe of Christ’s righteousness; He puts a ring on your finger and sandals on your feet, giving you the status of sonship once again, making you His beloved child. You were Prodigal; He is gracious. You were dead; He has made you alive. It’s time to celebrate!

But some refuse to rejoice. The older brother stands far off, and when he finds out that his father has welcomed back the Prodigal Son, his anger cannot be contained. “Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!” You fool! he says. He despises the Father’s grace, he stands aloof and self-righteously is offended by this unconditional love. He wants a bargain, he wants punishment, he wants his brother to work his way back into the family. The grace of his father is a stench in his nostrils, he rejects it, and so he rejects the celebration. He refuses to have joy.

How quickly the grace of our Father is forgotten! We were the Prodigal Son, we had rebelled, we had squandered what He had given us, but yet He receives us back to Himself. His lavish grace has overwhelmed us, making us a part of His family once again. But how do we look at the other Prodigals? Do we receive them with joy, with the same reckless love as our Father? No, so often we who have spent years or even a lifetime in the Church look down on the Prodigals. The same abundant grace that is given to us is despised when it is given to others. Do we welcome sinners into this fellowship, remembering that we are all Prodigals? Or do we self-righteously look down on them, giving them the cold shoulder? When they return to their Father, so often our reaction isn’t one of joy but instead, “About time!” or “She thinks she can call herself a Christian?” What about the Prodigals that don’t walk through these doors? We encounter Prodigals all the time; they work with us, they go to school with us, they are in our families, we see them on the street. Do we call on them to be reconciled to their Father, or do we think that some of them aren’t worth saving? I know how this works, because I fall into it all the time: you look at a person living a sinful life not as one for whom Christ died, but as a wretch not worth your time. And if we do welcome them, if we do call on them to be reconciled to their Father, it isn’t out of joy, but from a sense of duty; our motivation for evangelism and confessing the faith is of the Law and not of the Gospel. No wonder our confession is so weak and often non-existent!

In his self-righteousness the Stubborn Brother was as dead and lost as the Prodigal Son; he rejected his Foolish Father’s grace and love, and refused to join the celebration. If your child talks back to you like that and refuses to join the feast, then you probably would leave him out in the cold. But not this father. The Foolish Father doesn’t respond with punishment or anger, but with grace: “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive, he was lost, and is found.” What a fool! Instead of disinheriting this insolent and stubborn son, the Foolish Father affirms that he has all things. All that the Father has is His. The Father’s reckless love finds the Stubborn Brother; the dead one is made alive and given all things by grace. He offers to the Stubborn Brother the same rich grace that he gave to the Prodigal Son. And then he calls on him to celebrate. 

Jesus doesn’t conclude this parable; the ending is left hanging. What will the Stubborn Brother do? That’s exactly the point; the Pharisees, along with you and me, will finish the parable. The call of repentance from this parable isn’t so much to Prodigal Sons, it is to Stubborn Brothers, to you and me. Repent of your self-righteousness and turn to Christ in faith! The Father doesn’t reject you, His lavish love covers both Prodigal Sons and Stubborn Brothers, it covers you and me! Despite your sin, despite your rebellion, the Father says to you, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.” Through the death of the obedient Son, our brother Jesus Christ, all that belongs to God is ours. We have a heavenly, eternal inheritance! The Father shows foolish, reckless love to you and to me, calling us back from prodigal living, calling us back from self-righteousness and forgiving all our sin! And God says that we are always with Him; He is ‘God with us,’ who dwells among us in grace, who celebrates when we repent. That is where we receive this inheritance, this is where we dwell with God: at the celebration, the marriage feast of the Lamb in His Kingdom. “It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.” It is fitting, necessary that God would celebrate the finding of the lost, the making alive of the dead, for nothing else gives Him as much joy as making Prodigal Sons and Stubborn brothers His beloved children, to rejoice with Him forever. In the Name of Jesus, who in His reckless love reconciled us to the Father, Amen.

Lent 3 of Series C (Ezekiel 33:7-20)

“As I live, declares the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live; turn back, turn back from your evil ways, for why will you die, O house of Israel?” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and our Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. The text for our sermon this morning comes from the Old Testament lesson read a few moments ago from the thirty-third chapter of the prophet Ezekiel. Dear friends in Christ, do we have watchmen today? Our cities don’t have high walls manned with watchmen who are supposed to keep alert for danger, so I guess in a sense the concept of a ‘watchman,’ as we have in our text, is a bit foreign to us. But are we really without watchmen? We have watchdogs, who are to warn the house when an intruder invades. We have weathermen, who are to tell us when to take cover from a storm. The thing with a watchman (or watchdog) is that he or she is obligated to raise up a warning when danger is sighted. When the warning has gone out, it is our job to listen. A dog who hears the intruder and refuses to bark will be to blame if its master is harmed, as a weatherman will be blamed if he doesn’t tell us about a tornado. But if they each do their job and warn us, then the blame is on us if we fail to listen. We can keep sleeping if the dog is barking, we can stand out on the deck when we are told a tornado is coming, but that isn’t the fault of the watcher. They have warned us, they have done their job: they have been faithful watchers.

