Monday, March 18, 2024

Sermon - Lent 5 - Mark 10:35-45



Sometimes people will say, “Pastor, I want to tell you something but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”  Or maybe your kids will say to you, “Dad, I want to ask you for something but you have to say yes”.  Another like it is, “I want to tell you something but you have to promise not to be mad.”

Well it’s hard to make such a promise before you know what you’re agreeing to.  The asker maybe is trying to soften the blow a bit, or prime the pump to test how generous or patient you are feeling.  In any case, that’s what James and John seem to do with the request they bring to Jesus. There’s the request before the request, the question before the question, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever it is we ask of you.”

This suggests that they knew their request was at least somewhat out of line.  These disciples, after all, were prone to their own little petty squabbles and contests.  We know for certain they would argue which one of them was the greatest.  They would no doubt jockey for position amongst themselves in various other ways.  Who gets to sit closest to Jesus.  Who gets to have this honor or that privilege.  I’m sure there was no small bit of jealously amongst the 9 that the 3, Peter, James and John, seemed to have closer access to Jesus in certain situations.

Maybe that’s what prompted James and John to come forward with such an audacious request.  Something like, “hey Jesus, obviously you seem to have a fondness for us – you took us up the mount to meet Moses and Elijah.  We’re some of the first to follow you, and after all, look at all we gave up to do so.  We could have been working for dad on the fishing boat.  But we know, you said we’d be fishers of men.  So here we are, Jesus, asking you to really just make it official.  We just want a little assurance, that we really are at the top of the heap.  So, when you come into your kingdom, give us the places of honor, the right and left hand, ya know?  We’re on your team and we deserve to be in that inner circle, and really, you should just let everyone else know right now so there’s no big fight about it later.  We’re looking out for you after all, Jesus.  What do you think?”

And what must he have thought!  At your right hand and your left hand in your glory.  They were thinking thrones!  Jesus was thinking crosses.  They were thinking glory as the world knows glory – with pomp and circumstance, power and privilege, honor and might.  Jesus knows his true glory is in suffering.  His honor is in dishonor.  His throne is a cross, his crown:  thorns, his royal robes a naked shame, and his kingly work is to die.

You don’t know what you’re asking, fellas.  Do you really want to die with me?  Jesus knows the disciples will scatter when he is stricken.  Jesus knows that they won’t be joining him in this task, this phase of his ministry.  They followed him from Galilee, they learned at his feet, they even went out on his behalf preaching and healing, casting out demons.  But this task – suffer and die for the sins of the world – this cup, he alone could drink.  This baptism of suffering and death for the redemption of all – only the God-man could undergo. This sacrifice, only he would, only he could make.

And not only that, Jesus knew this was all planned out.  It was all prepared.  Indeed, the Lamb was slain from the foundation of the world.  So the spots of honor, if you could call them that, on his right or left, were reserved for two thieves who would die at his sides.  One mocking, the other repentant, but that’s a story for another day.  Let’s stay with James and John for now.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Jesus says.  And here we are so often like James and John.  

We think we’re up to the task.  We think we have the strength, the capacity, the wherewithal, to do what needs to be done – whatever it is in his kingdom.  But we forget that he’s the one with the plan.  He’s the one to do what is needed.  And we are the passive recipients of his glorious salvation.

Sin gets it wrong both ways.  We underestimate our evil and overestimate our good.  We are blind to how blind we are, and our proud heart thinks too much of itself.  One look at the cross should foil all of that mischief.  There at the cross we see the price, the true price of our sins.  The perfect, spotless Lamb of God despised by men and forsaken by God.  There we see the impotence of our own devices as Christ does it all, and far better and more than we ever could, he gives everything for us, down to the last drop of his holy, precious, blood.  How can our pride stand before the cross?  How can we hope to offer anything so valuable, so precious, so divine?

No, you don’t know what you’re asking.  But Jesus does know.  And he’s got the plan.  This is his divine purpose, his holy mission, his death, his cross, for your salvation.

But there’s another sense in which Jesus answers their request positively.  There’s another way in which they will share his cup of suffering, and will be baptized with his baptism.  A pastor friend of mine put it this way:

Are you able to be baptized in a baptism like his? Yes. And I tell you, you were. “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” (Romans 6:3–4 ESV). You have been baptized into Jesus’ blood. His blood cleanses you from all unrighteousness. His blood covers all of your sin. His death has paid your ransom. You are free from sin and death. 

 The death he suffered you have participated in. You received his death. You died to sin with him. You drank the cup he drank. His death is now your death. In baptism you have been put to death to sin. Likewise, you have been raised to life in him. His death is your death, which means his life is now your life. You have eternal life!

There’s a little epilogue to this, and it begins when the other disciples hear about James and John’s request.  They become indignant.  They are offended, bent out of shape we might say.  Their own pride is disturbed.  “How dare they!  Who do they think they are!” And each of the others must have had in mind why he, instead, deserved great honors even more.

So Jesus sets them straight, and us, also.  Here’s the proper way to think.  This is how my people desire to be:  servants.  True greatness consists not in being served, but in serving.  A true Christian is far more concerned about serving and loving his neighbor, even the least of them, rather than worrying about our own station and status, our own honor and privilege.  

Indeed, whoever would be first among you must be slave of all.  Hard words for our sinful nature to swallow.  Words that run afoul of our pride.  But a joyful description of the redeemed child of God in Christ!

Christ, the greatest among us, has already become the servant of all.  If you want to be like Jesus, then be like Jesus. Not in receiving honor, but in showing it to others.  Not in being served, but in serving.  If you want to be at his right and left hand, then be his hands of service.  

No, the Gentiles are concerned with place and position, power and status.  The Gentiles want to lord it over each other whatever little shred of power they can.  Not so the Christian.  The Christian lives to sere, just as Jesus lived to serve, even to death, to give his life as a ransom for many.

In fact it is precisely this good news itself that motivates and spurs our works of service.  It is the ransom he paid that calls us to pay it forward.  Only in Christ, in faith, by his Spirit, do we imitate and follow in his steps of service and love and humility.  

