Sermon - St. Michael and All Angels - Rev. 12:7-12

 

And war broke out in heaven....

We know of war. We hear of wars and rumors of wars. Hezbollah, Hamas and Israel.  Ukraine and Russia.  Or in other times, Iraq, Vietnam, Korea, Germany and Japan. 

We see our nation and others fighting over things that matter and things that don't. Some of you have even fought in wars, in foreign lands. Maybe you're against war in general or against a particular war. Maybe you wonder, war, what is it good for?

But the war that broke out in heaven – is like no other war that would ever be. Michael the archangel and his angels fought with the dragon, that great serpent of old, and all his evil angels.

We don't know how long this war lasted, or if, even, that's a question that makes sense. Revelation uses pictures and symbols to express heavenly and spiritual realities, that are in many cases, timeless, eternal. But though they are spiritual, they are just as real.

So in this war of the heavens, we don't know what tactics and strategies were used, or many other things. But we know what's most important: who wins. The good guys. Michael and the angels. They cast the Dragon – aka the Devil, Satan, the Ancient Serpent – they cast him and his fallen angels out of heaven – there is no place for them in God's presence any longer – and they fell.

In rage, smoldering at their defeat and humiliation, the Devil seeks to do what damage he can in what little time he has left. If he can't get to the Lord of Heaven himself, he will set his sights on those created in God's image. And so he roars and prowls and looks to devour even you, and you, and me. The Devil is real, and he is dangerous. He is our most powerful enemy. He is far smarter than you. He knows God's Word far better... Luther even called the Devil a Doctor of Theology. But his wicked knowledge is all geared toward one purpose – to do you harm. To destroy your life, to see you suffer and die. And ultimately, if it were possible, to steal you away, to lead you astray, even gently if he has to, from the Christian faith and from your Lord.

This is the most insidious way that he devours. His slithering question, “Did God really say...?” continues to be asked today. It is asked in the public square when Christian teaching is ridiculed and marginalized. It is asked in church bodies that dance to the Devil's pied-piper tune and plot a course away from God's word and into heresy and damnation. And the Devil's question is asked and answered when you reach for whatever forbidden fruit hangs in front of you – and you decide you know better and want to be like God. Oh Lord, deliver us from this evil, we pray!

But just as our foe was cast out of Heaven, so will he one day be cast into the lake of fire. Just as he fell like lightning from heaven, so does he fall in defeat to the same weapons of warfare used by Michael and the angels. “they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony”. It seems the angels, too, use the same weapons given to us, Christians. The blood of the Lamb and the testimony, the word of God.

The word. It's the way Jesus himself defeated the tempter in the wilderness. His refrain:  It is written. It is written. It is written. The word that created and recreates. The same word which bespeaks us righteous. The same word cried out, “Father forgive them” and which forgives you, even today. The same word that will be spoken over your grave, “Death, where is thy victory, Death where is thy sting?”. The same word which will be spoken at the trumpet call of God when Christ returns with all his angels and brings all things to fulfillment. The word of God. That word of God that was made flesh in Christ.

And the other “weapon” by which they overcame - The blood of the Lamb. It's the way Jesus himself defeated the Foe on our behalf, at the cross. There and then the Accuser lost any sins to accuse, because Jesus took them all away. The blood of the Lamb. “His blood be on us and on our children” the murderous crowd seethed. And bitter and blessed irony, His blood is upon us, to save us. The blood of the Lamb, by the water of baptism, douses the doorposts of your heart - to mark you – so that the destroyer would pass over this one. Jesus was destroyed in your place. His blood shed in exchange for yours. His defeat – your victory.

But the blood of Jesus doesn't just stop at the cross. The blood of Jesus by which we overcome the Dragon and all his forces of evil is also for us today. The blood once shed, the body once broken – dead, but now alive forever – that same body and blood are here for you in on the altar, in the bread and wine, by the promise of the Lamb himself. Here, he breaks and hinders every evil plan and purpose of the devil, and saves us by his grace, delivering us from evil. Here in this holy meal you receive the victorious Christ, and are united with him and with his victory.

Likewise the testimony by which they overcame – the same word of God, the Gospel of Jesus Christ in particular, is preached from this pulpit, read at that lectern, sung in this sanctuary, prayed at this altar. This word, this sharp, two-edged sword, not only kills our old Adam and revives our own Spirit, but the same proclamation of Christ disarms and destroys the foe and his accusations. It is the one little word that can fell him.

