Reetz family reunion (Luke 8:19-21)

“My mother and my brothers are those who hear the Word of God and keep it.” 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 afternoon is the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the eighth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Luke. Dear friends in Christ: every family has its memorials, its sacred places, like the cave east of Mamre, where the biblical patriarchs were buried, and you are sitting in one of them. Of the nine children of William and Augusta Reetz, six of them were married in this very sanctuary. My own great-grandfather Fred was confirmed and married at this altar, which today still stands right before your eyes, though a few miles from its original location. Look around you; this mass of people, over twice as many as we anticipated, all trace their roots (or the roots of their spouse) to the same two people, immigrants from Germany, William and Augusta Reetz. This is their legacy: you, and many more who are not here today, and even children yet to be born, generations to come. William and Augusta were not celebrities, nor influential politicians, the decision-makers that set the course for a state or a country. Just farmers, part of the waves of immigrants from Germany that brought to Nebraska all the roots of my own family tree. To the world, the name of William and Augusta Reetz doesn’t mean too much; to you and me, they are a part of us, our heritage, our history, our family, and we can all look at each other this day and know one thing: our roots (or the roots of our spouse) go to the same place.

It is good, right, and salutary that we should gather here as family to give honor to family, to celebrate the heritage we hold in common. Through this family God gave us life, through this family God not only brought us into this world but sustained and nourished us, providing for the needs of our body through them. It is God-pleasing to celebrate our family, so God-pleasing, in fact, that God Himself set forth the Fourth Commandment to protect the institution of the family: “Honor your father and your mother.” Martin Luther teaches us the explanation in the Small Catechism: “We should fear and love God so that we do not despise or anger our parents and other authorities, but honor them, serve and obey them, love and cherish them.” For the God who created all things, the human family, man and wife bringing forth the next generation, is the foundation of society, it is the very building block on which all else is built, and thus we are to honor our parents, and not just our parents, but all those who went before us, as the children of Israel did, honoring Jacob and Joseph’s request to be buried in the family cemetery. Our family deserves our respect, whether the world gives them any or not, they deserve the honor of their office, because God Himself has commanded it.

But we should take care to understand what the Fourth Commandment does not say. The Fourth Commandment says “Honor your father and your mother,” not, “Worship your father and your mother.” Another commandment has something to say about worshipping anything other than God, the First Commandment, and the idols we craft are not just statues or false religions, but so often we turn the good gifts of God into our objects of worship, we bow down before the creature rather than the Creator. Satan tempts us to twist anything that God gives into an idol, to make it the focus, the center of our lives. That is the danger of a gathering like today, that we would make more of our bloodlines than we ought to, that we take more pride in our human lineage than anything else, and forget what is most important. Jesus’ mother and brothers certainly thought that bloodlines counted for something, they thought that they should have priority. They stood at the edge of the crowd, this mass of desperate people, hungering and thirsting for the Word of God, and they wanted to see their son and brother. And they thought they should have no problem doing so. “Then His mother and His brothers came to Him, but they could not reach Him because of the crowd. And He was told, ‘Your mother and your brothers are standing outside, desiring to see you.’”

Now one would think that any good Jewish boy, especially the Son of God, would remember the Fourth Commandment, pause His sermon, and obediently go out to visit His family. After all, mama’s calling! But not Jesus; He, as usual, does something completely unexpected. “But He answered and said to them, ‘My mother and my brothers are those who hear the Word of God and do it.’” He doesn’t stop His sermon, in fact, He puts an exclamation point on it. Throughout Luke chapter eight Jesus has been teaching about faithfully hearing the Word; He has taught that those who listen to the Word bear much good fruit, they shine their light out into the world, and now comes the kicker. Those who hear the Word and ‘do it,’ that is, who believe that Word and live according to it, have a closer relationship with Jesus that even His own family. No one related to Him by blood is as close to Jesus as those who are related to Him by faith. Jesus doesn’t abolish the Fourth Commandment here, He subordinates it, as all things are subordinated, to the First Commandment. In the First Commandment, “You shall have no other gods,” we are to fear, love, and trust in God above all things, including our family, including our bloodlines. And the only way to fear, love, and trust in God above all things is to hear His Word and do it, to hear the voice of His Son Jesus and believe. Apart from Jesus, you do not have the true God, apart from Jesus, God is not your Father.

Jesus came to establish a family, to bring forth children of God by reconciling sinful men to their Creator. His suffering and death was a ‘family event,’ for in giving Himself into death as the price for your sin, He eliminated all that separated you from your heavenly Father, all that estranged you from Him. He came as our brother, in our human flesh, to make us brothers and sisters with a bond closer and more important than any earthly family can muster, founded in His death for your sake. You’ve heard the expression, ‘blood is thicker than water’? Well, it’s not true. No blood is thicker than the baptismal waters, which bind us to Christ as our brother, to God as our Father, and to each other as brothers and sisters in Christ. St. John proclaims it: “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.”

We are called children of God because that is exactly what we are. We are children of God because we have been reconciled to Him by the blood of His Son, poured out for us on the cross of Calvary. And the resurrection of Jesus on the third day is the guarantee that there will be at least one more family reunion on the Day when all the graves are opened, including those at Zion Lutheran cemetery, Thayer, Nebraska. On that Day, all the saints, all those who heard the Word of God and did it by faith, will be raised up to join in the family reunion forevermore in the new heavens and the new earth. There, we will join our brother Jesus, our heavenly Father, and all who have gone before us, William and Augusta, their children and grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great grandchildren, and on down the line, all who clung to Jesus in faith.

There, on that Day, William and Augusta will see their legacy. The legacy of William and Augusta Reetz is not in the acres farmed, not in lasting contributions to society or government, not even in the children born from their line. Their legacy is a legacy of faith, the Word of God handed down from generation to generation. Their legacy is in the saints who will stand with them in the hallowed halls of the New Jerusalem forevermore. God used them as His instruments to pass on the faith once delivered to all the saints, to bring little ones to the baptismal font. Through them Jesus was proclaimed, and His gifts were delivered; through them, each succeeding generation was brought from this earthly family into the most important family, the family of Christ. That is what we give thanks for on this day, that is what we celebrate: God taught the Word, He delivered Christ, to generation after generation through this family, and I personally give thanks to God that He preserved the faith from William and Augusta, through Fred and Helena, to Velma and Willis, to Gail and Steve, the faith that I have the honor and responsibility to pass on to my children. You belong to this family, but more importantly, you belong to the family of Christ, the only family that will last forever, world without end. Amen.

