Sermon - 1 Kings 19:9b-21 - Pentecost 5

1 Kings 19:9b-21
June 27th, 2010
“Not a God of Appearances”

It was looking pretty bleak for Elijah. The wicked queen Jezebel had a price on his head. She, and many in Israel, liked their Baal worship. They didn’t take it well when Elijah defeated the prophets of Baal in their contest on Mt. Carmel. They liked it even less when he had the false prophets put to death. This was not some polite discussion amongst people who happened to disagree on religion. This was life or death stuff.

Would Israel worship the true and only God, who had brought them out of Egypt, given them a promised land, and still promised them a savior? Or would Israel worship Baal and the other false gods.

Even after God demonstrated his power with spectacular miracles, it appeared to Elijah that the false gods were winning. His own life was in danger. He was all alone. Or so he thought. So in a fit of self-pity, Elijah the prophet goes to Mt. Siani, finds a cave, and sits and stews. When God asks, “what are you doing here, Elijah?” we hear the prophet complain to God that he is all alone and all is lost. He did his best, but now it was hopeless. They were even out to kill him too.

God has an answer for Elijah. But it’s not what you might expect. He tells him to go stand by the mountain and wait. The show was about to begin.

First a great and mighty wind. Splitting the rocks. Lots of power. Big show. But God was not in the wind.

Then a mighty earthquake. Another powerful sign? No. God wasn’t in the earthquake.

How bout a nice blazing fire? Something to get your attention. Nope. God’s not there. Where is he?

He’s in the whisper.

He is, after all, not a God of appearances. He’s not interested in fireworks and glitz. He works in mysteriously quiet ways for an all-powerful being.

We’re not too different from Elijah. We have our good days and our bad days. When times are good, we don’t expect much from God, if we think of him at all. But when the going gets tough, we start to worry, to complain, to doubt God’s goodness.

When it appears one way, with God, it’s often just the opposite.


Elijah thought he was alone. God assured him he was not. A remnant of 7000 had not bowed the knee to Baal. Elijah thought it was all in vain. God told him it was not. When Elijah was done, others would take up the fight, carry his mantle, and continue fighting for God’s kingdom. Elijah thought he would die in lonely shame – but scripture tells us he was carried to heaven on a glorious fiery chariot.

But Elijah isn’t the only one to see God acting in mysterious ways, that are not what they appear. Think of Jesus.

Here is a man who appeared humble and poor and nothing much special. Born in a backwater town to an unwed mother, laid in a manger. But appearances deceive, and this little child was not only our champion in the battle with Satan, he was God of Gods made flesh.

Here is a man who did miracles! Great crowds followed him. But when his teachings were hard to accept, many deserted him. Not the appearance of a savior worth his salt.

And when the final confrontation with the establishment powers came, it appeared they had the upper hand. They arrested Jesus and his disciples scattered. He was beaten and shamed and crucified with the criminals. It appeared all hope was lost – for him, and for all who followed him. But he is not a God of appearances. However, he is a God of his word.

He kept his word, and rose from the dead. Thomas wanted to see an appearance, but Jesus said more blessed are those who don’t see and yet believe.

And this ragtag band of fearful fisherman and friends – they didn’t look like much, but they would take his Gospel to the ends of the earth.

What does all this show us? That when it comes to our God, we should not judge by appearances. When it comes to his word, seeing doesn’t have much to do with believing.

When you feel your sin the most – when it appears God is far off – then is his grace all the more real. When life’s worries peck and poke at you, then is his word your sure defense.

And even when death comes, and it appears your last hour is at hand, it is merely the gate to eternal life and paradise with your Lord.

I’ve always found it strange, but fitting, that in the last few moments of our funeral rite, as the pastor stands over the casket and at the grave, he reads the words of St. Paul, “Where oh, death is your victory? Where is your sting?” Where is death? It’s right before you… didn’t you notice the body? But appearances deceive. For though the Christian rests in the grave, death has no victory. To the contrary. In Jesus Christ our hope is sure, of comfort does not fail. For we will rise again, and in our flesh, see God face to face.

Now, we see dimly. Much is clouded. But then we will see clearly. When he appears. When he returns to judge the living and the dead, and to take us home forever.

Until then we walk by faith, and not by sight. We don’t put our trust in appearances, but in the steady and sure word of God. In the promises of the Lord, who loves us, died for us, and lives for us. Things are not always what they seem to us, but things are always as he promises they will be. In Jesus Christ, Amen.

Sermon - Luke 7:36-8:3 - Pentecost 3

3rd Sunday After Pentecost
Luke 7:36-8:3
June 13, 2010
“Big Sinner”

Do you know someone who's a really big sinner? Someone who really sins a lot – and in big ways. Someone who's a bad example to those around them. Someone who's always doing and saying the wrong things, for petty, selfish reasons? Someone who could really use some guidance, or maybe a good kick in the pants? Someone who should really get their act together. Who is that really bad sinner that you know? Is it you?

Today we read about Jesus visit to the home of Simon the Pharisee. And like most of us, Simon was a whole lot better at seeing other people's sins than his own. When the sinful woman comes in and makes a big fuss over Jesus, Simon is appalled! “How could Jesus welcome such a big sinner like her? Doesn't he know what kind of woman she is? He should be hanging around with respectable people like me – not women of ill repute. After all, I'm a pretty good guy – a pharisee – my credentials are impeccable. I deserve Jesus' approval – but her? This Jesus must not really be a prophet after all. For everyone can see that SHE is a sinner.”

Simon thinks it, and Jesus knows just what he's thinking. He probably didn't even need any miraculous insight to know Simon's thoughts. It must have been obvious. He probably wore a look of disgust on his face. How did this woman get into my house, anyway?

But Jesus has a lesson for Simon, and for us. Two debtors owe a man money. 50 or 500 denarii – both are forgiven. Now who loves the moneylender more? Of course the one with the larger debt. And even Simon the Pharisee can understand that.

What he couldn't see was that he had a debt at all. The woman's sins were out there. They were for all to see. And they were serious sins. Sexual sins, certainly, we might call them “lifestyle choices” today. But they never really let her have peace. Even as she sinned, she knew – it nagged at her. She must have become a prisoner of her own guilt and shame.

But Simon – he lived under an illusion. Like a person in denial that his monthly mortgage is too much to pay – or that a bill would be coming at all. He didn't think he even had a debt, much less a big one. His sins didn't really bother him – if he even admitted to having any. But the most dangerous sins are not the most spectacular. The most troublesome sins are not the ones most people see. They are the ones that are not admitted. They are the sins of the heart that we hide in the shadows of our denial. Pride. Lust. Selfishness. Sins of omission – failing to do what we ought. Lovelessness when it comes to our neighbor. Thoughtlessness when it comes to our God.

But like Simon the Pharisee how many of us stumble through life without much thought to sin until some “ big sinner” crosses our path and inconveniences us. How dare they? Who do they think they are?

The dirty little secret is that our sins are big too. That you and I are the big sinner too. We should be weeping at Jesus' feet along with the woman. Weeping in sorrow over our sin. And weeping in joy at our forgiveness.

Yes, your sins are a big deal. Admit it. Let's not rationalize our sins away. Let's not live in denial and only admit it when someone points it out – but then only in a really general way, “Oh, we're all sinners”. Let your sins be what they are – ugly, wicked, troublesome bringers of pain and misery and death. Instead of making a big deal about someone else's sins... a little honesty about our own is in order.

And then notice what Jesus does with such a sinner. He doesn't say the sins don't matter. In fact he admits that the woman had sinned much. But when she comes weeping, he doesn't beat her down even more. A bruised reed he does not break. He speaks kindly to her. He assures her. Most of all, he forgives her. Just like he forgives so many other sinners who know their sin. Like he does for all who are weary and heaven lady – he gives rest. Like he heals the sick, not the healthy who need no doctor. Jesus sinners will receive, always, always with his forgiveness.

The woman who washed Jesus' feet knew the forgiveness that washed away her sins. Not an expensive perfume, but the precious blood of Christ. She shed her tears on his feet, but he wept drops of blood, and suffered the wrath of God. She anointed him in humble thanks, whose body would be anointed for a hasty burial. But death had no hold on him. Now alive forever, he is the victor over sin. And our life and victory are sure – in him.

Jesus says one other thing here we might notice. “...her sins, which are many, are forgiven - for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little."

Jesus is not saying that our love for God or neighbor is the basis for our forgiveness. She was not forgiven because she loved much. Rather, love flows from forgiveness. Love for God and love for neighbor increases in proportion to our appreciation of forgiveness.

The more you know your sin, how big it is, how many your sins are... the more you'll know your need for Jesus and his forgiveness. And the more you know his forgiveness, the more the Spirit works to show his love in your life. You will love God. You will love your neighbor. Because you know his love for you in Christ. Big sinner. Bigger Savior. Much love, in Jesus Christ our Lord, amen.

