Wednesday of Holy Week: My Song is Love Unknown

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

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

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

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

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

Tuesday of Holy Week: My Song is Love Unknown

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

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

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

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

Monday of Holy Week: My Song is Love Unknown

God is love. That fundamental character of our Creator is declared emphatically by Saint John in his first letter. Love isn’t just a characteristic of God or something He does, it is His identity. God is love. In this world we have poor analogies to understand God’s love. We love baseball, we love ice cream, we love television. Our love for our family- our spouse, our parents, our children and grandchildren- comes close, but it remains imperfect, tainted by sin. To understand how God is love, we cannot rely on human illustrations, but must turn somewhere else. We must turn to the cross.

“My song is love unknown, my Savior’s love to me, love to the loveless shown that they might lovely be. Oh, who am I that for my sake my Lord should take frail flesh and die?”

God is love, love unknown. His love isn’t unknown in the sense that we cannot see it or hear of it. It isn’t love that is hidden or secret. His love is unknown because we cannot comprehend it, we cannot understand it. We cannot imagine why Christ would die for someone like us. We know our sin, our guilt, our shame better than anyone else. We know that there is little in us that deserves salvation. But God is love. Saint Paul writes in Romans chapter five: “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” This statement is the essence of what the Gospel is: love shown to the loveless that they might lovely be. Our hymn immerses us in that mystery. “Oh, who am I that for my sake my Lord should take frail flesh and die?” This hymn isn’t about our love, which fails and falters, but about the Savior’s love for us, shown to us on Calvary’s cross. This love is shown despite our sin, and it is shown to destroy our sin, so that we might be made lovely in the Father’s eyes forever.

Almighty and everlasting God, you sent your Son, our Savior Jesus Christ, to take upon Himself our flesh and to suffer death upon the cross. Mercifully grant that we may follow the example of His great humility and patience and be made partakers of His resurrection; through the same Jesus Christ, our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever, Amen.

Palm Sunday (Series A: Philippians 2:5-11)

“Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” 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 Palm Sunday is the Epistle lesson read a few moments ago from the second chapter of Paul’s letter to the church in Philippi. Dear friends in Christ, our King, our Lord, our Messiah, is a coming King. He comes this day into Jerusalem, He comes to His people, who line the road waving palm branches, who cheer and acclaim His name. They shout, “Hosanna, blessed is He who comes in the Name of the Lord, even the King of Israel!” He comes to the praises of men, but He also comes in humility. He comes not on a steed of war, but on a donkey; He comes not leading an army, but twelve disciples. He comes in fulfillment of Zechariah’s prophecy: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your King is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is He, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” This is a humble King, a King who lowers Himself, a King who gives up glory instead of taking it. He comes not to conquer, but to die; He comes not to a palace, but to a hill of execution; He comes not to a throne, but to a cross. This is a King like no other, as the events of this most holy of weeks will demonstrate. He will be glorious, He will have His triumph, but not before He is humbled, not before He suffers, not before He dies.

This King is a humble King, a King who empties Himself, who freely gives up all that is rightfully His and submits to humiliation, suffering and death. “Though He was in the form of God, [Jesus] did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but make Himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.” This King is true God, He is equal with the Father, but yet He lays aside His glory. He makes Himself nothing, not simply being born as a man, but as the humblest of men. He didn’t seek after God’s glory, even though it was rightfully His, He resisted the devil’s temptation to grasp power for Himself, and instead walked the way of humility. He lowered Himself from the lofty heights of heavenly glory to the humility of servitude, putting Himself, the equal of the Father, into the hands of the Father’s will.

That will called on Him to humble Himself even further. It is a great mystery that Jesus humbled Himself to become a dirt-poor rabbi, born away from home, laid in a manger, with no place to lay His head. It is far greater mystery that He humbled Himself unto death. “And being found in human form, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” He is the Son of God, true God in the glory of the Father, and He humbles and lowers Himself to the most wretched death ever devised by men. He to whom all power and glory rightfully belong humbled Himself to the disgrace of men: “I gave my back to those who strike, and my cheeks to those who pull out the beard; I hid not my face from disgrace and spitting.” This is the Father’s will, that Christ would die for the people, that He would humble Himself to die in your place and mine, bearing our sin, and He was obedient to that will.