Trinity 6 (Exodus 20:1-17)

“And God spoke all these words, saying, ‘I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery. You shall have no other gods before me.’” 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 twentieth chapter of the book of Exodus. Dear friends in Christ, the First Commandment doesn’t stand alone; it isn’t an isolated, arbitrary word. The jealousy of God doesn’t come from God’s cruel, spiteful nature, like the Greek and Roman gods, who were in competition with one another for the honor of men. No, the First Commandment, God’s demand for exclusive obedience, is predicated on the Gospel, it is rooted in God’s gracious action toward His people. “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.” God has given Himself to His people, He has acted to deliver them, He has established a relationship with them founded on deeds of salvation—He is their God, they are His people—and now their saving God asks for their fear, their love, their trust.

The First Commandment implies a promise: ‘You shall need no other gods.’ Only the true God delivered His people Israel from bondage in Egypt; not the gods of Canaan, and not the gods of Egypt, Greece, or Rome. Only the God has delivered you from the bondage of sin and death; not the gods of Muhammed or Joseph Smith; not the many gods of the East. Only the true God has sent His only begotten Son into our flesh to suffer and die, bearing your sin upon Himself and paying the price that sin had earned. No other God offered up the sacrifice sufficient to take away the sin of the world; only the God who is the Father of Jesus. No other God raised up His Son, victorious over sin and death.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: if you can find another god who has delivered you from sin, death, and the power of the devil, you are welcome to him. But only the God who speaks in our text this day has given His Son into death for the life of the world, only this God has raised Him up again in victory, so that as Jesus lives, so you too will live. The First Commandment is founded on God’s action, that He has given Himself to you in His Son. It’s a command, to be sure, the most potent Law ever offered, the foundation of all other laws, every other command, but it is predicated by a promise, the saving relationship God has established with you through His Son. The God we are called upon to fear, love, and trust above all things has given Himself to you for your salvation, He has delivered you from the penalty of death and hell by giving His Son in your place.

The gods of this world promise much. They promise deliverance, they promise salvation, they promise to provide for our needs. They promise freedom, they promise prosperity, they promise greatness. They promise to fight for you, to take up your cause, to advocate for you. And we look at ourselves, we look at our lives, we look at our society, and we see much to be delivered from. We are poor, we are downtrodden, we are tyrannized. We are trampled on, we are exploited, we are treated unjustly. We are desperate for a word of hope, and the gods are all too happy to speak it. They know what we are seeking, and from billboards, on television, in the paper, they all make their offer of salvation. They trumpet their promises to the masses, hoping for obedience, seeking followers, desiring sacrifice. They are all in competition with one another; each is seeking to be the one whom you fear, love, and trust above all else. They know what you want, and they all want to be your god. And we are only too happy to oblige. Luther had it right when he said in the Large Catechism: “A god is that to which we look for all good and in which we find refuge in every time of need. To have a god is nothing else than to trust and believe him with our whole heart.”

All gods demand worship, all gods demand obedience, all gods demand images. And so we craft our idols, we hew our monuments from the solid rock, and we travel many miles, we spend large amounts of money to see them. We build statues of our gods and house them in Greek temples, we carve their faces into mountains, we have our own hallowed ground and pilgrimage sites, we celebrate all the holy days. Every god has its image, whether it hangs on your wall, sits in your garage, or hangs from a pole. Every god has its demands, whether it be your loyalty, your money, or your vote. And every god demands sacrifice, whether your time, your integrity, or your worship. We bow down before the image of our gods, giving them homage, promising obedience, promising loyalty, promising to fear, love, and trust in them above all else.

We make our promises to the gods, we swear our oaths of allegiance, as they have promised to give us every good thing. We bow down before the images we have created in their honor, praying that they will notice and acknowledge our loyalty. But as we return, year after year to our idols, we see them deteriorate. The elements, the wind and the rain, the snow and the ice, take their toll on our images of stone and metal, cloth and paper. Fire consumes them, water damages them; time itself launches an attack on them, and the victory of time against our idols is as slow as it is inevitable. Time takes its toll, and will one day erase any sign that they ever existed. God knows this fate of our idols, our images, and so He says, “You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth.” Once again, this is a command—Law, stern Law—predicated on a promise. Like the ones in whose honor we made them, all idols will fail, all idols will pass away. In love, God calls on us to cling to something that endures, that will last, that can truly deliver on the promise of salvation.

For the gods cannot deliver. Their images will fade away, they will eventually succumb to the ravages of the years and centuries; but much sooner than that, the gods themselves will fail us. They will let us down, failing to provide for us as we had hoped. They will be shipwrecked by scandal and division. They will find the obstacles put in their path too great to surmount; they will be thwarted by forces completely out of their control. They will deceive you, they will take your obedience, your loyalty, your money and do the opposite of what you wanted; the gods whose image you travel to worship will be betrayed by those who follow in their stead. Or, on the other hand, maybe they will actually succeed. Perhaps the gods can give us some good; maybe they can deliver us from opposing armies, from criminals who wish to hurt us, from senseless violence. Maybe they can raise us from poverty, give us a voice, and protect our liberties. Maybe. But any benefit that the gods can give us ends at the moment that we draw our last breath. Even if they can deliver on all of their promises, when our final hour comes, they will all fail. At that moment, they will all be shown for who they are: false gods.

At the point of death, all false gods pass away, all false gods fail, for they too are subject to death, they too will one day be no more. The same enemies that surround you surround them, and their powerlessness in the face of death and hell proves that they were no place to put your fear, love, and trust. The only God who can save, the only God who truly deserves your fear, love, and trust, is the God who has the power over death and hell, the very God who said to His people of old: “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.” Only this God, the true God, has conquered death for you by sending His Son to suffer, die, and rise again. Only this God, the true God, gives you that salvation, making you His child, by putting you to death and raising you up again in the font. “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death? We were buried therefore with Him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.”