Your pastor is a watchman; the commission given to Ezekiel is one that is given to every occupant of the Office of the Holy Ministry: “So you, son of man, I have made a watchman for the house of Israel. Whenever you hear a word from my mouth, you shall give them warning from me.” This is a difficult task; bringing warnings from God won’t win you any popularity contests. In fact, the pastor who takes these words seriously will be hated by the world. He will stir up opposition, he will be dealing with people where they are the most sensitive and defensive. But that is what a pastor is called upon to do. Let’s take this text seriously: your pastor is commanded by God to call you out on your sin. He can’t avoid that task because you will get defensive and angry; you don’t give the orders, God does. And God says, “If you warn the wicked to turn from his way, and he does not turn from his way, that person shall die in his iniquity, but you will have delivered your soul.” When your pastor tells you that despising God’s gifts by not coming to worship is a sin, he is being a watchman. When he warns you from greed or sinful pride and ambition, he is being a watchman. When he tells you that living together outside marriage is sinful and must be repented of before you can commune or the church will host your wedding, he is being a watchman. In short, when he condemns any sin that you are committing, he is serving as a watchman. He isn’t commanded to give his own opinion, he is commanded, “Whenever you hear a word from my mouth, you shall give them warning from me.” His warnings should only come from God in His Word. You may not like it, you may not want to listen, you may go and find another church, but if he warns you according to God’s Word, then he has fulfilled his task; he has preserved his life.

The pastor who avoids this task, who doesn’t warn the wicked of their sin, will be completely and universally loved. He won’t make anyone defensive or uncomfortable. His church will be full, the money will flow in, conflict will cease. There will only be one problem: he has failed in the task given to him by God. “If I say to the wicked, O wicked one, you shall surely die, and you do not speak to warn the wicked to turn from his way, that wicked person shall die in his iniquity, but his blood I will require at your hand.” If God’s Word condemns your sin, but your pastor doesn’t, the penalty falls upon him. If he fails to speak boldly to you from the pulpit or in private conversations to warn you from your sin, he has failed in his task. If he doesn’t exercise church discipline by withholding communion and the other privileges of the church from you to lead you to see the seriousness of your sin, God will require your penalty from him. He is a watchman; he is required by God to warn you from sin, and if he doesn’t, it doesn’t matter how popular he is in this world or how much his church grows; in the eyes of God, his ministry is a failure. 

Why would anyone become a pastor after reading these words? I have to tell you that there is perhaps no other text in all of Scripture that fills a pastor with as much fear and trembling as this text. It is like a hammer on my soul. I have been called to be your watchman, and while I have at times given warning, I confess before you today that out of fear of rejection, out of a desire to be liked, I have often failed to give warning as I ought. I beg for God’s forgiveness and for yours, and I pray with the Lord’s help to serve as a more faithful watchman in the future.

This is pretty strong stuff, for pastors and for hearers. Three verses into our text it seems like God is only concerned with pointing out sin, with condemning us to death. The people in Ezekiel’s day thought so, and they complained, “Surely our transgressions and our sins are upon us, and we rot away because of them. How then can we live?” At this point in the sermon, you must be thinking the same thing: is the only reason we have a pastor so that he can run around condemning people? Does God just want us all to rot in hell? You might be getting ready to get up and leave, to find another church or another religion. But not so fast, God says. “As I live, declares the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live; turn back, turn back from your evil ways, for why will you die, O house of Israel?” 

God doesn’t desire the death of a sinner. This phrase should be printed on every page of our Bibles, it should accompany every statement of condemnation that we read in God’s Word or hear from our pastors. God doesn’t desire the death of a sinner. God makes us that promise; in fact, He confirms it with an oath. He is so serious that He stakes His life on it. And when it came time to confirm that oath, to pay up on that promise, God didn’t hesitate. “As I live, declares the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked.” The life of God was given up to fulfill that oath, to prove its truth. Jesus Christ, true man and yet true God, died on the cross because God doesn’t desire the death of a sinner. When it came down to the life of God or the death of a sinner, God died so that man could live. God backed up his words, He ratified His oath, and in so doing provided life to the wicked, to you and me. God takes our salvation so seriously that he staked His life on it, and in giving up His Son into death, forgiveness, life, and salvation is now freely offered to all who heed the watchman’s call and repent.