The drama of this week is captured in that phrase: “He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” Here is the agony of Maundy Thursday, here is the horror of Good Friday, here is the fear and sorrow of Holy Saturday. He to whom all power and all glory rightfully belonged humbled Himself to the wretchedness of the cross. But that is not the end of the story. He humbled Himself knowing that He would be exalted, He laid aside His glory knowing that He would take it up again. This King died in humiliation, He died the death of a criminal, but He did not stay dead. He went boldly to the cross because He knew what would happen on the third day: “Therefore I have set my face like a flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame. He who vindicates me is near.”

The humble King was vindicated, He was not put to shame; on the other side of the humiliation of the cross stood the glory of the empty tomb. Because He humbled Himself unto death, even death upon a cross in obedience to the Father, He was given eternal glory. “Therefore God has highly exalted Him and bestowed on Him the name that is above every name.” The crucified King is now exalted to the highest seat of honor. He who made Himself the lowest of all is now given the name above every name. The name of Jesus is the name of salvation, it is the name of glory, and at the sound of that name, all creatures, even the devil and His evil host, will fall down and give Him honor. “At the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” Humility led to glory for the crucified King.

That is the path that Paul calls on us to walk. He instructs us to “have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus.” We are to have the same mind as Christ, who not only humbled Himself, putting away His divine glory, but was humbled even to death upon a cross. He who was exalted over all became the least of all. He refused to glorify Himself, He rejected every temptation to seek after earthly gain, and instead subjected Himself in obedience to the Father’s will. He didn’t exalt Himself—He let His Father do that. You are called upon to have that same mind as your King. You are called upon to humble yourself, to refuse your own glory, to not boast in anything that you are or have. You are to put your pride to death, to put others before yourself, to be obedient to the Father whatever the cost may be. What do you boast in? Do you take pride in your wealth, your physical strength, your looks, your talents and skills? Do you crave the attention, the praise of others? Put it to death. Nail it to the cross. You are called to humility, to empty yourself like Christ, not to puff yourself up.

Paul explains exactly what he means just before our text: “Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but to the interests of others.” Pride looks only to your own needs; humility looks to the needs of your neighbor. The gifts you have been given are not to make you better in the eyes of others, they are to serve your neighbor in love. Empty yourself of self-serving pride and glory so that others can be filled. Despise the glory of men, their praise and adoration; it is fleeting, it fades away. Seek rather to live in humility, for, like Christ, you know that there is glory yet to come.

Jesus laid aside His glory knowing that He would take it up again; He endured the cross having spoken of the empty tomb. The one who exalts himself will be humbled; God makes sure of that, in this life or in the one to come. But the one who humbles himself in imitation of Christ will be exalted. Humility endures, while pride kills. Are you to come to God in boasting and pride, thinking that you have something to offer Him, that you have something that He needs, that you are worthy to stand in His presence because you are so wonderful? Or do you come to God empty-handed, a beggar, with nothing to give Him but your sin and wretchedness? Pride before God is the height of foolishness; humility is the only posture we can honestly have before our holy Creator. We say it at the beginning of every service: “I, a poor, miserable sinner.” Those words give us no room for pride before God or other people; we are all equally sinners, no matter what skills, wealth, or ability you may have. You are no different than anyone else; we all stand as sinners before a holy God. Is there room for pride, before God or before men, in the confession of sins? How are we to come before God?

We come as a child. Jesus, the King who humbled Himself, even to death upon a cross, told His disciples, “Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” What is more humble than a child? An infant is weak and helpless, totally dependent on others; they cannot give, but only receive. That is our pattern.  Our example is an infant, brought to the baptismal font; our example is Christ, hanging upon a cross. If He who had all things humbled Himself even unto death, then we, who have no reason to boast before God (and little reason to boast before men), are also called to live in humility, the humility of a child.
Christ our King continues to come to us with that same humility. Our King, our Lord, our Messiah, is a coming King. He came to this world on Christmas, He came to Jerusalem on Palm Sunday and even though He is now exalted above all things, even though He has been given the Name that is above all names, He still comes to us through humble means. He uses a fellow sinner, these broken lips, to proclaim the Absolution, to read and preach the Word. He uses simply water to claim children for His kingdom. He uses ordinary bread and ordinary wine to convey His Body and Blood. The King who came to Jerusalem in humility on Palm Sunday still comes in humility to His people each and every Sunday. He comes to humble us with His Law, to condemn our sin and help us to see that we have nothing to bring before Him, no merit to offer Him. But then He comes with the beauty of His Gospel, forgiving the prideful through His humble means. 