Sermon - Genesis 11:1-9 - Pentecost Sunday

Pentecost Sunday (Youth Confirmation)
Genesis 11:1-9
May 23, 2010
“Reaching Heaven”

What were they thinking, when they decided to build that tower? Really, I mean, did they think they could actually reach heaven? Sooner or later, the laws of physics and nature would have made this tower project come to an end.... even today our tallest buildings reach only 2000 feet or so.

And surely God knew that they would get nowhere. Was there really a threat they would come knocking on his pearly gates?

But it wasn't that God was feeling threatened. It wasn't that he needed some space. He didn't come down in judgment because their rebellious act would actually be successful. It was what was behind the action that was more troubling. It was the sinful pride – the attitude – not the tower itself.

“Look what we can do” “Look how great we are” “Let's make a name for ourselves”. Sinful pride. The opposite of humility. Another expression of that impulse born and bred into all of us – the desire to be our own little gods.

To be like God – knowing good and evil. Better yet, to set the rules of good and evil. Good is what I want to do, evil is that evil that I don't think I'm doing. To be like God – and to receive worship and adulation from others. And perhaps worst of all – our sinful impulse to be like God is the thought that we can be our own savior. That we can make it to heaven on our own.

God knocks all that down. But not without due process. He “comes down to see”. Not because he needed to – he's omniscient, after all. But there is a formal judgment to be rendered – and God plays by the rules. He is not fickle or whimsical. He is not hasty in his judgment. He always gives us more time than we deserve. But he does not wait forever.

We are not, after all, like God. We are not patient and fair and just and righteous. We are not in heaven, and we cannot get to heaven. In fact, we deserve to be somewhere quite worse.

God is merciful. It could have been so much worse. Here, even in his judgment, as he so often is – he is merciful. This punishment is for their own good. He confuses the languages. He scatters the people. To keep them out of trouble, or at least mitigate the damage they can do together. For sinful people united in sinful pride is bad news. Merciful God makes it difficult for us to work together, and thus our human pride is kept in check. He makes it difficult for us to communicate with one another, and so divides us – nation against nation.

How confused and angry and grief-stricken those tower builders must have been, when God's verdict took effect. Do we feel the same emotions when life doesn't go the way we plan? When we can't get along with others? When our projects and dreams come crashing down? When our pride is stripped away and we are laid bare in the embarrassment of our failures? When the illusion of our never-ending health and life is shaken when the doctor tells us the test results?

Why does God do this to us, or at least let it happen to us? Confusing, frustrating, downright maddening are his ways. There isn't always an answer that satisfies us. But know this, that in all things God works for the good of those who love him.

The law hurts. But it prepares us to be healed. Suffering and pain are temporary, but peace and joy in Christ are eternal. Death comes for us all, and brings grief. But life comes for all who are in Christ, and in him is our hope.

God confused the languages and scattered the people for their good. And God uses the troubles of this life for our good. God pronounced judgment on their sinful pride for their good. And the condemning word of God's law is for our good. The law keeps us humble. It shows us our sin. It reminds us of our need.

And the Gospel gives us hope. Hope for a true tower, or stairway to heaven. Not one that we build up, but one which God extends down to us in Christ.

In Christ, heaven comes down to earth. In his cross, forgiveness, life and salvation are won. A better way to reach heaven – a cross. Humility, not pride. Bending down, not reaching up. The only way to heaven, is through Jesus Christ and his cross.

And in his word, and here at font and altar, forgiveness life and salvation are distributed. The means of grace. The places to go and look for heavenly blessings. In our daily reading of his word – and in our weekly gathering around the proclaimed word. The word of God is the beating heart of the Christian's life. And heaven comes daily to us in that word.
Heaven comes daily to us, through the water of baptism. Though we were baptized long ago, though we confirmed that baptism long ago, we daily confirm it as we return to its promises. As we repent and are forgiven in Christ, heaven is opened to us, again and again.

And in this meal – the body and blood of Christ – he who sits on heaven's high throne – is given to you, for you. Think about that – the ruler of the universe – God of God – comes down to be here, for you, not just to see from afar – but to touch, to eat, to drink. Heaven on earth. And you get to be there.

Permit me a few words to the confirmands....
You have been instructed now for years. As your parents have raised you in the faith, and as you've finished your formal training in class with me. Today is a highpoint for you – I'm sure you've looked forward to this day (if for nothing else to be done with sermon reports). But in this mountaintop moment, a word of warning to you – don't fall for the sinful pride.

Don't think that you've reached the top and this is the end. Don't even be tempted to pridefully put God aside or behind you, “now that you're confirmed”. Don't neglect receiving his gifts here in worship. Don't stop listening to the sermons. And don't think that you've learned it all and know it all. For God has a way of knocking down such pride.

But also a word of encouragement: remember what Christ has done for you. Remember that here in worship he serves you. Remember that his body and blood is given and shed for you – for the forgiveness of your sins. Remember that the Gospel is about what he does for you – and that's what's most important. And you will be blessed here and for eternity. (And for all of us...)

The tower of Babel reminds us of the danger of sinful human pride. It shows us a God who often knocks us down a peg or two, for our own good. But it hints a God who brings himself even lower, in Christ, on the cross, to raise us up from death to life and eternal glory. He reaches down, lifts us up, and we reach heaven through him. Amen.

Sermon - Revelation 22:1-20 - Easter 7

Revelation 22:1-20
May 16, 2010
“The Last Word”

Are you one of those people who like to have the last word? Does it just stick in your craw if someone else gets in that last jab or snipe? You want to be the one to leave them with something to think about, right? You don't want them or anyone else thinking they won the argument. After all, you're right, right? Our sinful pride drives us to many childish ways of behaving, and always wanting to “have the last word” is just one in our long laundry list of flaws.

Of course, you don't get to have the last word when it comes to God. He always has the last word. Today, let's consider this passage from the very end of the very last chapter of the last book in our Bible. How does it end? God's last word....

Revelation ends on a high note. All of the plagues and devastation fade away, as the vision John sees of the end turns to the glory of the eternal city – the holy city of Jerusalem. Some of the most beautiful and comforting promises in all of Holy Scripture are found in these 2 chapters. No more darkness, pain or sorrow. God wipes every tear from our eyes. The nations are healed. We will see God's face.

In fact, much of what was lost in the Garden of Eden with our fall into sin – now is restored in the Holy City of Jerusalem. Even the Tree of Life reappears. All that has gone wrong is made right forevermore.

John is so impressed by this vision, so overcome with awe, that he falls down at the feet of the angel who showed it all to him. But the angel quickly corrects him – don't worship me, I'm just an angel. Worship God alone!

And then in verses 10 and following, we have some words about these words. We have some instructions from our Lord himself – the Alpha and Omega, Jesus Christ, concerning the words of the book we are reading.

Don't add anything, and don't take anything away from these words! Or else! That's the basic message. It echoes Moses' words from the end of Dueteronomy “Take to heart all the words by which I am warning you today, that you may command them to your children, that they may be careful to do all the words of this law.”
Here, we have similar last parting words from Jesus. And they apply first of all to the Book of Revelation. But we can also rightly apply them to all of Holy Scripture. For all of His Word is holy – set apart – and not to be tinkered or trifled with.

Perhaps you've heard of Thomas Jefferson's attempts to condense the New Testament. In his great arrogance this American forefather deleted large swaths of the New Testament – those he found supernatural, unbelievable, and those he simply didn't like. He wanted a bible ““the corruptions of reason among the ancients”, but he was not the first or the last to ignore Christ's warnings here. Many, even many Christians, would do the same – turning away from this or that portion of God's Word.

The threats and the promises must stand. Some would de-claw and de-fang the threats of Scripture. Oh yes, we believe in Heaven but not Hell – God, but not the Devil. We believe in forgiveness but not judgment, you see. God is all good and loving all the time and the parts about him hating evil – we'll just ignore those. But woe to you who take away from these words, Jesus warns.

Still, there are those who would take away the other words. The words of hope. They would turn Revelation into some roadmap of plagues and signs, all the while ignoring the promises of hope that are really the main thrust. Just as many turn all of Scripture into a playbook for life, a helpful hints from Heloise for the Soul. Martha Stewart's Spiritual Living. But the word of God's law – his “how to” - mostly shows us that we can't and we don't keep it. You can't follow his recipe for holy living, because you sin. You can't keep his law, do right, and be holy. You need that other word – the word of Gospel!

And so here it is – in Jesus. And between the Law and the Gospel, the Gospel is the last word.

Think about Jesus “last words” from the cross. We pondered them closely on Good Friday. Each one points us to his great love for us, and how his sacrifice at the cross accomplishes our salvation. With the words, “It is Finished” our Lord shows his death as the fulfillment of all things. The “filling up” or “completing” or “perfecting” of God's great plan for salvation.