So God sends his holy angels, who once cast Satan from heaven, to watch over us even here and now. In a sense the war still continues, as we struggle not against flesh and blood but against the spiritual forces of evil. Thanks be to God for our allies in this fight, those messengers from on high who watch over and defend the children of God at his command. Why shouldn't the Lord God, who spared not even his own Son for our salvation, not also give us even more? Why shouldn't he who feeds us and quenches us with Christ's body and blood, and speaks to us his word of promise, not also keep us by his firstborn sons of light?

Therefore rejoice, oh heavens, and you who dwell in them! And can't we count ourselves among the inhabitants of heaven? Certainly our citizenship is there. Surely our destination is with the Lord. Even now, we are strangers and sojourners on this earth. We are in it, but not of it.  One day we, too, will take our place in the company of heaven, with angels and archangels.  One day our voices will join with all the saints, and the angelic choir in eternal praise around the throne of God.

For salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of His Christ have come.. to us. Like the angels, we too overcome by the blood of the Lamb and by the testimony. And we too see the accusations of Satan fall to nothing, for in Christ, your sins are no more. Battle over. Victory won. Eternity secure. In Jesus' Name. Amen.

Sermon - Pentecost 18 - Mark 9:30-37

 

Today we examine, through our readings, the Christian teaching of humility.  It’s a value we share, at least to some extent, with the secular world.  Practically no one, even an unbeliever, would say that it’s good to be proud and arrogant, and that it’s not good to be humble.  But we Christians see humility as much more than a virtue.  It is deeply connected to our understanding of sin.  And for Christians, true humility also has its roots deep in the person and work of Christ.  Let’s consider Christian humility this morning.

The disciples of Jesus, you might think, would be wonderful examples of humility.  But anyone who’s read the New Testament enough knows better.  In so many ways, these disciples are like us, and like all people, subject to the fallen nature, and just as much full of pettiness and sin as anyone.  So, Mark tells us, on the road they were having an argument amongst themselves about who was the greatest.

I like to imagine how that conversation might have gone.  Peter claiming he’s the greatest, because he got to walk on water.  Then another says, “yeah, but he also told you ‘get behind me Satan’”  Then Nathaniel makes his case, “I’m clearly the greatest.  He called me a true Israelite in whom there is nothing false” and John, “well, I’m the disciple that Jesus loves!”  And Judas, “yeah but which one of you does he trust to carry the money bag?”

Like petulant children fighting in the back seat of a car on a long road trip, and mom and dad just listen in and don’t intervene.  Jesus heard the whole thing.  He knew what they were arguing about.  And he waited till later to address it.

When he did ask them, they were silent.  And that silence speaks volumes.  They seemed to know what they did was shameful.  They couldn’t even give an excuse for their petty grandstanding, their jockeying for position.  Funny how a gentle question, rightly timed, can disarm us and show us our sin so clearly.

Who is the greatest?  It’s a question we also ask among ourselves, in many and various ways.  But for them, and for us, it’s the wrong question.  The right question, the question that they should have been asking, is to hear more about what Jesus had been telling them.  For in the paragraph before we hear him say,

“The Son of Man is going to be delivered into the hands of men, and they will kill him. And when he is killed, after three days he will rise.” 32 But they did not understand the saying, and were afraid to ask him.

And if they asked, he might have told them, shown them, how the scriptures had to be thus fulfilled.  He could have taught them that the true purpose of the Messiah is not to come as conquering king or military strongman, but as a humble servant, and a sacrifice for sin.  To lay down his life as a ransom for his friends.  To be delivered up for the sins of the people, and to rise on the third day.

Jesus is, of course the greatest, by rights, by nature.  The very Son of God, eternal, immortal, almighty, all-knowing, and so much more.  But the Greatest shows his greatness not in braggadocio, nor in mighty feats of power and glory… he shows his greatness in humility.

From your confirmation studies, you might recall how we speak of Jesus in his “State of Humiliation”.  That is, how he puts aside, for the most part, his divine power and glory, and descends, condescends, to us. 

He, “who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, 7 but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.” (Philippians 2:6-7)

The Apostles’ Creed outlines Christ’s work for us in his state of humiliation:  He was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried.

He humbled himself to live among us, even as a child.  He learned to talk, to walk, he learned the Scriptures.  He humbly and obediently obeyed his parents, and submitted to their authority.