You are forgiven of your pride, you are forgiven of trying to exalt yourself, you are forgiven of seeking your own glory. Christ died not just to show you an example of humility, but to forgive your lack of humility; to pay the price for it, to take away its penalty from you forever. His humility stands in the place of your pride, He laid aside His glory to be your substitute. And now He gives you, as a forgiven sinner, the glories that followed His humiliation, and they belong to you forever. In this world, Christians live in humility, but you know that glory is up ahead, just as surely as you know that after Good Friday comes Easter. In the Name of Jesus, the Name above every name, given to the One who humbled Himself unto death upon a cross for you and for me, Amen.

Lent 5 of Series A (John 11:17-27, 38-53)

I was in Abraham’s bosom, dwelling in eternal bliss. All around me were the patriarchs, the prophets, and countless others who had trusted in the coming One, the One who they had only heard of in prophecy, but I had seen with my own eyes and had touched with my own hands. I even counted Him as a dear friend; when my sisters sent a message to Jesus, they simply said, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” When I became sick, even though it was a violent illness, my sisters and I were confident of healing. We knew Jesus, after all. We had seen him heal others before, we had heard dozens of other stories, and now if his beloved friends were suffering, He would surely come. He had healed strangers; He would certainly heal His friend. As the Jews said, “Could not He who opened the eyes of the blind also have kept this man from dying?” But Jesus didn’t come. He never arrived at my bed, and so I said my goodbyes to Mary and Martha and passed from this world to the company of all the saints. There I found perfect peace, there I found perfect comfort, there I found perfect joy. In Abraham’s bosom, it didn’t really matter anymore that Jesus had failed to come; for the first time, I was perfectly satisfied. I dwelt there, enjoying the Sabbath rest for what seemed like just moments, or maybe a couple lifetimes, when I heard the voice: “Lazarus, come out!”
It didn’t matter whether I wanted to leave or not; I was going back into the world, and in moments I was standing there, outside the tomb, wrapped in grave cloths. Jesus, who had allowed me to die, now yanked me from the peace of Abraham’s bosom and back into a world that I knew very well was filled with pain, suffering, and evil. I had died once; now I knew that I would have to die again. More than that, the religious leaders wanted to make that death happen, and soon. So, not only did I dwell again in a corrupted world, I was going to be persecuted on top of it. Why? What possible reason did Jesus have for letting me die and then pulling me out of heaven?

I was raised so that many would believe. My resurrection was the proof that Jesus was who He said He was. He told my sister, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.” I was raised so that Jesus could demonstrate before my sisters, before the Jews who had come to comfort them, before me, and even before you, living two thousand years later, that He was the master over death. He claims to be the resurrection and the life? Well, when I walked out of the tomb that day, He proved it. He says that those who believe in Him will never die? I was pulled out of Abraham’s bosom to declare that He speaks the truth. Isn’t this the most amazing phrase in all of Scripture? “The man who had died came out.” This is paradoxical, it is nonsense, dead men don’t go anywhere on their own. But I did, by the power of Christ’s word. He spoke to me as if I was living, and through the power of His Word, I did live. Jesus commanded the people standing around, “Unbind him, and let him go.” As they pulled the linens off my body, they could touch with their hands the truth of Jesus’ authority over death. I was no ghost, and everyone who saw me knew that Jesus is the resurrection and the life. I was raised as the greatest sign that He would ever do, the culminating sign that capped off His entire ministry. I was raised so that many would believe.

