Sermon – Christmas 1 – Luke 2:22-38

 

Sermon – Christmas 1 – Luke 2:22-38

“Depart in Peace”

The family is all gathered around. The doctors have given the grave news. “Time is short. Say your goodbyes.” The pastor is called, and he comes to the hospital. He, too, knew this might be coming. This faithful child of God, who had so often heard the word and received the gifts in the local communion of saints... was now going to join the communion of saints that rest in Christ. God's name is invoked. Scriptures are read. Prayers are said. Then the pastor sings a familiar little song,

“Lord now lettest thou thy servant, depart in peace, according to Thy word. For mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which Thou hast prepared before the face of all people. A light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel. Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost. As it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be, world without end, amen.”

That child of God, that saint of God, departs in peace. That loved one leaves the family, and enters into a blessed rest, today with Christ, in paradise. Because of the promises of God in Jesus Christ, it is a departure in peace. It is sorrow, but sweet sorrow, grief, but not without hope.

We don't know much about Simeon. He was righteous, which meant he had faith in God's word. Perhaps he was a priest in the temple, or maybe just a regular fellow. We get the impression he was old, but it doesn't say exactly how old. But we know he'd been waiting. It was revealed to him by the Spirit that he would not die until he met the Messiah. Quite an unusual promise. And so those days, perhaps years of waiting made it all the more joyful when he saw the infant Lord, and he couldn't help but take the baby up in his arms. And he prayed, he sang in joy, that now he could die in peace. For I have seen your salvation, Lord, with my own eyes. And your salvation is here in this child.

God keeps his promises. He kept his promise to Simeon, and to all the people of Israel.

God's presence had been with his people – his glory – manifest among them for many years. He appeared to Moses in the burning bush. He went before them in the wilderness – a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night. And when the temple was built by Solomon, God's presence, his glory, shrouded in a cloud came to dwell in that temple. It was an ongoing miracle and blessing that God would dwell among his people, in his temple.  But it would not be so forever.  God’s dwelling there would not always be so.

The people of God got a taste of this when in 1 Samuel the Philistines were allowed to briefly capture the Ark of the Covenant from the Tabernacle under the watch of Eli and Phineas.  Phineas’ wife gave birth to a son (and died from her childbirth.) But before she did, she marked the loss of the ark by naming her son Ichabod, which means, “the glory has departed.”  A haunting name later chosen for a literary character who also met a tragic end.

The Philistines didn’t keep the ark for long, and eventually Solmon built a temple to replace the tabernacle.  A more permanent house for the Lord’s presence.

But the time came when God again withdrew that presence, that glory, and now it was Ezekiel who saw the cloud depart from the temple. We read about it in Ezekiel 8 to 11. An ominous day, for God departing was a sign of his wrath and judgment. The Abominations they were doing in his presence “drove him” away, and he showed Ezekiel, in a vision, how he was leaving the temple and saying to the people, “you're on your own”. Without God's protection, calamity would be just around the corner.

What sins of yours are an abomination before God? Oh, is that too strong a word for you? Would you prefer “character flaw” or “foible” or “peccadillo”? Perhaps a milk-toast admission that nobody is perfect and oh, gosh golly, we're all sinners so move on to the Gospel, pastor. But think for a moment of the gravity of your sin – each and every sin – which sends a message to God, “I don't want you. I don't need you. Go away. I'll make my own rules. I'll decide what's best, and it's some other god over here, thank you.”

Each and every sin is worthy of God withdrawing his presence from you. From our first parents who ate a forbidden fruit and were cast out of God's paradise, to you and I who drag his commandments through the mud on a daily basis. We don't deserve God in our life, in our world, in our presence. Our thoughts, words, and deeds tell him “Get out. Go away. Drop dead.”

And so God forsakes us, like he withdrew his presence from the temple long ago... or does he? No, instead he has forsaken Christ. He has left his own son alone to suffer the punishments of the cross. To take once, for all, the forsaking by God that all deserve. In the great mystery of Christ on the cross, God turned his back on his own Son, giving him over to a punishment that you and I deserve. To forgive all sins, little and big, peccadillo and abomination. And to bring us eternally to his presence through the blood of Christ.

Even after the exile ended and the temple in Jerusalem was rebuilt, God's glory, that cloud of his presence, didn't return. Yet his promise remained that one day his glory would return to the temple. And Simeon, in particular, was promised he would see it. What a surprise then, that God did return to his temple – not in a pillar of fire or cloud, not in a blazing chariot or bolt of lightning, but in a little baby, 40 days old. In the humility of a lowly infant, the Lord of Glory returns to his temple, to dwell with his people. “My eyes have seen your salvation” Simeon says, yes, and my hands have held him. “The Light to the Nations” Jesus, the Light of the World, and the “Glory of Israel” - the glory of God now returns.

But even more. For not only did he dwell in the building for a short time, a building which is now destroyed.... but He himself becomes the true temple, the true dwelling of God with man. In the flesh of the man, Jesus Christ, God dwells with his people forever. His permanent residence is as a human being, one of us, standing in the place of all of us. Fulfilling the law for us. Dying as a sacrifice for us. But as that temple of his body was destroyed, yes, in three days it was restored, and a new aspect of God's glory was revealed. For now not even death can contain his glory, nor can it contain the life of those who live and die in him. Jesus lives forever. We will live forever, in him.

Now that all the wrapping paper is put away and the decorations are coming down, now that all the shopping malls are putting up hearts for valentines day, and radio stations are back to their purely secular format, now that the world outside the walls of the church has moved on from Christmas – perhaps we can focus with even clearer vision. Let our eyes see, along with Simeon's, the salvation that God reveals to us in Jesus Christ.