And here’s a little something you may not have noticed.  Even in the midst of instructing them “how to be” is a promise:  “But it shall not be so among you.”  The difference between believer and unbeliever, when it comes to works of service, lies first in the promise of Christ.  You will be different from the world, because of who Christ has made you to be, and promised you will be.

So when James and John came to Jesus with “the big ask”, looking for power, privilege and position – he rather points them to his own position of service, and to his baptism and cup, that is to say, his cross.  One day, they would come to understand what they were asking.  And one day, they would even come to share in that suffering and death in a new way they had never imagined.  They would suffer for his sake, bear all manner of persecution, and die as his martyrs, not for honor and glory for themselves, but in humble faith and service.  

God grant such an end to us all.  A faithful end, a peaceful end, trusting in Christ.  And until then a life full of service to others, all for the sake of him, the Ransom, the servant of all.


Thursday, March 14, 2024

Sermon - Midweek Lent - Mark 15:16-22

Simon of Cyrene

Mark 15:16-22

16 And the soldiers led him away inside the palace (that is, the governor’s headquarters),2 and they called together the whole battalion.3 17 And they clothed him in a purple cloak, and twisting together a crown of thorns, they put it on him. 18 And they began to salute him, “Hail, King of the Jews!” 19 And they were striking his head with a reed and spitting on him and kneeling down in homage to him. 20 And when they had mocked him, they stripped him of the purple cloak and put his own clothes on him. And they led him out to crucify him.

21 And they compelled a passerby, Simon of Cyrene, who was coming in from the country, the father of Alexander and Rufus, to carry his cross. 22 And they brought him to the place called Golgotha (which means Place of a Skull).

Malchus and Mark, Annas and Caiaphas along with the Servant Girl, all background characters in the Passion account, through whom we have explored a bit deeper into the story.  Tonight perhaps a more famous minor character, Simon of Cyrene.

As with most of these minor characters there isn’t much we know about them.  The account of Simon carrying Jesus’ cross is found in Matthew, Mark and Luke, but not John’s Gospel.  We are told he is from Cyrene, which was a Greek city in northern Africa, what is now Libya.  But that doesn’t mean he was dark-skinned, since Cyrene was a Greek city and also had a Jewish population.  Simon, whatever his ethnic background (and that, of course, doesn’t matter) was likely in town for the Passover feast like everyone else. 

We are told that he was the father of Alexander and Rufus.  And there is a tradition that Alexander and Rufus were two of the early Christian missionaries based in Rome.  Mark’s Gospel, which mentions them, was written to Roman Christians after all.  Paul also mentions a Rufus in Romans 16.  And it’s also possible that Simon was among the “men of Cyrene” who preached the Gospel to the Greeks in Acts 11.

But all of these were common names at the time, and for all our speculation about what happened with these men we again must limit ourselves to what the text of Scripture tells us.  And that is simply that Simon was compelled to carry the cross for Jesus.

I mentioned a while ago some of the “divine ironies” of the Passion narrative.  Caiaphas’ prophecy that one man should die for the people – a truer statement than he knew.  That Jesus was betrayed with a kiss.  That Jesus Barabbas was freed, and Jesus of Nazareth condemned.  That the soldiers mocked Jesus as King of the Jews, and Pilate wrote the same title for his cross.  Even the crowd that cried out, “his blood be on us and on our children”.  So many of these statements, events, and details of the Passion account hold a meaning far deeper than the participant knew at the time.

Here, too, we have another one of these.  That Simon would carry the cross for Jesus, when Jesus bore the cross for Simon, and for the world.

Think of the weight of that cross.  In 1870, a French architect determined the Jesus cross weighed 165 pounds, assuming it was three or four meters high, with a cross beam two meters wide.  And so if Simon carried just the cross beam maybe we are talking 50 to 70 pounds.  But the true weight of the cross that Jesus bore was much more, for upon his shoulders was the sin of the world.  And it crushed him.  But the yoke that he gives to us is easy and the burden is light.  He, Jesus, does the heavy lifting when it comes to sin.

There is some debate whether the Romans chose Simon to carry the cross because he was a sympathizer of Jesus, or perhaps precisely because he was an obvious outsider.  Or maybe it was just random.  But Jesus precisely knew and chose this cross, willed to bear it for us, prayed that his Father’s will would be done by it.  None of this happened by accident.  He clearly spoke of the whole thing, plainly, to his disciples for some time.

Simon carried the cross only part of the way, but at Golgotha that cross went back to Jesus again.  Jesus would endure the full measure of the suffering appointed to him, the full measure of what our sins deserve.  Simon’s participation was symbolic, it was temporary, it was a small part.  Jesus does it all, does it for real, and does it well, for all people.

Here's another interesting detail.  Simon was on his way in, Mark tells us, from the country.  But the entourage with Jesus is on their way out – out about a half a mile, from the house of Pontius Pilate called Fortress Antonia, outside the city to the Place of the Skull, Golgotha.  So when the Romans nabbed Simon for this grim task, they made him turn around, and go in the opposite direction.  The cross changes our course, as well, doesn’t it?  It changes everything.  We were headed toward judgment, death and hell.  Jesus takes that all away, and turns us around.  He charts a new course for us, through his own cross, a new destination in the mansions of heaven.  He goes to prepare a place for you there.  But first he prepares it by going to his cross.

One might consider Simon to be the prototypical “innocent bystander”.  He was minding his own business when the Romans forced him into this grizzly duty.  But, of course, there really is only one innocent here, and that’s Jesus.  The only one without sin of his own.  Simon deserved that cross, not Jesus.  You and I deserve that cross, not Jesus.  But the spotless Lamb of God goes uncomplaining forth.  The innocent for the guilty.  The righteous for the unrighteous.  The great exchange – Christ gives his blood, his life, for ours.  And he who had no sin was made to become sin for us, to destroy that sin, once and for all, in his body, on the tree.

What an honor Simon had, to take part even in this small way, to assist our Lord in this holy task.  And what an emblem Simon becomes of every disciple, every follower of Christ, as he carries the cross behind Jesus.

For Jesus calls us, also, to cross-bearing. 