Both of my sisters had the same cry of anguish to our Lord, our friend, when they met Him that day. “If you had been here, my brother would not have died.” They asked Him in tears, ‘Why?’ But even before I walked from the grave, Martha gave a bold confession, she showed forth her faith. First she said, “But even now I know that whatever you ask from God, He will give you.” Then she declared, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God who is coming into the world.” She still needed to see the miracle to confirm that faith, as Jesus gently chided her when she protested against opening my smelly grave: “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” I was raised so that those dearest to me, my two beloved sisters, would believe that our friend Jesus had come to conquer death, so that they would boldly confess that faith until their dying day. But even more than that, I was raised so that you would believe that Jesus is the resurrection and the life.

You see, we all fear death, and rightfully so, for it is our greatest enemy, it is the penalty given in the garden, and it hangs over our head still today. Every person on the face of this planet is going to die. People know this, instinctively, and so they put forth an enormous amount of time, money, and energy trying to stave off death. But that’s all that you can do; even with the best efforts of the medical community, you can only put off death, you cannot conquer it. Only One man has the power to overcome death, and He raised me to prove it. He declared, “Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live.” Yes, your body will die, it’s inevitable. But by believing in Christ, you shall still live. How many bend over backwards to keep the body healthy, while neglecting the health of the soul? Saint Augustine wrote, “Every man is afraid of the death of the flesh; few, of the death of the soul.” Just make a simple comparison. Do more people in our world go to worship or visit the doctor? Do more people spend time in prayer or take pills? Do more people see their pastor or have surgeries? Where do your priorities lie? Take it from me, the one who believes will live, even though he dies. The one who doesn’t believe is dead already, and no doctor or hospital can help his soul. No doubt you should take care of your body, and God has given people skills of healing for your good, but so many are focused on trying in vain to avoid the death of the body that they neglect the soul, and when death comes, they will tragically find that they have lost both.

That’s the trap the Pharisees fell into. They were concerned about earthly things: their place and their nation. They thought that by killing Jesus (and me, too, if they could) those things would be safe. But less than forty years after the death of Christ, their place, their temple, was destroyed, and their nation was taken away. They sacrificed their souls for the sake of the things of this world, and they ended up losing both. I was raised so that many would believe; I was also raised so that some would disbelieve, and rage against the One who gives life to the dead. I was raised so that my friend would die, so that the Pharisees and the chief priests would unite together to destroy Him.

They were gathered to determine how to respond to my resurrection. Here’s a hint, guys: believe! Fall down and worship the One who has power over death. But, sadly, they went in another direction. Caiaphas stood up and declared, “You know nothing at all. Nor do you understand that it is better for you that one man should die for the people, not that the whole nation should perish.” That was their plan; but it was God’s plan, too. He was going to work through Caiaphas and the rest, and Jesus truly would die for the people. Caiaphas never spoke a truer word: Jesus had come to die for the people, He came to die so that you and I would not die eternally. His suffering was for the people, it was for you. His death was for the people, it was for you. I was raised so that Christ would be put to death, and He was put to death so that you will live. Because He died for the people, the nation will not perish. “Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.”

My resurrection points to another resurrection, two weeks later. Another tomb in a cave, another stone placed across its entrance. This time three days, not four, but the same result: He who was dead is now alive. I was raised to give a preview of Christ’s own resurrection; I was raised to point to Jesus. He demonstrated that He had power over death when I left my tomb behind; when He rises, that victory is complete, He has fulfilled His words: “I am the resurrection and the life.” He is the resurrection because He is the resurrected One. He is the life because He gives life, and He gives life to all. Saint John writes, “[Caiaphas] prophesied that Jesus would die for the nation, and not for the nation only, but to gather into one the children of God who are scattered abroad.”

That is what the Last Day is all about; on that Day, Jesus will gather into one the children of God scattered throughout the world, as God promises through Ezekiel: “And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and raise you from your graves, O my people. And I will put my Spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you in your own land.” My resurrection points to Jesus’ resurrection only two weeks later; my resurrection points to your resurrection on the day of His return. I was raised to show you your future, and mine. I went through death twice, my body is back in the grave, but it will not stay there. Neither will yours, or the bodies of any who belong to Christ. And the resurrection that is coming is much greater than the one I went through. 