The only true God is the Father of Jesus, who is the very image of God, an image that you can trust, because this image is not subject to decay or the ravages of time, but is risen from dead, lives and reigns to all eternity. There is no other god who deserves honor, no other god who deserves worship, but the one true God, and Him alone. “You shall not bow down to them or serve them, for I the Lord your God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children to the third and the fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing steadfast love to thousands of those who love me and keep my commandments.” In this world, it may be that those who trust in the gods and hate the true God live comfortably and without need, while those who reject the gods and worship the true God suffer want and deprivation. But appearances are deceiving, and death makes all things clear. For when death comes to you, so will the promise: “If we have been united with Him in a death like His, we shall certainly be united with Him in a resurrection like His.”

God is jealous for His honor because He loves us. He loves us so much that He has no desire for us to chase after other gods that promise much but cannot deliver. Therefore, He has not only acted to deliver us by sending His Son to suffer, die, and rise again, but He has come to us in the Word, worked faith within us by the power of the Holy Spirit, and now, only through the Spirit’s work, we believe; we are made His children, restored to our Father through the blood of His Son. The First Commandment, or any of the other nine, cannot be kept apart from the faith worked by the Holy Spirit; no one can keep the Law apart from Christ, who kept it for us. In Christ, by faith in Christ, you keep the Law, for in Christ, by faith in Christ, you have no other gods before the true God. And there is no other god that you need, for only the true God sent His Son for you: to live for you, to die for you, to rise again for you. In the name of God’s Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.

Presentation of the Augsburg Confession (John 15:1-11)

“I AM the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and our Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. The text for our sermon this commemoration of the presentation of the Augsburg Confession, the foundational confession of the Lutheran Church, is the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the fifteenth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint John. Dear friends in Christ: “I will speak of your statutes before kings, O Lord, and will not be put to shame.” June 25th, 1530. Augsburg, Germany. A group of laymen were gathered before the emperor, before the representatives of the pope, before the powers and principalities of this world. They read a document, a confession, crafted by theologians, principally Philip Melanchthon, but confessed by laymen, princes and political officials. These men were fully conscious what this confession would mean; not only were they putting their lives on the line, but they were also confessing before Almighty God, to whom they would answer on Judgment Day. But they were not put to shame. They were not ashamed, they were not embarrassed, they were not timid, for they took their stand on the Word of God. They set themselves forward, in accordance with that Word, to oppose any attempt to take honor away from Christ, any attempt to achieve salvation apart from Him, in full or in part, in accord with His Word: “Apart from me you can do nothing.”

Apart from Christ, there is nothing good in this world, for apart from Christ there is no faith, apart from Christ there are no good works. Apart from Christ, there is nothing, only sin and condemnation. Apart from Christ, no one has access to their Creator. Apart from Christ, there is no heavenly joy, only the wrath of judgment. To think otherwise is to think that a branch can survive without its vine. “I AM the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.” Christ is the vine, the true vine that replaces God’s original planting, the nation of Israel, which did not produce the fruit He desired. Apart from Christ, the branches are not nourished, they are not cared for. Apart from Christ, there is not the pruning that all healthy branches need.

“I AM the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch of mine that does not bear fruit He takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.” Apart from Christ, branches wither and decay, they are cut off to be burned. But those who are in Christ are pruned, and the word used here for ‘pruned,’ has the original meaning of ‘cleansed.’ How do you cleanse a branch? By cutting off its impurities, by pruning it. How do you cleanse a person, body and soul? By washing, the washing of the water with the Word. Jesus says to you and me, “Already you are clean because of the Word that I have spoken to you.” You have been cleansed by the washing of Holy Baptism, you have been scrubbed clean in the font; through the power of the Holy Spirit, you have been attached to the true vine, Jesus Christ. You are a part of His Body, the Church, connected to Him and your fellow Christians as branches are connected to a vine. And now the Father prunes you, cutting away every imperfection, cleansing you again and again, daily putting you to death in a return to your baptism and raising you up again to live before Him in righteousness and purity forever. You are cleansed, pruned, as the Father calls you to repentance through the Law and forgives your sin by the Gospel, each and every day, with each and every sin. You are cleansed, pruned daily, until that Day when every imperfection is finally cut away, and you stand before Him in the white robes, a pure and uncorrupted branch, forever.

Apart from Christ, you can do nothing. In Christ, you are clean by virtue of your baptism, you are attached to the true vine, and God works to cleanse you, to prune you, day by day in a return to the font. Apart from Christ, there is no cleansing, there is no pruning, there is only the growth of corruption. “If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.” Apart from Christ, there is only burning. Apart from Christ, there is only destruction. Apart from Christ, there is no faith, no trust in the true God. A branch cannot live on its own; it can only have life if it receives that life from the vine. Christ is the vine; we are the branches. We receive our life from Him, by receiving His gifts, the life-giving nutrients that flow into us by the Holy Word, preached and read, and in the Sacrament of the Altar, where the sap of the true vine flows into our veins. Any and all who cut themselves off from these means will wither away. Apart from Christ, you can do nothing. There is no other way, no other path. Either we are attached to Christ, receiving life from Him, or we are apart from Him, withering away and destined to be burned.

Apart from Christ, no one can be saved. Apart from Christ, all are alike condemned. Why? Because only Christ has paid the price for our sin; only Christ hung upon the cross and faced the wrath of God over your sin and mine. Only Christ is both true man, living a perfect life in your place, able to lay down His life as a sacrifice, and also true God, offering up a sacrifice sufficient for all the sin of the world. Only Christ went into the grave to come back out again, holding the keys of death and Hades. If you can find another savior who has paid the debt you owe, who has triumphed over the grave, you are welcome to him; but only Christ has won the salvation that all men need, only Christ gives it freely to you, and therefore Christ says, “apart from me you can do nothing.”