For like Simeon, we get to see him, hold him, touch him. Not as a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes presented at the temple. But we receive him wrapped up in his word, indeed, he himself says of the Holy Scriptures, “These are they that testify to me.”

We also encounter and receive him as a crucified and risen and ascended Lord, who still comes under the humble forms of bread and wine. When you receive the sacrament, you can sing with Simeon, “Lord, you now let your servant depart in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation”. 

Yes, in the bread and wine that are Christ's body and blood, we have the salvation he promises and accomplishes. In this simple receiving of his gifts in faith, He gives Light and Glory to all. Forgiveness, life, salvation – blessings too great to fathom, too deep to ponder.

And having been so blessed, we can, and we do, depart in peace. We depart in peace from this altar – strengthened for service in our daily vocations. We depart in peace from each other and God, knowing all is forgiven in Christ. And we are even prepared to depart from this world, like Simeon, we can die in peace, knowing our sins are forgiven and our debt is paid. Yes, even if I die today, I know my salvation is sure in Jesus Christ.

Depart in peace. Depart in peace and faith and hope and joy, Christians. For you have seen his glory, the light of the world, the salvation of our God in Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.

Sermon - Christmas Day - John 1:1-14

 

On Christmas Eve, we have the Nativity account from Luke 2, with the shepherds, the angels, the swaddling clothes and the manger.  It’s the Christmas story you see on greeting cards, and in children’s Christmas pageants.  We can picture it, even picture being there, visiting the manger and worshipping the newborn Christ alongside those shepherds.

But on Christmas Day, we read a different Nativity account, one that is admittedly a little harder to picture and imagine.  We come to John chapter 1, and hear this Gospel’s very distinct version of just how it is that Christ came into our world.  It’s less about the story, or the characters, or the events of the birth of Christ.  It’s much more about the theology, the deep and sublime meaning of Christ and his appearance among us. 

And not that the beauty and sentiment of Christmas are bad or wrong, but let’s appreciate the opportunity to dig a bit deeper this morning and join St. John in pondering the mystery of the word that became flesh and dwelled among us.

In just these first few verses John makes grand and foundational assertions about our Lord Jesus. 

John begins “in the beginning”, that is, before time itself.  Echoing the first words of Genesis, John’s Gospel roots Jesus’ birth right there with the beginning of all things.  For he is the beginning of all things. 

He, the Word, was, already, in the beginning.  In other words, he is eternal.  That’s one of the attributes of God, that he always was, always is, and always will be.

This eternal Word was with God, and was God.  Here John indicates (in part) the peculiarity of the divine nature – that we have a God who is not one person, but three.  Three distinct persons but only one God, a great mystery we confess as the Trinity. 

Here John shows us, that this living Word who became flesh also had a hand in creation.  It’s not just the Father who creates, but the Son is the agent of creation – the Word through whom all things were made.  We confess this in the Nicene Creed.  By him all things were made.  He is the agent of creation.

And he is also the one who has life.  “In him was life”, John says.  All life comes through him.  And even as we celebrate his birth, this new life born among us, yet the divine irony is all life is born from him and we can only be reborn in him.

The life that is in him – John further tells us is the light of men.  The light, not “a” light.  The one source of all that is good.  The one, the only one, who can show the way to truth and life.

And like the other Gospels, we have here mention of John the Baptist, but only briefly.  John the Baptist came as a witness, pointing to the light.  He and so many others have pointed to Christ, prepared the way for Christ, proclaimed the good news of Christ. 

And yet for all of that, some would not receive him.  Even his own people, for the most part, rejected him.  Even the world that he created, for the most part, did not receive him.

He had some followers, of course, even crowds at times.  But all would forsake him when the going got tough.  Even his inner circle of 12 scattered at his arrest.  And his own people, the Jews, handed him over to the Romans, and he was not received as the Christ, the eternal and living word.  But was rejected, crucified, done away with. Only after he destroyed death and rose again did he establish his church, and send his apostles to proclaim the good news to all nations.  The light simply had to shine.  The life had to be for the world.

To those who simply believe in him, and on the power of his name, he gives power – to become children of God.  He came, first as a child to accomplish all this, to bring us back, to make us children of God. 

In him, we are born, not of the flesh.  Though he was born in the flesh for us.  In him, we are born, not of the will of man, for man’s will is corrupt and defies God anyway.  No, he was born of the will of God, and by the power of God’s Spirit.  This is why he was conceived and born of a virgin – to show that no man can take credit for bringing the Christ into this world.  Only the gracious act of God, the will of God, could do it.

But look at this!  The Word became flesh and dwelled among us.  What a profound truth this is! 

When it comes to us, words are fleeting and failing.  We search for the right words and often say the wrong ones.  We forget words, we mangle words, we sometimes are at a loss for words.  We say, “actions speak louder than words,” and often we believe that.

But here comes a different word.  A word unlike any of our words.  A living word.  An eternal word.  A word that was always with God, because he was and is God.  A word by which all things, even you, were created.

But that word doesn’t just exist somewhere, out there, in the abstract void of philosophical intangibility.  That word becomes flesh.  Body and blood.  It’s oh, so real.  That word has DNA.  That word has internal organs, and a face, and little fingers and toes.  The word has a heart that pumps and lungs that breathe.  The word became flesh.  A little baby born in Bethlehem.  As real as it gets.

And his salvation for us is just as real.  He became flesh and dwelled among us, to bring that salvation in person.

