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.

Sermon - Pentecost 14 - Mark 7:1-13

Messiah is well known as being a “traditional” congregation.  We offer the traditional liturgy.  We have liturgical worship, with the organ, the hymnal, and all the accoutrements. And we like it this way.  We see it as a strength, a selling point, a real positive.  We stand in contrast to many of the churches in our area, even within the LCMS, as being distinctly traditional.  It’s a big reason a lot of us are here.

But today, our Lord Jesus Christ warns us of the dangers of tradition.  Or, more specifically, of teaching as doctrine the traditions of men.  We must be crystal clear – God’s word is one thing, and human tradition is another.  And human tradition ought never overshadow or oppose the word of God.

But like all good gifts, we sinners have a tendency to misuse them.  The Pharisees certainly did so.  The particular problem came when Jesus’ disciples were not following the ritual washings prescribed by the Pharisees, and the Pharisees complained about it.  Mark tells us some background here, how the Jews used to ritually wash (or baptize) everything from their hands, to pots and pans, to their couches.  And while the Law of Moses certainly did contain some rituals and ceremonies that God commanded the Old Testament people to perform, the Pharisees took these to a much higher level, and created laws upon laws, tradition upon tradition, in their vain attempts at works righteous legalism.

But here exactly is the problem.  They set aside the law of God in their pursuit of all these man-made laws.  They may have looked outwardly pious, but inside was the rot.  “They praise me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me,” says the Lord.

Jesus gives them an example.  They had prescribed a work-around for the 4th commandment of honoring father and mother.  They said, “if you give money to the temple, then you’re off the hook.  You aren’t responsible for your aging parents anymore.”  But Moses taught them the command of God as such, honor your father and mother, and it cannot be annulled by a tradition of man.  

And many such things you do, Jesus said.  Might he say the same of us?

This sort of thing was a huge issue in the Reformation.  Rome had devised all sorts of human traditions that supplanted the teaching of God’s word.  Buy this indulgence and your sins will be forgiven!  Pray at this relic, and you’ll save yourself some time in purgatory.  Do these good deeds and God will reward your merit with even more grace.  They had a fine way of rejecting the commandment of God in order to establish man-made traditions.

I remember something wise a certain pastor once said, “Legalists are masters of the loophole”.  And it’s so true.  By setting up man-made laws, laws that perhaps we can actually fulfill and accomplish, we let ourselves off of the true, God-given law.  If I just do so-and-so, then I don’t have to face the full measure of God’s expectations for me.  I can convince myself that I’ve satisfied the requirements.  That I’ve done enough, and done good enough, to be counted righteous.

But the divine law is not so easily set aside or sabotaged.  You don’t  get to stop honoring your parents just because to did something nice for them once.  You don’t get to divorce your wife willy nilly because you signed the right paperwork according to Moses.  You don’t get to leave your neighbor to die in a ditch because it’s the Sabbath day and you aren’t supposed to do any work.

You don’t get to switch off the commandment because you think you’ve done enough good over here in this other area to balance the scales.  The commandments aren’t suggestions, nor do they have an expiration date, nor can they be funneled or bottled or minimized or excused away.  No matter how and how much we sinners try to undermine them, the commands of the law always stand.  The word of the Lord endures forever.

Love God with all your heart.  There’s a big one.  There’s a tough one.  For even if I thought I could approach such a thing (and that would be a self-delusion anyway), that little word gets you every time:  all.  All your heart.  Not just most or some or a majority of the time.  The law demands perfection.  It leaves no wiggle room, no matter how we try to tame it with human traditions.  And love your neighbor isn’t much easier to accomplish!

This is not to say that tradition is bad, mind you!  That would be to grossly misunderstand Jesus here.  Tradition simply means what is handed over to us, or handed down to us.  Much of that is very good!  Some of that, is the very Word of God itself!  And the traditions of the past, to the extent that they serve the word of God and keep it, to the extent that they help us gladly hear and learn the word of God, then they are good traditions.  But even the best of man-made traditions is not the Word of God itself.  

Look, there are good reasons to use hymnals and liturgies and organs and candles and robes.  There are beloved and helpful traditions in our religious life and walk that serve to point us to Christ in various ways.  But they do not save us!  And they cannot take the place of Christ, or of his word.  The traditions of man must never supplant the doctrine of God.

And what pride can come, even from our good traditions!  Here is a real danger for us at a church like this, as we make a flippant comment about a church with a rock band, or contemporary worship.  As we say things that make ourselves feel better and more righteous.  Beware!  Is it a valid criticism?  Is it true and kind and helpful?  Or is it just to stroke our own spiritual egos with a sense of self-righteousness?