He humbly suffered, throughout his life – nowhere to lay his head.  No great riches or fine clothing, nothing but humble service all along the way.  He suffered the rejection of many, his own people, even betrayal by one of his own.  He was handed over to sinful men, and yet humbly stood before them, like a lamb led to the slaughter, silent.  And he did not turn away at the last, but embraced his cross, scorned its shame, drank the cup fully, and could not be brought any lower than death and grave.

In all of this, and throughout his earthly life, Christ made himself lower, least, last.  He humbled himself, even unto death, even death on the cross.

And he did it, mind you, not just to be an example to us.  He did it to be our savior.  To take our place under the law.  To make himself a substitute for us, to do the job, all the jobs right – that we did not and cannot. 

And so Jesus teaches his disciples, as they are able to receive it.  The time would come when they would more fully comprehend, and even preach, his humble service in life and death.  The time would come when they would, like their Lord, lay down their lives in humble service and great faith.  But for now, he gives them a principle and an object lesson.

The principle is this:  “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.”  Exactly opposite of worldly thinking.  If you would be first, you must be last.  If you would be great, you must serve. And if you want to be the greatest of all, you must be the servant of all.  Of course that’s what Jesus does.  He serves the world by become last of all, lowest of all, dying for all. 

And we, in Christian service, are now called to serve others in response.  We can’t be the savior of the world, nor do we need to be.  But we are to serve those we can in sincere humility.

Our humility is different than Christ’s, though.  For he made himself lowly, though he was of highest place by rights.  Each of us, however, starts out far differently.  Paul says, “if anyone thinks he is something, when he is nothing….” To warn us from boasting.  Because in sin, we are all nothing.  We are, if we are honest, already lowly and despised, the things that are not.  But only through the righteousness of Christ are we exalted.  Only through the precious blood of Christ do we attain any value before God’s throne.  Only through Christ can we receive the Father, the one who sent him.

And so humbling ourselves in service is more a recognition of our lowly state, and a reflection of the love Christ has shown to us in his own humility.

Oh, and the object lesson?  A child.  Lowly and humble, a little child who doesn’t know much, can’t do much for himself, brings no great wealth or wisdom to bear.  But a child, a recipient.  A picture of how we approach God, and a prime example of how we can show Christ’s love.

You’re no better than this lowly child.  But receive him in my name, and receive me, and receiving me, receive him who sent me.  Don’t think you’re too good, even for a child, but show true humility in service to the humble and lowly, in my name.

For Christ, the humble one, suffered and died at the hands of sinful men, and rose again on the third day.  Christ, the greatest one, has made himself last and least for you.  Therefore humble yourself in the sight of the Lord, and he will exalt you, in Jesus Christ our Lord, amen.

Sermon - Pentecost 17 - James 3:1-12

 

The Lord has given me an instructed tongue.  So says the Prophet Isaiah.  Sounds like a good thing.  On the other hand…

The tongue is an un-tame-able beast, a flaming fire, a fountain of deadly poison.  So says James in our Epistle reading.

James even goes on to ponder the paradox of the tongue, that the same mouth speaks both curses and blessings, like a spring that brings forth fresh and salt water, or a tree that bears two different kinds of fruit.  These things shouldn’t be!  But they are.

Such is the life of a Christian, a sinner and also a saint.  We are walking paradoxes, living contradictions.  It is, to say the least, a great mystery.

While we sin in so many and various ways, today our readings call us to consider especially sins of speech – the tongue, the mouth. 

As the crown of God’s creation, and made in his own likeness, one of the things that sets us humans apart from animals is the ability to speak.  Like God himself, who spoke creation into being, we are given the ability to form words and communicate thoughts.  We can make small talk about the weather, and we can share complicated ideas about academic minutiae.

But because our hearts are polluted with sin, and our minds are bent and perverted with sin, the sinful thoughts inside of us give rise to sinful words.  The sin spews out of our mouths like a poison.  Like an open sewer pipe, only far more destructive are the sinful words of our sinful speech.

Oh, sure, a little gossip here and there seems harmless enough.  An unkind word, perhaps spoken in anger.  A white lie to cover our tracks in an embarrassing situation.  But the white lie grows.  The venom of a harsh word spreads.  And the gossip spreads and shatters our neighbor’s good name.  These are no small matters.

Just because it’s true doesn’t mean we can say it without sin.  We must also speak words that are kind, and that build up.  Speak the truth in love, as Paul writes in Ephesians.  Easier said than done.

Just as our confession of sins covers sins of thought, word, and deed… so also we are reminded that we sin by what we do, and by what we have left undone.  This goes for our speech, too.