What a strange day we live in when so much of life has become virtual.  You don’t have to shop in a store anymore.  You don’t even always have to visit your doctor in person.  And some would say, just watch your church and worship online – well, it’s better than nothing, but it’s not the ideal.  I don’t know how beneficial all this virtual life is, but we can certainly see some of its drawbacks.  And maybe, eventually, it will help us to appreciate all the more what is truly real.

But know this, the eternal Word that was God and was with God became flesh, for you.  Not virtually.  Not notionally.  Not symbolically.  But really, truly, in the flesh.  Incarnationally.

And that same living word is among us today by his promise.  His body and blood are given to us to eat and drink.  Dwelling among us in the Sacrament of the Altar, just as real as ever.  Which means so is his forgiveness, his life, and his salvation.

In him is life, and that life is the light of men, and of you and me.  So come and worship Christ the newborn king, the crucified and risen and ascended king.  The one who came, who comes, and who will come again in glory, full of grace and truth.

Sermon - Christmas Eve - Isaiah 9:2-7

 

Isaiah 9:2–7

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined.

A blessed Christmas Eve to you.

There is a reason we light candles tonight.  We do so often, even every church service.  We have the seven and the seven – reminding us of the Holy Spirit’s presence among the churches, as pictured in Revelation 1.

We have our Advent Wreath here, which helps us countdown to Christmas over the course of four weeks, with a white Christ-candle in the center.  We light it to symbolize his birth.

Then of course there are other candles – the paschal candle (the tall one), the baptismal candles (over on the wall), and many other churches have many other traditions when it comes to lighting candles.

And I suspect that even a young child can usually tell you the basic symbolic significance of light.  As children are often afraid of the dark, and need a night light or hall light left on for comfort, they understand the basic implications of light and darkness, good and evil, fear and comfort.

It is no accident that we celebrate Christmas this time of year.  I won’t get into it, but there actually is a good argument that Jesus was born on or about December 25^th (or the evening of the 24^th by another reckoning).  But it is also the time of year, at least in the northern hemisphere, in which the days are the shortest.  The Winter Solstice falls on the 21^st, and from that point on, they days get longer.  In a way, nature itself testifies to the dawning of the light.

But to put it bluntly, we live in a world of darkness, and it doesn’t take too much looking around to see it.  We could even wallow in it.  There’s no shortage of pain, heartbreak, loss, and grief.  Time and circumstance rob us of our youth and health, and the darkness of death encroaches.  Selfish cares uproot and supplant godly desires, and people wander off into all sorts of self-destruction.  Families, the God-given safety net and cradles of love and affection, become warzones and bitterness and resentment grow like weeds, sometimes even the whole thing burns down.  And then there’s death itself, not far from the mind for many of us at the holidays – when everyone else seems joyfully ringing jingle bells, and you’re feeling the sting of loved ones unable to join the festivities.  The holidays can be some of the loneliest, darkest times, for many of us.

But light a candle tonight, friend, for the Light has dawned.  The light scatters the darkness, and the darkness has not understood it.  The people who sat and walked and dwelt in darkness have seen a great light.  On them a light has dawned.

Nothing is better in a power outage than when your one friend who is prepared lights up a flashlight.  Nothing is more hopeful when the night never seems to end, than the dawning of the sun in the east.  Nothing is more joyful to world darkened by sin than the appearing of the Light of Lights, the Light of the World, the eternal one himself – shining through all of it.  Christ the Lord is born this day.

And what an apt metaphor light is for this great happening.

Consider what we know about light, just from Science:

It is still a great mystery to physicists, as for more than a century the brightest minds have been trying to crack open its secrets.  It travels at a constant speed.  Nothing can outpace its speed, a hard limit, it seems.  It exhibits the properties of both a wave and a particle, depending on how you look at it.  And there are even crazier aspects like quantum entanglement, that far exceed even our biggest brains.

Christ, our Light, far exceeds all of this.  He is the light that exists from eternity, his divine nature, shared with the Father and the Spirit, and yet born unto us men in humble form, laid in a manger.  Christ, our Light, cannot be contained or conquered, even death had no hold on him, but he became its master.  He must ever shine.  Christ, our light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not understood him – and so his divine wisdom and majesty far exceed our paltry understanding, for, after all, he is our God and we are his creatures.

But maybe most importantly for us, is that Christ, our Light, scatters the darkness of our sin.  He chases away the shadow of death, accompanying us through its valley to bring us safely to the other side.  Therefore we fear no evil.  He is with us.

One of my favorite secular proverbs that can be understood even better in the light of Christian truth is this, “It’s always darkest before the dawn.”

I don’t know what darkness you face in this hour, in this year now ending, or in your life.  But I know the world is full of it.  We’re all under the same shadow of sin and death, we all have the same darkened understanding and murky heart full of dark desires.  We simply can’t help ourselves.  But help is on the way.  The darkness breaks at dawn of day.  And that bright spot, that spark that turns to flame, that burning sun of righteousness and glory is Christ our Lord.

Whatever your darkness, let the light shine.  Christ brings hope and healing.  Christ brings love.  Christ brings the promise of better days ahead, if not in this life, then certainly in the one to come. 

For here is the good news:  The babe born in Bethlehem has come to do more than give us a sentimental holiday.  He came with a purpose – to save the world from sin.  To chase away the darkness.  And he does it, on a dark day called “Good Friday”, when the sun itself stopped shining, and the light of his life was snuffed out.  There, it seemed, the darkness had finally won, for good.  But all is not as it seems.  There, instead, darkest before the dawn, hope was born anew.  The Christ who died in agony would rise in glory.  Good Friday gave way to Easter.  Dark drear to bright morn.  And as Christ burst from his tomb and trampled death’s power, the light dawned for us, too – death has no power over him, or us.  Darkness is a blip on the radar, and brighter days are to come.  “He who lives and believes in me, even though he dies, yet shall he live.”  So says our Lord.