Look, I’m as traditional as anyone.  I love our liturgy and so much of what we do and I can articulate pretty well why we do it.  And I think I could offer a robust critique of those churches who have left so many of these good traditions behind and turned aside to, well, other traditions, that are not as helpful, and might even be harmful.  

But we must always distinguish between the traditions of man, and the doctrine of God.  For the tradition of man does not save us.  But the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the power of God for salvation.  The traditions of man may be helpful, but they cannot assist us in keeping the law (at least not as we should).  And they cannot add a single bit to our salvation.  All that is already done in Christ.

Christ, who for his part, kept the law perfectly.  And not just the various laws of Moses, the ceremonies and customs of the Jews, but the law of God – the perfect, holy, will of God.  Jesus always loved God with all his heart.  He always loved his neighbor.  He never broke the law of God, any of the commandments, but always, always, fulfilled them perfectly.

And he, Jesus, gave the only sacrifice required.  Not some corban sacrifice to appease the traditions of man, but the perfect sacrifice of all time, to satisfy the justice of God.  Not to shirk his responsibilities to parents, but to make all who believe in him dear children of God.  

He was handed over, betrayed into the hands of men.  Handed over by the Jews to the Romans.  Handed over by Pilate to the will of the murderous mob.  Handed over to the soldiers who drove the nails, pressed the crown of thorns upon him, and hoisted his cross upright for all to see as he died for all.

If you want the perfect righteousness that comes from keeping the law, don’t think you can do it yourself.  Trust in Christ. Trust not in the traditions of men, as good and helpful as they might be.  Trust in Christ.  And don’t think that you can do some other good deed or outward work to fill in the gaps.  Trust in Christ.  Trust in the one who did it all for you.

Paul uses that language of “handed over” or “delivered” to point us to a blessed gift – Holy Communion.  

“For I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread…” etc.

So let us come to the table today and receive the sacred tradition, the blessed handing-over, of Christ’s body and blood, in the bread and wine.  Paul received it from Christ, and the church has handed it down through the ages, and today it is handed over to us, distributed freely for repentant sinners to eat and drink and be forgiven.  Trust not in the traditions of man.  Trust in Christ, who hands himself over for you, and to you.  Amen.

Sermon - Pentecost 13 - Proverbs 9:1-10

 

Today we have an Old Testament reading from Proverbs 9.  It seems to be chosen to correlate with the “Bread of Life” discourse we’ve been hearing from John 6 these last few weeks.  Proverbs paints a picture of two women with very different kinds of bread, and with two very different approaches to doing things.

In our reading we have the example of Wisdom, personified as a woman.  And for all you women elbowing your husbands, and saying, “see, wisdom is a woman!”  I’m sorry I must point out, just a few verses later, we have the contrasting picture of Folly, also personified as a woman.

Here's what we hear about her:

13  The woman Folly is loud; she is seductive and knows nothing. 14  She sits at the door of her house; she takes a seat on the highest places of the town, 15  calling to those who pass by, who are going straight on their way, 16  “Whoever is simple, let him turn in here!” And to him who lacks sense she says, 17  “Stolen water is sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant.”

She’s loud and kind of obnoxious.  It’s foolish to think that just by being loud you will be heard, but we see it all the time, don’t we?  You get into a heated argument, and you raise your voice.  You have a group of teenagers, and they get louder and louder competing for attention.  Or the television gets louder when the commercials come on.  Doesn’t that just end up annoying everyone?

But she targets the fool.  “whoever is simple, come my way!” Fools are easy targets for foolishness. 

Folly says that stolen water is sweet.  Taking the shortcut or the easy way out, even the dishonest way, cutting corners if needed.  But it doesn’t matter that it’s not right.  And it certainly isn’t wise.

And she claims that bread eaten in secret is pleasant.  The illegitimate and dishonest ways of the world love the darkness, sin loves to hide in the shadows.  And so eating bread in secret is a poetic depiction of evil things done under cloak of darkness.

And now we can better see the contrast with Wisdom, a woman who acts just the opposite. 

She’s done the hard work.  She’s even built the house where a feast is given, a feast of her own making.  She’s not stealing bread and water, she’s mixing wine and serving it freely, and out in the open.  She’s even slaughtered beasts for the banquet. 

She, too, invites the simple.  But unlike Folly, her call to the simple is to leave behind foolish ways, and to walk in wisdom, and live.