24 Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. 25 For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. (Matthew 16:24-45)

Simon stands as a reminder to all of us who follow Jesus, that doing so also means bearing our own crosses, as Jesus calls us to do.

A wise old pastor friend once remarked to me, “We don’t get to choose our own crosses.”  How true it is.  Simon didn’t choose, he was chosen to carry Christ’s cross.  And if I got my way, I wouldn’t choose a cross either.  If I had to choose my cross, I would choose the lightest, most pleasant cross, perhaps one covered with comfy cushions.  A cross that would be no cross at all.  But that’s not how it goes, is it?

God allows us to suffer, and in a sense, he lays our crosses upon us.  Jesus calls us to take up those crosses, and to follow him and his cross. For only his cross can make any sense of our own cross-bearing.  Only in his cross and victory over sin and death do our crosses become the easy yokes and light burdens that they are.  Only through him does suffering produce endurance, character, and hope that does not fail.

If your cross is a physical ailment, a bodily disease, even if it leads to death,  Christ’s cross has gone before you.  Life awaits you.  He who believes in Jesus Christ, even though he dies, yet shall he live.  We have a bodily resurrection in store for us.  And what a joy that will be!

If your cross is an emotional hurt, a sorrow or grief, a pain of loss.  Remember this is Jesus, who bore our griefs and carried our sorrows, even unto death.  And at the last, he will wipe away every tear from our eyes.

If your cross is persecution for the sake of Christ, then blessed are you.  “Rejoice!” Jesus says, “for so they persecuted the prophets before you”.  You’re in good company.  And great will be your reward in heaven.

If your cross is worry or anxiety, cast it on him, for he cares for you.  If you cross is a broken relationship you cannot fix, some fracture between you and a loved one… a parent, a spouse, a child, a friend.  And you’ve prayed and worked for reconciliation but it simply will not be this side of heaven – then perhaps your cross is to forgive for your part, and simply bear that loss, praying God’s will be done.

If your cross is some sin, some baggage of guilt and shame that you can’t seem to shake.  If the weight of your past is a drag on your conscience, and a ball-and-chain to your soul.  Then bring that burden to Jesus, and let him carry it for you. Confess it to your pastor, and hear the precious absolution.

All our little crosses pale in the shadow of his cross.  All our cross bearing is child’s play compared to the burden he bore.  And all our crosses will be laid down one day, in that brighter future that is ours because he has gone before us with his cross. 

Thank you Simon, for your service to Christ, and to us, reminding us that though we bear our crosses, Christ has gone before us.  Thanks be to God, and glory be to Jesus.  Amen.

Wednesday, March 06, 2024

Sermon - Midweek Lent - John 18:15-18; 25-27

 


The Servant Girl

15 Simon Peter followed Jesus, and so did another disciple. Since that disciple was known to the high priest, he entered with Jesus into the courtyard of the high priest, 16 but Peter stood outside at the door. So the other disciple, who was known to the high priest, went out and spoke to the servant girl who kept watch at the door, and brought Peter in. 17 The servant girl at the door said to Peter, “You also are not one of this man's disciples, are you?” He said, “I am not.” 18 Now the servants and officers had made a charcoal fire, because it was cold, and they were standing and warming themselves. Peter also was with them, standing and warming himself.

25 Now Simon Peter was standing and warming himself. So they said to him, “You also are not one of his disciples, are you?” He denied it and said, “I am not.” 26 One of the servants of the high priest, a relative of the man whose ear Peter had cut off, asked, “Did I not see you in the garden with him?” 27 Peter again denied it, and at once a rooster crowed. 

John 18:15-18; 25-27

So far we’ve examined Malchus, the servant of the High Priest whose ear Peter cut off at the arrest of Jesus.  We’ve considered the young man, likely John Mark, who ran away naked when the soldiers tried to seize him.  And we’ve looked at Annas and Caiaphas themselves, high priests who put Jesus on trial.  But today let’s look at someone even more obscure, even more in the background of the story.  The gospels present us with this minor character, the servant girl who manned the door at the palace of the High Priest.

There are other servant girls of note in Scripture, notably Namaan’s servant girl who told her leprous master about the prophet Elisha – through whom Namaan would eventually be cleansed and healed.  Then there is the servant girl Rhoda, who answered the door to Peter in Acts 12, when he had been broken out of prison by the angel.  An interesting comparison to the servant girl we consider tonight.

So what about the servant girl of the high priest?  We know very little about her.  We don’t even know her name.  We don’t know where she comes from.  Is she a servant or a slave?  Could be either.  All we know is that she was there, and she challenged Peter, “You also are one of this man’s disciples!”  which led to his first denial.

The four Gospels each give varying details of this story as well.  That doesn’t mean they are in conflict, of course.  Rather, it speaks to the authenticity of the account – for each tells it slightly differently, emphasizes various points.  Mark mentions three denials. 

In Mark, she follows Peter after his denial and starts to point him out to the other servants.

Matthew seems to indicate a second servant girl who accused Peter before his second denial.

And Luke mentions the detail that the servant girl noticed Peter and seemed to recognize him by the light of the fire as he stood warming himself. 

John mentions that the servant girl who first challenged Peter was in charge of watching the door.  In John’s version, it was John himself who was known to the High Priest, and who spoke to the servant girl to have Peter let in.

In every case, however, we have Peter, the leader of the disciples, the one who always came forth as their spokesman, challenged by a servant girl, identified as a follower of Jesus.  And Peter fails the test.  He denies his Lord, just as Jesus predicted.  The rooster crows.  And so the story goes.

What makes this detail worthy of inclusion in all four gospels?  That a servant girl’s accusation led to Peter’s denial?

Consider, it wasn’t the high priest himself that challenged Peter or put him on trial.  Peter would have surely crumbled before a powerful man and the weight of his office.  Nor did it come from a brawny soldier who could overpower Peter with brute force.  The challenge came from a servant – and a girl at that.  The slightest challenge from the least intimidating person on the scene, and Peter folded like a house of cards.

As Jesus said of Peter earlier that night, “the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

Indeed, even for St. Peter, it doesn’t take much pushback for him to fall, to deny his Lord, for him to fear for his own skin.  At the word of servant girl, this great pillar of faith – who walked on water, who saw Jesus transfigured, who witnessed so many miracles and even saw the dead raised – he wavered, he cowered, he shrunk away, and he crumbled.

