Definition #3?

Or, "Another 'Is Mormonism a Cult" Blog Post"

No one denies that Mormonism and Traditional Christianity are different.  But, perhaps because of some high-profile national political figures, many Christians have taken to calling Mormonism a "cult".  Is this true?  Is it good for us to do so?

I won't take time to build the case that Mormonism is far different from traditional Christianity.  Others have done that sufficiently well.  Check here, for one good summary.   So I guess we could say, it's fairly straightforward to define "what is a Mormon".  They have certain stated beliefs.
 
But the word that causes heartburn is "cult".  It's a loaded term with lots of pejorative connotations.  Is Mormonism a cult?

I think for most of us, we associate the term with some of the infamous cults, like Heaven's Gate, Jim Jones & co.  Small groups of brainwashed followers with a manipulative leader.  The cult leader abuses, even sexually abuses, his followers and cuts them off from family and the outside world.  He becomes the center of worship, the sole arbiter of truth - and often the cultists claim to be the only "true believers" while all other religion is corrupt. Sometimes suicide or self destructive behavior ensues.  David Koresh and the Branch Davidians.  But that's the picture in our minds.

Certainly modern, mainstream Mormonism doesn't fit this picture.  Honest Christians will note a distinction between the above paragraph and the "Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints".  Most Mormons are fully integrated members of society, fairly sane, decent people just like the rest of us.  They don't seclude themselves, and they are about to kill themselves and catch the next comet that passes by.

But not so fast.  A careful study of Mormonism's origins, and of its founder, Joseph Smith, tells a different story.  Smith's questionable character, polygamous lifestyle, dubious and conflicting accounts of his miraculous visions and experiences are just the beginning.  Early Mormonism matched the cult-like connotations we've described far better than it does today.  And honest Mormons should be willing to take a fair look at this history - from sources that don't simply parrot a white-washed party line.

So one might make the case, that while Mormonism began as a cult - under our working definition of such - it has grown into something -else.  Isn't it now a full-fledged religious system?

While thinking about the always helpful "definition of terms", I came to the dictionary definition of the word "cult".  You might be surprised to find several definitions, including:

1: formal religious veneration : worship

 

2: a system of religious beliefs and ritual; also : its body of adherents

 

3: a religion regarded as unorthodox or spurious; also : its body of adherents 

 

By the dictionary definitions 1 and 2, even Christians would be considered a cult!  

 

But it's definition #3 that may be most applicable.  Here we could define any false-teaching religion.  Here we have to get into the nitty-gritty of what is false and what is true.  Here is where one's confession of faith and doctrinal assertions come to bear.  Is Mormonism a cult?  By definition #3, a right-teaching Christian would say, yes.  But is this really helpful?

And the related question - "Are Mormons Christians?"... well, likewise, it depends on your definition of terms.  Are they a religion that believes in Jesus?  Yes.  Do they follow his teachings?  They think they do.  And so they think of themselves as Christians.  Traditional Christians would disagree, and point to the many ways Mormons get Jesus wrong.  "You can't have the word Christian," we argue, "it's ours."

What I suggest is that neither of these arguments are fruitful in most public discourse.  Many people don't know what a "cult" is or isn't.  And which definition is in play?  Even Christians can't always agree on what it means to be a Christian.  

 

Do these arguments - whether they are a cult, and whether they are Christian - really help the discussion?  Are these the real issues?  Or do they amount to a form of name-calling that distract from the real issues?

I think the real issue is this:  Mormonism, whatever you call it, is different.  It is a distinctly different religion than traditional Christianity.  And that's a good enough starting point for me.  

 

Of course I think they get it wrong.  As a confessional Lutheran, I believe I get it right.  But maybe there are better ways for Christians to bring all this up in the public square - ways which don't needlessly offend with questionably applicable categories.  

 

It's offensive enough to tell someone they are wrong these days, without calling him a cultist.

Three Reactions to the Law

We've often talked about the three functions or uses of the law, Curb, Mirror and Guide.  I suppose this discussion would fall under function number 2, the Mirror.  In terms of how the law shows us our sin, or, what we see in the mirror when we look.  There are three ways of looking.

When the law is preached, or applied to the sinner, and it does not go in one ear and out the other, we can observe three distinct products or reactions:

1) Self-righteous hypocrisy
Some hear the law and say, "I have kept this", much like the rich young man (Mark 10) who questioned Jesus.  But wanting to justify himself, he couldn't see that he actually broke the law.  The law, to him, was a weak shadow of the true law.  This was not because of a lack in the preacher (Jesus), but the hardness of his heart and the rationalization of his mind kept him from hearing the law's perfect demands. 