I was stinky; you will be dust, the dry bones that Ezekiel saw in his vision. I was raised to die again, I was raised to be persecuted and suffer in this world of sin; you will be raised to live forever, you will be raised following the pattern of Jesus. My body was still sinful and fallen; yours will be perfect forever. The one who believes will still die, but because they belong to Christ, their soul dwells with Him, and their body will live again. As Saint Paul says, “If the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through His Spirit who dwells in you.” I’m waiting for that day, here with all the saints in heaven; you are too, as you walk through a world of sin. Christ promises resurrection to you and all who believe; a promise guaranteed by my resurrection a week before Palm Sunday, and Christ’s resurrection a week after. Christ is the resurrection and the life: your resurrection and your life. In His Name, Amen.

Lent 4 of Series A (John 9:1-41)

“For judgment I came into the world, that those who do not see may see and those who see may become blind.” 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, the account of the blind man from the Gospel according to Saint John, the ninth chapter. Dear friends in Christ: “Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” This seems to be a good question. At any rate, it’s a natural one, one that we ask ourselves when we encounter suffering, and it does have a foundation in truth. Suffering and infirmity only occur because we are sinful and corrupted; yes, even from birth. If we didn’t have any sin, we wouldn’t get sick, we certainly wouldn’t have permanent loss of vision or hearing, in fact, we wouldn’t die. But can we tie specific sin to specific instances of suffering? “Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Now, that’s not so easy. Sometimes, yes, certainly suffering comes directly from a sin. If you commit a crime, you’re going to jail, if you abuse the body God gave you, there’s probably going to be some consequences to your health. Our sin does result in some sort of suffering all the time. But can we turn it around? If my specific sins result in suffering, does my suffering always result from specific sins? What does Jesus say? “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him.”

Jesus squashes any sort of speculation, any line of questioning, any investigation into this man’s sin or the sin of his parents, and brings forth another answer. You cannot make a judgment on the moral character of any person based on how much they suffer. You can certainly say he or she is a sinner, but that doesn’t make them any different than you or any other person on this planet. You cannot even say whether or not they are a Christian simply based on whether they suffer. As our prayer list makes abundantly clear, believers are afflicted with suffering, too. Jesus teaches us that God “makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.” Your suffering, or the suffering of any other person, isn’t punishment for sin; that would deny the cross, that would mean that Christ died to no effect. No, instead suffering is where God works, it’s where He shows forth His glory. Does that mean that God caused the suffering, that He is the author of evil? Of course not—suffering comes from the Fall into sin, not from the Creator—but it does mean that God uses everything that happens in this world, good and evil, for His glory. The blind man dwelt in darkness so that Jesus could show Him the Light, He stumbled in blindness so that His eyes could see His Lord in faith.

Like the world, like you and me, the blind man lived in darkness, unable see the God who created him. He was blind from birth, just as we were given spiritual blindness and a nature corrupted by sin at the moment of our conception. But Jesus has come to open the eyes of the blind. He declares, “As long as I am in the world, I am the Light of the world.” He has come to bring light, to illuminate darkened hearts, to open the eyes of the blind, and He will start with this man right here. He could heal with a Word, but this time, Jesus uses physical means. He calls on the man to wash his blindness away, to go to the pool called sent, literally the pool of the Sent One, and through water to clear away the mud, and with it, his blindness. Imagine the moment that his eyes were opened; put yourself in His place. He hasn’t seen anything for his entire life, and then, when he washes the mud from his eyes, when his Baptism is complete, he sees for the first time. He sees the pool of the Sent One, where the miracle had taken place; he sees people and animals; he looks above him and sees the sun, the sky, clouds. He sees everything—but he doesn’t see Jesus. Not yet.

What he does see is a commotion, a sensation, caused by his bold proclamation: “I went and I washed and received my sight.” He is brought before the Pharisees, who can see clearly enough that this man isn’t blind. Their physical sight is just fine. What they don’t see is the miracle, what they don’t see is Jesus as the One doing the works of God. In His miraculous working in the midst of this man’s suffering, Jesus demonstrates that He is the Messiah, the very Son of God, as He Himself testified and Isaiah foretold: “I will lead the blind in a way that they do not know, in paths that they have not known I will guide them. I will turn the darkness before them into light, the rough places into level ground.” But these men, who put the healed one on trial, who doubt and question God’s working in the world through Jesus, are those described in our Old Testament lesson: “Who is blind but my servant or deaf as my messenger whom I send? Who is blind as my dedicated one, or blind as the servant of the Lord? He sees many things, but does not observe them; his ears are open, but he does not hear.”