There are times in which we sin by not speaking as we should.  By not speaking up when our neighbor is being maligned.  By not defending his reputation from gossip and lies.  By not explaining our neighbor’s actions in the kindest way.

At times we fail to give a good witness – either out of fear of repercussions or embarrassment.  We do nothing, we say nothing, when we should have spoken the truth in love.  And so the tongue can sin with the words we say, but also with the words we withhold.

But what is the other side of this coin?  What words and speech must we hear and speak that prove better, and good?  What is the antidote to the poison, the thing that can quench the flame, what can tame the savage beast?

Consider Isaiah’s words, “the Lord has given me an instructed tongue”.  Before we speak, we must hear, and listen.  And the instruction that Isaiah means in particular is the word of God, and even more particularly, the Gospel.

Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.  The instructed tongue is the person who speaks from faith, because he has heard the Gospel of Jesus Christ and believed.

God’s word of promise is exactly the antidote and answer for all our corrupted speech, our filthy sinful talk.  He cleanses us by the blood of Christ in our entire being.  Christ’s sacrifice restores us to a wholeness, a righteousness, a holiness of word and deed that is not our own – but comes by grace, through faith in him.

Consider all the gracious words that flow from his lips.  The promises of life and peace and health and blessing. 

Consider how he joins his word to water in the sacrament of holy baptism, and that watery word becomes a flood of blessings your whole life through

Consider his precious words of testament, spoken over humble bread and wine, with the promise of his body and blood given there for your forgiveness.

Consider the words he spoke to his apostles, that whoever’s sins are forgiven on earth are forgiven even in heaven – and that those same words of absolution are spoken by your pastor today.

The instructed tongue of Christ delivers to us that which he receives from the Father – all good things – words of grace, mercy and peace.

And then there is the instructed tongue of the believer.

The instructed tongue of the believer doesn’t mean you’ve gone to seminary, though maybe you have.  It doesn’t mean that you have memorized the entire Bible or can mine the original Greek and Hebrew.  It doesn’t even mean that you regularly attend Bible Class at church (although, of course, that would be good to do!)

It means you have heard the instruction of the Gospel, heard the word of salvation in Jesus Christ, and believed.  And that changes everything – your heart, your mind, even your speech.

While the flesh still frustrates us, it does not do so entirely.  For the Christian not just sinner, he is also saint.  The new creation, the child of God, the person who God has made us to be in Christ – he’s a different sort of fellow.  He speaks quite differently.

For one, we confess the faith that is within us.  We do it formally with things like the creeds and the catechism.  We recite and repeat the word of God, and it is never far from our lips.

We share the hope that is within us whenever we have the opportunity.  We are witnesses of all that God has done for us, and so we are glad to tell others the good news we have heard and believed.

And, of course, the instructed tongue also prays.  And here we come to touch for a moment on our Gospel reading.

The disciples were frustrated that THEY couldn’t cast out the demon.  The Scribes and the crowds along with them seemed to frustrate Jesus, “how long do I have to put up with this faithless generation?”

But the father of the boy prayed.  His tongue was instructed unto faith.  He prayed to Jesus that precious little prayer that so many of us have repeated, “Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.”  And Jesus answered his prayer.

Later, when the disciples wondered why they couldn’t cast out this evil spirit, why the failed, Jesus said, “this kind can only be cast out by prayer.”  But he doesn’t mean just the right formula of the perfect words.  When Jesus urges prayer, he’s simply urging us to give word to our faith.  Only the believer can truly pray, after all, and God will only hear the prayers of the faithful – for we pray in the name of Jesus.

So let us always live by faith in Christ, with a faith that prays:  Lord, give us an instructed tongue.  Forgive us, Lord, for sins of our words, and form in us a faith that prays, and confesses, and sings your praises forever.  Lord, we believe, help our unbelief.  And teach us to pray.  In Jesus’ Name.  Amen

Sermon - Pentecost 16 - Mark 7:31-37

St. Mark tells us today about an occasion on which Jesus healed a man who was deaf and head a speech impediment.  Even today, we understand that hearing and speaking are related, and so it’s no surprise that the man had trouble with both.  Nor is it a surprise that Jesus bothered to help the man, and that he healed him and restored him fully.  It’s Jesus, after all, and he has compassion on those who are in need.

What lessons can we take from this miracle, what application for our life and faith in this day and age?  

We can perhaps sympathize with the deaf man.  We don’t know exactly when his deafness began (perhaps it was even from birth).  But we do know that hearing is a valuable human sense and this man was without it.  While many helps and accommodations have come in modern times to help the deaf, even a whole sign language, sadly none of these would have existed in Jesus’ day.  The deaf man just had to make the best of his condition, such as it was.