But let’s not sit in judgment over poor Peter, when we, ourselves, are just the same. 

How much does it take to make your faith waver and fail?  How little pushback or temptation is needed to get you off your spiritual game?  How often does the smallest challenge from the least imposing person lead you to do the things that just as surely deny your Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?

It takes so little.  A little pointing finger of the law.  An offhand comment in a sermon that offends us because it hits a little too close to home.  A challenge from your wife or your children or your friend.  A setback in life – whatever it may be.  The saints and martyrs who gave their very lives for their confession of Jesus- they put us to shame.  They would not deny him, even when faced with suffering and torture and gruesome death.  And we fail the test at the drop of a hat, even just to avoid embarrassment. 

The servant girl, insignificant as she was to the story, speaks even today, challenging us, questioning us, “are you one of his disciples, too?”

The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak with us, too, isn’t it?  We also ought to pray not to enter temptation.  And when we fail, like Peter, we also need the restoration that only Christ can bring.

Peter’s denial of Jesus that night wasn’t the end of the story of Peter.  After the resurrection, Jesus appeared to Peter, along with the other disciples, and brought them peace. 

19 On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked where the disciples were for fear of the Jews,[c] Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” 20 When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord. 21 Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you.” 22 And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. 23 If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them;  (John 20:19-23)

And eventually, in another post-resurrection appearance, the risen Lord would also take Peter aside and offering him the three-fold restoration that matched his three-fold denial.  Peter was forgiven, reconciled, and re-commissioned as an apostle and pastor of God’s people. 

15 When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Feed my lambs.” 16 He said to him a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Tend my sheep.” 17 He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.” (John 21:15-17)

Feed my lambs.  Tend my sheep.  Feed my sheep.  If you forgive anyone his sins they are forgiven.

Yes, restored Peter and all the pastors who follow in his office are given the office of the keys – the authority to forgive sins on earth, which are just as surely forgiven in heaven.  This is why Peter’s symbol is the crossed keys.  This is Peter is so often pictured as the gate-keeper of heaven, questioning all who would enter, checking to see if your name is on the list.  Not because he is, but because Jesus charged him to unlock the gates of heaven for others by proclaiming forgiveness in Jesus name!

The forgiveness of sins is how pastors like Peter tend the sheep and feed the lambs of Jesus.  With the word of absolution, the water of baptism, and the feast of forgiveness that is Christ’s holy meal.  This is how the door to heaven is opened to you.

So Peter, who was once undone by a mere servant girl watching the door, would be charged to open for other poor sinners the very doors of heaven by absolving sins, and proclaiming Christ.  And every pastor who baptizes and teaches, forgives sinners and preaches the gospel, who gathers and feeds the sheep and lambs of Christ’s flock – follows in Peter’s footsteps and upholds the Lord’s commission. 

Jesus also mentions in John 21 how Peter’s death would glorify God.  For after all, at the end, Peter did confess, and not deny Christ.  Peter did die as a martyr, crucified upside down in Rome.  By God’s grace, a servant himself, and a powerful witness to the end.

It's so easy to fall, my friends.  To fall into sin, to deny even knowing Jesus.  But Christ’s word of forgiveness is even more quick and eager to meet your ears.  Yes, we sin daily and sin much.  But Christ forgives daily, and forgives freely.  You are baptized! No servant girl, no soldier, no mighty man on high, not even the devil himself can accuse us of a sin that Christ didn’t die to forgive. 

And so, then:  “Are you, also, one of Jesus’ disciples?”  May we answer boldly when asked such a question, “Yes!  For God has had mercy on me, a sinner, and restored me in his son, Jesus Christ!”  And let us pray for all Christians to have such boldness and steadfast faith.

Monday, March 04, 2024

Sermon - Lent 3 - John 2:13-22

 


The True Temple

It’s one of those little phrases from the Bible that’s made it into the secular lexicon:  “Your body is a temple”.  But the scriptural theology of the temple is rich and deep, and goes to much more than treating the body well.  It steeps us in Jesus who is crucified for us, rises from the dead for us, renews and restores us by his grace.

It’s hard to overstate the importance of the Temple for the people of God.  In many ways, the temple was the center of it all.  The focal point of Jerusalem, built atop Mount Zion.  Central to the entire promised land, and that at the crossroads of the world, where 3 continents meet.  The temple!  The grand house of God, built by Solomon as a more permanent version of the Tabernacle, which was just a tent, really.  And it stood from Solomon’s time for some 500 years until it was destroyed by the Babylonians.  But then the Persians came to power, and Cyrus decreed the exiles should return and rebuild that temple.  So under Ezra and Nehemiah thy did.  And after another 500 years along came Herod the Great, a great builder, who extensively renovated that second temple for some 46 years.

The temple was massive.  It was the largest structure most of these people would ever live to see.  The disciples, we are told, gawked, “teacher look at these great stones!”  It was ornate, decorated with the finest materials and art.  It was also busy, a constant meeting place, a sort of town square in its own right.  Jesus taught there on many occasions to the crowds who gathered. 

The temple was the focal point of the religious life of God’s people.  It was the place of the sacrifices and the prayers, elaborate ceremonies and rituals conducted by the priests – a whole class of religious officiants.  It would have been bustling with activity, especially during the 3 great feasts of the year. 

And more than anything the temple was meant to be the House of Yaheweh.  A place where God would deign to dwell.  A place where heaven met earth, and where the Most High would make himself available to lowly sinners.  It was a place of grace, and mercy, where God gave the people access to himself, by calling upon his name.

But all that was lost, or at least heavily obscured, it seems, by the time Jesus arrived.  He found the temple very different.  Instead of a house of prayer it had become a den of robbers.  A place of business.  Bustling with all the wrong kind of activity.  Money-changers.  Animal dealers.  Most likely corruption and certainly greedy gain to boot. 