And light, it has one more quality we might ponder this holy evening.  It reflects.  Whether in a mirror or the face of a pond, light bounces all around and reflects here and there, and fills the darkness with its presence.  So, too, the light of Christ.

As we receive that light, that joy, that hope, that peace, that love.  So we also reflect it.  It all starts with him, but it doesn’t stay with him.  His word goes forth from Jerusalem, to Judea, to Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.  Jesus shall reign where'er the sun does its successive journeys run, his kingdom stretch from shore to shore, till moons shall wax and wane no more.

And in our lives, among us, let it also be so. 

As tonight we partake of that yearly tradition, the lighting of candles, ponder anew.  Christ, the light has dawned.  His light is shared with others, and others, and finally, with me.  But I, also, share that light in my life, as the love of Christ reflects to those neighbors he places in my path.

And let it be so, in far more than the symbol of a candle, as you share the light that has dawned upon you.  As you bask in his promises and walk by his word - the lamp that lights your path.

And as you celebrate his birth. 

For to us a child is born,

to us a son is given;

and the government shall be upon his shoulder,

and his name shall be called

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

For to us a child is born,

to us a son is given;

and the government shall be upon his shoulder,

and his name shall be called

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Sermon - Advent 4 - Luke 1:39–45

 

Today we come to that portion of the broader Nativity account known as “The Visitation.”  Mary, as soon as the Angel Gabriel is done with his announcement concerning the birth of Christ, and as soon as Mary finishes singing her joyful “Magnificat”, she hurries off to the hill country of Judea to visit her relative Elizabeth.

You can imagine young Mary had a lot on her mind.  The words of the angel, the implications of this pregnancy, not only for her own life, for her betrothal to Joseph, what her friends and neighbors would think - but also the meaning of the angel’s words – that this child would reign on the throne of his father David forever.  It was all so much, so much to take in, and you can imagine why a young woman might seek out the company and counsel of a trusted older relative.

And humanly speaking, Elizabeth would have been a good person to call upon.  After all, who else could Mary go to for sage advice on an unexpected, miraculous pregnancy foretold by an angel?  These two women, each with a miracle baby in her womb, they had a lot to talk about.  And Mary did end up staying with her about three months.

But perhaps most amazing about this visitation is there’s another person involved – besides the two mothers and the two unborn babies – you also see the Holy Spirit in action.  And with his work and his testimony, there’s so much more going on here than what might outwardly appear.  It’s not just Mary visiting her relative for some good advice in an unusual situation.  It’s God visiting and redeeming his people, and giving a testimony to the incarnation of his son, our Lord Jesus Christ.

There’s no small talk.  From the moment Mary enters the door and says her hello, the action begins.  Elizabeth testifies to it: 

“Behold, when the sound of your greeting came to my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy”

The baby Jesus isn’t even born yet, he’s barely been conceived in Mary’s womb, and he’s already being recognized – and by another unborn child, even!

Notice, Mary doesn’t first explain what has happened, she didn’t send word ahead of time. She couldn’t text Elizabeth first and fill her in, “hey the strangest thing happened to me….” 

And unborn baby John certainly had no way of knowing any of this.  But by the power and working of the Holy Spirit, even in the womb, he recognizes the Christ. 

His faith is expressed in joy!  He doesn’t just kick or twitch.  Joy is the reaction of the faithful when the Christ has come!  So John begins his work of pointing to Christ, which he will continue as an adult – preparing the way for the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, that many others may see, hear, believe and rejoice!

You and I, along with every other Christian, also recognize Jesus only by faith.  We can’t understand or explain how a virgin can conceive and bear a child.  We can’t say why we are so blessed that our Lord should come to us, except that it is by his grace.  We, too, are called by the Holy Spirit, working through the gospel, and sustained by the same.  And we, too, rejoice at his coming, celebrate his birth, and testify to others that we are blessed by his gracious visitation.

That faith comes by hearing, and that hearing by the word of God, and it is the Holy Spirit working in that word that does these great things!

The Holy Spirit, who also filled the heart of Elizabeth and gave her blessed words to say, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb!”  Like John himself, and like so many others, the Spirit testifies to Christ, in whom we are blessed.  He does it through the words he gives to his various prophets and preachers, and even here through Mary and Elizabeth.

Elizabeth, also by the Holy Spirit, asks an important rhetorical question:  “And why is this granted to me that the mother of my Lord should come to me?”

Embedded in this question is a confession, at least by implication, of Elizabeth’s unworthiness, even of her sin.  She is not deserving of this visitation, not of the Lord, nor even of his mother.  It reminds us of when Zaccheus felt unworthy to receive the Christ, but Jesus nonetheless declared, “I’m coming to your house today!”  Or Peter, saying, “God away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man!”  But Jesus comes with grace and mercy.

The whole world could echo Elizabeth’s question, “why is it granted to us, that our Lord should visit us?”  Why, indeed!  Why should God bother to send us his son?  Why should he consider us at all?  Why shouldn’t he blot us out and be done with all our foolishness?  Why not send the judgment we deserve?