Now, of course, anyone with any sense would choose Lady Wisdom over Lady Folly.  And also, just as obviously, we don’t always act in good sense.  Sin doesn’t make sense.  It is nonsensical.  Who would choose to die, instead of live?  Who would choose to reject the giver of all good things, and try to be like God himself?  Who thinks he can get away with evil deeds done in secret, when nothing can be hidden from the one who knows all?

But sin is foolish.  It is brash.  It is selfish.  It doesn’t care about who it hurts, what it destroys.  It is a perversion of what is good, and can only corrupt and lay waste.

How can we, then, be wise, and not foolish?  How can we answer the call of Lady Wisdom, and spurn the call of Lady Folly?  Or are we simply doomed to our own sinful foolishness?

Proverbs points us in the right direction.  Sandwiched here between the depiction of Lady Wisdom and Lady Folly is perhaps the best know verse in the whole book of Proverbs, verse 10: 

The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom,

      and the knowledge of the Holy One is insight.

And here is where we really come to Jesus, the Holy One of God.  The Lord, Yahweh, the one who embodies perfect wisdom, the very Word of God, made flesh.

The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom.  Faith is the foundation.  And that faith in Jesus Christ.

And just as Lady Wisdom and Lady Folly couldn’t be more different, so the Wisdom of Christ couldn’t be any more divergent from the wisdom of this world.

Paul adds some very helpful interpretation here, with his words in 1 Corinthians:

1 Corinthians 1:18–25

[18] For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. [19] For it is written,

               “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise,

                              and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart

[20] Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? [21] For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe. [22] For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, [23] but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, [24] but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. [25] For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men. (ESV)

Salvation by Christ the crucified is foolishness to the world, but for us it is the power of God.  Christ crucified for sinners is a scandal to Jews and nonsense to Gentiles, but to Christians it is the wisdom of God.

And just as Lady Wisdom built a house and prepared a feast, and invited the simple to come and join the party…  so does Christ build his house, the church.  So does Christ prepare for us a rich feast – of his own body and blood for the forgiveness of sins.  So does Christ invite the simple, the foolish, the sinner, to come to him and eat and drink and live!

Sometimes people come to their pastor for advice or direction, and we are happy to help where we can.  Like any Christian, we gladly bear one another’s burdens, to the extent we can.  But my friends, I’m no therapist.  I have no other, no better wisdom for you than this. 

Believe in Jesus Christ for the salvation of your souls, and you will live eternally.  I’m no engineer or financial analyst.  I’ve got no books published under my name, and I’ve not discovered some great advance in science or technology.  But I have, and I offer to you today the wisdom of God.  That wisdom that has come to all of us in His word, the word of the cross, the good news of Jesus.  The fear of the Lord that is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the Holy One that is insight.

Like Paul, I would profess to know nothing among you except Christ and him crucified.  At that is enough.  It is the wisdom of God, that is wiser than the foolishness of man.  It is the wisdom of God, and that wisdom unto eternal life.  And it washes away all the folly of sin, the blood of Christ covering all.

So come now, to the feast.  Everything is ready.  Come in repentance and faith and the fear of the Lord, and receive Jesus himself.  What could be better?  What wisdom there is, in him!

Sermon - Pentecost 12 - Ephesians 4:17-5:2

 

Ephesians 4 has often been a favorite chapter of mine, a pastor, someone who speaks for a living.  There, Paul summarizes for us, in an almost offhand comment, a wonderful way to measure our Christian speech, “Speaking the Truth in Love”.  We heard that phrase in last week’s reading, and he expounds upon it in today’s.  What does it look like to speak the truth in love?  Why and how can we speak the truth in love?

Truth and love, of course, are two ideas close to the heart of any Christian.  Truth and love are perhaps two of the most distinctive traits or attributes of God:  Jesus says, “I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life” and John’s letters teach us, “God is love.”  Here Paul also reminds us, “the truth is in Jesus Christ”.  That’s the way you learned it, Christians. 

Corrupt desires and corrupt talk are part of the old way, the old self, the Gentiles’ former life.  And Paul says to put that all away! Put off the old self!  Put away all falsehood!  You must no longer walk as the Gentiles do.  Easier said than done, St. Paul!

For speaking the truth can be hard.  Our corrupt nature loves the truth only when it benefits us, only when it serves us and our selfish ways.  Otherwise, the lie is always an option.  We tell white lies and great lies.  We lie so much we even had different names for our lies.  We excuse them with words like, “fudging” and “stretching the truth”, “spin” and “well, that’s your truth, and this is my truth.”  But a lie is a lie all the same, and the Father of lies delights when we act like his children, and follow in his footsteps.