Jesus is incensed.  He is angry.  And he takes decisive action.  Not only does he turn over tables and pour out their coins… cling, cling, cling, cling on the temple floor.  He also goes so far as to make a whip out of cords, and sch-wack, sch-wack, drives out the animals, and apparently also the money changers themselves.

Momma always said, “wait till your father gets home.”  Well, friends, wait till Jesus gets home – it’s not a pretty picture.

So what do we make of all this?  Is this simply a warning for us to keep our worship life pure?  To show proper respect to God’s house in our day and age?  To treat our church with respect, and perhaps not to have a bake sale in the narthex?  Would Jesus come and turn tables here, too?  Or is there something deeper going on?

To be sure, our Triune God cares deeply about our worship life, and about how we treat the place where his name dwells for us.  There’s much to be said here about propriety in worship, reverence, and of the loss of focus that has led many churches down the path to entertainment church rather than its true purpose.  And likewise, we often hear about corrupt churches and church leaders who take advantage of people and perhaps even outright steal the church’s money, God’s money, for their own lavish lifestyles.  There’s plenty of “cleansing of the church” that Jesus might do today.  But there’s even more here.

If we springboard off of “your body is a temple”, then we might confess, “yes, perhaps, a temple of doom”.  For this flesh is corrupt.  This heart is wicked.  And nothing good comes from within me.  Each of us is a little temple that needs a spring cleaning, and Lent is a good time to do it.  But still there’s more.

To truly understand the significance of the temple, we must reconsider Jesus’ teaching that all the scriptures testify to him.  That means that the temple itself, and the tabernacle before it, testify to him. 

In other words, the temple is a picture of Christ.  It points us to Christ.  It shows us, fore-shows us Christ.  We can see how:

The temple is where God dwells on earth.  Above the Ark of the Covenant, between the wings of the Cherubim, was the mercy seat – considered to be the very throne of God on earth.  The touchstone of heaven and earth.

We read in John chapter 1, “In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God…. And the word became flesh and made his dwelling among us”  Or more literally, tabernacled among us.  My friends, that’s Jesus.  The very presence of God among us in the person of Christ.  And not only that, but incarnate.  God and man united as one in the very person of Christ.  It doesn’t get any closer than that – than for God to take on our human nature.

The temple was also the place where sins were dealt with.  And Jesus, the very body of Jesus, is the place where sin is dealt with – not just for the Jews but for all people.  “Destroy this temple” on the cross, and Jesus would rebuild it in three days.  Crucify the body of Christ, and God will raise him to life again in short order.  Zeal for God’s house consumed him, that is to say, zeal and fervor to complete his mission as the true temple – it consumed him - even unto death.  But death would not, it could not hold him for long.

And so to all of this we can say, it’s not so much that Jesus is like the temple.  Rather, the temple is like Jesus. 

We come today to God’s house.  It’s not a temple, but a church building.  It’s far more humble, much smaller, and nowhere as noteworthy or historical.  But that’s ok, because it’s our church.  And the same God who dwelt in the Jerusalem temple has promised to be with us.  The same Jesus, whose bodily temple was destroyed and raised for us, now makes his presence to dwell here, in a new way.

He makes this his temple, because this is where his word is proclaimed for us.  This place, these pieces of furniture – altar, pulpit, lectern, font – they are sanctified by his word.  They are holy.  This sanctuary is a holy place, and this chancel is pattered after the very holy of holies, because Christ is proclaimed here.  And even more.

Christ’s true body and blood are distributed from this altar.  From here, you receive Jesus.  He dwells here for you in grace and mercy, for the forgiveness of your sins.  Here he makes himself so very concrete, according to his precious words, “this is my body.  This is my blood.”  This, here, these tangible, tasteable earthy elements of bread and wine – he promises – are his body and blood for you.  It’s so real, in time and space.  He locates himself here, for you, for your forgiveness.

And so the Christian congregation is not a country club.  It is not a senior center or a youth outreach.  It is not a spiritual gym for beefing up your life of good works, nor is Sunday just another day at the office.  Nor is it even a classroom where we go to expand our intellectual understanding and become experts in Christianity. This place is where you meet Jesus, or better, Jesus meets you – for the forgiveness of your sins. 

And so the zeal for God’s house would consume him.  That is to say, zeal for the true purpose of the temple – not a giant town hall, not a marketplace for profit and certainly not a venue for greed and gain, but rather the place where sins are dealt with.  And ultimately, then, the temple is his body. 

There, in his body, did he turn the tables.  He receives the whip, as well as the thorns and the nails and spear.  His body, which is sold into the hands of his enemies for greedy gain, 30 pieces of silver.  His body, at his cross, where he turns the tables on sin and death and devil once and for all.  The true temple himself is consumed with his zeal for our salvation.

But just as his temple, his body, was rebuilt in three days, so also has he turned the tables on death for you.  One day Christ will gather all people to himself, to his judgment seat.  And the goats will be driven out forever.  And we, the sheep, will enter eternal rest.  Revelation pictures that rest as a holy city with no need of sun or moon, and no temple – for the Lord will dwell personally in the midst of us forever.

Dear Christian, may zeal for his house also consume you.  May zeal for forgiveness drive you to Christ, to his means of grace, ever more.  May you find the cleansing of your own little temple always in Jesus, until that day when after your flesh has been destroyed, you stand upon the earth and see him face to face. 

 

Thursday, February 29, 2024

Sermon - Lent Midweek - John 18:12-14; 19-24

 


Annas and Caiaphas – John 18:12-14; 19-24

12 So the band of soldiers and their captain and the officers of the Jews arrested Jesus and bound him. 13 First they led him to Annas, for he was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, who was high priest that year. 14 It was Caiaphas who had advised the Jews that it would be expedient that one man should die for the people.

19 The high priest then questioned Jesus about his disciples and his teaching. 20 Jesus answered him, “I have spoken openly to the world. I have always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all Jews come together. I have said nothing in secret. 21 Why do you ask me? Ask those who have heard me what I said to them; they know what I said.” 22 When he had said these things, one of the officers standing by struck Jesus with his hand, saying, “Is that how you answer the high priest?” 23 Jesus answered him, “If what I said is wrong, bear witness about the wrong; but if what I said is right, why do you strike me?” 24 Annas then sent him bound to Caiaphas the high priest.