But instead, by grace, from the foundation of the world, he planned to pay us a visit.  He provided for our salvation.  He sent his best, his only son, the bright jewel of his crown – to be conceived of a virgin, born in humble fashion, to learn and grow and work and serve, and to suffer and die and rise – to visit and redeem his people. 

As one Lenten hymn puts it, “Oh who am I, that for my sake, my Lord should take frail flesh and die?”

But that is just what he has done. 

And when the sound of it reaches our ears, our hearts, filled by the Holy Spirit with faith, join John the Baptist and Elizabeth and Mary.  We rejoice.  We sing for joy. 

In fact, that’s what we are about here, at Messiah.  Hearing, with joy, the Word of God, by which the Holy Spirit works.  Wondering that our Lord would visit among us, sinful and lowly though we are.  Receiving his gracious visitation in his word, and in the meal of his presence, with his very own body and blood given and shed for us, here, under humble forms of bread and wine.  Blessed is the fruit of his cross!  And blessed are we to receive it!  For therein we have forgiveness, life and salvation.

Who am I, that the Lord Jesus Christ has visited me?  Blessed is the one who believes his word, and receives his gracious visitation with joy!

Sermon - Advent 3 - Luke 7:18–28

 

This Sunday is the Sunday of “Joy”. 

We see it in our reading from Philippians, “Rejoice in the Lord always!  I will say it again, rejoice!”

We see it in our Old Testament reading:

“Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter of Jerusalem!”

We see it in the Advent wreath, where the pattern of blue candles is broken by the pink candle, the “Joy” candle.

Joy, Joy, Joy everywhere.  Everywhere except in our Gospel reading.  At least at the beginning.  Where we see John the Baptist sitting in Herod’s prison.  Waiting, wondering, longing for salvation.

Advent sets this strange tension before us.  The words of our hymn, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel…” say it well, praying that Emmanuel would “ransom captive Israel that mourns in lonely exile here, until the Son of God appear”  That part seems to fit John sitting in his cell.  But the refrain goes, “Rejoice!  Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, oh Israel!”

One of the great Bible interpretation debates centers on this reading and why, why exactly did John the Baptist send his disciples to question Jesus? 

One side of the debate claims John was despairing in prison.  That he had lost hope, and who wouldn’t?  He was sending his disciples to get some reassurance from Jesus that yes, Jesus really is the one who is to come, the Messiah, and that all John’s preaching was not in vain.  That John wasn’t seeing Jesus act like the Messiah he expected:  Where was the winnowing fork of judgment?  Where was the baptism of fire and spirit?  And while you’re at it Jesus, remember me over here in my cell.  Don’t forget your cousin when you come into your kingdom.

But the other side of the debate has a higher view of John.  That his faith was unwavering, and that these disciples of his were sent by John to Jesus for their own benefit!  That they needed the reassurance.  After all, their teacher was in prison.  All the preaching of repentance and the baptism of the crowds had been squelched and squashed.  There John sat and rotted, and maybe we are next.  John had put his trust in Jesus, and now he directs his disciples to Jesus.  John always points to Jesus.  So the debate goes.

Maybe the whole debate really misses the point.  Whether John despaired or was unwavering, whether he meant the question for his own sake, or was trying to teach his disciples.  The answer to the question is clear, and instructive for us.  The answer is always found with Jesus.

Whether you are despairing or depressed this Advent season.  If your world seems a prison cell of sorts, with chains and fetters you can’t escape – grief, anxiety, stress – the guilt and shame of sin, or the physical impacts of sin’s brokenness borne out in your body.  This dark world is a mournful exile for all of us at times.  We long for salvation, for ransom and freedom. 

Or maybe your faith is strong, unwavering.  Perhaps you feel that joy that the pink candle represents.  You, too, can learn from John’s question and Jesus’ answer, and appreciate anew the cause for all rejoicing.  Emmanuel has come to you, oh Israel!

So how does the conversation go?  Jesus, John wants us to ask, are you really the one?  Or should we be looking for another?

Luke tells us that at that very hour Jesus had done quite a few miracles, healings, and wonders, which surely these disciples of John would have seen.  Then Jesus answers them, not with a simple yes or no, but like he does:

Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, the poor have good news preached to them.

All of these miracles and wonders are signs.  They are the signs of the Messiah.  The Old Testament is replete with prophecies about the Messiah, when he comes, doing these sorts of things.  Healing, casting out demons, even raising the dead.  Jesus does it all.  He lets his actions speak for themselves.  Tell John what you see and hear.  He’ll know what it means.

But the best of all, the topper of the whole list, isn’t even that he raises the dead.  The point of it all is this:  the poor have good news preached to them.  The Gospel!  Yes, even for the poor.  The good news of salvation in Jesus Christ.  That in him, the kingdom of heaven has come.  That in him, forgiveness of sins is proclaimed.  That in him, the lamb of God, the sins of the world are taken away, just as John preached, so does Jesus.  Only Jesus is also, himself, the very content of the Gospel.  It’s all about him.

With the words, ““Blessed is the one who is not offended by me” Christ is prophesying that people will take offense at his teaching and they will become despisers of the gospel. They will reject a Christ who appears weak to them; a Christ who refuses to tell them what they want to hear; a Christ who condemns them as sinful and unclean, as in need of his salvation.

Only the penitent are prepared to meet the true Messiah. That is why John had to prepare the way. To the humble and lowly Jesus comes with salvation. To the meek and mild the Christ comes with a peace that surpasses all understanding (Phil. 4:7). With a comfort that calms the fears of even the most terrified consciences. With a joy that causes the heart to break forth into singing and dancing.

Soon John would go his way into death.  A greater man never born among women.  Jesus heaps on him some of the highest praise.