To be sure, some preachers lend this kind of law all on their own, however.  A de-fanged, de-clawed law that doesn't kill but only roughs you up a bit before you dust yourself off and feel even more righteous.  This reaction to the law is poisonous to faith, because it obscures our need for a savior, it covers our true depravity with a fig leaf of supposed good works, and it leaves the sinner in self-deception that he is right with God on his own merits.


2) Despair and unbelief
Truly sad is the sinner who sees his sin, and perhaps even feels sorry for it, but sees no hope of remedy.  If we look only within ourselves, it's true, we are doomed.  We can't hope to repay God for our misdeeds.  We can't hope to straighten up from here on out.  We are blind, dead, and at war with our very creator.  Truly seeing behind the veneer of a self-righteous hypocrisy might lead one to utter despair.  The conscience bears down on you like a boulder on your heart, such a worm, so despicable. 

The hopelessness of this despair  reminds us of Judas, who felt sorry for his sin, but having no faith or hope in Christ, hanged himself.  Despair and unbelief are worse - a kind of spiritual suicide.

3) Contrition which seeks Christ for forgiveness
The great blessing of the law though, is that it drives us to despair - but in preparation for the hope and joy of the Gospel!  To die, only to know the life he brings.  Yes, without knowing our sin, how could we know our savior?  Without knowing the severity of our sin, how could we appreciate the depth of his forgiveness?  Without a daily, hard, cold look in the mirror, and a true view of the ugliness of our own sin, how can we daily know the forgiveness that flows from our baptism?  This is the great blessing of the law - that it prepares us for the Gospel.  It is the diagnosis before the treatment, the plowing of the dead field before the seed is planted and flourishes.  The law lowers us down into the grave and shovels on the dirt, only for the trumpet call of Christ to bust our tombs open and burst death open into life.

Here our biblical example is King David, who, called out for his sin with Bathsheba - confessed it and looked to God for mercy.  The words of Psalm 51, "create in me a clean heart, oh God, and renew a right spirit within me" are the words of a penitent but faithful man who looks to a merciful God for forgiveness.  In other words, a Christian.


Thanks be to God for the Law, holy and perfect, which shows us our sin, wretched and vile as it is.  And thanks be to God for the Gospel of Jesus Christ, whose holy and perfect life and death make us holy and perfect by grace through faith in him.

Sermon - Matthew 21:23-32 - Pentecost 15

Matthew 21:23-32
Pentecost 15
September 25th, 2011
“Mind Changing”

Today's Gospel reading from Matthew takes place during Holy Week. It was after the Triumphal Entry on Palm Sunday, when Jesus rode on a donkey and signaled with powerful symbolic action his arrival as the Messiah. It was also after his cleansing of the temple, driving out the money-changers. And while there he also healed some who were blind and lame. By word and deed Jesus was exerting his authority, his rightful authority, as the Son of Man and the Son of God come to His holy city.

Oh, and those of human authority didn't like it too much. The scribes and pharisees tried to trick him, trip him up in his words. Instead they showed themselves to be the fools. Outfoxed by the creator of foxes and pharisees. Jesus has authority to do these things and much more. He even has authority to lay down his life and take it up again, as he soon would. He has authority to forgive sins, and delegates that to his church and her pastors. But he doesn't answer to human blowhards and pompous men who think themselves something when they are nothing. He will not be fooled.

But Jesus still doesn't write them off entirely. He tells them a parable, which, had they ears to hear, would have set them in the right direction: The owner of a vineyard has two sons, and tells them both to go work in the vineyard. The first son says he won't, but changes his mind and goes. The second son says he will go, but never does. Now which of the two did the will of his Father?

The question behind the question isn't about the 2 sons, it's about what it means to be a son in the vineyard. It's about what it means for you to do the will of God, and to be a child of God. It's a comparison between people who think they have their act together, like the pharisees and scribes, and those those who change their minds and actually do God's will.

The pharisees were all talk. If you'd ask them how well they keep God's law, they'd likely tell you about all their good works. They'd tell you how they carefully keep the law and live a holy life. They give what the law requires, do what the law demands, learn it, know it, and follow it. Their self-assured piety and arrogant self-righteousness would hardly know any bounds. And they certainly would have given themselves good marks compared with the tax collectors and prostitutes.