We can do nothing apart from Christ; nothing good, that is. With these words, Jesus shatters any confidence in human works; they are quite simply no good before God apart from Christ. “Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me.” No work is good apart from Christ; we cannot keep the Law apart from being connected to the One who kept the Law on our behalf. A branch laying on the ground, cut off from the vine, cannot produce fruit; it is impossible. In the same way, anyone who is apart from Christ cannot do a good work; it is impossible. Their deeds may look good, they may help many, and we can rightly praise and encourage them in an earthly way, but before God these works are only sinful. They cannot bring salvation, they cannot bring a man to God, but only condemn him.

On the other hand, those connected to Christ, those who are attached to Him as the true vine, bear much good fruit. “By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples.” Branches connected to the true vine bear fruit; this is simply a fact. They do not bear fruit in order to be attached to the vine, but they bear fruit because they are attached to the vine. And what is that fruit? One word: love. “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in His love.” We love as Christ loved us: laying down our lives for others, placing them and their needs ahead of our own. That is the fruit that those who are in the true vine bear. That is the fruit that Christ calls on you to bear. But this fruit cannot be produced on your own, by yourself, but only through the life-giving gifts that Christ gives. “Apart from me you can do nothing.” We love as Christ has loved us; we receive love from Christ here in this place, and then we extend that love to others as God places them before us.

We do this in joy; not under compulsion, not under the threat of punishment, not out of a need to earn God’s favor. We have God’s favor, we are attached to the vine; we now serve others in freedom, with great joy. “These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.” It is no coincidence that Jesus calls Himself a vine when the picture of the joy of the kingdom of heaven almost always includes wine. Being attached to the true vine and bearing much fruit lead to joy, the very joy of heaven itself. Apart from Christ there is no faith, apart from Christ there are no good works, and apart from Christ, there is no joy.

It was on that great truth that the confessors at Augsburg took their stand. “Apart from me you can do nothing.” Their Roman opponents certainly held to Jesus as the only one who gives access to the Father. Their error was more subtle; they privileged human works by giving them a role to play in achieving salvation. Faith and works together brought the believer into a saving relationship with God. In response, the confessors went to John chapter 15 and declared: “Without faith human nature cannot possibly do the works of the First or Second Commandments. Without faith it does not call upon God, expect anything of God, or bear the cross, but it seeks and trusts in man’s help. Accordingly, when there is no faith and trust in God, all manner of lusts and human devices rule in the heart. Wherefore Christ said, ‘Apart from me you can do nothing.’” Faith comes first, then works, and those works have nothing to do with making a person righteous before God. No work that precedes faith and justification is good, but is damnable and condemned, no matter how beautiful it appears.

Melanchthon emphasizes this point in the Apology, or defense, of the Augsburg Confession. “Our opponents imagine that we are members of Moses rather than of Christ. They want to be justified by the law and to offer our works to God before being reconciled to God and becoming the branches of Christ.” The debate at Augsburg was not over whether Christians do good works, but where those good works were to be found: not before justification, not during justification, but flowing from justification, as those attached to the vine in joy bring forth the good fruit that delights the vinedresser, the fruit that will fill the foaming cups of wine in the halls of heaven, forever. In the Name of the true vine, Jesus Christ, Amen.

St. Barnabas (Mark 6:7-13)

“And if any place will not receive you and they will not listen to you, when you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and our Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. The text for our sermon this feast of Saint Barnabas comes from the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the sixth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Mark. Dear friends in Christ, Barnabas was an apostle, a sent one. Not one of the Apostles, mind you, the chosen Twelve whom Jesus sends out on vicarage in our text, but he was certainly a ‘little a’ apostle, one sent by Christ through the Church, sent far and wide, with one task and then another. In our Epistle lesson Barnabas is first sent to Antioch, to see the firstfruits of the Gospel among Gentiles. He is next sent to Tarsus to find the newly converted Saul. He is then sent to Jerusalem with an offering for the impoverished Church, and finally, no less than the Holy Spirit Himself speaks to send Barnabas with Saul on the latter’s first missionary journey. “Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.” A ‘little a’ apostle, a ‘sent one,’ does not go on his own volition, even if he is eager to go, even if he volunteered. A sent one never sends himself. Instead, by definition a sent one is sent by another, and when it comes to the messengers of the Word, the One who sends is Jesus Himself.

“And He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits.” Sent ones have little choice in where they are sent. Saul and Barnabas didn’t choose their missionary journey, even if they were eager to go; neither did the disciples have any choice when they first became apostles on their vicarage. Even today, a pastor is sent; he does not go freely on his own volition. He may choose not to go when a call is offered, but he cannot choose when a call might come or where it might lead him. His call is just that, a call; he can choose to remain at his current call when another call is offered, but he cannot choose whether that other call ever comes. “Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.” Nor are the sent ones free to fend for themselves when they reach the place where they have been called. “He charged them to take nothing for their journey except a staff—no bread, no bag, no money in their belts—but to wear sandals and not put on two tunics.” They are to be provided for by those who are grateful to have heard the Word. On the other hand, they are expressly forbidden to shop around for the place that will give them the best accommodations. “Whenever you enter a house, stay there until you depart from there.” Their task is not to make money or live comfortably, it is to preach.

Sent ones preach, and those to whom they are sent hear. Faithful preachers are to be heard by believing hearers. According to the Third Commandment, faithful preachers are to be listened to. “We should far and love God so that we do not despise preaching and His Word, but hold it sacred and gladly hear and learn it.” Hearers owe faithful preachers attention and listening ears, for it is not the preachers, the sent ones, who are heard, but the One who sent them, God Himself. Preachers owe it to believing hearers to be faithful; they are held accountable to teach the Word of God in its truth and purity, as the First Petition of the Lord’s Prayer teaches. “God’s Name is kept holy when the Word of God is taught in its truth and purity, and we, as the children of God also lead holy lives according to it.” And when faithful preachers preach and believing hearers hear, the hearers support the physical needs of the one who is sent to them. Perhaps a congregation cannot support a sent one on their own, but if they have received the teaching Christ expects them to provide for the teacher as much as they are able. Reception of the Word a faithful preacher proclaims leads to provision for his needs.