And just as no word should be added or subtracted from God's word, no work should be or can be added or subtracted from Christ's Cross. His cross is all we need. We can't add any human work to it. We bring nothing to the table. And if we try, we're only taking away from what he did there. As if to say, “Oh Jesus, we appreciate your dying and all... but it wasn't quite enough. We have to finish the job by how we live” Are we really so foolish and insulting to add one little thing to the cross? But don't take anything away from it either, for there in the death of God's Son, there in the precious blood of the spotless lamb, is atonement for ALL sins of all time of all people.

Which reminds me of some other last words of Christ. His last will and testament. Where he gave us a word attached to something tangible – a promise bound up in bread and wine. Here at his meal we neither add nor take away from anything that he gives, but receive the bread and wine that is his Body and Blood for the forgiveness of our sins. Yes, here, each time we receive Him, He has the last word. Your sins are forgiven. Go in peace.

And the last words of scripture are also a promise. He who came and lived and suffered and died and rose and ascended – he who appeared to John in this great vision of things to come – he will come again. AND SOON!

The prayer of the church is that He would do just that – keep his promise and come soon. We look forward in great and eager expectation to the day when he keeps this last promise and comes, comes to judge the living and the dead, comes to call the dead to life again, comes to meet us and all believers, to take us home to that holy city, that paradise restored. There, your sins will haunt you no more. There, he will have the last word forever.

Until then, treasure his words... all of them. Don't cut and snip the words of the Law, those words you don't want to hear. You need to hear them. We all do. But don't neglect or ignore those precious words of Gospel – words which point you to Christ, to the cross, to the altar, and ultimately to heaven.

The grace of the Lord Jesus be with us all. Amen.

Sermon - Easter 6 - John 16:23-33

John 16:23-33
Easter 6
May 6th, 2010
“Sorrow to Joy”

Once again the disciples think they have it all figured out. Finally, finally Jesus is speaking plainly! No more parables and figures of speech. They get it. They understand. They believe. Or so they think.

The disciples boast to Jesus. Since he finally speaks plainly, now they can truly believe. But he goes on to speak plainly about the coming distress – in which they will scatter like scared little children, and leave him alone.

It's just so like Jesus. Just when we think we have everything all figured out and nailed down - God usually shakes us out of that sense of prideful satisfaction. It's when everything seems to be going well, and we start to believe we deserve God's favor, that the house of cards usually comes crashing down.

Do some think that because they have jumped through the hoops of Confirmation class, they are all done learning about their faith? Do some believe that because they come to church every week, they wouldn't get any benefit from further study of God's Word? Do our Bibles collect dust? Are our prayers missing in action? Is our love for fellow man cold? Since, after all, we have everything all set. Just so. Don't upset the applecart, now....

But that's what Jesus does. Again and again, he makes his disciples, and us, think a second time. He doesn't let them rest on the laurels of self-righteousness. But he shows them they do need a savior, after all. And so do we. They don't have all their ducks in a row. And neither do we.

The law shows us our sin, too. It leaves us without the security blanket of self-righteousness. It pokes and prods at the flimsy armor of our idea that everything is fine, and exposes the gaps and holes. There's a sin. There's another sin. An unkind word here. A hateful thought there. A moment of laziness. An excuse for this, blaming another for that. Selfishness here. Lust and greed there. We're a mess. We need help.

So ask! Jesus invites his disciples to ask him, to ask the Father through him.
Ask for forgiveness – and he will give it. After all your debts were paid in full at the cross. Ask for strength – and he will give it. Ask for deliverance – and it will come, in his time, in his way. Ask for God's love and favor, and know that in Christ you already have it. Ask for peace, and you'll get peace that passes understanding. And ask for joy. For he turns sorrow into joy.

That's the other side of the coin, you know. When things are going well – too well – the law knocks us down from our high horse. But when we feel trampled under the weight of our sins and failings, when we know how bad things are and admit it to ourselves and to our God, then he turns it around again.

Just as he took the sorrow of his disciples and turned it into joy, so he does for us. And just as that joy cannot be taken away – so it is for us.

That joy is a deep and lasting sense of satisfaction, peace, happiness and wonder. Like the peace that passes understanding, the joy Christ brings is above and beyond the happiness of the moment. It is rooted deeper, and it reaches further.

It's a joy that comes from Christ's resurrection. For we, like the disciples, rejoice that Jesus lives even though he died. And we rejoice to know that death has no hold on him – that he will never die again. But even more, there is joy in knowing what it all means for us. His resurrection means our resurrection. His eternal life means our eternal life. Because he has conquered death, we will conquer death through him. So even life's greatest sorrow, death itself, has lost its sting and is subject to the joy he brings. The sorrow of Good Friday brings the joy of Easter Sunday.

Though Jesus would soon leave those disciples, he would soon see them again. After he died, he rose, and appeared to them. Talked with them. Ate with them. But again a time of departure would come, as he ascended into heaven. And again the promise of his return assured them, and us, that he will come again in glory on the last day. That promise also gives us great joy.

Are you like those disciples, so sure of yourself and your faith that everything is “just fine”? Do you say you have no sin, and deceive yourself? Or do you sorrow over sin, feel it, know it? Then ask for what you need from the Father, through the Son, by the power of the Spirit. And he will give it to you. And you will live. He will turn your sorrow into joy, a joy that you will know forever.

Christ at the Center

“You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about me, yet you refuse to come to me that you may have life.” John 5:39-40

I think sometimes people pass by these words of Jesus too quickly. Jesus is teaching the Pharisees, and us, about his authority, his identity, and the fact that he is the Messiah promised by the Old Testament scriptures. All well and good.

But he's not just saying, here, that the Old Testament mentions him. It's not like the Old Testament is about a bunch of stuff, and one of the things it happens to talk about is the Messiah. Sure there are those direct prophecies of the Messiah – what he would do, what he would be like. But it doesn't stop there!

What Jesus is really saying here is that ALL of the scriptures testify to him. That is, the entire Old Testament points to, revolves around, and is rooted in Him. He's not an appendix or sidebar. Jesus Christ is the beating heart of the Old Testament.

Or to put it another way (as John's Gospel does), Jesus is the living Word of God. The Word made flesh to dwell among us. And while you may be looking at the markings on the page, and reading the sounds out loud.... you will never know the Word of God unless you know Jesus. You will never rightly understand the Old Testament apart from him. Every book and story and point made in the Old Testament, sooner or later, drives us to Jesus.

The Pharisees and the other Jewish leaders couldn't see the forest through the trees. They searched and searched the scriptures, looking for life. Looking for life in the law is futile, of course. For as Paul tells us, the Law kills, but the Spirit gives life. And the Spirit is the one who points us and leads us to Christ. He enlightens us so that we can better understand the Word – and that Word is Christ!

This understanding of Christ at the center of the Old Testament – informs our interpretation of it. It is one of the chief principles to consider when taking up a text. One of the first questions we can ask is, “all right, what does this have to do with Christ?” And once you start to see the Old Testament this way, you will start to see Jesus everywhere.

You'll see him in the Garden of Eden – the promised seed of the woman. You'll seem him in the Exodus, the passover lamb. You'll see him in Leviticus, the great High Priest. In Melchizedek, Moses and David and Solomon – all who foreshadowed the Christ. You'll see him in the Angel of the Lord. You'll see him in the lives of the prophets, and in the Suffering Servant of Isaiah. He's the true temple. He's the true Israel. He's the Son of Man. He's the bridegroom in the Song of Solomon. He's the forgiving husband portrayed by Hosea. He's even in the fiery furnace with the three men in Daniel.

How many Christians today suffer with an impoverished view of the Old Testament, which doesn't show them Christ at every corner? How sad to be looking for life, and not find it, right in front of your face.

Now, this Christ-centered view of Scripture also applies to the New Testament as well. And that's pretty obvious. Still, even in the New Testament, many can read Christ right away from the pages of Scripture – by confusing Law and Gospel, by turning Jesus into a different kind of Savior. Instead of the one who atones for our sins on the cross – some would have “Example Jesus”, or “Inspiring Jesus” or “Cheap Grace Jesus”, “Repentance-free Jesus”, or a host of other impersonators.

But the Jesus of Scripture is the Jesus of all of Scripture, not just the parts we like. He's humble and meek, but he can also crack a whip and clear out a temple. He's forgiving and loving, but he can call a white-washed tomb when he sees one. He says “Peace be with you” but he also came to bring a sword. He raises the bar on the law – showing how sin not just in deeds but in words and even in thoughts. But he also makes known the Gospel, for he is the messenger and he is the message – Christ crucified for sinners like you and me.

It's in this Jesus that we have life. A Jesus of the Old and New Testaments. A Jesus of both Law and Gospel. A Jesus that fulfills all of Scripture, Alpha to Omega. He's not just a tree, he's the forest. He's not just a “by the way”. He's the point.

Fisk on YouTube

Some people have a face for radio. But Fisk sure has a talent for V-logging. You have to check out his YouTube stuff.


http://www.youtube.com/user/Revfiskj

You can also check him out at http://www.worldvieweverlasting.blogspot.com/

"Reality TV" On Issues, Etc.