One of the biggest lies we can tell is when we tell ourselves – that we’re ok without God.  That we don’t need Jesus.  Or that we can live to serve our own comforts and desires, and that it doesn’t really hurt anyone else anyway.  Or if it does, they probably deserve it.  We lie to ourselves, thinking and saying we have no sin, and the truth is not in us.  We lie to others, either to cover our sinfulness or make ourselves look better than we are.  But we’re not.  A lie doesn’t really change the reality, it just lies about it.  But it cannot stand the test.  The lie crumbles when the truth shines on it.

But we don’t always do so well with the truth, either, now do we?  Sometimes telling the truth can be just as sinful as lying.  How so?  When we divorce the truth from love.  Paul indicates that truth and love go together.  But we are expert at peeling them apart.  This is the root of so much gossip.  Some of it’s false, of course, but some is true!  We’ll even say so, “well, it’s true, isn’t it?”  “Oh, the truth hurts, doesn’t it!”  And we mask our harmful truths in a disguise of concerns.  We aren’t really loving that other person, we’re not protecting their reputation and good name.  We’re dragging their dirty laundry out to help ourselves, not them.

The rule then is this:  Speak the truth, in love.  If it’s true but it’s not loving, then keep silent.  Or say something nice instead.  If it’s true but it’s not helpful, if it doesn’t serve the neighbor, or serve the good, then keep it to yourself.

That doesn’t mean always being “nice”.  I know Momma always said, “if you can’t say something nice then don’t say anything at all.”  But sometimes even we sin by not saying what we should!  Sometimes our silence is borne of cowardice.  And sometimes it’s just to avoid hurting someone’s feelings, when it really is a loving thing to say.  “Don’t put your hand on the stove, you’ll burn yourself!”  It’s true, and it’s loving, but we may not make friends with our words.

Now all this takes wisdom to navigate.  It’s not always easy.  When do I speak, and when do I not?  There are some helpful checkpoints:  1. Is it true?  2. Is it kind?  3. Is it helpful?  Does it build up, as Paul puts it?  Does it fit the occasion?

And furthermore, another test of our speech, “is it my place to say this?”  We must also consider our vocation, our place in life.  It may not be your place to correct someone else’s child, even if what you say is true, loving and kind.  It may not be your place to point to someone’s sin, even though it’s true, and you have good intentions.  There’s even a time to speak the Gospel, and a time to refrain from throwing pearls before swine.  For everything a time and a season under heaven.

Speak the truth in love, dear Christians.  And pray for wisdom to do so, as sin blurs so many things and can confuse even such a simple thing.

So how does Paul finally encourage us to speak the truth in love?  With these words:

“5 Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. 2 And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”

Christ is our example.  He always spoke the truth in love, perfectly.  It didn’t always make him friends.  Sometimes it even offended people.  And yes, sometimes, even Christ knew it was time to be silent.  But he was always loving, always looking toward the good of his neighbor and the glory of God his Father.  Christ is the perfect example.  Be like Jesus when it comes to speaking the truth in love.

But Christ is so much more than an example.  That’s all law.  Do this, do that, do the other thing.  Speak this way and not that way.  If only we could!  We fail so often.  We must confess: the law is good, but it cannot save us.  The law is good, but it cannot motivate our good works.  We cannot end the story there.

Christ loved us.  Christ spoke the truth to us.  And Christ gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God!

It is the work of Christ for us that answers the crushing accusations of the law.  It is the truth of Christ – that he came to save sinners like you – it is the love of Christ – that he laid down his life for the sins of the world.  It is his death on the cross - the fragrant offering he made, a sweet and pleasing aroma before the throne of God in heaven.  And God was well pleased with Christ’s sacrifice.  He received his Son’s spirit.  And he vindicated him with a resurrection on the third day.

Christ’s atoning death and glorious resurrection are the foundation for our new life as Christians.  They are the greatest of truth and the greatest of love.  Christ has done it all for us, not just as example, but as substitute, as Savior.  He is the way, the only way to God.  He is the truth, the one whose word never fails, and he is the life – the foundation for our life - here in time, and there in eternity.

And it is this good news that empowers us to follow his example, to love one another, and to speak the truth in love.  Paul encourages the Ephesians, and us, to live the new life of a Christian and to put away those old pagan Gentile ways.  Because Christians are different.  Christians are changed.  Christians are in Christ!

“Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. 32 Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.”

Christ has saved us from the wrath and anger of God.  He has been tenderhearted and forgiving toward us, and always is.  Therefore, let us reflect this to each other.  Kindness.  Tender hearts.  Forgiving one another.  Speaking the truth in love, always, for the benefit of our neighbor, and to the glory of God.  Thanks be to God in Christ Jesus our Lord.  Amen.