Rejection of the Word a faithful preacher proclaims leads to the rejection of his needs. Faithless hearers starve faithful sent ones. Faithless hearers shut their doors, they shut their homes, they shut their hearts. Sent ones are called upon to be faithful, and when they are faithful, hearers are called upon to listen, as we confess in the Small Catechism. “I believe that when the called ministers of Christ deal with us by His divine command, in particular when they exclude openly unrepentant sinners from the Christian congregation and absolve those who repent of their sin and want to do better, this is just as valid and certain, eve in heaven, as if Christ our dear Lord had dealt with us Himself.” Faithless sent ones should be removed, but faithless hearers so often cast out faithful preachers, they ‘vote with their wallet,’ they cut benefits and salaries for no fiscal reason, they finally seek for ways to cast out the one who was sent to them. Soon the sent one finds himself with only the little that Jesus sent him out with, expecting the hearers to provide. “He charged them to take nothing for their journey.” And with nothing, faithful sent ones are cast out, they are cast aside; perhaps not physically wounded, they are mentally abused and traumatized. They took little with them as Christ sent them out, and they have little left when faithless hearers are done with them.

Jesus has one piece of advice when faithful sent ones are rejected by faithless hearers. “And if any place will not receive you and they will not listen to you, when you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” When a sent one has been unfaithful, it is he that should be cast out by believing hearers; but when a sent one has been faithful and yet rejected, even the dust should not cling to his feet when he departs. “But anyone who teaches or lives contrary to God’s Word profanes the name of God among us. Protect us from this, heavenly Father!” Faithful preachers shake off the dust to call to repentance, as a declaration of the seriousness of rejecting the Word. Like God hardening Pharaoh’s heart, it is a fearful thing for God to leave you alone in your sin because you have rejected His Word. When the sent one moves on, there is no guarantee that God will send another; the passing rain shower of the Gospel may move to another place for years, decades, even generations! Heed the Word when a faithful preacher calls on you to repent, when you are called to turn away from your sin and believe the Gospel. Do not watch God’s messengers shake their feet, but hearken to faithful sent ones when they fulfill their task in accordance with the Word they were sent to preach.

For the power is in the Word, not in the sent one who bears it. Barnabas may have been a “good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith,” as Luke describes him, and he certainly was endowed with many gifts that qualified him for the task of representing the apostles in Antioch and accompanying Paul on his first missionary journey, but the power of his proclamation didn’t rest in himself, it rested in the Word. Neither did the disciples’ seeming success come from their own powers. “And [Jesus] called the Twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits… So they went out and proclaimed that people should repent. And they cast out many demons and anointed with oil many who were sick and healed them.” The power over sin, Satan, and even death belongs to Jesus Himself. He is the One who conquered, He is the One who triumphed, He is the One who seized the victory from all of our enemies. He is the One who paid the price, who gave up His life into death, who bore the sin of the world, even your sin, and mine. And when He rose victorious on Easter morning, He left that tomb with the keys of death and hell in His hands.

Jesus gives to His sent ones authority to exercise those keys for your good. They are to cast out demons with the power of the Word attached to water, setting you free from the choke-hold of Satan. They are to heal those sick with death by giving them the medicine of immortality, the power of the Word attached to bread and wine. And they are to comfort you when your sin is pointed out and you are driven to your knees in repentance with the power of His Words of forgiveness. That is where the power lies; in the Word, not the man, whether Barnabas or Paul or your own pastor. For the Word is Christ’s Word, and He has won the victory—for you! In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Trinity 1 (Luke 16:19-31)

“If they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead.” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and our Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. The text for our sermon this morning is the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the sixteenth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Luke. Dear friends in Christ, ‘Appearances are deceiving;’ ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover;’ ‘You can’t see into the heart.’ These are not biblical phrases, but popular expressions, meant to keep us from judging others based on what our eyes see. Our culture’s obsession with ‘tolerance’ and ‘acceptance’ is founded on these ideas, the basic premise that appearances don’t tell the whole story, that we are not to condemn others on sight, but must learn to know their character. This is hardly new. The nineteenth century writer Jane Austen set up each of her still-popular novels with the idea that something (or usually someone) is not as they appear. Mistaken identity was the driving force behind the mishaps and misunderstandings that filled her pages, and when they were finally resolved, the heroine lived happily ever after. Austen’s message was simple: don’t trust your eyes; appearances are deceiving! But we don’t listen. We still trust our eyes, no matter how many people tell us differently. In our human relationships, this can lead to drama and comedy on the one hand, or racism and violence on the other, but theologically the stakes are even higher: trusting your eyes can lead you straight to hell.

“There was a rich man who was clothed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day.” What do your eyes see? They see luxury, they see abundance, they see success. They see a banquet table piled high, filled with abundance for this man and all his acquaintances. He is held in high esteem by all, he is exalted by the masses, envied by his friends, honored by his family. He lives the kind of life that we want to lead, he has the standard of living that we aspire to, that all the commercials promise us. But there’s even more to this, a theological element. You see, this guy’s a child of Abraham, a member of the church. This takes our observations to a whole new level. This man isn’t just successful because he pursued the right opportunity, he is blessed by God Himself! Just look at him! He oozes evidence of God’s blessings! He must have a powerful faith, he must say the right prayers, he must live the upright life that God has called him to lead. How do we know? We can see it! He is showing every evidence of God’s favor in the abundance that fills his life, the same abundance that the preachers promised him. And we can contrast the blessings we see inside the rich man’s house with the curse that we observe outside his door.

“And at his gate was laid a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who desired to be fed with what fell from the rich man’s table. Moreover, even the dogs came and licked his sores.” What do your eyes see? They see poverty, they see deprivation, they see failure. They see ribs sticking out, an emaciated frame, a life that has little to live for. He is looked down upon by all, he is ignored by the masses, rejected by his friends, abandoned by his family. He lives the kind of life that we are glad to have avoided, because we worked hard, while he obviously didn’t, and now he subsists only on the generosity of others and the welfare of the state. ‘Get a job’ we mutter as we pass him by, ‘Quit trying to make me feel sorry for you!’ But there’s even more to this, a theological element. You see, this man is a child of Abraham, a member of the church. This takes our observations to a whole new level. This man isn’t just impoverished because he has no work ethic, he is cursed by God Himself! Just look at him! He quite literally oozes evidence of God’s abandonment, God’s curse! He must have a weak faith, he must not say the right prayers, he must not live the upright life that God has called him to lead. He must not believe hard enough, pray hard enough, and must be truly wicked, rotten to the core. How do we know? We can see it! He is showing every evidence of God’s curse in the poverty and suffering that fills his life, the same poverty and suffering that the preachers warned him about.