I was on Issues, Etc. today talking about "Reality TV".

You can listen here: http://issuesetc.org/podcast/473042110H1S2.mp3

Sermon - Easter 3 - John 21:1-19

John 21:1-19
Easter 3
April 18th, 2010
“What Jesus Knows – What Jesus Gives”

John's Gospel is wrapping up. He tells us today a third appearance Jesus made after his resurrection. Now on the shore of the Sea of Galillee, Jesus the risen Lord appears to his still dazed and confused disciples.

They seemed out of it. Bored. Peter abruptly announces he's going fishing. The others join him.

And here comes Jesus, with a familiar miracle – a catch of fish after a night of nothing. He had done this before, when he was first calling his disciples to follow him. That was then, but this is now. The catch seems even greater. They can't haul it in, but the nets aren't breaking. Jesus, of course, knows fishing better than the fishermen.

Before, when Peter saw such a miracle he trembled in fear. That was then, but this is now – and Peter throws himself into the water just to be all the closer to Jesus as soon as possible. Wouldn't it be nice if we were so eager to be with Jesus – to come hear his words, and receive his gifts?

Now he who has renewed all things by his death and resurrection is renewing his commission to them in word and deed. Soon he would be charging them as his under-shepherds – feed my sheep – be pastors.

But first, he wanted to feed them. The last meal they had together was different. It was a Passover meal, in which he gave them a New Testament in his body and blood. Now, breakfast on the beach. And while this meal isn't the sacrament per se, it sure reminds us that Jesus the host and provider of the meal is always the one to feed us.

Then, as now, Jesus feeds his disciples, his people. He's still the host of the meal. He still invites us to the table. He still prepares and provides what we need. All physical and spiritual blessings, undeserved, from his grace and mercy. For even in his glorified and resurrected form, he is not too humble to serve his people.

After breakfast, Jesus singles out Peter. “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” What a formal question. Not calling him by his nickname, “Peter”, but by his given and family name. Something official is about to happen.

Peter answers yes, and Jesus asks again. After the third question, Peter gets the point. And he is grieved. In a not so subtle way, Jesus was reminding him of his sin.

Peter, who had denied him three times. “Oh, no, Lord, I'll even die with you if I have to!” But Peter failed when the going got tough. Oh he would wield his sword and cut off a man's ear – but would he stand and boldly confess Jesus? Peter would fight the soldiers, but when questioned by a servant girl, he crumbled. He denied, denied, and denied again, just as Jesus said he would. And then their eyes met, and Peter bawled like a baby.

Does our sin bring us to grief? Do you know and feel your sin like Peter? Do we realize just how much and how often we let the Lord down by our own denials of him? We surely act like we don't know him. And even if we think we can put on a good front, Jesus knows all things. He knows that we don't love him as we should. He knows we don't love our neighbor as ourselves. We want to... but like the disciples, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

But even in his grief, Peter still trusts Jesus. He appeals to the one who knows everything. Jesus knows Peter's sin. He also knows how sorry he is.

But he also knows his love for Peter, a love that drove him to the cross, a love that death could not contain. And so he restores Peter, forgives him, and even re-commissions him for work in the kingdom. So does Jesus do for us all.

This formal conversation was needed to clear the air, and restore Peter from the denier he was, to the pastor he would be. The shepherd of Jesus' flock. Feeding and caring for the sheep by distributing the gifts of the great Good Shepherd himself. Just as pastors do today – in the word, in the sacrament, in baptism and holy absolution. We pastors give to you – formally - what we also receive from Christ – all for the love of Jesus which he first shows us.

He deals with our sin. He forgives and feeds us. Then he puts us to work. Fishermen become fishers of men. Wayward sheep become shepherds of his flock. Wanderers in sin become followers of Christ.


No, we're not all called to be pastors, but we all need restoration and forgiveness. We're not all going to be shepherds of the sheep, but we support the ongoing work of the Good Shepherd. And we receive his gifts as he gives them, always giving thanks.

And a final cryptic saying from our Lord. He predicts how Peter would die. Tradition tells us Peter was crucified in Rome, upside down. Jesus, who knew all things, surely would know it was coming. And perhaps he tells us here to remind us that following him will come with opposition, suffering, and even sometimes death. But a death in Christ always glorifies God.

Yes, Peter would follow Jesus to a cross, and to a death. But he who restored Peter from denial will also restore him and all believers from death itself. Just as he conquered the grave, so a resurrection awaits his people. And we will live, like Jesus lives, forever.

This good news sustains us, his sheep. This promise feeds our faith, and strengthens us to follow him. So be fed by him, you sheep of the Lord. And follow him – in life, in death, and in new life forever. Just like Peter.

In Jesus Name, Amen.

Sermon - Easter 2 - John 20:19-31

John 20:19-31
Easter 2
April 11th, 2010
“Thomas and Jesus”

It's not just because I like his name. I've always had a soft spot for Thomas. Who knows why he wasn't there on that first Easter Sunday – when Jesus appeared to them in the locked room. Maybe because he wasn't quite as afraid as they were? And who could forget Thomas was the one who said, when it appeared Jesus was headed for Jerusalem, “Let us also go, that we might die with him”.

But we don't call him “brave Thomas”, do we? We know him as “doubting Thomas”. For when the other apostles told him the news of the risen Jesus, he didn't believe it. In fact, in a foot-in-mouth moment that would last for all history, he went so far as to say, “I won't believe it unless I can touch his wounds myself!' Well, Thomas, you don't want to put the Lord to the test, now, do you?

But really, this account from John's Gospel isn't so much about Thomas – and whether he is brave or a doubter. This account is about Jesus. And it's not only about Jesus and Thomas, but like all of John's Gospel, “These things are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.”

It's about Jesus. Jesus who is, in fact, risen from the dead. But because he rose for the benefit of his people, he takes the time to prove it to them. He shows them. He appears to them. To Mary Magdelene and the women at the tomb. To his fearful disciples now in the wake of the Good Friday tumult. And to at least 500 others throughout the next 40 days.

Jesus – so reliable and true, his word so sure and trustworthy, that he rose from the dead just like he said he would. Jesus, who fulfilled every little prophecy about the suffering servant Messiah – prophecies of the Scriptures and prophecies from his own lips. He knew he would die. He knew how he would die. He knew he would rise. And he told the disciples how it would all go down. But they didn't believe.

Not only did they doubt it, but Peter even argued with him. God forbid it! He said. But Jesus said such talk was of Satan.

Now it had all come to pass. The betrayal, the denial, the striking the shepherd and the sheep were scattered. So much for bravery from them.

Now these same cowardly doubters were locked up for fear of the Jews. And it took a miraculous entrance by Jesus for his first resurrected visit with them. Oh, but doubting Thomas wasn't there with the other doubters.

They tried to tell him. We have seen the Lord! But he didn't believe them. If none of them would believe Jesus before, is it any wonder Thomas wouldn't believe them now? As much as they tried to convince him, he would only believe on his own terms. Seeing is believing. Touching is believing. But just hearing the word? Not so easy.

And when Jesus appears a week after Easter, he tells him, and shows him, and invites him to touch. It's true, Thomas. Stop doubting and believe. And Thomas believes. “My Lord and My God!” he confesses. Doubting Thomas becomes believing Thomas.

Tradition holds that Thomas became a missionary to India, where he is still honored as the first Christian missionary there. It is also said that Thomas was stoned to death and then stabbed with a spear, thus fulfilling his own words, “Let us also go, that we might die with him”.

And on this first Sunday of Easter, the Christian church traditionally recalls this “doubting Thomas” account, for it occurred on the original first Sunday after the Resurrection. We remember the account of Thomas and Jesus.

We remember Thomas for his doubting. But we remember also that Jesus met him where he was. He knew just what Thomas needed, and invited him to stop doubting, and believe. He showed him his wounds – hands and side – proof of his suffering and death. But the one who showed the proof was alive. And interestingly, the text never says whether Thomas actually touched those wounds. But it does record his confession of faith, “My Lord and my God”.

What was truly unusual was not that Thomas doubted. The story is really about Jesus – who was alive – and who reached out to the doubter.

So what are the lessons for us? What would Jesus have us learn from the Thomas account? Perhaps, very simply, “stop doubting and believe”. For Thomas isn't the only doubter. Those other disciples doubted too. And the disciples here this morning are doubters too.

We doubt the resurrection. We doubt the words and promises of Christ. We doubt those hard words of Scripture that bump against what our culture has taught us. We doubt those plain words of Scripture that fly in the face of what mainstream science proclaims.

We doubt the perfect demands of the law. We doubt the soothing forgiveness of the Gospel. We want to believe what we want to believe, and not what he calls us to believe.

But still he calls us. And still he promises a blessing, “blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe”. What a far-reaching blessing. For almost all who believe in Christ do so without seeing or touching. Thomas and those other disciples were truly the exception. We are the rule. Christ comes to us his people through his word, and in his sacraments. And yet somehow, by the power of the Spirit, we believe. And we are blessed.