That is what our text, this day, and this season is all about: repentance. Repentance is a turning, a turning away from sin and toward God. The Hebrew word for repentance describes the turning of our whole body in a completely different direction. It is a turn from sin and wickedness to God and righteousness. None of this is our own work; it is God’s work in us. His Law, proclaimed by His watchmen, shows us our great and many sins. In fact, His Law shows us what we could never figure out ourselves: that we are completely corrupted by sin. We don’t just commit sins, we are sinful. Repentance is realizing this and renouncing it with sorrow. But that is not the end of repentance. Repentance is turning away from sin and toward God in faith through Jesus Christ. That is the work of the Gospel. “Though I say to the wicked, ‘You shall surely die,’ yet if he turns from his sin and does what is just and right…he shall surely live, he shall not die.” Repentance is seeing our great sin, renouncing it, and clinging to Christ for forgiveness. Repentance isn’t about feeling sorry, even though you will feel sorrow over your sin, repentance isn’t about never committing that sin again, even though the fruits of repentance are that your will seek to amend your sinful life. Repentance is all about forgiveness, clinging to Christ alone, being righteous only through His blood.

The reason that God proclaims the Law and commands His watchmen to proclaim the Law is so that we would turn away from our sin and live. The same One who is sending judgment gives us a watchman to warn us from that judgment. God bears the sword, but in His mercy and grace He sends watchmen to make that sword ineffective. Repentance is His goal, His aim, not death. He sends His watchmen to warn the wicked to turn toward righteousness and to warn the righteous to not turn back to wickedness. As Saint Paul says in our Epistle lesson, “Let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall.” He is simply echoing our text: “When the righteous turns from his righteousness and does injustice, he shall die for it.” Each and every day is then to be a day of repentance for those made righteous by Christ. We should never be secure in our sins, but instead we should constantly be repenting of them and clinging to the Gospel. We need forgiveness every day, because we sin every day; we are both the wicked who need to be turned and the righteous who need to be warned against turning.

In the eyes of the world, repentance doesn’t seem fair; the wicked should die in his wickedness, and the righteous one should live in his righteousness. In fact, the people of Ezekiel’s day say, “The way of the Lord is not just.” But this is God’s justice, His amazing grace. God is all about giving wicked people life through His Son, turning them in repentance and faith. His oath, “As I live, declares the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live,” was confirmed and fulfilled by Christ’s own blood. His oath is a reality through the cross, through the empty tomb, through repentance and faith worked by Law and Gospel in the lives of His people, in your life and mine. Now, through repentance, and faith, as we hear in our text, “None of the sins that he has committed shall be remembered against him.” Before God, our sins are no longer remembered; His memory has been wiped by the blood of His Son; life is our destination, eternal life, with our living Lord. In the Name of Jesus, the one who confirmed the Father’s oath with His own blood and death, Amen.

Lent 2 of Series C (Luke 13:31-35)

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not!” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and our Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. The text for our sermon this morning comes from the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the thirteenth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Luke. Dear friends in Christ: Jesus is coming! He is coming despite any warning, despite the advice of friends or enemies. The Pharisees in our text, whether wanting to spare His life or simply kick Him out of their neighborhood, tell Jesus to leave town before someone gets hurt: “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.” This is no empty threat. Herod showed how he treated prophets when he ordered up John the Baptist’s head on a platter. But Jesus will not be dissuaded, He will not be stopped; His path has been chosen for Him, and He walks it without wavering. In fact, far from turning aside and running away, Jesus has a bold message for Herod: “Go and tell that fox, ‘Behold, I cast out demons and perform cures today and tomorrow, and the third day I finish my course. Nevertheless, I must go on my way today and tomorrow and the day following, for it cannot be that a prophet should perish away from Jerusalem.”