But for all the appearance of goodness and holiness, that's not what was in their hearts. And that's not how God saw them. And that's not what they looked like compared with the perfect standard of his law.

You can see where we're going, cant you? What good church going member of Grace Lutheran wouldn't also tell you all about their credentials? I go to church, I volunteer, I give what I can. I try to be nice to people. I'm not perfect, but I'm better than those perverts and criminals. I don't beat my wife. I pay my bills. I'm a good citizen. And while all those things are nice and fine, they amount to little more than talk, talk. For that perfect standard of God's law leaves us nowhere to hide our sins. The darkness of our hearts isn't dark enough to disguise the evil that lurks within, and often peaks out into out lives. We may do a pretty good job of keeping up appearances, but what sinner doesn't say one thing and do another – when it comes to our own righteousness.

Jesus compares the two sons, and what do we see? the one who says the right thing – who appears to be together – who tells his Father what he wants to hear – but then does his own thing. But then there's that other who says he won't but later changes his mind and does his father's will. Changes his mind. In other words, repents.

That's what repent means – to turn around, do an about face, to change one's mind, indeed, one's whole orientation. It's not about doing penance, or making up for your wrongs. It's a change of attitude or spirit – a turning away from sin and toward Christ in faith. A turning from death to life. A turning from falsehood to truth, from self-righteousness to God-given righteousness.

This is why the tax collectors and prostitutes are better off. Not because of their sin, but because of their repentance. The pharisees had no repentance. John the Baptist made it plain to them – Repent! Still, they didn't think they had sins to repent for. But many big-time sinners who came to faith in Jesus did. They came crawling and crying in humble faith, to the only one who could and would forgive their grievous sins.

So which son did the Father's will? The first. That they got right. But which kind of son will you be?

The one that is talk, talk? The one that claims a righteousness of your own? The one that says, “I keep the commandments” and lives such a lie?

Or will you be honest that you haven't, that you don't, that you can't do God's will? Will you admit your sins, your wicked thoughts and words and deeds, and bring them to where they belong? To the cross of Jesus Christ? Repent. Change your mind. Let go, turn away from those sins, and turn in faith toward Christ who is our only righteousness.

And he will, and he does forgive you! This is his will. This is God's will. That sinners repent and believe in Christ. You want to do the will of God? It's not about the illusion that you can keep his commands. It's about the repentance and faith that comes as a gift from God himself – that he changes us, changes our minds and hearts and spirits – from utterly lost sinners to dearly beloved children. From dead men walking to eternally living.

Oh, and one other thing. Jesus still shares a table with repentant sinners. Come receive his gifts today, child of God, here at his altar. Amen.

Sermon - Matthew 20:1-16 - Pentecost 14

Matthew 20:1-16 
Pentecost 14 
September 18th, 2011 
“It's Not Fair!” 

The first will be last, and the last will be first, Jesus often says. God has a way of doing the unexpected, the opposite of what we think should be. He turns things backwards. Or maybe we are the ones who have things backwards.

In the parable of the workers in the vineyard, the workers find it all so unfair. When the master pays them the same as those who haven't worked as long, they whine and complain. They find the master's sense of justice doesn't always line up with their own. And we can relate.

For from an early age we gain a sense of what is far. How many times a day do my children tell me my parental policy or decision is “not fair”?

There's an online bank that runs commercials these days which use humor to show that “even a kid knows it's not fair...” the way some other banks treat their customers.

But when we find ourselves in a place to question divine justice, it's no laughing matter.

Since the days of Job and well before, humans have questioned God's sense of fair play. Today the militant atheists love to engage Christians in debate over how a supposedly good God can allow so much evil in the world. If you ever have a chance to engage such a person, beware – for they come to the battle well-armed. They are skilled at putting God on trial, putting his governance under the microscope, and revel in pronouncing him guilty of malevolent rule, that is, right before they deny he exists.

Even we believers question God from time to time. And often those questions come from suffering – our own, or someone we care about. Why does God let it happen this way? And if there has to be evil in the world, why does it come to my door? Why here, and now? We might be led to the conclusion that we did something particularly wrong or bad – worse than all the rest. But that's not so. We might be led to think that God simply forgets about us, but we know that isn't the case either. So is God just a fickle master? Giving and withholding his blessings here and there, with no rhyme or reason? And face it, don't we all think we would be a better judge of what is fair?