These men have nothing in common; absolutely nothing. One shows every evidence of faithfulness to God in the material blessings that fill his life. The other shows every evidence of wickedness in the poverty that has consumed him. Our eyes tell us that one has God’s blessing, while the other has been condemned by God’s curse. But then they die. The one thing they have in common is death. And at death, what our eyes have seen, what we have observed, is proved to be completely and utterly false.

“The poor man died and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s side.” Death makes all things clear. It removes all the external trappings of this life, all those material things which we use to make our judgments. All those things are gone, and when they are gone, the truth is plain. This man, who suffered so completely in this life, was not cursed by God, He was not abandoned and rejected by Him. No, instead he was blessed, so blessed in fact, that after a lifetime of suffering he is given an eternity of comfort. Appearances are deceiving. Lazarus was not saved by his poverty, he was saved because he heard the Word and believed it. He is saved because He has a Savior, Jesus Christ, who hung upon a cross to deliver him from the poverty that consumed him, the sores that covered him, the death that one day would take him. He is saved because he did not put his trust in what his eyes saw. He did not look to his life as evidence of God’s favor or curse. No, instead he looked to Jesus. No matter how poor and miserable his life became, Lazarus looked to Jesus to know what God thought of him. He rests at the side of Abraham because Jesus made Himself poor and miserable, even submitting to death for Lazarus’ sake. Now, Lazarus feasts eternally, for he is covered with the victory of Jesus; no more will he be deprived, no more will he hunger. Like father Abraham, Lazarus “believed the Lord, and He counted it to him as righteousness.”

The rich man is an entirely different story. “The rich man also died and was buried, and in Hades, being in torment, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus at his side.” Death makes all things clear. Certainly the rich man had a lavish funeral, while the body of Lazarus was more than likely tossed in a ditch, but there was no mistaking that the same death had claimed them both. And on the day of his death, the rich man discovered, to his eternal sorrow, that appearances are deceiving. He thought his wealth was evidence of God’s great favor, but his wealth had nothing to do with God’s eternal pleasure or displeasure. Instead, it was a blessing in this world, given freely by the God that gives all good things, given as an opportunity to show love. “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.” The rich man’s refusal to show Lazarus love flowed from a heart that had no love toward God, a heart that had not been converted. “We love because He first loved us.”

The rich man refused to relieve the suffering of Lazarus, even though he passed him every single day, and now, for eternity, the rich man suffers. The rich man was not condemned for being rich; he was not even condemned for his lack of love toward Lazarus (Jesus died for that sin, too!), he was condemned for refusing the love of God in Christ, for refusing to repent and receive forgiveness for his greed, for trusting himself rather than in Jesus. Having rejected God’s love, having refused to receive or give such love, he can only receive wrath. His trust, his dependence, was in what his eyes saw; he thought that his material blessings were evidence of God’s favor, but he abandoned and rejected the Word, the Word of Law which called on him to love his neighbor, and the Word of Gospel which proclaimed the Savior who loved him and died to deliver him from that awful place.

Even in hell he continues to distrust the Word. Having failed to obtain relief for his sufferings, the rich man now thinks of those who are left behind, his brothers who, like him, trust in what their eyes see. “Then I beg you, father, to send [Lazarus] to my father’s house—for I have five brothers—so that he may warn them, lest they also come to this place of torment.” Abraham’s answer is to point to the very thing the rich man had constantly rejected: the Word. “They have Moses and the Prophets; let them hear them.” The rich man’s response is telling. “No, father Abraham, but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.” The Word is not sufficient, the Word is not enough, only miracles will suffice. He who trusted his eyes throughout his life continues to trust them even in hell. But Abraham points us all to our ears. “If they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead.”

Appearances are deceiving. In your hands you hold a Bible, a book bound and printed like any other book, published and distributed throughout the world. You come to this place and hear a man, an ordinary man, a sinful man, stand up here and talk, reading from the Bible, applying and explaining it to you. You go home, and maybe your bank account increases, maybe not; perhaps you suffer greatly. But you do not trust what your eyes see, whether they see good or bad, success or suffering. You trust what the Word says, even though it seems to contradict all you see. Do not trust your eyes, do not let them tell you what God thinks of you; trust your ears, for into your ears comes the Word, and the Word proclaims to you the One who did rise from the dead, lives and reigns to all eternity. It is at the cross that you are told what God thinks of you: He loves you, He took on human flesh to bear your sin to the cross and there pay the price for them, and He pours out these gifts in abundance in the Word. You have a place in the bosom of father Abraham, and on the day when the angels carry you to his side, you will enjoy the banquet of heaven forever, knowing that nothing will ever snatch you from your seat at the table, that there your eyes will see what your ears heard, forever. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Pentecost (John 14:23-31)

“These things I have spoken to you while I am still with you. But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, He will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and our Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. The text for our sermon on this, the festival of Pentecost, is the Gospel lesson read a few moments ago from the fourteenth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint John. Dear friends in Christ: On the day of Pentecost, “there came from heaven a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting,” but that was not the greatest miracle of that day. On the day of Pentecost, “divided tongues as of fire appeared to them and rested on each one of them,” but that was not the greatest miracle of that day. On the day of Pentecost, the disciples “began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit gave them utterance,” but even that was not the greatest miracle of that day. The greatest miracle of that day is attested to by the crowd who gathered there. “We hear them telling in our own tongues the mighty works of God.” Not wind, not fire, not even tongues, but what those tongues proclaimed is the most amazing miracle of that day. For on the day of Pentecost, the assembled crowd heard the Word of God; they heard the Gospel, and they believed.