Jerusalem, Jerusalem, city of Israel’s prophets, the throne of Israel’s kings, the home of her priests. Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the location of God’s gracious presence in the temple. This was the destination of Jesus, as the true and final prophet. His road wound through the dusty towns of Galilee, Samaria, and Judea, and in His wake demons were driven out and the sick healed. Creation itself was released from the bondage of sin as Jesus the true prophet proclaimed in word and in deed the coming of the kingdom of God. He came to announce liberty to the captives and the opening of the prison to the bound. His mission was one of release. “Behold, I cast out demons and perform cures today and tomorrow, and the third day I finish my course.” He brought release to those in physical bondage, and He brought release to those in spiritual bondage: liberation came to both body and soul. That was His road, and on the third day He would finish His course, but only in Jerusalem, for the prophetic pattern isn’t only the working of miracles, it is the fate of rejection and death. “Nevertheless, I must go on my way today and tomorrow and the day following, for it cannot be that a prophet should perish away from Jerusalem.”

Jesus comes to Jerusalem to proclaim liberty, the release of all creation from bondage to sin. But Jerusalem, God’s city, the chief city of His chosen people, rejects Him. They refuse the gift of salvation, and they will put Jesus to death, as they have done to the prophets who preceded Him. God has come to His people to save them, and they reject Him. There is no greater tragedy in all of history, and God Himself in the flesh cries out in anguish over the rejection that is to come. “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not!” Jesus desperately desires to gather His people to Himself, to hide them in the loving shelter of His wings, but they do not desire Him, they refuse to repent. Jesus mourns over their rejection, and He mourns over the penalty. “Behold, your house will be forsaken.” Jesus came to bring release from the bondage of sin and death, but those who reject Him will find themselves released from God’s care and protection.

The house will be forsaken; Jerusalem will be burned, the temple will be made obsolete and destroyed. In its place Jesus will establish a New Jerusalem with a new temple. The New Jerusalem is His gathered Church, all who dwell under His wings, all who have been released from the hold of sin and death upon body and soul. The new temple is His own body, for in being rejected even to the point of death, Jesus will offer Himself as the final sacrifice, given once for all on the altar of the cross. He sent this message to Herod: “Behold, I cast out demons and perform cures today and tomorrow, and the third day I finish my course.” He proclaimed His mission of release by casting out demons and disease, by raising the dead and announcing forgiveness, but on the third day He finished His course, He brought salvation to completion by rising from the grave. He has the power to bring complete and total release to all creation, for only He has offered the required sacrifice through His rejection on the cross, and only He has risen in victory over all that held creation captive.

But after Easter comes Ascension; Jesus is no longer present with us in the same way as when He walked this earth. But He has promised a return. Dear friends in Christ: Jesus is coming! He is coming despite any warning, despite the advice of friends or enemies. His return is inevitable, and once again, He will follow the prophetic pattern. He sends forth His Church, the New Jerusalem, to bring release to a creation in bondage to sin and death. She drives out demons with water, she casts out sin with the powerful words of forgiveness, she defeats death with the proclamation of Good Friday and Easter. Nothing else in this world can give what she can, for only she proclaims the one who has conquered sin and death. For two thousand years she has brought release, liberation, freedom to the farthest reaches of our planet. She is the instrument of Christ, His means for going forth to declare His gospel throughout the world. But as she follows His prophetic pattern in miracles, so she will follow His pattern in rejection.

Jesus desires to gather all people through the Church as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, but all people do not desire Him. He has not come for judgment, He has come for salvation, but so many will not have it: “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not!” Hear the agony in Christ’s voice! It is tragic when people hear the Gospel and reject it, instead clinging to false gods or no god at all. But the greatest tragedy is when those who once received salvation, who may even still call themselves Christians, have no desire for Jesus or the gifts He offers. They are rebellious Jerusalem, who have had Jesus in their midst and have refused Him. They have no hunger or thirst for the great gifts that He brings. They see His Body and His Blood upon this altar and they refuse to come and receive it. The Church is like an oasis in the desert that people refuse to drink from. Even more to the point, the Church is like an oasis that people once drank from, but now think that they have no need of.

But enough about the people outside of these walls, who aren’t listening to this sermon in the first place; Jesus isn’t speaking only about them, but also about you and me. Christ desires to gather you under His wings, but you refuse. You refuse to be gathered when you hang onto your sin, when you refuse to repent. You refuse to be gathered when you wallow in your favorite pet sins, indulging in them instead of crying out for forgiveness. The penalty for those who refuse to be gathered by Christ, who refuse to be released by His Gospel, is the same as it was for Jerusalem: “Your house is forsaken.” Those who reject the One who has defeated death and won heaven will find themselves released from God’s care—forever. And so where do we turn, what is the answer? It is the clear and consistent call of Lent: Repent! Repent of your sin and receive the promised forgiveness, be gathered by Christ under His loving wings!