Well, we may not touch the wounds. But Christ does touch us in the sacrament. His body and blood touch our lips, and nourish our souls. One of the many benefits of the Lord's Supper is the strengthening of our faith – that is, the diminishing of our doubts. But more than that he calls us through his word. He calls us Sunday after Sunday, persistent in his mercy and grace. Stop doubting, and believe. And if he can conquer death, he can conquer your doubts and fears.

And just as he invited Thomas to put his finger in the wounds, he invites you to put your faith in his words. I am with you always. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies. Your sins are forgiven, go in peace.

John closes the Thomas account, “These things are written that you may believe.” And so we hear, and so we do. In Jesus Christ, amen.

Sermon - Good Friday - 2010

Hebrews 9:27-28
Good Friday
April 2nd, 2010
“Die Once”

Jesus dies. Today we not only remember it, but we face it starkly. It is finished. He breathes his last. He gives up his spirit.

We're so accustomed to throwing it out there like nothing: “Jesus died for you”. But today we think carefully, closely, on what that means. Death. In all its darkness and ugliness. Death, that great enemy that looms over us all. The end. Lights out. No more.

Death is never pretty. It is, after all, the wages of sin. And sin is ugly. It's an ugly feeling to know your sin. Guilt. Shame. But worse is the punishment. The fear of punishment. And the ultimate punishment is death.

Hebrews tells us, “it is appointed for a man to die once, and after that comes judgment”. We know it's true. Physical death isn't the final end. But it brings us before God for judgment. Eternal death is the real punishment. Physical death is only a shadow of this.

We die once. We don't keep coming back, again and again. There is no reincarnation, no cycle of endless lives to keep on trying and improving. This precious gift of life is a one-time-deal. A short breath, but an important one. One life to live. And then, we die. Once. And then the judgment. There is no second chance.

Or is there?

Christ died once, but not because of his sin. He died because of your sin and mine. He died to bury sin. He died to “deal with it” as only he could. And at the cross sin IS dealt with. It is finished. It's a done deal.

Christ rose, and will come again – but not to die. He will come to judge, and to save. To judge those outside of salvation. Those who reject his gifts, his work, his death. And to save those who are eagerly waiting for him.

Christ died. And we too, die. But because he died, death, for us, is different.

Death no longer means judgment. Death no longer has a sting. The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But Christ gives us the victory.

Or to put it another way, we have already died. We died with Christ. We were buried with him. You look in that borrowed tomb and you see yourself there – your old self with all the sins and warts and faults and flaws and deep dark secrets. All of it lies on the cold slab, sealed in the tomb of death. Jesus took it with him.

You died – at the cross – your sins died. You died – at the font. You drowned in the waters of baptism. Overwhelmed in the flood, your sins never stood a chance.

And since you've already died, now you live, even though you die. By faith in Jesus, he who lives and believes will never die. Even though he dies, he will live.

In other words, death isn't really death for those who die in Christ. His death changes what death means for us. It is no longer the enemy to be feared, but the gate to eternal life. It is no longer the summons to God's courtroom for judgment, but a liberation from the prison of our fallen flesh.

In Christ we do get a sort of second chance at life. We get a new life. We partake in his death to partake in his life. We are bound up with him in all of it.

Good Friday, in a sense, is your own funeral. It is the death of your old nature, your sin and shame. It's all nailed to the cross in him. “You who think of sin but lightly nor suppose the evil great, here may view its nature rightly, here its guilt may estimate.”

It's too dark for some people. There are even many Christians who skip Good Friday. Too much of a downer.

But it is good to gather this day, to observe this event, to stand before the cross and appreciate what it means. There's what our sins deserve. There's what his love for us does. There's death in naked display.

But there also, is life in all its fullness. From the cross spring all the blessings we treasure and need. From Christ on the cross flow the blood and water that cleanse us all. From the cross he declares, “it is finished” and makes it so. Here is the center of all human history, the cross-roads of time. The God-man suspended between heaven and earth, the one without sin who becomes sins. And eternal life is born out of eternal death and suffering.

They take him down. They wrap the body and apply some spices. Joseph offers his tomb. They bury him. The stone seals it shut. All is quiet. Death's silent rest begins for our Lord. But death is not the end of him, or of us who are in him

And so we eagerly wait. In somberness over our sin. But with a peace that death will soon give way. In Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Sermon - Tre Ore - Good Friday 2010

Matthew 27:45-46 / John 19:28-29
Good Friday – Tre Ore Service
April 2nd, 2010
“Forsaking and Fulfilling”

Two very different words in this segment. “My God, why have you forsaken me” and “I thirst”. The fourth and fifth of Jesus sayings from the cross. The fourth word is a grand and eloquent declaration of suffering. The fifth a very simple admission of thirst. The fourth word is poetic and existential. The fifth word – factual.

And yet, there is a similarity. Both fulfill prophecy. Both draw on the Psalms. Both words, expressions of his suffering, are not for him, but for us. For in his forsaking, there is fulfilling. In his thirsting, there is salvation.

The fourth word is perhaps the darkest. Jesus quotes Psalm 22, which begins, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” There the psalmist writes a complaint that shows an eerie foresight. “All who see me mock me” the Psalm laments. “they wag their heads and say, 'he trusts in the Lord; let him deliver him!” it goes on... “dogs encompass me, a company of evildoers encircles me. They have pierced my hands and my feet... they divide my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots”.

Not only does Jesus know God's word very well, but the Scriptures know Jesus very well. They know and point to him and to this cross on which he hangs.

But why? Why has God forsaken him? Why does God turn his back on his own Son? Aside for the deep mystery concerning the inner workings of the Trinity – why must this happen?

It is clear. Sin must be punished. Its wages are death. God's righteousness demands it. His holiness cannot tolerate sin. And there is plenty of sin to be dealt with.

As Jesus suffers, he cries out – but not like you and I do. He's not really asking here, “why?” like you and I ask when we suffer. He knows exactly why. He is the Lamb of God. He is the sacrifice appointed. This is the cup he must drink. He who has no sin now becomes sin for us.

But as he quotes this Psalm he speaks for our benefit. And so we see – that his suffering is not some accident. It was the plan from the foundation of the world. And so we see that his suffering is not in vain – for at the end of the Psalm, God restores his suffering servant. Jesus suffers for us – and he cries out in his suffering, for us.

It's not just physical death, though. The spiritual death of sin, the separation from God that sin causes – and the ultimate eternal separation – is the very definition of hell. Away, far away from God – that's the worst place to be. And that's where Jesus was on this cross.

It's been said that the physical suffering he endures here is nothing, absolutely nothing compared to what was happening spiritually. The thorns, the nails, the flogging, the jeering and shame. None of it compared to God the Father's turning away. If you've ever gotten the cold shoulder from a loved one – imagine enduring the disapproval of God for all sins ever committed. Imagine suffering the torments of Hell for all condemned souls who ever lived and sinned. And you will begin, just begin, to appreciate the magnitude of his suffering.

But because God frowns on Christ, he smiles on you. Because God turns away from Christ who carried your sins, he turns to you and sees a clean slate. Because Jesus was forsaken, we will never be forsaken by God – a promise for all eternity.

The fifth word also keys into the Psalms – Psalm 22 reads, “ my strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth”. Psalm 69 says, “and for my thirst they gave me sour wine to drink”.

Jesus knows his work is finished. And one detail of prophecy remains. In order to fulfill the scriptures, he says, “I thirst”.

No, this is not Jesus complaining for his own sake. Anymore than he was crying out for his own sake in suffering God's wrath. Some have pointed out how after losing all that blood and sweat – he must have been dehydrated. He must have been terribly thirsty. But that's not why he spoke.

In all things, Christ acts for us. Even on the cross. Even in his dying woes, he acts for us. He thirsts – for us. He thirsts for our salvation. He was drunk the cup of God's wrath down to the last drop. And now, to fulfill prophecy, he tells us, “I thirst”.

Every little detail of his work of salvation is complete. Jesus finishes the job, and does all things well. He does all things well for us who can do nothing right. We who thirst for sinful pleasures, we who lust for more and more. He, however, is the Savior. We who deserve God's wrath and punishment, he who takes it. We who turn away from God in sin, yet God turns away from Jesus - for us.

So too, with Jesus, the news is good. Even in the midst of suffering, surrounded by enemies, the subject of ridicule, thirsting and dying – he is our God, we are his people, he deals with our sins, and brings us salvation.

It's a Good Friday indeed. In Jesus Christ, Amen.

Sermon - Sunday of the Passion - Luke 23:1-56

Luke 23:1-56
Palm Sunday/Sunday of the Passion
March 28th, 2009
“Every Little Word”

Every little word in the Passion account of our Lord is so rich, so important, so worthy of our meditation. Every verse, every phrase meant to point us to Christ's great work for us – his salvation.