The Holy Spirit comes through the Word, the Holy Spirit comes bringing the Word, the Holy Spirit does nothing apart from the Word. The signs and wonders He brings are not an end in themselves, they point us to the Word. His task is twofold: “The Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my Name, He will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.” Teach and remind, teach and remind. That is His task until Christ comes again. He teaches us the Gospel, proclaiming to us the rich and abundant promise of Christ’s dwelling in, with, and under the Church; in, with, and under Christians. “If anyone loves me, he will keep my Word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him.” Those who believe the Word, the Word brought by the Holy Spirit, the Word which brings the Holy Spirit, by the faith which the Holy Spirit Himself creates, receive the very indwelling of God Himself. Your body quite literally is made into a temple, a place where God Himself is present. That is the Spirit’s work, to bring the Trinity to dwell with you, so that one day you will dwell with the Trinity. What the pagans desired, what the mystics yearned for, you receive only through the Word.

That’s right. The Trinity dwells within you through the Word, the Word which is outside of you, the Word written in the Scriptures, the Word proclaimed by preachers. Not by the strength of your faith, not by the fervency of your prayers, not by the power of your emotions, not by dreams or visions, but by the Word, and the Word alone, does the Triune God make His home within you. The Holy Spirit teaches us that Gospel promise, but the other side is the Law, that any who refuse to heed the Word have no place in Christ or Christ in them. “Whoever does not love me does not keep my words. And the Word that you hear is not mine but the Father’s who sent me.” We cannot love Christ and despise His Word; we cannot expect the Spirit to work in any other way than through the Word. But we certainly do try, don’t we? We need books recounting visions and dreams to convince us that heaven is for real, because we don’t trust the Word. We construct our own moral code, giving approval to behaviors that we are already engaged in, because we don’t trust the Word. We change churches to ‘feel the Spirit,’ because we don’t trust the Word. We pick and choose which commandments suit us at the moment, because we don’t trust the Word. We are much more apt to believe the signs and wonders of a TV preacher than the proclamation of a faithful pastor, because we don’t trust the Word. We gauge the Spirit’s work in our own lives by our emotional response, because we don’t trust the Word. “Whoever does not love me does not keep my words.” The Spirit’s task is to condemn all self-chosen spiritualties, to call out any who would minimize, ignore, or explain away the Word.

He does this for our good, for basing our hope, our faith, our certainty on anything other than God’s Word is laying a foundation on shifting sand. Christ’s Word is certain, Christ’s Word is sure, Christ’s Word alone can bring us hope. That is the Holy Spirit’s second great task: to remind us of the beautiful comfort that the Word gives. “The Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my Name, He will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.” Teach and remind, teach and remind. The Spirit reminds us of Christ’s parting words. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” In a world filled with danger, in a world filled with confusion, in a world that quite literally appears to be losing its mind, we grasp after any source of certainty that we can find. It is in uncertain times that people turn to visions and dreams, emotional experiences and their own feelings. We are looking for something to cling to.

And it is the Holy Spirit’s task to give us that anchor, that sure foundation we need: Christ’s Word, Christ’s Word of peace. Peace is His gift to His disciples, and these are no idle words. This isn’t some cheap gift; He does not give as the world gives, with a shaking hope and throw-away wish. He is now at the point of going away on a journey in which He will have to fight for that peace against the powers of darkness of violence, a peace that He will have to bring back from the depths of death. But He also knows where and to whom He is going, and His promise of peace is therefore a benediction full of grace and divine power.

He departs to the Father’s throne, but that path will lead into the very pit of hell, through death itself. He is preparing for a confrontation with the evil we deplore, the evil one who holds this world in his sway. “I will no longer talk much with you, for the ruler of his world is coming.” The ruler of this world is coming, with swords and clubs, torches and a betrayer, the cross and cruel death. But the outcome is not in doubt; the Spirit reminds you of Christ’s victory. “He has no claim on me, but I do as the Father has commanded me, so that the world may know that I love the Father.” That is the great task of the Spirit, to remind the world, to remind the Church, to remind you and me that Christ has triumphed over the ruler of this world. The Spirit reminds us that when evil tried to conquer Jesus, when it marshalled all of its cruelty and violence against Him, when it even put Him to death, Christ still emerged alive on the third day. Jesus goes boldly to His death, for the way of the cross is a march of victory in the midst of defeat, glory in the midst of humiliation, joy in the midst of sorrow. “Rise, let us go from here,” He tells His disciples. He is ready to go, He is ready to take on the ruler of this world head on, for that is the Father’s will to win your salvation.

“You heard me say to you, ‘I am going away, and I will come to you.’ If you loved me, you would have rejoiced, because I am going to the Father, for the Father is greater than I. And now I have told you before it takes place, so that when it does take place you may believe.” Christ’s departure is for your good, because He departs to win a place for you and then He takes His rightful seat at the Father’s throne to prepare for your arrival. In humility, He submits to the Father’s will, going to the cross to win your salvation. Jesus leaves that night with you in mind; He is thinking of you as He prepares to meet the powers of darkness in the final confrontation of the cross. That is the Spirit’s work: to remind you that Christ departed for you.

He continues this work here in this place, on this very day. Today, on the Lord’s Day, this celebration of Pentecost, the great miracle of Pentecost is repeated. There will be no rushing winds, no tongues of fire, not even the speaking of many languages. But yet the miracle of Pentecost is happening again, right before your eyes. “We hear them telling in our own tongues the mighty works of God.” Here, in this place, the Word is being proclaimed, preached to all who will hear. Here, in this place, the Holy Spirit is doing His work, teaching and reminding, bringing the Trinity to dwell among us and even in us. Here the saints of God are told, boldly and unequivocally, “Your sins are forgiven.” Here a child, little Eleanor is told, “I baptize you in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” Here you are told, “Take eat, this is my Body; take drink, this is my Blood.” Nothing flashy, no visions or dreams or speaking in tongues going on here today; just the Word, doing its work, bringing the Holy Spirit, to do His work in you, creating faith, sustaining faith, assuring trembling hearts, hears searching for certainty, hearts searching for something to hold on to, with the very words of Christ: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Easter 4 (Isaiah 40:25-31)

“But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and our Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. The text for our sermon this evening comes from the Old Testament lesson read a few moments ago from the fortieth chapter of the prophet Isaiah. Dear friends in Christ: Where is God? ‘Where is God?’ asks a nation, a community, a neighborhood ravaged by disaster or touched by tragedy. ‘Where is God?’ asks the unbeliever, seeing suffering all around him. ‘Where is God?’ asks the father, as he buries his daughter. ‘Where is God?’ asks the man who has just lost his job, who has hungry mouths at home to feed. ‘Where is God?’ asks the couple, who has lost a child in the womb. ‘Where is God?’ asks the woman, who has just received a diagnosis of cancer. ‘Where is God?’ asks the widow, destitute and alone. ‘Where is God?’ asks the child, standing beside the coffin of his mother. Where is God? “My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God’?”