For Jesus is gathering a New Jerusalem: not the perfect, not the sinless, but the forgiven. Repentance doesn’t mean that you never sin again; repentance means that you see your sin and cry out to Jesus for forgiveness. Jesus is coming, He is returning, and upon His return He will gather the forgiven into the New Jerusalem, the new heavens and the new earth. That final day is the third day, the fulfillment of Easter. Jesus told Herod: “Behold, I cast out demons and perform cures today and tomorrow, and the third day I finish my course.” The third day is coming, and on that day, Jesus will return to finish His course. Sin, death, and Satan have been defeated through the cross and empty tomb; upon His return, they will be eliminated and destroyed forever. Satan’s house will be desolate, the grave will be robbed, sin will no longer hold in bondage. Christ will come to bring release, freedom, and liberation to all people, to you and to me!

Jesus is coming; He will not be dissuaded or hindered by anything. He isn’t waiting for some natural disaster, He isn’t waiting for some human prediction, He is waiting for the proper time. All that is holding Him back is His love for humanity and especially for His wandering sheep, His desire to have more gathered under His wings in repentance and forgiveness. He is coming; the third day is approaching, as Jesus promised at the end of our text: “I tell you, you will not see me until you say, ‘Blessed is He who comes in the Name of the Lord.’” You do not fear the coming third day; you are forgiven, Christ has died for you, He has risen for you, He has baptized you, He has absolved you, He has placed His very Body and Blood into your mouth, and so upon His return you can boldly cry out in repentance and faith: “Blessed is He who comes in the Name of the Lord!” In the Name of Jesus, who will return on the third day to gather His children, you and me, under His wings for an eternity in the New Jerusalem, Amen.

Lent 1 of Series C (Luke 4:1-13)

It was a glorious day; light streamed through the windows, the birds sang outside, the church was full. I was at the font, and a man in a white robe, a sinner like me, was speaking. “Do you renounce the devil? Do you renounce all his works? Do you renounce all his ways?” The questions came fast and furious, but I knew the answers; of course I renounced them. Who wouldn’t? “Do you desire to be baptized?” There is nothing else that I could ever want. “I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” Cold water was splashed upon my head, and the heavens were opened; the Spirit descended like a dove, the Father’s voice rang out: “You are my beloved child, with you I am well-pleased.” There at the font, paradise rested on this earth. The glory shone all around, all I wanted to do was bask in it, to capture that moment and stay in it for the rest of my life. But that vision of glory was quickly shattered. The Spirit, the same Spirit which had come upon me at the font, led me away from the font. I couldn’t stay in the church; the comfort, the safety, the security of God’s house was not where I would remain. Suddenly the birds were no longer singing, suddenly the sun was no longer shining, suddenly what had been a glorious day became very gloomy. I looked around, and all I saw was a wasteland; a land of corruption, without growth, without life, without any of the glory and grace that had filled the font. I looked behind me, hoping to catch a glimpse of the font, one last look, and with a shock, I saw a figure standing right behind me.

He was not terrifying, but all the same, his very appearance gave me a shudder. “Who are you?” I asked. “A counselor,” was his answer. “I am here to help you achieve all that you deserve, if you are truly a child of God.” The ‘if’ was spoken with derision, as if he wasn’t quite sure if what the voice had said was true. To tell the truth, now, out here in the wilderness, I wasn’t so sure myself. He continued: “If you are a child of God, you should have all the good things that this world can offer.” With a wave of his hand, the desert was transformed. I saw piles of money, beautiful women, fast cars; tables laden with food in big houses. My counselor had a knowing smile on his face. “Sure, you’ve had a little water splashed on your head, but what has that earned you? This is where you will see God’s favor, if you truly are His child.” My hungry eyes drank them in; I wanted it all, I wanted it now. “What do I need to do?” He replied, “It’s simple. Seek them above all else, and they are yours; nothing, not God, not your fellow humans, should get in the way. They are your competitors; seek after these things with all your heart, and I promise you, they will be yours.” It was all so easy; and deep down I knew that all He asked me to do was be a human—what was more natural and easy than that? With greedy eyes, I said, “Show me the way.”