But greater than John, even, is the one who is least in the kingdom of heaven.  Greater than John is the one who dies for the sins of the world.  The one who lays down his life for his friends.  The one who lives a perfect life of righteousness and covers you with it, like a fine robe.  The one who does baptize with the spirit and fire, cleansing you to live as his own - ransomed, redeemed, regenerated, renewed. 

Christ is the Messiah, the one who came and who is yet to come.  See his wonders, and hear his good news.  And rejoice.  I’ll say it again, rejoice!  Emmanuel has come to you, oh Israel!

 

Sermon - Advent 2 - Luke 3:1–14

 

Like an old friend, here comes our yearly Advent visit from John the Baptist.

But unlike a friend who might visit you for some coffee and Christmas cookies, John’s visit comes with a bit of discomfort.  John comes with a call to repentance.

In fact his greeting is rather stark, “You brood of vipers!”  Nice to see you, too, John!  But he’s right, isn’t he?  Harsh as it sounds, those people coming to hear him preach and see about baptism – they were a brood of vipers, snakes in the grass, slithering around in sinfulness.  Born in sin, living in sin, somehow unaware of just how wicked they really were.  We know they were, because we all are.  John could be speaking to us, just as well.  And in reality, he is.

You and I are a brood of vipers.  We’ve always been that way.  We are sinners descended from sinners, conceived and born into sin.  And the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree since our first parents ate of it.  Sin is our natural state.  Selfish cares, greed, corruption, venomous words that bite at each other.  Poison even in our thoughts, the corruption running deep into the heart.

John’s call to repentance is uncomfortable because it shines the spotlight on what we all know but don’t like to face.  We are guilty as charged.  The wrath of God is coming.  And without repentance we are hopeless.  The axeman is winding up.  The fire is being stoked.  God’s judgment is ever at hand.

But John’s message of repentance has two sides.  He preached a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.  Yes, there’s that biting law.  But there’s also sweet Gospel in John’s words. 

He preached a message of preparation for the advent of another, another preacher, and greater than he.  Prepare the way for him!  He comes with salvation!

John hearkens back to the prophet Isaiah, who spoke poetically about the coming of the Lord!  Make way!  Make ready!  Put everything in order.  Level the hills.  Fill the valleys.  Make the path straight and smooth. 

We might say,  “Put on your Sunday best.  Roll out the red carpet.  Put out the best silverware and the fancy china.  Don’t hold anything back. Get ready and make ready for the arrival of a most honored guest… a most important visitor.  The Lord himself is coming, and bringing salvation with him!”

But John has more to teach us:

And do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ For I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children for Abraham.

Don’t think that anything you bring to the table will suffice to make you ready for the Christ.  For the Jews, they tended to rest on their lineage and bloodline, “We are children of Abraham, after all!” John is not impressed with that, nor is the Lord.  The God who made the universe from nothing can also raise up children of Abraham from scratch, from nothing, something as dead as a stone.  And that is what we are, apart from Christ, lifeless and inert, no more spiritual life than a stone.  But our God is in this very business, of making something from nothing, bringing life out of death.

It just has to be his doing, not yours.  And so don’t begin to think, “well, I’ll get ready for Christ’s coming by re-committing myself to my faith.  I’ll resolve to be a better Christian, read my Bible more often, and make sure I do all the right things.”  No, don’t begin to say those things if you think that it earns you a shred of God’s favor.

God’s favor in Christ comes for free.  He’s the one who makes the crooked ways straight and the uneven paths level.  He’s the one who sends his Son, the greater one than John, the one who accomplishes our salvation.  Without Christ, we would be a lost brood of vipers and only ever that.  But with Christ, we are a new creation.  The old has gone, the new has come.

And living your own baptism, with sins forgiven for the sake of Christ, things do look different.  Yes, we want to be children of God, and children of Abraham, and followers of Jesus and all that.  We want to be a family of faith and not a brood of vipers.  We want to live a godly life and follow his commands.  Not to gain his favor, but because we have it.

These are the fruits of repentance, or the fruits of faith.  When you confess your sins and are forgiven, then the new man God has created in you wants to do better.  So what should we do?

Again John has something to teach us.  “Bear fruits in keeping with repentance.”  He gives several examples.

First, generosity.  If someone has two tunics, share with one who has none.  Likewise with food, share your bread with the hungry.  It’s just how Christians act.  We, who have received abundantly, desire to give generously.  We, who have received the greatest gifts from God, including the gift of his own beloved Son, we simply want to share with others.  And it’s far more than tunics and bread, but all of life’s gifts follow this same advice from John. 

But he then gets more specific.  Sure it’s one thing to speak in grand platitudes about being nice and kind and generous and loving.  But how does that actually look?  How does it, specifically, work?

Here John teaches us that the answer often comes down to your vocation.  He uses the example of the tax collector and the soldier, to show us that our fruits of repentance are borne out in our various vocations:

For the tax collector it meant not collecting more taxes than authorized.  But notice, he still intends for them to collect the taxes.  Simply doing their job, doing it honestly and faithfully, was enough.  No great works of heroic morality or super-Christian valor are required.  Just fulfill your calling, simply and straightforwardly.

The same for the soldier.  He doesn’t forbid the vocation of a soldier.  He doesn’t even outlaw violence in the course of a soldier’s duties.  But he forbids threats and extortion, and commands the soldier to be content with his wages.  So, contentment is a fruit of repentance!  This applies to other vocations, too.

Wherever God has placed you, whatever your particular calling or role, in whatever vocation you find yourself – there are opportunities to serve others.  There God has given you chances to love your neighbor and reflect his love.