Is God powerless? Can He save? Are our sufferings too powerful for Him to deal with? Can cancer conquer Him, can Alzheimer’s or dementia? Is He weak and helpless against the tornado, the flood? Where is God as a child suffers, as families gather in funeral homes, as the young woman lies in a hospital bed surrounded with wires and tubes? Where is God? Is He absent from the nursing home, from the hospital, the ICU, the NICU? Is depression, alcoholism, mental illness too much for Him to heal? Where is God? “My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God.” Where is God? He does not save right now, so He must not be able to save. If God will not intervene, where do we turn? If God is powerless, who is powerful? In whom should we place our fear, love, and trust? Is it tougher laws, a more powerful government, that will save us from destitution and chaos? Do we place our reliance on doctors, specialists, experts who know all things? Do we trust in courts, in judges, to make right what God has left wrong? If our suffering is greater than God can handle, then the solution must be greater than God. If God is absent, if God will not answer, then we must turn to men, to the things of this world. They will become our gods; they will act, they will save. They must, we have no other hope: Where is God?

“My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God.” Where is God? Why does He not act? Why doesn’t He intervene, why doesn’t He save? Why does He leave me alone? Is His eye elsewhere, is He looking in favor on someone else? Why do others, even those who despise you, have everything going well, while I suffer? Why doesn’t He act, why doesn’t He save? Why doesn’t He see, why doesn’t He realize the pain and hurt that fills my life? I am lost, abandoned, forsaken; God has hidden Himself from me, I am hidden from His sight. He has disregarded my cause; He has left me to face the evil of this world by myself. Where is God’s justice? Has He forgotten me? Does He remember me at all?

“Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.” God remembers you. Have you not known? Have you not heard? God remembers you. He does not forget any member of His creation, and He has not forgotten you, His beloved. He who holds all creation in His loving hands is not too great to remember you, He is too great to forget you. “Lift up your eyes on high and see: who created these? He who brings out their host by number, calling them all by name, by the greatness of His might, and because He is strong in power not one is missing.” He who knows every star by name knows you by name. He knows your sufferings, He knows your struggles, He knows your pain. Even the hairs on your head are numbered; much more does He know your sufferings. And He is not idle, He is not absent; He goes into action. He has not forgotten you, and He sets Himself forth to do something about your sufferings.

There is your God. There, on the cross, hanging there, suffering, dying for you. There is your God. Your God is Jesus Christ, God made flesh, the Good Shepherd who lays down His life for the sheep, the Suffering Servant who serves up even His own life. Your God suffers all in you place, taking on your flesh and blood, then bearing your sin and your sin’s penalty. Your God takes up your cause, He acts to vindicate you by giving Himself into death in your place. On the Last Day, your righteousness, now hidden in suffering, will be seen by all, you will be vindicated. Your pleas have not gone unanswered; they have not been ignored. Jesus is God’s reply to your cries for help; Jesus is God’s answer to your sufferings. There is your God. He has not forgotten you, He has not abandoned you, He has not left you. There is your God.

Have you not known? Have you not heard? “The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; His understanding is unsearchable.” Your God does not become fatigued; He does not become weary. He will not tire; He will not end. He is eternal, He is all powerful, and that power is directed toward your good. “Even youths shall faint and be weary; and young men shall fall exhausted.” All human powers will fail; their ability to end the suffering you deplore is only temporary, if they can relieve you at all. They cannot bring you the deliverance that you need. They cannot conquer suffering, they can only mitigate it, and even those efforts will ultimately fail. Only your God can conquer sin and suffering, and only your God has.

“To whom then shall you compare me, that I should be like him? says the Holy One.” Not cancer, not heart disease, not Alzheimer’s, not Lou Gehrig’s, not tornados, not floods, not alcoholism, not depression, not death, not hell, not sin, not Satan—nothing can conquer your God, nothing is His equal, nothing is like Him. Nothing that you suffer in this world is more powerful than your God who hangs upon the tree. How do you know? Because your God, who hung upon the cross, rose again in victory on the third day. Alleluia, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen! Easter gives you the promise that all you suffer will end, that all you suffer will be eliminated, that sin, death, and the power of the devil are defeated and will be eliminated, that you will be vindicated. “He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might He increases strength.” Your sufferings, no matter what they are, have been overcome, they have been defeated, your God is the crucified One, and the One who was crucified is the One who is raised, who lives nevermore to die. God has not forgotten you, God has not left you, God has not abandoned you. Your God lives—and you will live also. Your God lives—and your sufferings will end.

But not yet. Your victory has been won, but you do not yet see it. Your sufferings have been defeated, but they still cling to your flesh. God doesn’t promise you a life of ease and victory when you become a Christian; instead He calls on you to wait. “But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” Where is God when you suffer? He is with you, beside you, even to the end of the age, strengthening you, enabling you to wait, filling you with His Word and promises. Jesus is God with you in the darkness of the valley of the shadow of death, feeding you with His Body and Blood, filling your ears with His promises, answering your cries of anguish by pointing you to His victory. There is your God. He is the crucified One, the risen One, who triumphed over your enemies for you, to give you the promise of an place where suffering will be eliminated, where death will be no more. There, for eternity, you “shall run and not be weary,” you “shall walk and not faint.” Alleluia, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia, Amen! In the Name of Jesus, Amen.