At that moment, a hand grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back. I saw a man before me, a miserable, pathetic man, who had clearly been in the wilderness much longer than I had. His face was covered with weariness; he apparently hadn’t eaten for a very long time. I had never seen such a wretched figure, but yet as I gazed more closely, he had a majesty about him. My counselor had a smirk on his face. “I tempted Adam with an apple, I tempted Israel with the starvation of the desert, but this one, who wasn’t even hungry, fell with hardly any effort, like so many before him. They are so quick to give up on God and seek the things of this world; their minds are driven by lust and greed. What makes this people worth saving?” The hungry man placed himself squarely between me and my counselor. His voice, at least, was still firm: “I stand in their place.” My counselor laughed. With a wave of his hand, the treasures which enticed me were all gone. He pointed to a rock on the wilderness floor. “You have been forty days and nights without food. If you are the Son of God, if what the Father said about you is true, command this stone to become bread.” I somehow knew that this hungry figure had the power to do it; I remembered with shame how easily I had been enticed, and I knew that that he couldn’t withstand these enticing words. But this wretched, hungry, worn down figure stood tall and declared, “It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone.’”

My counselor’s smile disappeared. He pointed at me and said with a sneer: “Come.” I reluctantly obeyed, leaving the one who had conquered temptation behind me. My counselor asked me, “What is more lasting that treasure? Reputation, fame, glory.” He showed me another vision, this time not of things, but of me in triumph. I saw my name in the paper, on TV and radio, I heard people praising me at coffee and around their kitchen tables. I saw myself running a company, winning awards, having political and social power, exerting my influence in the community and in the church. I heard my parents praising how I had done so much better than my siblings; I saw myself as the most popular person at school, at work, among my friends. My counselor smiled. “If you are a child of God, then you should have status, power and glory above everyone else, because you already know that you’re better than them.” He was right, I did know that I was better, and now was the chance to prove it. My voice could barely disguise my hunger: “How?” I asked. He replied, “Make yourself a god. Put your own needs above the needs of everyone else. Crawl over others, leave them in the dust. Seek yourself, worship yourself, and all this will be yours.” I wanted it all; what else could I say: “I’m ready to live for myself.”

I was at the cusp of achieving everything I had ever wanted, but then the hungry, weary man came between me and my counselor again. He seemed as weak as ever, but yet had found the strength to come among us once again. My counselor pointed at me: “They all love glory, they all want to be gods; this temptation worked on Eve, and it hasn’t failed since. Humans will always worship themselves, never you or your Father. I tell you, Jesus, there is nothing worth saving here!” Jesus spoke: “I stand in this one’s place; I stand in place of all of them.” Without a word, my counselor took us up a high mountain and showed Jesus a grand vision, all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time; all authority, all power, all glory. “All this is yours if you worship me.” I can’t be sure, but think I saw an alternate vision going on at the same time: this vision was of beatings, horrible scourging, and the ominous sign of a cross. Jesus paused, as if considering the two options; I had given in when presented with all the glory that Kiron/Deloit Iowa had to offer—how could He resist all the glory of this world? But then He stood tall and said, “It is written, ‘You shall worship the Lord your God, and Him only shall you serve.’”

My counselor’s anger could hardly be contained. He pointed at me and commanded, “Come!” And we left the triumphant Jesus behind us. He said to me, “I’m sure you know that being God’s child is a marvelous thing! The gospel is so wonderful, so beautiful, because His forgiveness covers every sin. If you are truly a child of God, then you can live your life exactly how you want to.” I will admit, I was intrigued by this change of tone, this offer of being God’s child without having the hassle of actually changing my life. With a trace of skepticism, I asked, “How?” He replied, “God’s grace is greater than your sin, any sin. So sin first, and ask for forgiveness later! You can do whatever you want, as long as you remember to repent the next day—you can even stay away from worship as much as you want to, as long as you get around to asking for forgiveness before you die. You see, God has given you a license to sin, because He has the get out of jail free card!” That sounded pretty good, and hey, I was living by grace, I was relying on God, wasn’t I? I replied, “Give me that kind of life!”

My eagerness was shattered by a booming voice: “Leave him, Satan! I stand in His place!” Jesus stood there, his hunger and weakness remaining, but yet still with that hidden majesty that seemed to never leave Him. Satan, my counselor, took us to the very pinnacle of Jerusalem’s temple. He said, “God loves you, Jesus; you are His only-begotten Son. He would never allow harm to befall you. Throw yourself down from here, for it is written, ‘He will command His angels concerning you, to guard you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.’” This seemed to be simply an invitation to trust God’s love and grace; at least that is what I thought when I had given in just a moment ago. But Jesus looked Satan in the eye and declared, “It is said, ‘You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.’”