We continue our focus on some of the minor characters, or “supporting cast” of the Passion account, this evening with two of the high priests at the time of Jesus:  Annas and his son-in-law, Caiaphas. 

Both of these men are called “high priest”, much the way we refer to former presidents or senators by that same title.  Annas had previously served some 9 years, and later, his son-in-law Caiaphas would serve 18 years as High Priest.  But Annas as the patriarch of the family either held the position or had family members hold it for decades.  Annas had 5 sons who held the title as well at various times.  A real political dynasty.  Their appointment was always made by the Roman governor, and so it suggests this family had close ties to the Roman rulers.

Much of what we know of Caiaphas and Annas comes from the early Jewish historian Josephus, and it corroborates the Scriptures.  We also have indication that these men were of the party of the Sauduees, who denied the teaching of the resurrection.

It was after Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead that Caiaphas called together his counsel and the plot to kill Jesus really began.  All this has led some to postulate that when Jesus told the parable of the unnamed Rich Man and Lazarus – that the “rich man” was meant to be Caiaphas – who also had, famously, “five brothers”.

It was also then, when the plot to kill Jesus began, that Caiaphas made his famous unintended prophecy.  John tells us:

47 So the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered the council and said, “What are we to do? For this man performs many signs. 48 If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation.” 49 But one of them, Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, said to them, “You know nothing at all. 50 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.” 51 He did not say this of his own accord, but being high priest that year he prophesied that Jesus would die for the nation, 52 and not for the nation only, but also to gather into one the children of God who are scattered abroad. 53 So from that day on they made plans to put him to death. (John 11:47-53)

There’s so much divine irony running through the passion account, and not just in the prophecy of Caiaphas, whose words were truer than he could imagine.

Consider the irony of Jesus standing on trial before the high priest!  Here is Jesus, the great high priest, a priest in the order of Melchizedek, the one representative of all people before the throne of God.  Jesus, the high priest who offers himself as the perfect sacrifice for all sin, who intercedes, even now with the Father for us – the one mediator between God and man.

And yet, here he stands, accused, before the earthly High Priest.  Here he stands, answering charges as a common criminal.  When it should be the other way around!  Murderous Annas and Caiaphas should have to answer to the one who will come to judge the living and the dead.  Haughty and powerful men who think so much of themselves have no right to judge the judge of all.  For they truly have no power, and truly deserve all this punishment and more.

Annas holds the first trial – an illegal trial, really, since it was at night and he wasn’t the actual high priest that year.  But he’s not concerned with proper conduct, nor is Caiaphas.  Their true concern is expediency.  And what a playground for sin that is.

What is expedient?  It’s what is convenient and practical even if somewhat improper or immoral.  What makes sense?  What gets the job done, even if we have to bend the rules a bit?  Oh, there’s a commandment about not murdering?  Ah, but isn’t it better for one man to die than a whole slew of people?  Oh, the witnesses’ testimony doesn’t agree?  That’s ok, where there’s smoke there’s fire.  Oh, he’s done miracles, healed the sick, raised the dead, and preaches the truth of God – he’s got all the marks of the Messiah?  No matter, we’re the ones in charge here and we don’t need anyone rocking the boat. 

There’s a little Caiaphas in all of us, isn’t there?  A temptation to expediency and rationalizing our sinful actions.  It’s really better this way.  It’s for the common good.  Or, at least it’s not as bad as it could be.  We rather take the place of God and bend or break the rules as needed, for our own devices, our own plans, our own agendas.  The arrogance, to think or act as if we ourselves are the final judge and arbiter.  We take the place of God, and presume to sit in the judgment seat, Lord have mercy upon us!

Jesus, for his part, doesn’t answer them much, except to refer to those who have witnessed and heard his teaching.  For one, he’s not trying to get out of this anyway.  He knows he is heading to the cross.  These wicked men are just playing their parts in the larger plan of God’s mercy.  In spite of themselves, and in spite of their evil actions, God brings about good.  And that is an encouraging thought.

Furthermore, Jesus has no need to answer them because he has taught openly in the synagogues and in the temple.  He has proclaimed his message openly – though only some had ears to hear.  There is no secrecy of the night for Jesus.  There is no sneaking around in the dark.  The Gospel is proclaimed publicly and for all – a good news that is to be shared with one and all.  The light shines in the darkness, and has no need to hide.

And in Mark’s Gospel Jesus finally answers Caiaphas with the following exchange:

Again the high priest asked Him, ‘Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?’ And Jesus said, ‘I am, and you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power, and coming with the clouds of heaven. And the high priest tore his garments and said, ‘What further witness do we need? You have heard His blasphemy. What is your decision?’ And they all condemned Him as deserving death.’”

Some years ago, around 1990, there was an archaeological discovery made – an ossuary, that is an ornate stone box used for burial in ancient Judea.  It contained the bones of an elderly man, and appeared to be quite authentic.  And on this box an inscription that indicated its contents – the remains of Caiaphas the high priest.  The first physical remains of a biblical person every discovered.

Another striking irony.  For Caiaphas wanted Jesus dead, and had his hand in the plot to kill him.  But even after all these years, it is Caiaphas who remains dead, but Jesus lives.  Christ’s tomb was found empty just three days later, and Christ remains alive even today – seated at the right hand of the Father in heaven.

And Christ, who was once judged by arrogant Caiaphas and his Father in law Annas, Christ will return in glory to judge the living and the dead – all people – and for a final judgment unto eternity.  And Caiaphas and Annas, who denied the resurrection, will on that day stand for judgment before the one they once judged.

Thanks be to God that our Lord Jesus Christ, our Great High Priest, took our place under judgment.  Thanks be to Jesus for making the perfect once-and-for-all sacrifice for sin.  Thanks be to God for raising Jesus to life again, the shepherd of his sheep, and for promising us likewise a resurrection at the last day. 

 

Monday, February 26, 2024

Sermon - Lent 2 - Romans 5:1-11

 


Romans 5:1-11

Today we are going to take a more expository, verse-by-verse approach to this Epistle reading from St. Paul in Romans chapter 5.  I encourage you to follow along as we do so.