The Pharisees refuse to see the Light when it shines in this world; they would rather dwell in darkness. Those who can see shut their eyes and make themselves blind; they will not see Jesus working in the midst of suffering. That is true blindness. Spiritual blindness is not seeing Jesus when He does the works He was sent to do. Spiritual blindness refuses to see Jesus working through suffering. The blind would rather live their comfortable lives without Jesus, without a need for Him, and therefore they only see suffering as an evil. The blind see suffering as punishment for sin, they refuse to see Jesus working in the midst of suffering, knocking away self-made crutches, clearing out all the earthly distractions that keep us from relying solely on Him. The blind don’t see Jesus at work in their suffering, they cannot see what good he could possibly bring from this, and so they don’t believe that He will. Spiritual blindness sees Jesus as a fraud. The blind see suffering as a sign that God doesn’t exist, or if He does, He doesn’t care enough to heal. The blind follow the advice of Job’s wife when suffering enters their lives: “Curse God and die.” As they tell the formerly blind man, “Give glory to God. We know that this man is a sinner.” And spiritual blindness is anything but tolerant. “They answered him, ‘You were born in utter sin, and would you teach us?’ And they cast him out.”

The Pharisees, whose physical eyes work just fine, show themselves to be the blind ones, and they refuse to see God working in Christ, they refuse to see Christ working in suffering. They become more and more blind as their investigation continues. The man who once was blind, on the other hand, sees more and more, and He is cast out from the Pharisees for confessing that Jesus is a prophet from God. Christ has worked through His physical suffering, His physical blindness, to bring forth spiritual sight. This man, like you, like me, dwelt in utter darkness, the darkness of sin, a darkness more deep and more terrible than any physical blindness. This darkness covered the earth, it blinded all people, and it still does. Those who can see all else cannot see their Creator, for He is hidden to them, shrouded in the darkness.

Into that darkness, into that blindness, Jesus shines the Light. “As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” Jesus has come to open blind eyes, to heal the sick, to comfort the suffering with His presence. As He says through Isaiah, “These are the things I do, and I do not forsake them.” When we suffer, we have no one to cling to but Christ, all our other self-made crutches and idols have been knocked away by the evil that has entered our lives. Yes, suffering is an evil; if suffering weren’t evil, then Jesus wouldn’t have healed the blind man, or anyone else for that matter. God’s intention was never for you to suffer anything in His perfect creation. But now that this creation has fallen, now that bad things happen to believer and non-believer alike, Jesus works through suffering, and He does His best work when we see what this world is: sinful and corrupted, in need of a Savior. And only eyes opened by Jesus can see Him as that Savior. He asked the formerly blind man, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” The man answered, “And who is He, sir, that I may believe in Him?” His physical eyes could see Jesus, but the greater miracle was about to happen. “Jesus said to him, ‘You have seen Him, and it is He who is speaking to you.’ He said, ‘Lord, I believe,’ and he worshipped Him.”

Spiritual eyes see Jesus as the Savior. Spiritual eyes see that while suffering is an evil caused by sin, it is not only an evil. Through suffering God works His greatest good. The question asked by the disciples in Jerusalem that day could’ve been asked at the foot of the cross on Good Friday. “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or His parents, that He suffers so?” And the answer would’ve been the same: “It was not that this man sinned, or His parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in Him.” Who sinned, that Jesus hangs upon the cross? You did. I did. That is why He hangs there, that is why He suffers so. He did not sin, but yet He suffers, yet He dies, so that the works of God might be displayed in Him. The cross declares to the world, it declares to you and me, that God works through suffering, and He works through suffering to bring salvation. You and I were the ones who sinned, but we do not suffer the penalty; that penalty fell upon Christ. Nothing that you suffer in this world is punishment for your sin; yes, there are consequences for our sins, but the punishment, the penalty is no more. With the eyes of faith, blinded eyes opened by washing at the pool of the Sent One—the baptismal font—you see Christ in your place, bearing your penalty, suffering on your behalf. Your opened eyes see a future where suffering is no more, where no one will ever be ‘blind from birth’ ever again. He has destroyed suffering through His suffering, and He has brought life through His resurrection. The Light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. In the Name of Jesus, who brings sight to the blind, Amen.