I looked up, and Satan was gone, leaving only Jesus, Jesus alone. He had conquered each of Satan’s temptations, He conquered where I so easily had failed, to my shame. He looked at me not with anger, but with eyes full of grace and love and said, “Come.” We left the temple and Jerusalem, and stood upon a low, rocky hill. His voice said to me, “All of this is for you, it was all done in your place, to forgive you when you fail. I was obedient where you were disobedient, so that you would be mine for eternity.” I looked beside me to speak a word of thanksgiving to my Lord, but Jesus was no longer there. Where did He go? Then I heard a familiar voice, the voice of my counselor: “If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.” There, ahead of me, on the crest of the hill, was Jesus, hanging upon a cross, and my counselor, Satan, giving one last temptation. Jesus, weary, weakened, and dying, simply looked to heaven and declared in reply to his words, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” Then with all His remaining strength He cried, “It is finished!” Satan fell to his knees, crushed, defeated, triumphed over. But for me, and all who believed, there was victory, victory sealed by an empty tomb, for where I failed, where you failed, Christ won the victory, and He won it for you and me. To Him be glory, praise, and thanksgiving, now and forever! Amen.

The Transfiguration of our Lord (Luke 9:28-36)

“As he was saying these things, a cloud came and overshadowed them, and they were afraid as they entered the cloud. And a voice came out of the cloud, saying, ‘This is my Son, my Chosen One; listen to Him!” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and our Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. The text for our sermon on our celebration of the Transfiguration of our Lord comes from the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the ninth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Luke. Dear friends in Christ, as an old man, nearing the inevitable martyrdom that would bring his life to a close, Peter looked back on this day, he reflected on the Transfiguration. In his second letter, the leader of the disciples tells us, “We did not follow cleverly devised myths when we make known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of His majesty.”

As he writes these words, the events of that remarkable day come flowing back. He sees the face of Jesus, shining like the sun, His clothing dazzlingly white; human language is inadequate to describe the glory of the incarnate Son of God. He sees Moses and Elijah talking with Jesus, representing the Law and the Prophets; the Old Testament has come to testify once more to the Christ. Peter remembers with shame his foolish question, his desire to keep the glory in tents, like the tabernacle of old—Luke kindly writes that he didn’t know what he was saying. And who could’ve thought clearly on the mountain that day? Brilliant glory blinding your eyes, seeing the greatest saints of God walking this earth again, joy and fear and wonder all mixed together? You would’ve lost your mind, too. And Peter remembers God’s response to his foolish question. The cloud overshadowed them, a cloud that brought fear into trembling hearts. This is the cloud of God’s presence, the cloud of His glory, and it is terror for a sinner to fall into the hands of the living God. But there is no destruction in that cloud, instead a voice, the voice of God Himself, speaking not to Jesus, not to Moses or Elijah, but to Peter, James, and John. What did this voice declare? “This is my Son, my Chosen One; listen to Him!”

Listen to Jesus. The voice of God the Father, from the cloud of His glorious presence, had one command for Peter, James and John, for you and me. Listen to Jesus! Listen to Jesus, for He is the prophet that follows the pattern of Moses. Moses predicted that He would come, saying to the people of Israel, “The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your brothers—it is to him you shall listen.” The Law was given through Moses, and now the promised One has come, who has the authority to interpret that Law, to apply it to God’s people. Listen to Jesus, even when it’s inconvenient, even when He says things that make you uncomfortable. Listen to Jesus when He calls on you to love your neighbor, yes, even your enemy above yourself. Listen to Jesus when He tells you that hatred is murder. Listen to Jesus when He condemns divorce, greed, and selfishness, when He says that money and possessions are for the good of others, not for yourself, when Jesus declares that you are to humble yourself before God and your neighbors. The Father’s voice doesn’t tell you to listen to Jesus when you want to, when it makes your life easier, or when His words match up with the way that the world is going. The Father’s voice makes no exceptions.

Listen to Jesus! When God speaks, you shut up. You listen. No more excuses, no more caveats, no more attempts to explain away your thoughts, words and deeds. Jesus will take none of that. Listen to Jesus, and shut your own mouth. Quit talking and listen. Listen to Jesus! Listen to Jesus as He preaches the Law in its full severity, giving you no way out. Give up your pathetic attempts to justify your own actions, and listen to Jesus. Listen to Jesus as He calls you what you are, a poor miserable sinner, deserving only death and hell. Give up the foolish claims of the world, which deny sin and avoid death, which blabber on and on about man’s goodness, and listen to Jesus. Be silent before the words of Jesus, for His words are true, and they say the truth about you and all people.

Listen to Jesus, for only in Him is found the answer to sin and death. He is the promised Messiah, the chosen heir of David’s royal line. Listen to Jesus, for He alone has the words of eternal life. He condemns every other path that this world offers; He declares that He is the only way. Don’t trust yourself, your own good works or pious actions. Jesus says that no amount of good can outweigh your sin. Listen to Jesus! Every other path, every other way brings only death. Listen to Jesus, for He alone has come bringing life and salvation. Don’t listen to the world’s stupid chatter, the false claims of pluralism, diversity, and tolerance, that place the words of Jesus on equal footing with the claims of all other religions. Only Jesus has the endorsement of our Creator: Listen to Him!