But who are we to turn our human sense of fairness against God? Yet that's what we do. When troubles come. When suffering finds us. When tragedy strikes. “It's not fair God!” we cry. At least in our hearts.

We, too, try to subject the Almighty to our own limited, sinful, self-deluded sense of fair play. But thank God you are not God! Thank God he, in his ultimate wisdom, and in his mysterious judgment, is the one who calls the shots. His ways are above our ways. His thoughts are higher than our thoughts.

The master in the parable scolds the servants who think that he hasn't been fair. After all, it's his money, his right to do with it as he sees fit. And he knows better than those servants do.

Likewise with us. If God were truly just with us, and treated us as we deserve - according to our sins, we would all receive the same for our day's work. We'd get “fired”, and I don't mean Donald Trump style. We would face temporal and eternal punishment. We'd go straight to Hell, do not pass go. That would be fair. For he set the rules up long ago – the soul that sins shall die. And we poor souls do a lot of sinning, and deserve death by the boatload.

But God is not only just, he is merciful. He must punish sin, and hold to his word, there is a price of blood – but the merciful God does not desire the death of sinners. So he provides for our salvation. He sends Jesus to pay the price – the wages of sin – death – the cross. There, Jesus bears the fires of hell. He swallows death whole and spits out the bones. He takes all the bad we deserve, and gives us all the good we don't deserve. Jesus blows fair play to smithereens, at least when it comes to us poor miserable sinners.

God doesn't pay rewards, so much as he bestows gifts – by his grace and mercy, for the sake of Christ. We all deserve the same – nothing, and worse. He gives us all the same – Christ, and all blessings.

And it doesn't really matter how long or hard we work. It doesn't matter how much scripture we've memorized, or whether we've gone to seminary, or whether we've had a conversion experience. It doesn't matter how little you think you sin, or how much you love your neighbor. Whether you volunteer at a soup kitchen, or deliver meals on wheels, or wash feet or wipe noses.. You need to do all those good works because he commands and because, well, you should. But they won't get you your spiritual payday.

Don't let all of that be a distraction from the real denarius – the gift of God's grace in Christ. The wage we didn't really earn. The salary we never ever deserved. God gives us what is right – not according to our sin – but according to his grace in Christ, who earned it all for us. That's his sense of fair play.

Oh, and He doesn't hand it out in the field or vineyard – but he distributes it here in his presence – in the word preached and proclaimed and in the sacrament given and shed for you. Here you line up with the other laborers in your corner of the kingdom. And here you receive the free grace in hand and mouth. Jesus Christ is that reward, and all the blessings that come with him.

So the next time you find yourself questioning God's fairness, do not grow angry or offended at your kind master, but rejoice. Rejoice that he does not treat us as we deserve, but for the sake of Christ, that he gives us good gifts galore. That he forgives our sins, restores our life, and promises us a future hope forever. And life's ups and downs, even the worst sufferings we face, will find meaning and perspective through Christ. We are here in the vineyard but a short time. But the reward is forever. And thank God it's not fair. In Jesus Christ, Amen.

The Bride

A friend of mine likes to say, “All men marry up!” In other words, all husbands are made better by their wives, whom they don't deserve. I think there's some worldly wisdom in that, but it made me think deeper. What about the great spiritual marriage of the Lamb and of his Bride the Church?

Jesus Christ is the Bridegroom, and we, the church, are his Bride. So Scripture paints the picture. In Revelation 21, for example, you have the Bride beautifully adorned and presented to her husband:

Then came one of the seven angels who had the seven bowls full of the seven last plagues and spoke to me, saying, “Come, I will show you the Bride, the wife of the Lamb.” And he carried me away in the Spirit to a great, high mountain, and showed me the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God, having the glory of God... (Rev. 21:9-11a)

Here, the church in her glory is pictured not only as the Bride but also as the Holy City of Jerusalem, but in idealized form. Radiant like a jewel, 12 magnificent gates, streets paved of gold... but no temple. For the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb ARE the temple. There is such perfect union with God, that his people don't need a special place to meet Him. He is with them always, perfectly.

So it's really proper to say, in this case, the Bride “marries up”. He finds His Bride in the gutter, dirty and dead. With all the ugliness and impurity of our sin, helpless and hopeless. But the Bridegroom rescues us from all of that. He restores, renews, even resurrects us and takes us to the altar. He pledges Himself to us forever. Not even death will us part.