Lent 3 of Series A (Exodus 17:1-7)

“You shall strike the rock, and water shall come out of it, and the people will drink.” 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 Old Testament lesson read a few moments ago from the seventeenth chapter of the book of Exodus. Dear friends in Christ, the people of God moved out into the wilderness of sin, the wilderness of death, the wilderness of need. They had been given so much by their God; in fact, He was Himself the source of their every good. He created them, you see, in the first seven days of history, and every child that came forth from the womb ever since was His doing as well. The sun shone because of Him, the rains came because of Him, food was placed on their tables and a roof over their heads only because of His gracious provision. But more than that, He had given them new birth through Baptism; He had brought them through water from death to life. Their enemies? Drowned and destroyed, washed away by the waters. His rich grace and mighty deliverance were the only reason they were in the wilderness in the first place. God had given them everything, but it wasn’t enough. They thirsted. They thirsted for success, they thirsted for money. They thirsted for companionship, they thirsted for health. Their mouths were so parched by what they didn’t have that they forgot what God had given them. Their memories were short, and so they raised a complaint to their God, they grumbled against Him, they quarreled with Him.

The people of God put Him on trial, they placed themselves on the judge’s seat and disputed with Him. What He had done in the past was quickly forgotten; what mattered was what He was doing now. And right now they were thirsty. The lonely thirsted for relationship. The poor thirsted for money and possessions (the rich did, too). The sick thirsted for healing. The downtrodden thirsted for a better life. Those down on their luck thirsted for a break to go their way. God’s provision of all their needs, His gift of life itself, seemed worthless next to this thirst. What’s the use of having a God if He doesn’t make my life better? “Therefore the people of Israel quarreled with Moses and said, ‘Give us water to drink.’” But thirst isn’t the problem here. The problem is how God’s people seek to satisfy their thirst. They don’t pray to God, they don’t even cry out to Him in faith. They don’t wait patiently for Him to act, to make good on His promises. No, instead they quarrel, instead they grumble, instead they put Him to the test. “And Moses said to them, ‘Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?’” Moses has put his finger right on the problem. They are putting God to the test.

They put God to the test by demanding that He act as they want Him to, and if He doesn’t, they threaten rebellion. They put themselves in His place, and they tell Him how He should act on their behalf. They view their Creator as a servant, simply there to fulfill their needs whenever they ring the bell. And if He doesn’t show up and take care of their problems, then they will fire Him. “The people thirsted there for water, and the people grumbled against Moses and said, ‘Why did you bring us up out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and our livestock with thirst?’” They are ready to go back into the bondage of sin; they want to stone Moses, to reject the Law He brings. They seek to satisfy thirst by living in sin. The lonely seek fulfillment in adultery or pornography. The poor seek fulfillment in stealing. The rich do the same, even though their ‘stealing’ is of a different kind. The downtrodden seek fulfillment in bringing others down, in destroying reputations and telling lies. The successful, thirsty for more success, are remarkably similar, casting away others to get what they want. The weak and outcast seek fulfillment in bullying. The sick threaten God, telling Him that if He doesn’t act, they will abandon Him. All try to satisfy their thirst by self-medication, whether by drugs, alcohol, and other vices, or by immersing themselves in other occupations to the neglect of God and family. They seek satisfy their thirst by trying anything and everything; like the woman at the well, they seek fulfillment again and again: “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband;’ for you have had five husbands, and the one you now have is not your husband. What you have said is true.”