Listen to Jesus, for only He has come to do what it takes to erase your sin and bring life into a world of death. As He stood in glory on the mountain of Transfiguration with Moses and Elijah, Luke is the only Evangelist that tells us what they were talking about. “And behold, two men were talking with Him, Moses and Elijah, who appeared in glory and spoke of His departure, which He was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.” Jesus had a departure ahead of Him; He needed to come down from that mountain and go to Jerusalem. In fact, the Greek word used here is ‘exodus,’ the same word used to describe God’s great acts of salvation in bringing His people Israel out from bondage in Egypt. Moses and Elijah were discussing with Jesus the new exodus He would bring, this time salvation from sin. But this exodus, like the first one, wouldn’t be accomplished without blood. Eight days earlier, He had told His disciples, “The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.” Listen to Jesus, for He has a departure coming, and it will be bloody, it will come upon a cross. Listen to Jesus, for He is Isaiah’s suffering servant, who bore the iniquity of us all. Listen to Jesus, for He has come to bring the greater exodus, He has come to bring you and me out from the bondage of sin. Lamb’s blood will be shed once again, and the Angel of Death will pass over our doors. Suffering must come before glory, because only suffering can win salvation from sin and death.

But Peter doesn’t want to listen to Jesus. He wants no part of suffering before glory. He wants glory now, and glory forever. “Master, it is good that we are here. Let us make three tents, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah.” He wants to hold onto the glory, to make it his own, to keep it there on the mountain and adore it until breath leaves him. Peter would sacrifice His own eternal salvation and the salvation of all creation in His thirst for glory. But the Father intervenes, saying, “This is my Son, my Chosen One; listen to Him!” Listen to Jesus: suffering comes before glory. Without His suffering, without His death, there is no glory; not for Jesus, not for Peter, not for you and me. Unless Jesus goes down the mountain and walks the way of the cross, there will be no glory, only death.

Listen to Jesus, for He declares that after the suffering comes glory. The Transfiguration is the sign, seal, and guarantee that after the horror and darkness of the cross comes the glory and light of the resurrection. The Transfiguration shows us what is coming, that on the third day Jesus will rise in glory, triumphant over the grave. At the empty tomb, the angels will bear white robes as witnesses of the great victory of Christ. And the Transfiguration is our guarantee of an even more glorious day, the fulfillment of Easter, the Last Day when Jesus will return in glory to do away with sin and death forever.

But that day is not yet; for now, you listen to Jesus. Listen to Jesus, for His Word bespeaks you righteous, it cleanses you from all your sins, all the times that you have stubbornly refused to listen to Him, and makes you the Father’s own beloved child. Listen to Jesus, for He declares that suffering comes before glory, in His life and in the lives of His disciples. Yes, you will suffer in this life, from the abuse and the cruelty of others, from the persecution and hatred of this world, from disease and ultimately from death. You will bear the cross as your follow Jesus. Like Peter, we don’t want to hear these words, we don’t want to face the suffering, but the Father’s voice calls on us to listen to Jesus. And Jesus guarantees suffering in this world of sin. But He doesn’t leave us without hope. As He didn’t remain in the grave, so we will not remain in this world of suffering and death. The Transfiguration is our guarantee that after our own suffering comes glory, and oh the glory that is to come! Saint Paul writes, “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” The Transfiguration is a picture of your future, for Jesus descended that mountain and walked the way of the cross so that you would be glorified with Him forever. You too must walk through the valley of the shadow of death, but listen to Jesus: after suffering comes glory. God speaks Jesus to us, forgiving our sins, making us righteous, and giving us glory, glory that is hidden now, but one day will be fully revealed.

The Transfiguration assures Peter, James, and John, it assures Jesus, and it assures you and me that on the other side of the cross is the empty tomb, that Good Friday is followed by Easter. It assures us that on the other side of our suffering stands the glory of resurrection and an eternity in the new heavens and the new earth. Today we bury our Alleluias, to bring them back in even greater glory on Easter morning. Today we come down from the mountain for the Lenten fast, listening to the words of Jesus: suffering comes before glory. We ponder the sufferings and we look toward the glory, knowing that Christ suffered for us so that His glory would be ours for eternity. Alleluia, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia! Amen.