We, the church, marry up, not only to a far better bridegroom than we deserve, but we marry up to an blessed eternity and a glorious forever with our God. Because the Bridegroom died and rose. The dowry, the bridal price, is paid in His blood, more precious than all the gold in the world. And yet, like all His gifts, it is given freely.

In other words, YOU are blessed to be a part of that great spiritual marriage. You are part of the Body of Christ, connected to Him in Baptism, sustained at the rail with his own Body and Blood. You are blessed to hear His Word, that life-giving, life-sustaining word of Gospel. And in that Word, the promises abound. The future is bright. In that Word, Heaven is yours.

Sermon - Matthew 16:13-20 - Pentecost 10

Matthew 16:13-20
Pentecost 10
August 21st , 2011
“Son of the Living God”

Caeserea Phillipi, or what is left of it, is one of the many places we visited on our trip to Israel in 2007. What is left of it, is, frankly, not much.

In Jesus' day, it was a bustling city – the administrative center for Herod the Tetrarch. It was also heavily influenced by the Hellenization of Alexander the Great – who brought his Greek culture with him. Today, the city is gone, the people are all dead of course, and there is some architectural rubble and a tourist site.

There's also a few striking caves. Well, they probably started out as caves, but were long ago carved into squarish openings for purposes of pagan worship. This was a temple dedicated to the god “Pan”. One very large, and many smaller niches were carved out to display the statues of Pan and other pagan gods and goddesses. It was probably all pretty striking in its day.

Jesus takes his disciples to this region, perhaps even standing in front of that large temple, and asks them, “who do men say that I am?” And it's no accident he does that with the pagan gods as his backdrop.

“Who do men say that I am?” The answers are numerous, almost as numerous as the niches and statues of pagan gods. John the Baptist, Jeremiah, Elijah, one of the prophets... The options about Jesus are almost as many as the menu of pagan gods to worship.

Our backdrop today is just as bad, just as pagan, maybe worse. There's a menu of choices out there when it comes to religion. But there are rules to the game. You have to choose for yourself whatever your personal spirituality is about. You worship who you want when you want how you want (or don't worship at all). But the main thing is, you choose.

And the other main thing is – don't be a true Christian. Don't talk about Jesus, specifically. Don't talk about his birth. Certainly don't talk about his death and resurrection. Don't say what he says – that he, Jesus, is the only way to heaven. Don't repeat his offensive gospel. And don't, whatever you do, don't say that Jesus is the only true God, the Son of the Living God!

But that's what Peter did. He stood there looking at Jesus against all these statues and places of worship and false, pagan, inanimate idol gods. And when prompted, it came to him. “Jesus, you are the Christ, the Son of the Living God!” Peter made the good confession. He said about Jesus what God had already said about him, at his baptism. “This is my Son”. He said about Jesus what was the reality from eternity. He said about Jesus what set Jesus apart from all these gods of stone and wood. Jesus is the Son of the Living God. He's different. He's for real. He's alive!

Peter is blessed. Not so much because he got it right, but because he was given this knowledge, this confession, this faith – by God. Like all good things when it comes to God, it was a gift. Even though Peter was a sinner. Even though in 2 minutes Peter would be telling Jesus to forget about all that crazy crucifixion talk. Even though Peter, and the other disciples, and you and I sin and sin and sin again. Still the Living God gives us blessings through his Son, Jesus Christ.

Oh we're all pagan enough. We don't live in Caeserea Phillipi, but we all have little niches carved out for the gods of our life. We give a place to sinful thoughts of pride and greed, a platform for sinful words of gossip and deception and anger, and a grand stand for our actual deeds of evil – and our failures to do good. Every time you depart from God's law and do what seems best to you at the time, you might as well bow down at the altar to Pan or Zeus or Baal.

Or more truthfully, you make yourself to be god. You take the throne, set the rules, call the shots. That's what sinners have wanted to do since Eden – be like God. But you're not God. And trying to be him only leads to death.

But the word of God, the true word of the Living God, calls us away from all of that death. He calls us to repent, to turn, and live. He sets before us Jesus. And Jesus is the Son of the Living God.

He does the Living God's business and brings life to the dead people. He wins that life by dying and rising to life again. He becomes the source of life for all who believe in him. Because he lives, and will never die, we live, and will never die. The Son of the Living God, and he makes us children of God and gives us a share in his eternal life.

And Jesus builds his church. Not hewn out of rock, or converted from a cave. He builds it by baptism and teaching, living stone by living stone, disciple by disciple. He, of course, is the chief cornerstone.