There's the false accusations they bring against Jesus. Half truths. We're well familiar with them. Just as they sought to convict him with lies, we seek to justify ourselves with lies and half-truths. But only Jesus justifies.

Pilate said, “I find no guilt in this man”. But he ended up condemning him anyway. Surely our Lord finds guilt and sin in us, but ends up not condemning us. We are freed from judgment because of Christ.

Then Jesus goes before Herod, who seeks a sign or wonder. We are often the same, seeking from Jesus what he does not promise, but only what entertains or interests us. Is God's grace in Christ boring? To many modern Herods, it is. But it's what they need. It's what we need. Not fancy miracles and wonders, but the simple promise of salvation in Christ.

They mock Jesus so many ways – even by the clothing they put on him. Royal robes, in sarcastic tribute. But Christ truly clothes us with his righteousness, and takes our shabby rags. He makes us a royal priesthood – and wins for us the crown of life. For his part, it's a crown of thorns.

Herod and Pilate – enemies – become friends through their dealings over Jesus. The forces of the world are united in opposing Christ and his church. It's the same today. But it's also true that another set of enemies is united through Christ: God and man. We who, in our rebellion, hated God – we are made friends and even family by the saving work of Jesus.

Then there's Barabbas. Another teaching moment. “A murderer they save the Prince of Life they slay”. You and I are Barabbas. We are just as guilty of death. But innocent Jesus takes his place, our place, and the guilty go free.

The Jew persistently cry for Jesus' death, and Pilate finally relents. What a photo negative image – Christ persistently calls for our pardon, and God the righteous judge relents. Christ is finally condemned. We are finally justified.

Simon of Cyrene. He carried the burden of the cross for Jesus, when Jesus couldn't. But the deeper reality – Jesus carried the burden of the cross, the real burden, for Simon and all sinners.

Jesus tells the mourners not to weep. He knew the destruction that would come for unbelieving Jerusalem. Their city would be lain waste in just 40 years. The Romans would decimate the people. But even worse is the eternal destruction of a all who reject the Christ. Don't weep for Jesus. He will rise. Weep for those who have only the dark future of God's eternal punishment.

Speaking of punishment, there are the two thieves. Criminals on his right and left. He is numbered with them, so that we are numbered with the righteous.

The place of the Skull, Golgotha. A place of death, but also, ultimately, of life. For the moment he is crucified he cries out in forgiveness.

They cast lots for his clothing. Dividing up his few belongings. A few scraps of material. But he who dies here distributes his belongings – his blessings – to countless multitudes.

They jeered “he saved others, let him save himself.” All the while he was saving others. And he would be rescued from death – but only after three days.

They offer him sour wine, but he offers us the sweetest wine – his own blood, along with his body – in a sacramental promise of forgiveness.

The inscription identified him as “king of the Jews”. The same moniker first mentioned by the wise men from the East, “Where is he that is born king of the Jews”. He is the king, not of this world. He is the king, not only of the Jews, but of all the people under his protection and blessing. He is our king.

“Today you will be with me in paradise” he promises the repentant thief. His promise is sure and speedy to all repentant sinners.

The sun's light fails. Creation itself mourns the death of the creator. The light of our planet bows to the Light of Light now extinguishing.

The Temple curtain tears as the true temple of Christ's body is torn down in death. The threshold to the Holy of Holies is obsolete, for Christ is now our passage to God's presence.

He commits his spirit into God's hands, showing us the way to die faithfully. And even the centurion confesses and praises God.

He is buried. No tomb of his own, but the tomb of a rich man. Now that the suffering is done, his body is treated with some honor and respect again. Again one of our hymns keys in, “Heav'n was his home, but mine the tomb wherein he lay”

And as the Sabbath came with nightfall on Friday, they rested according to custom. And Christ's body rested in the tomb. And soon, very soon, the Easter dawn would come.

As you meditate on Christ's passion this week, cherish every little word. Think on, pray on, and give thanks for every detail of our Lord's suffering and death for you. For he takes your place, and gives you all good things out of his great love and mercy.

Sermon - Lent 5 - Luke 20:9-20

Luke 20:9-20
Lent 5
March 21st, 2010
“Get Rid of Jesus?”

“Let's get rid of Jesus,” they said. The Pharisees were out to get him, and he knew it. To them, he was a threat.. To their people, their way of life, their religion.

Sometimes the Pharisees are cast as having petty motives. As if Jesus was winning the high school popularity contest, and they didn't like losing. But there was more to it than that. Jesus preached a message – that was the real scandal to them. It was a different religion. They were true believers in their religion, and so they saw Jesus as a liar, blasphemer, and a dangerous agent of Satan.

Their was a religion of good works. Where a man could please God by his actions. It's actually a pretty common religion, going by many different names, and sometimes no name at all.

It's all religion of the law. Sometimes the window-dressing changes, but the point rarely changes – you have to earn God's favor.

Oh, maybe you can do it by following rabbinical law like the Pharisees did. Or maybe you can do it by meditation and good karma. Or maybe you can do it by saving the environment and going green. Or maybe you can do it by being nice and tolerant and non-judgmental. Maybe you can be “spiritual but not religious”. Or maybe you can do it by just keeping your nose clean – no major commandment breaking. Or maybe you can do it by one big moral or spiritual achievement – “look what I've done for you, God”.

Or, maybe not. No, let's say definitely not. Not according to Scripture anyway. God's demand of perfection takes all of these off the table. His just law reminds us there is no one that is righteous, not one. Religion of the law, the religion of good works, is a man-made religion, oh and Satan's got his thumb in the pie too. It is a self-deception, a foolish and dangerous approach to God that gets it absolutely backward. We see man-made, religion of works for what it is: a fraud. No matter how much we tell ourselves our goodness measures up, it always falls short. No matter how hard we try, we always fail and fall. We sin, and sin, and sin some more. Man-made religion can't stop it. Man-made religion won't do.

What about God-made religion? What about that other religion that Jesus was preaching? Simple. Repent and believe. Repent of your sins, and believe in Jesus for your salvation.

Is it really that simple? That I can admit and confess my sins before God, simply ask to be forgiven, and he grants it? No strings attached? No fuss, no muss? It seems too easy. It seems so simple. Shouldn't it be harder than that? A little effort involved? Does God really give away his riches like a fool on a spending spree?

Think on this, “He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all, how will he not also give us all good things?”

The religion of God is the Gospel. It's the good news of Jesus – that by his death on the cross and his rising from the tomb, yes, your sins are forgiven. Yes, your eternal life is secure. Yes, you are pleasing in God's sight, and yes, you live by his Holy Spirit – growing in faith and righteousness. It's all about God's work, not yours. It's all about his promises, not your pipe dreams of self-sufficiency.

But it doesn't happen without Jesus. And that's why people who want to have the religion of the law have to get rid of Jesus.

In the parable, the tenants of the vineyard had this idiotic idea, “if we kill the son, the vineyard will be ours!” Clearly Jesus knew what the Pharisees were up to, and what they would eventually do. His parable shows just how twisted their reasoning was. They really thought they could kill the author of life. They really thought this would solve the problem, and everyone could go back to their nice happy little self-deceptions. Another heretic swept into the dust-bin.

Except - getting rid of Jesus, by seeing him condemned and crucified – it didn't work at all. Death cannot contain him. He rose victorious, and paves the way for the resurrection of his faithful people. The cross only fulfilled his plan. Unwittingly, they had taken part. They truly knew not what they did.

They had rejected the stone, that is, Jesus, but instead of landing on the pile of refuse, he becomes the cornerstone. And a whole church is built upon him. He, Jesus, builds his church. He establishes his people, and the gates of hell will not even prevail against us. Connected to him, built on him, we are solid and sure and strong.

And with this chief cornerstone, Jesus Christ, one of two things happens. Either you fall on him, or he falls on you.

If you fall on him – you are broken to pieces. That is, you are brought to repentance and forgiveness. “a broken and contrite heart” is bound up and healed in him. It's not always the cake-walk some think it to be. And it means the pain of giving up the old ways, breaking the old life, burying the old sins. But it means life. It means blessings. Behind the suffering there is great joy and unspeakable peace. The Christian is quite content to be broken and rebuilt by the architect of our faith, Jesus Christ.

And it's far better than the alternative. For if the stone falls on you, you are crushed – pulverized, even. And this is what awaited the tenants who killed the Son. This is what awaited the Pharisees who killed the Christ. And this is what happens to all who reject the one who came as Savior but will come again as king and judge. He will judge. His justice and wrath will be poured out on the wicked. He will separate sheep from goats, believer from unbeliever. And woe to those who seek to fall back on their own good works, rather than Christ's good work for them. On that day, the religion of man will be exposed as a sham. On that day, there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth, as the wicked are rejected by God for eternity.

But you and I – we fall - by faith - on Jesus. We trust in him for salvation. We repent of our sins, and turn to him for mercy. And he grants it.