Parents:  Raise your children well.  Feed and clothe them.  See that they learn respect.  Educate them for their own service to the world, and most importantly bring them to the Lord, raising them in the Christian faith.

Children: Honor your father and mother.  Be respectful to those who care for you.  Be obedient and submissive.  Learn and grow.

Husbands and wives:  Love and respect each other.  Husbands love your wives as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.  Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord.  Be kind and patient and keep no record of wrongs.

Citizens:  Pay your taxes.  Vote your conscience.  Honor the government and respect those in authority.

Pastors:  Preach the word faithfully and administer the sacraments rightly.

Parishioners:  Hear the word faithfully and joyfully and receive the sacrament regularly.  Support your church and your fellow Christian, and pray fervently.

Whatever your calling, bear fruits in keeping with repentance, that is to say, simply do what God has given you to do, in love and service to your neighbor.

Because the God who spoke by Isaiah and all the prophets, and who sent John the Baptist to prepare the way for his Son, our Savior, continues to call us to repentance, never stops forgiving our sins, and always blesses us with opportunities to bear fruit. 

Sermon - Advent 1 - Jeremiah 33:13-16

 

The Davidic King who Executes Justice

A blessed Advent.  As we begin another church year and the readings emphasize the Christ who comes to his people, today we find ourselves again on Palm Sunday, with Christ’s Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem.

Paired with our reading from Jeremiah, we can gather, especially, some of the deep meaning of this event.  Let’s spend some time with the prophet first, and then connect the dots with Palm Sunday and Christ’s coming to Jerusalem.

Jeremiah is sometimes called the “weeping prophet”.  He lived to see some sad days.  Born around 650 B.C. and serving as a prophet for some 50 years, he did not have an easy time of it.  He was often opposed, persecuted and even imprisoned.  Jewish tradition says he was killed by stoning to death in Egypt.  But his weeping was mostly prompted by the people’s failure to heed the word of God, and the ultimate consequences of that were that Jerusalem and the southern kingdom of Judah were conquered by the Babylonians and the temple itself was destroyed in 587 B.C.

It's hard to over-estimate the scar this left on the Jews.  It was the beginning of the exile.  It was the destruction of the house of God – the temple – and the implication was that God had abandoned them (though in reality, this was all a judgment for their abandoning of God and embracing pagan gods).  The people were carried off to exile in Babylon.  And after preaching repentance for 50 years, and the people refusing, and seeing it all come crashing down, of course Jeremiah wept.

And maybe most poignantly, God had made them a promise.  A descendant of David was to reign on his throne forever.  Now that promise got a little shaky, it seemed, when the kingdom split in two after Solomon died.  But David’s line continued for some 19 generations, until Zedekiah still sat on the throne, David’s final heir. But when the Babylonians besieged Jerusalem, Zedekiah was taken captive, blinded, and died in prison.  David’s line of kings came to an end.

Had God forgotten his promise to David?  Was God unable to keep a son of David on the throne?  When would he restore the kingdom?  You can see how hopeless it all must have seemed.

And we are not entirely unable to sympathize.  There are times when we, all of us, begin to lose hope.  When we begin to wonder about God’s intentions for us, and if he’s perhaps angry with us, or forgotten us.  There are times when it certainly seems so.

When your life is zooming along and all is well, and then some unforeseen trouble upsets the whole applecart.  A job loss, a health scare, the death of a loved one, a broken relationship. 

Jeremiah isn’t the only one with cause to weep in this sin-filled, sin-scarred, sin-ruined world where enemies abound, where uncertainty and fear lurk around every corner, and where death and destruction hang over our heads.  We know the sorrow of sin, too, in little ways, and sometimes big ways.  We know we deserve temporal and eternal punishment.  We don’t deserve God’s gracious presence among us – let alone all the manifold blessings of life and salvation. 

But Jeremiah wasn’t just a weeping prophet.  He was also a prophet of hope.  He speaks God’s word, reiterating his promise:

“Behold, the days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah…”  and “I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David, and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.”

That Righteous Branch, of course, is Jesus.  That hope for Judah and Israel and for us, is Jesus.  The one who executes the justice and righteousness of God can only be Jesus, the Son of David.

Now, to be sure, the great tree that was the house of David had been cut down.  Isaiah, years earlier, had also prophesied:  “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse (David’s father)”  New growth following the downfall of David’s house.  New hope following the destruction of his lineage.  A king with a claim to David’s throne, but far more than that – he comes to execute justice and righteousness for all.

Our king comes to wear a crown of thorns.  Our king comes to be enthroned on the cross.  He executes justice by bearing the punishment in our place – bearing the wrath of God for sin.  He executes righteousness by making us righteous with his own perfect righteousness.

The crowds of Jerusalem welcomed him with adulation, and shouts of “Hosanna”, which means, “save us”.  Little did they know that he came to do just that – as Jeremiah had foretold: 

In those days Judah will be saved, and Jerusalem will dwell securely. And this is the name by which it will be called: ‘The Lord is our righteousness.’

“The Lord is our Righteousness”  Yahweh Zedekiah in the Hebrew.  It’s a play on words and on the name of the last Davidic king.

Yes, the savior, the true and ultimate Son of David, will not be like that other Zedekiah – the one dethroned, blinded and who died a prisoner.  This Zedekiah is Yahweh Zedekiah, the Lord is Our Righteousness.  And a far better hope for his people.  A far greater fulfillment of God’s promise to David – your heir will sit on your throne forever.