So far in Romans he has laid a strong case for how we all stand condemned in our sins because of the law, but then moved on to explain that a righteousness apart from the law is revealed to us – a righteousness by grace through faith in Christ.  Now he continues unpacking the implications of that for the Christian. 

There are so many different ways to look at this thing that God does for us in Christ – like the facets of a diamond – and Paul certainly highlights a number of them for us today. 

1 Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.

We are justified by faith.  Made just, or righteous by God.  Notice we don’t justify ourselves, but it happens to us, God does it for us.  Our faith which trust this action is a gift in and of itself, a gift also worked by him.  To be justified by grace through faith in Christ is at the center of Paul’s teaching, and it really is the heart of the Christian religion.  But it’s just one way of describing it all.

Peace with God.  That’s another way of explaining what Christ has done for us.  He’s brought us to peace with God.

Perhaps you have, like I do, some vague memory of an old western movie in which some scoundrel of a cowboy lies dying from gunshot.  And as his life fades away, he has some last words with his friend, and tells him, “he’s made his peace with God”.  Well, maybe, maybe not.  But the Christian knows, and St. Paul teaches that it’s not we who make peace with God, it’s God who has made peace with us, through Christ.  We are justified by faith – not by works – and so we can have that peace and assurance in full.

2 Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.

Another way of describing this is we now obtained access into this grace by faith.  Access – entrance – availability.  God is open to us when before he was closed.  His love, grace and mercy, are for us!  And of that we can be sure – by faith.  This comes along with rejoicing in hope of the glory of God.  That is to say, we have a future.  We’ll say more about that shortly.

3 Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance,

Most people don’t rejoice in sufferings.  Sufferings are things to be avoided.  They are what you complain about after a long, hard day. They are the nagging problems and the sudden disasters of life that bring you only pain and suffering.  No one likes suffering, but we Christians rejoice in it.  Or we might say we rejoice in spite of it, for we know that suffering done in Christ, and especially for the sake of Christ, has a benefit.  It leads to endurance.

When we suffer, we learn that suffering isn’t the worst thing that can happen to us.  When we suffer, and are faithful, we learn that suffering need not lead us to despair and make a shipwreck of our faith.  God is with is, even in our suffering, and he works good from it just like he promises to do for all who are in Christ.  And one of the goods he brings from it is endurance.  A spiritual toughness.  We are not blown over or apart by every little problem and even big problem in life.  Rather, we learn in suffering to turn ever more to Christ and his grace, and we endure.  Thanks be to God.

4 and endurance produces character, and character produces hope,

Character.  A strange idea.  The Greek suggests it can also mean “experience” or “proof”.  When we endure suffering we have the battle scars that prove our faith is genuine.  And even better, we have the proof of hindsight, looking back to see how God’s hand has sustained us through it all by his grace in Christ.

And looking back, it’s easier then to also look forward in hope.  Confident expectation that God will fulfill his promises to us in Christ.  A sure and certain hope of the resurrection and the life of the world to come.

5 and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

Hope does not put us to shame.  It doesn’t chase us away in discouragement of our sins and God’s disapproval.  Rather, hope encourages us that God, who spared not his own Son, but sent Jesus to the cross for our salvation – he will certainly bring that good work in us to completion.

And to further sustain us in this hope, he gives us his Holy Spirit, pouring his love into our hearts.  The picture is of a generous pouring out, an overflowing of blessings, a heart that is awash in the love of God that always grows and never fails.

6 For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.

Christ died for the weak and ungodly.  Thanks be to God – for we are all weak and ungodly apart from him.  And he did it at the exact right time, as God’s timing is always perfect.

7 For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die—

Some of our best movies and books tell the hero story of one who sacrifices himself for others.  We aspire to such heroicism as it is rare in our world.  We hold up soldiers who die for freedom, police who are killed in the line of duty, and firemen who rush into a burning building as examples to follow and models of bravery and goodness.  But these are simple earthly examples.  God does it even better:

8 but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

He didn’t die to save a cute little girl, or a fair damsel in distress.  He died to save a rotten nasty filthy sinner like you, like all of us.  Christ died for the ungodly, the weak, the guilty.

9 Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God.

Justified by his blood – declared righteous and holy in the cosmic courtroom of God.  The blood of Christ changes the verdict for us – from guilty to not guilty, from ungodly to godly, from weak and worthless to strong in his strength.  Everything is different for us because of Jesus.  Everything is better.  It’s the great reversal.

And we are saved from the wrath of God because he, Jesus, bore the wrath of God for us.  By his holy precious blood and in his innocent suffering and death, Jesus became the substitute and made atonement for sin, all sin, even your sin.  Thanks be to God!

10 For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life.

Reconciliation.  Another picture of what Christ does for us.  He reconciles us to himself, and to God.  It’s a picture of a broken relationship made whole and right again.  A husband and wife who separate and then come back to each other.  Or two friends who have a falling out, but are able to work through their differences.  Or even enemy nations who eventually find peace and partnership – and become allies and friends.  Yes God forgives us, but his grace goes even further – he doesn’t just set the bar back to neutral.  He loves us.  He cherishes us.  Jesus calls us friends. 

And even more than wiping the slate clean and repairing the relationship, furthermore we are saved – rescued from death and hell – saved – salvaged and restored and renewed. 

11 More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.

All of this leads us to rejoice.  God’s grace for us in Christ is really just the best.  And like Paul, we could go on and on describing it in so many ways:

Justified.  At peace.  Given access to God, and having hope.  Suffering but enduring by faith, and greatly loved.  Reconciled to God and saved from his wrath.  And all of it by the blood of Jesus Christ our Lord.

Thanks be to God, and glory be to Jesus.  Amen.

Thursday, February 22, 2024

Sermon - Lent Midweek - Mark 14:(48b-50) 51-52

 


Mark 14:(48b-50) 51-52

And Jesus said to them, “Have you come out as against a robber, with swords and clubs to capture me? 49 Day after day I was with you in the temple teaching, and you did not seize me. But let the Scriptures be fulfilled.” 50 And they all left him and fled.