May we never, ever, “get rid of Jesus”. By rejecting him outright or by pushing him to the side. By neglecting his word or doubting his promises. May we never trust in our own works, our own religion, or our own false righteousness. May we always rest strong and secure on the Church's One Foundation, Jesus Christ our Lord. For he is the only sure place to stand. And in him, the inheritance is ours forever! Amen.

Sermon - Lent 4 - Luke 15:11-31

Luke 15:11-31
Lent 4
March 14th, 2009
“Reckless Love”

Reckless behavior. That's what sin is. It doesn't care about the consequences or whom it hurts. When you sin you even hurt yourself, but you aren't thinking about that usually. Sin doesn't make sense. It never has. But we do it anyway. It's reckless. Senseless. Foolish. Selfish and short-sighted.

Take the prodigal son. He squandered the inheritance in “reckless living”. Wine, women and song. Drinks are on me. Prostitutes. Gambling. Party hardy. But then it was gone. He hadn't saved for his retirement. He wasn't shopping for bargains. He thought only of himself and his momentary pleasures. He was reckless.

But the recklessness began long before he made it to the foreign land. How bold, how brazen, to ask for his inheritance – long before dad died! Father, I want my money and I want it now. I wish you were dead. Just give me what's coming to me. Reckless with his father's feelings, he cares only for himself.

Reckless – in setting off for a foreign land. Away from the protection of his father's house, to a strange place. He didn't care. All that was good about home and family – he must have thought it was a drag. It kept him from doing what he REALLY wanted to do. Living the high life. He didn't plan it out, he just goes. No GPS, no AAA maps. Reckless. Careless. No thought for tomorrow.

What a picture of sin. What a picture of our sin. We want what we want, and we want it now. We don't care who we hurt. We don't think about the consequences. Or maybe we do, and that doesn't stop us anyway.

Reckless living doesn't just mean sex, drugs and rock and roll. It means rolling the dice with our very soul. It means turning away from the true and sure and perfect word and will of God. It means biting the forbidden fruit and well, maybe God wasn't serious about that dying stuff. It means sin now and pay later. No thought or care for the wake of destruction that will follow.

But we all do it. And we can see what it brings.

The prodigal ended up in the pig-pen. And we too, wallowing in our filth, often find ourselves there too. How did it come to this? How did I get so low? Only at the rock-bottom do we see how good we had it. Only when our chickens come home to roost, only when our sins stand bare and bold before us can we clearly see what we have become. Worse than the pigs. More filthy and disgusting are our sins. We wish we could be those pigs instead. And the hunger begins.

The prodigal son “came to himself” or “came to his senses”. He began to see what his recklessness had wrought. He began to turn, to change his heart and mind, to repent. He started out again for home, to a father he hoped would show him one last kindness – not even forgiveness, but at least a meager job. He didn't even deserve that. It was begging time.

But the prodigal son isn't the only one who is reckless.

The father – he too – reckless. Not in sin and selfishness, but in love and selfless-ness. For what father would grant such a request, “give me my inheritance so I can go spend it!” What father would welcome his son back after he spent it? What recklessness – he might do it again, hurt him again, dishonor him again!

But the father is reckless in his love. He “wastes his time” waiting for his son, and sees him coming from a distance. He must have neglected other duties around the estate. And when he sees him, he runs, recklessly – embraces and kisses his wayward boy. He doesn't care who sees him or what they think of him. He makes a fool of himself.

And he lavishes gifts on the poor boy. A ring, shoes, a robe, a feast. Reckless giving. The son's reckless living didn't matter anymore. He was home, safe and sound. In the loving arms of his father.

The parable is clear. God, our heavenly father, loves us with a reckless love. Though we are reckless in our sins, he loves us abundantly, egregiously, ridiculously. So much so that he gives us what is most precious. Not a ring or a robe, but his only begotten Son. He doesn't kill the fattened calf, he sends the Lamb of God for the sacrifice.

And he does prepare a feast for us prodigals. Each time we come to our senses, with repentant hearts... each time we approach our Lord in confession and faith – he feeds us. He gives us of himself. Body and blood, given and shed for you.
It's lent. Calvary approaches. The disciples say, Jesus, don't go to Jerusalem, it's too dangerous! The Jewish leaders are out to get you! Peter tries to rebuke Jesus. The others just don't get it.

But Jesus sets his face like flint. He his reckless love says, “I know I'll die. Better me than you. This is the plan. That I am about to be arrested and tried, condemned and crucified. And on the third day rise” No thought for himself. Only, always, for you.

His reckless love makes amends for your reckless living. God's own Son for every prodigal son and daughter that ever wallowed in the muck of sin. A love which forgives and forgets – no questions asked, no hoops to jump through. Jesus sinners will receive.

So celebrate with him, and with all of us, the foretaste of the feast to come. And live now as a son or daughter of the Father. All his blessings are for you, in Jesus Christ. Amen.

Sermon - Lent 3 - Luke 13:1-9

Luke 13:1-9
Lent 3
March 7th, 2009
“Righteous and Wicked”

Would you rather be righteous, or wicked? Without the context of Ezekiel 33, most of us would say “righteous”. But look carefully at the words of the prophet and you might want to rethink that.

Ezekiel spoke his words of prophecy to the Israelites in exile. They had seen the destruction of their beloved Jerusalem. They had watched the Babylonians bring down the very temple of God. And they themselves were carted off to a foreign land. It all seemed pretty hopeless.

As a people, this was a major blow. But how would they interpret these events? How would they make sense of the tragedy they had experienced? What would they do with it?

Such questions have vexed us all since the Garden of Eden. What to do with pain and suffering and tragedy. Why do bad things happen to good people? Why doesn't God seem to answer my prayer? Why did my loved one have to die? Why don't my children respect me? Why did I lose my job? How is our family going to make it? Is there any hope for my future? Or am I, are we, finally just lost?

You know, you're not the first, and you won't be the last human to ask those tough questions. But where and how do we find our answers, if there are any?

In our Gospel reading, some people thought they had it figured out. So they asked Jesus, “what about those people from Galillee who died in such a horrible way. You know, when Pilate killed then, and then added insult to injury by mixing their blood with their sacrifices?”

Jesus says, “do you think they were worse than others because they suffered this way? No, I tell you...”

Now let's be careful with our Lord's words. Surely Jesus isn't saying the victims of the tragedy are without sin. Jesus would never contradict such clear teaching of scripture which shows the entire corruption of all mankind. “In sin did my mother conceive me” is true of everyone.

But he says there was no particular sin, no worse sin that caused them to suffer.

If it were so, then the survivors might think they were less sinful, or better off. A sense of self-righteousness might be fed with such a false notion. “Oh, those people suffered because they were wicked. Since we're not suffering, we must be pretty good. God must be pleased with us”. It's the same sort of thinking that blames the people of Haiti for their recent disaster. Blame the victims. They must have deserved it somehow, a well-known preacher declares.

But watch out, Jesus says:

“unless you repent, you will all likewise perish”.

What do we deserve? Are we deserving of God's favor and gratitude? Are we so good and nice and righteous that God wants to reward us with long life, nice things, and little pain? Heavens, no. When tragedy strikes, and even when it doesn't, we're wise to remember what we truly deserve. Temporal and eternal punishment.

What don't we deserve? We certainly don't deserve God's kindness in Jesus Christ – but that's what he gives us. He sends Jesus to stand under the crushing burden of God's wrath. He sends Jesus to die under Pilate's judgment, and be dishonored and shamed before all – his blood shed in the company of real criminals. He didn't deserve any of this, but Jesus takes it all for us.

Jesus, too, calls us to repent. He calls not the healthy, but the sick. Like Elijah – he comes with words of hope and comfort for the wicked, not the righteous.

From the very moment that Adam and Eve sinned, they deserved death. God could have justly punished them immediately, sending them straight to hell, do not pass go. But he didn't. Nor does he punish us directly each and every time we sin. He is patient. He gives many opportunities for repentance.

Like that fig tree, God the owner of the gardener is patient with our lacking fruit of righteousness. He sends gardeners, workers into that field to fertilize and tend to the trees, time and again, that fruit might grow. He sends pastors and teachers to speak his word – aiming for repentance and faith – and the good works that flow from faith. He is a patient God, but his patience has a limit. There is a day of judgment.

So who are you? Which would you want to be? The self-assured righteous man? Someone who trusts in himself and his own goodness? That's a sham. There is no such person. God's law won't let you get away with it.

Or do you admit it? Would you count yourself among the wicked? Those who do what is wrong and evil and rebellious and sinful? Are we that bad? Yes. Repent, Jesus says.

But that's not his last word to the wicked. He who trusts in himself will perish – if not now, then someday. God's patience doesn't last forever. But he who repents will live. He who turns away from his sin and turns to Christ – he who believes in Jesus will live, even though he dies.

I'd rather be wicked, and let Christ bring the righteousness. I'd rather be repentant than to follow my sins to hell. I'd rather trust in Jesus and his cross than my own shabby righteousness, which really isn't impressive at all.