Perhaps almost as bad, he had a speech impediment.  Apparently he could speak some, or with some great difficulty.  But it surely also served as a source of frustration and made it hard for him to communicate with those around him.

When Jesus takes him aside in order to heal him, Mark tells us that as part of it Jesus sighed.  It’s kind of an unusual detail to mention.  What did that sigh of Jesus mean?  Martin Luther suggests that it was a sigh of Jesus’ reaction to the havoc sin and death cause in our world.  Sort of similar to Jesus’ reaction at the tomb of Lazarus, where it says he was “deeply moved in spirit, and troubled”.

We can sympathize with the deaf man, even if we are not deaf.  We can feel for him even if we don’t have a physical disability of our own.  Because we, too, groan under the effects of sin and death in our lives.  The details may be different, but the circumstances are the same.  We are broken, and we are dying.  Nothing in this fallen creation is exactly as it should be.  Some things are entirely lost.  Some things are not lost, but are ruined.  And some things are a polluted or corrupted version of what they are meant to be.

Of course, there’s also the spiritual condition of deafness.  Or that we might think of our sinful condition as being unable to hear, or listen, to God’s Word.  Just as sometimes we speak of being spiritually blind, spiritually dead, and spiritually enemies of God.  So, too, our fallen state makes us deaf to his word, and unable to either do what his law commands or believe what his Gospel promises.  It is only with the intervention of Jesus, by his Spirit, that we are restored and made new.  The Holy Spirit calls us by the Gospel, and that word that we couldn’t and wouldn’t hear, that word itself opens our deaf ears and closed hearts to hear and believe.

You see, the Word of God has such power.  It doesn’t just say things, it does things!

Hebrews says, “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword”  Paul says in 2 Corinthians, “The letter kills, but the Spirit gives life!”  And of course we all know the performative power of God’s word even from the beginning, in the creation, when God spoke, “let there be…”   And, of course, there was.

God’s word does what it promises to do.  When the words of absolution are spoken, “I forgive you your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit”, then you know that your sins are forgiven.  When God speaks such a word, even through the humble mouth of a pastor, reality is changed, sins are forgiven, and heaven itself is Ephphatha – opened – to us.

When Jesus died on the cross he spoke, he declared, “It is finished!”  And so it was.  Death was finished.  Sin was finished.  All the power of the Devil was undone.  The divine verdict of condemnation on us was overturned as Christ himself served the sentence of death.  And just as when a judge pronounces those words, “not guilty!” , so too with the Word of God it becomes a reality.

So Jesus says to the man, or rather, to his ears, “Ephphatha!  Be opened”  And those deaf ears simply must obey.  They must hear, because the one who created them, created us, created all is speaking.  And he will be heard.

This is how faith itself works, too.  God speaks, and that Gospel creates the very faith that believes it.  His word supplies all that is needed, even what is needed to believe that very word!

And then, let us not forget that Jesus also restored the man’s speech.  As we said, speech and hearing go together.  Even today we notice that hearing loss or a hearing problem can delay the development of speech.  And if someone is deaf from birth, it is only with great difficulty that speech is learned.

But Jesus restores his speech fully.  He doesn’t just set the man to zero, so that he can learn to talk again.  Jesus doesn’t do things half-way like that.  And so just as Adam was created whole, and had enough command of language that he could speak with God and even name the animals, so the deaf man’s tongue was loosened, set aright, and his speech restored to fullness.

Here, too, a spiritual application comes to mind.  Just as we are unable to hear God’s word until faith comes, so also can we not confess that faith unless and until he enables us.  But faith must speak.  Faith must confess.  The person who has heard the good news delights to tell the good news when given opportunity.  And so do we.

We confess with the crowds who observed such miracles, that Jesus “has done all things well.”  If they only knew the fullness of such a claim! 

He opened the eyes of the blind

and the ears of the deaf unstopped;

He made the lame man leap like a deer,

and the tongue of the mute sing for joy.

He brings forth in the wilderness,

and streams in the desert

He brings life from death, righteousness from wickedness, and makes saints out of sinners.  He brings down the mighty from their thrones and exalts the lowly.

He opens that which is closed – your ears to hear and believe – he opens heaven itself to receive your soul when you die – and he will open your grave in the final “Ephphatha” on the last day when he calls you to resurrection.

He has done all things well!  So we have heard with our ears, so we confess with our mouths, even Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.