And in the coming of our king of righteousness, we have hope.  Our weeping is turned to joy.  Our scarlet sins are turned to white robes of righteousness.  Even our death is but the gate to eternal life.

Our king comes, righteous and having salvation.  He comes to his Jerusalem, to his people, to fulfill all promises.  He comes on Palm Sunday, a triumphal entry before his bitter suffering and death.  But he comes back, conquering death and paving a path to resurrection for us all.  He comes even now, today, through his word and in his Sacrament, a servant-king who feeds his people.

And our Yahweh Zedekiah will come again in glory, with the trumpet call of God, the shout of the archangel, and the final cries of hosanna from his people who will welcome him with joy.  Then, he comes, not in humility but glory.  Then, he will come not to die, but to bring history to its close, to judge the peoples, and execute final justice in righteousness forever.

Weep not, dear Christian, in this fallen world of sadness.  Or at least do not grieve without hope.  For the Son of David comes, the righteous branch of David, and in him there is hope for you and for all his people.

Sermon - Thanksgiving Eve - Luke 12:13-21

 

Life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.

A blessed Thanksgiving Eve to you, as again we come to that national holiday which our church also observes – a day set aside to give thanks to God for his blessings.

This year, we are using the readings appointed for a “Harvest Observance”, which certainly have quite a bit to teach us about thankfulness.

In our Deuteronomy reading, we see instructions for the people to give a thank offering of the first fruits of the harvest.  There, God reminds the people to be thankful not only for the harvest itself, but for the land that produces it, and the fact that all of this is given by the God who saved them and brought them out of Egypt.  He saved them from slavery and brought them to a land flowing with milk and honey.  Rehearsing and recounting God’s goodness is always a beneficial exercise, and is part of the process of giving thanks rightly.

Paul teaches the Corinthians in our Epistle reading about the importance of cheerful giving, generous giving, freely and out of the heart.  He notes how the gifts of the Corinthians are providing support for fellow Christians in need, and that all of it flows from the surpassing grace of God’s inexpressible gift!  Thanks is given in word and in action, and in response to the gifts we receive first from God.

And then there’s Jesus’ parable of the Rich Fool in Luke 12.  Here we will spend a little more time this evening.  Jesus tells this parable in response to a request from someone to settle an inheritance dispute.  Jesus answers the man somewhat tersely, “who made me a judge or arbitrator over you?”  Jesus couldn’t be less concerned with such earthly matters, and warns his people about the dangers of covetousness.

Coveting, we learn, in the 9^th and 10^th commandment, is a dangerous sin.  Whether it’s your neighbors house (that is, his possessions), or his wife, manservant, maidservant, ox or donkey, (that is, his relationships).  In any case it’s never good to have that sinful, covetous desire for what belongs to another.

The “coveting commandments” teach us that sin exists not only in word and deed, but also in our thoughts and desires.  Desires are not wrong in themselves, but they can be sinful and twisted.  Coveting is such a desire – a sinful lust for someone or something that belongs to another.

And covetousness is the exact opposite of contentment.  Being content with the gifts, the many gifts, each of us has been given.  Recognizing them as gifts from God, and counting them in appreciation.  Your home, your family, your health, your wealth.  It is good to reflect on this things and consider God’s goodness in providing for us so richly.

And so Jesus tells the parable of the Rich Fool.  And the point of it is this principle:  “Life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.”

For the Rich Fool, that’s all he could see in life – was the abundance of his possessions.  When even more abundant possessions came his way, all he could think of was keeping them and having even more!  It seems that his wealth was all he cared about in life, and planned his whole life around it.  He built ever bigger barns to selfishly keep it all for himself. 

He even had a little conversation with himself, deciding how best to serve himself, and he said, “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.”

But the sad surprise for the Rich Fool is that his soul would not be around to enjoy the ample goods for long.  That very night his soul was required of him.  So what of all his barn building and expanding, his hoarding of treasures and his selfish plans?  All for naught.

Life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.  Then where DOES life consist?  Of course, we must answer, “in Jesus Christ!”

Had this Rich Fool known Christ, how things might have been different!  Surely he would have given a thought to the giver of his bumper crop.  Surely he would have considered and received his gifts with thanksgiving.  Surely he would have at least returned a portion of his blessings, rather than simply and automatically building more barns for himself!

Maybe the Rich Fool, had he been wise instead, would have had a different conversation with himself.  “I have all these extra blessings.  What shall I do?  First, I will give thanks.  I will acknowledge the Giver of all good things in my thoughts, my words, and my deeds.  I will pray a prayer of thanksgiving.  I will show my gratitude in my life, and be generous with those who have less.  I will not grasp and strain for more, more, more, but be content with the abundant blessings I’ve received.”

Life does not consist in the abundance of possessions, it consists in the love of God shown to us in Jesus Christ, a love which is to be shared.  Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.  And the sharing of our faith is just one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread.  Life consists in Christ and his word, for his words are spirit and life.

These, my friends, are the true riches.  The treasures of heaven, which make us rich toward God.  Here is where true wealth is found, in the blood of Christ, in sins forgiven, in the promise of life eternal.

What a different perspective the Christian has!  We see these earthly treasures for what they are – good gifts from God, yes.  Things to be thankful for, yes.  But like all things of the world – temporary and fading.  Not to be hoarded, but managed wisely, and used generously.

Thanks be to God, this evening, tomorrow, and always.  He blesses us richly now, and has laid up for us all the treasures of heaven.  He has given us the treasure of his Son, our Lord Jesus Christ.  Thanks be to God, in his name.  Amen.