Moses sees where this is going. “What shall I do with this people? They are almost ready to stone me!” The people of God are ready to overthrow the Law to satisfy their thirst, they are ready to stone Moses, for they have put God on trial and have found Him wanting. They are in rebellion against their Creator, in fact they have put themselves in His place, and they are providing for their thirst themselves. They have forgotten Isaiah’s warning: “Woe to him who strives with Him who formed him, a pot among earthen pots! Does the clay say to him who forms it, ‘What are you making?’” Woe to Him who puts God to the test, for such a test, such a rebellion, will never satisfy thirst, in fact, it will deliver only the eternal thirst prepared for those who reject God. The thirst that the people of God feel in this world of sin can never be satisfied through more sin and rebellion. Sin always leaves people wanting more, it always leaves them still thirsty, in a cycle of thirst that never ends; something more is always needed to satisfy it. Moses rightly asks the Lord: “What shall I do with this people?” How will their thirst be satisfied?

God’s answer is for Moses to take action. “And the Lord said to Moses, ‘Pass on before the people, taking with you some of the elders of Israel, and take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile, and go.” This staff is the instrument which God has used to strike judgment upon His enemies, which has delivered His people in the past. It is the symbol of the Law of God, and Moses, the Law-giver, is the one who wields it. Where is Moses to go with the staff of the Law? “Behold I will stand before you there on the rock at Horeb.” Moses is to go to a rock, but not just any rock, the rock that God points out to Him, the rock to which He has attached His promises. There are plenty of rocks in this world, but only one Rock which will provide the waters that can satisfy. A rock is enduring, a rock is permanent, a rock is a place of refuge and protection, it will not be moved. God pointed to this Rock as He stood in the river Jordan: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well-pleased.” This Rock, Jesus Christ Himself, existed before time began, He is eternal, and He is a solid and steady shelter for the people of God. And from this Rock God has promised to satisfy the thirst of His people. Jesus Himself says it: “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

Moses is sent to the Rock that God has indicated, that He pointed out with a star at His birth and with His voice at the Jordan and the Mountain of Transfiguration. That is the Rock to which he must go, that is the Rock he must strike. “Behold, I will stand before you there on the rock at Horeb, and you shall strike the rock, and water shall come out of it, and the people will drink.” God’s people deserved to be struck for their rebellion, for their grumbling and murmuring against their Creator. They deserved to be struck for putting Him to the test. But Moses is not commanded to raise his staff against the people; instead he is to strike the Rock. “And Moses did so, in the sight of the elders of Israel.” The elders of Israel were witnesses to this striking; they watched as Jesus, the Rock, was struck by the staff of the Law. They saw He who had no sin struck for the sin of the people, stricken, smitten, and afflicted. They saw, for it was the elders of Israel who put the Rock on trial, who handed Him over to Pilate, who rejoiced to see Him scourged and nailed to the tree. But what they intended for evil God intended for the good of all, for the satisfying of all thirst forever. They watched as the staff of the Law struck the Rock, and the Rock broke open, pouring out life-giving water. “One of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water.” From the broken Rock came the waters of life, the waters that satisfy, the waters promised by God Himself. “Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in Thee; Let the water and the blood, from thy riven side which flowed, be of sin the double cure: cleanse me from its guilt and power.”

Moses fulfilled His task, and the full fury of the Law fell upon the Rock; He was struck, not you, me, not any of God’s people. And the water that flowed from His riven side that day satisfies the thirst of God’s people forever. What nothing on this earth could satisfy, what no sin could ever fulfill, Christ has, for He is the struck Rock from which the living waters flow. With Him, thirst is no more, and it will be said of God’s people: “These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation… They shall hunger no more, neither thirst anymore; the sun shall not strike them, nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” The lonely have a brother and friend in Christ, the poor and downtrodden have eternal riches and exaltation in heaven, the sick will be given perfect bodies at the resurrection. And in this world, as you struggle with thirst, you find that your every need is ultimately satisfied by Christ’s living waters, for He is all that you need. As you wander in this thirsty wilderness of sin, you cry out to the Lord, you ask for deliverance, you bring your thirst to Him, and while He may satisfy your thirst in this world through His gracious provision, He teaches you that it is He who satisfies your thirst with the gift of Himself, He satisfies your thirst with His living waters forever. Your thirst is satisfied by your Rock, by Jesus. The people asked, “Is the Lord among us or not?” Yes, He is among us in the midst of this thirsty world, and He gives us His living water, He is all we need. In the Name of Jesus, the Rock that was struck to give us living water, Amen.