51 And a young man followed him, with nothing but a linen cloth about his body. And they seized him, 52 but he left the linen cloth and ran away naked.

__

"John Mark"

We continue our Lenten focus on some of the “minor characters” or “supporting cast” of the Passion Narrative.  Today, we come to the Garden of Gethsemane, amidst the arrest of Jesus.  And there we see a mysterious young man who was following along, and was almost arrested by the soldiers himself.  But he managed to slip away from them, and all they got was the linen cloth he was wearing.  He fled, naked into the night.  It would be a sort of comical story if it wasn’t in the midst of the seriousness of what was happening to Jesus.

Scripture doesn’t tell us who this young man is, but the preponderance of scholarly thought assumes him to be young John Mark, the very Mark who would become an associate of Peter and Paul, the cousin of Barnabas, and ultimately the writer of this Gospel. And maybe the fact that this strange little detail is found only in Mark’s Gospel further indicates the author’s own little personal addition to the story.  “Hey, fellas, I was there!  And a funny story about that…”

We know that Mark also became a point of contention between Paul and Barnabas (Mark’s cousin).  Acts tells us that he traveled with Paul and Barnabas on the First Missionary Journey, but for some reason abandoned them partway through.  Paul therefore refuses to take Mark on his next journey, though Barnabas argued to give the young man a second chance.  Ultimately this led to Paul and Barnabas going their separate ways.  But we do know that eventually Paul and Mark made up – from Philemon and 2 Timothy.

If, indeed, the young man in the garden was Mark, then why was he there?  We do know from Acts that after Peter escapes from prison in Jerusalem, he ran to the home of Mark’s mother. So Mark lived there in Jerusalem, which has made some suspect that his home was the venue for the Last Supper on Maundy Thursday, and that perhaps young Mark followed Jesus and the disciples to Gethsemane after the meal.

Another possibility is that Mark and his family had traveled to Jerusalem for the Passover, and like many pilgrims, were camped out on the Mount of Olives.  Thus, this would explain why he was there only in his “PJs” in the evening.

In any case, this "linen cloth" is the same word that the gospel uses for the  fine linen cloth that Joseph of Arimathea used to wrap the body of Jesus for burial.

Now, what to make of all of this?  I’m glad the school children are here with us this evening, as I have fond memories of hearing this story about Mark running away naked and snickering to myself as a child.  But where does all the snickering and discomfort with nakedness begin?  Of course, we go back to Eden.

Adam and Eve had sinned, and their eyes were opened, and they knew they were naked.  The felt ashamed, not only at their sin, but even their very bodies.  They sewed together fig leaves to cover themselves and apparently did a poor job at that.  God himself provided them with a better covering – animal skins – the first shedding of blood in the Scriptures was done by God – to cover the shame of Adam and Eve.

Nakedness reminds us of all that.  Though we may try to cover up our sins, our guilt and shame, they are still there.  Nothing we can do can take them away.  And just as we’d be embarrassed to be seen naked in public, so we also would be humbled to have all of our sins on display for the world to see, or worse, for God to see. 

Adam and Eve hid – but you can’t hide from God.  Mark may have escaped from the soldiers, but there is no escape from the wages of sin.  Left to our own devices, all of us are laid bare, naked and afraid, lost in the night.

But then, of course, there is Jesus.  And believe it or not, he knows something about nakedness.  Remember at the cross, after all the whipping and beating and the mockery, the crown of thorns and the carrying of his cross.  All his friends had deserted him.  The few who remained were powerless to help.  The soldiers who nailed him to the cross and would stand grisly death watch over the three condemned to die – now they took his clothes.  Even his clothes, at the end, and divided his garments among them.  We depict Jesus more modestly in our art and on our crucifixes, but the truth is, he was almost certainly crucified naked.  The Romans would not allow even allow him the last shred of dignity, even in death.

And all of this Jesus endures for you, and me, and for Mark, and for Adam and Eve, and for all sinners and their guilt and shame.  He takes our place.  He gets hat we deserve.  He suffers the physical pain, the emotional distress, and yes even the dishonor and shame that we deserve – to free us from it all.

And then, when it is finished, his body is prepared for burial.  Joseph brings that fine linen shroud and wraps Jesus up, lends him is own tomb, and rolls a stone to seal it shut.  Joseph did the best he could to honor the body of Christ, but Jesus wouldn’t need that grave for long.

Jesus’ story didn’t end with nakedness and shame, nor even with the final thud of the grave stone.  He rose on the third day, victorious over death, and left that linen shroud behind, neatly folded. 

Mark’s story didn’t end in the frightful naked night, either, but he would come to know the story of Jesus, and write a Gospel to tell the world about his Lord and Savior.

Adam and Eve’s story didn’t end with the shame of nakedness and sin, either, because even though they couldn’t stay in the Garden, they took something with them – not just those garments of animal skin – but also the promise of God.  One day, the seed of the woman would crush the serpent.  One day, God himself would make right what they had made so wrong.  And Adam and Eve must have told their children, and children’s children that same promise, shared the same hope with them, and looked forward in faith to its fulfillment in Christ.

My friends, your story doesn’t end with sin and shame, either.  Your story doesn’t even end in the grave.  You who are in Christ, have a hope just as well.  You are part of the salvation story.

In Revelation 7 we see John’s vision of a great multitude that no one could number, waving palm branches of victory, and wearing white robes.  We are told these are the ones coming out of the great tribulation, who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.  We aren’t told their names, either, but it’s clear enough who they are. 

They are the people of God.  They are the church.  They are you and me.  Clothed in Christ’s righteousness and gathered together in a throng of celebration in the life of the world to come.  In baptism they are clothed with Christ.  And by faith in Christ their filthy garments and naked shame are no more – only bright, white, glorious robes fit for the children of God.

Lent calls us to reflect.  It points us toward our sins, in a somber way.  We may even feel the shame or the fear as sin leaves us naked in the night.  But let’s not forget about Jesus, who bore our sins and sorrows, our stripes and shame, and yes even our nakedness… to provide for us the robe of righteousness and a resurrection to eternal life.  So flee from sin.  And flee in faith to Christ, always.  In Jesus Name.