For the Christian, repentance is a daily process. It's a continual return to our baptism, drowning that Old Adam and his sinful desires – as the New Man arises again from the water.

May this Lenten season be a time in which you, too, grow in repentance – and faith. For in Jesus Christ we are called to repentance. And in Jesus Christ we don't get what we deserve. And in Jesus Christ is our true, and our only righteousness.

Sermon - Lent 2 - Philippians 3:7 - 4:1

Philippians 3:7 - 4:1
Lent 2
February 28th , 2009
“Us and Them”

There are certain aspects of our culture that promote an “us and them” mentality. Sports is one of them - who doesn't like to root for “us” and against “them” Then there's politics - Republicans and Democrats. And maybe in some other aspects of life we see that divide.

But there's also a stream of thought in our culture that runs against an “us and them” mentality. When it comes to American spirituality, many would balk at the “us and them” idea. “we're all God's children” we are told. “It doesn't matter what you believe, as long as you believe it.” We are discouraged from making distinctions between, “us and them” because it's judgmental and arrogant and, well, just not nice. “Coexist” the bumper sticker admonishes us.

But what does the Bible teach?

Philippians 3 is quite clear. There are many who “walk as enemies of the cross of Christ” yet, “our citizenship is in heaven.” Other portions of Holy Scripture teach the same. There are sheep and goats. There are the righteous and the wicked. The wise and the foolish. The distinction between “us and them” is often made.

Even in our Gospel reading we see the enemies of the kingdom, and of Christ hard at work. The Pharisees and King Herod, the powers that be in Jerusalem would have him killed. They are the enemies.

But doesn't God love everyone? Didn't Jesus die for the sins of the world? Doesn't he want disciples to be made of all nations? Why these distinctions? What's going on here? And more importantly, how do you and I fit in?

Let me first of all say this is not one of those sermons that is meant to build up the “us” by bashing the “them”. As I often say, one of the worst comments a preacher could hear about his sermon is, “boy, pastor, you really gave it to THEM today!”

Let's be clear. Without Jesus, “we” are “them”. You look at the description Paul gives of the enemies of Christ. And we look a lot like that don't we. We act as if our god is our belly. We sometimes glory in things that are shameful. And we certainly have our minds set on earthly things. In a word, we are sinners. We are “them”. The other team, playing against God, rebelling against his will. We cast our lot in with Satan each time we turn and do what is wrong. Any sermon that blasts sinners for sinning is going to blast each and every one of us. And it should. Paul says it well in Romans 3, “there is NO distinction. ALL have sinned... “

All the more, because we're supposed to be on the right side. We're disciples of Jesus after all. We're not like those unbelievers, those miserable people who have better things to do than worship God except when we are like them. We're not like those people who do whatever we want except we do whatever we want. We're not going around cursing and lying and stealing and hurting others, except, oh yes, we are.

If you don't think you're a sinner, scripture has something to say to you. Just take the 10 commandments, for instance. We're providing a little bulletin insert this Lent about self-examination. Looking at our lives, examining them for sin, in light of the 10 commandments. And a close look reveals much sin. A closer look reveals even more. We're full of wickedness. Like Luther said, “a bag of worms We are the “them” in the “us and them”. And our destiny is destruction. That is, without Christ....

And here's the wonderful paradox, the grand mystery of salvation. To all outward eyes, and to all close examination, there is no difference between us and them, between sinner and saint. The murderer and the holy man are the same - both fall short of God's glory.

But in Christ, the reality changes. In Christ, enemies become friends. In Christ, the wicked are righteous, the foolish become wise, and even the Pharisee becomes a disciple. Though our sins are as scarlet they are made white as snow. Though our body dies and rots and the memory of us fades, we who are in Christ are alive and well and eternally at peace. Our “lowly bodies” become like his “glorious body”

The “us” of the Holy Christian Church is a great place to be. The “us” of the body of Christ, the bride of Christ. There is a mystic sweet communion that we enjoy as members of this body. We are one with Christ, and one with each other. There is no Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female. We are all the same sinners, rotten to the core. Saints forgiven by the blood of the spotless lamb. And in that blessed unity we marvel and wonder.

The only reason “us and them” remains this side of heaven, is because sin still lingers. Though forgiven, though renewed and recreated we still contend with the Old Adam. Our sinful nature, the flesh it's still a part of us. But it's not the ultimate reality.

We are citizens of Heaven. So let's live like who we know we are. Let's take the encouragement of Paul and walk in his example, and in the example of so many faithful before us. That example is one of lifelong repentance of total dependence on the mercy of God in Christ. And yes, it is also an example of good works.... but works of love that flow from faith.

We sing the national anthem at the ball game. We get a little weepy when we see the U.S. Athlete win the gold, and they hang our flag, and play our song. We are citizens of this nation, and they are on our team. We're a part of that. They are “us”.

So let's also rejoice in those saints who have already won the victory, those citizens of heaven who've already set foot on its shores. Let's turn our eyes to that horizon, and eagerly hope for that day when we too join in the new song of eternity, when we receive the crown of righteousness. Let's stand firm all of us in Christ, who makes us one with himself and each other.

Answering the Word with the Word

An interesting insight from the sermon I heard at Pr. Roemke's church this weekend. Preaching on Christ's temptation, he said something like, "When the Devil uses God's Word for his purposes, Jesus answers with God's Word."

We have a hermeneutical principle here! Scripture interprets Scripture! But there's more...

The Devil certainly knows God's Word and uses, or rather, misuses it. One way in which he misuses it is to apply further Law to the penitent, driving him to further despair. Heaping accusations on the guilty, the shame-filled sinner - "Satan" means "Accuser", after all.

Luther experienced this keenly. He personalized his struggle with sin as a struggle with Satan himself. But Jesus stands ready with that other word - of Gospel. The antidote to the devil's barbs and darts of doubt. He speaks to us a different word - a word which puts all accusations away. He reminds us he's paid the price, and our sin is no more.

Does the Devil also misapply the Gospel? Surely so! To those secure in their sins, he gives a "Jesus loves you" pat on the back. What better deception than to bulwark the impenitence of a sinner than by using God's own word to do it!?

And like he tempts Jesus, "doesn't the Word promise, 'you will not strike your foot against a stone?", he also tempts us to believe - inappropriately - in the promises of God. "The threats of the Law don't apply to you, sinner. You will not die."

We understand the proper use of Law and Gospel: The Law for secure sinners. The Gospel for penitent sinners. But Satan, an expert in twisting the Word, must also be an expert in twisting Law and Gospel.

BRTFSSG Clearinghouse

Thanks to Scott Diekmann for putting together a clearinghouse type list of numerous blog posts about the LCMS proposed restructuring: http://stand-firm.blogspot.com/2010/02/blue-ribbon-task-force-on-synod.html

"Casual" Isn't Always Better

If "Casual Fridays" can be taken too far in the workplace - what about the worship-place?

Numerous churches tout their casual or informal worship services, designed to make people more comfortable and at ease. But it's more than casual clothing, it's a casual approach toward God. It's symptomatic of our American culture, but it's not compatible with Lutheran theology.

"Casual worship" sends the wrong message, that sin is no big deal. It also fails to confess well God's presence. As a pastor friend of mine said, "act like God's in the room, because he is!"

Isaiah trembled in fear in the presence of God, "woe to me, I am ruined!" God's presence, his holiness, should first of all make us sinners uncomfortable. I suspect most of us would feel more uneasy in the presence of a famous person than the Lord of Creation.

Where's the awareness of our sin? Adam and Eve sought to hide their shame with fig leaves. But God provided the covering for them. We may seek to hide our shame and imperfections, but God provides all the covering we need in Christ.

Even so, that doesn't mean we should treat God lightly, or casually. Forgiveness doesn't mean we should no longer fear God. We are still the creature, and he the creator. We are still the beggars, pleading for our very lives and trusting in his mercy.

I'm reminded of something Pastor Petersen said once...

There are those among us who think the Gospel is best or most fully expressed as a casual, comfortable relationship with God. For them the resurrection of Jesus Christ means no fussiness, no solemnity, no seriousness, or formality. It is not enough that Jesus is your friend, He must be your bosom buddy. He is the kind of God you could go fishing with. It'd be okay if you hadn't showered and smelled like fish, if you wiped you nose on your sleeve. If you belched He'd laugh. He is the kind of God who likes greasy snack foods and licks His fingers. It is not really the Gospel for these people unless you can say: "Hey, Jesus, pull my finger." For them He is the kind of God you can tease. He understands. That is why they're always telling us He has a sense of humor (His sense, by the way, is always the same as theirs.) The bottom line though is that they find nothing to be afraid of in their God. They do not mean to be disrespectful. It is simply that they are completely and utterly comfortable with Him. It is this theology that creates casualness and unpreparedness in those who lead worship. They are sloppy on purpose. They want to show there is nothing to be uptight or worried about.