And to his church, he gives the keys to Heaven, the keys which unlock its gates. The authority to forgive sins in his name. The gates of Hell shudder at the thought, for they can never prevail against the church built on Christ.

Maybe in a couple thousand years some archaeologist will dig up the ruins of our civilization. And maybe they'll ponder our strange culture and unusual religious practices (or lack thereof). But long after the religions of man are gone, the Son of the Living God will be alive.

And long after this building crumbles, and Grace Lutheran Church is but a memory, if that, still... The People of God will still be confessing Jesus, the Son of the Living God. And his true church will remain, and will still be unlocking heaven for poor sinners like you and me.

Until that day he has appointed, when all will be changed, and all the fallen temples of our flesh are raised to stand for judgment. But even then, in Christ, we will live – forever. Hell will not prevail. Death will be no more. For Jesus is alive, the Son of the Living God, and his blood covers your sins, forever. Amen.

Sermon - Matthew 15:21-28 - Pentecost 9

Matthew 15:21-28
Pentecost 9
August 14th, , 2011
“Crumbs, Please!”

The woman's request was urgent. It's one thing to have a need for yourself, but this was for her daughter. Who knows what other avenues she had exhausted. Doctors. Shaman. Folk remedies. Probably just about everything. Nothing had helped so far. She was desperate. She needed help.

What about you? Are you aware of the problem? Do you know what's facing you? Or are you cruising on autopilot? If you do know it, you might even be desperate. Have you tried everything? Have you tried to fix yourself all by yourself? Solve your own problems? Oh the little things we can handle, but the big problem staring at all of us is our own sin. Why can't we just knuckle down and stop sinning? Can't we just think positive? Can't we try harder? No, none of that works. We go on doing the things we hate, breaking God's law. Failing to love him and our neighbor. The inescapable punishment, the wrath of God hangs over the heads of all sinners. That nagging sense of gloom is real. We deserve condemnation. We should be just as desperate as that woman. We need help.

But she had some strikes against her. She was a woman. She was a foreigner. She was a pagan Canaanite. Not even the religious half-blood Samaritan type the Jews so hated. She was entirely an outsider, and perhaps the least likely person to expect a blessing from the Jewish Messiah.

We too, don't have a leg to stand on. In fact our very problem of sin is the same reason we shouldn't expect anything but God's disapproval. He hates sin, and we have lots of it. We aren't a holy people by birth, but original sinners. We are more like Adam and Eve, who spat in God's face and broke the one law he gave. And nothing we can do makes it better. The harder we try to be good, the more we see our shortcomings. We are so far removed from His holiness. It's as hopeless as we are helpless. So we're stuck with sin, and all that sin brings, including its wages. We can sympathize with St. Paul who wondered, “Who will rescue me from this body of death?” We can know how trapped this woman was with her demon possessed daughter. Her enemy was way out of her control. Her problem was way bigger than she was. So is ours.

But she knew who could help. The rumors were telling of a miracle worker. The scuttlebutt was that this Jesus had done all these wonderful things, and that now, for some reason, he was coming to her region, near her home. Hope began to flicker as the possibility of a miracle formed in her mind. All other avenues were exhausted. All other helpers had failed. If there was any hope for her, Jesus was that one last hope.

So she cried out as needy sinners often do to their Savior. But then something strange happens. Jesus puts her off.

We don't know why he does it. Was he teasing her? Was he testing her faith? Making some sort of point? Suffice it to say, while we don't know his motives, as is often the case with God. When you call to him, why doesn't he answer right away? Why does it sometimes seem like he's acting out of character? Why does it seem like he's not keeping his promises?

The only answer to this is faith. And the Canaanite woman has faith in abundance. She is not deterred by the outward appearance of Jesus shutting her down. She persists in trusting the only one who can help her. And he does not disappoint.

She also humbled herself. He calls her a dog – not a nice term by today's standards, and also back then, too. The dogs where the outsiders, the non-Jews, the low-life scum. A dog wasn't seen the way we often treat them – like a member of the family, you see, but was a filthy animal. Far less than human.

Rather than be insulted by such a designation, she embraces it. Rather than be put off by her dog-ness, her faith barks and yaps for table scraps. For even the crumbs from his table are far more precious than gold.

We too, must humble ourselves to receive his gifts. He says we are sinners, and we could act all indignant and offended. He says we deserve death, and we could argue with him how good and worthy we are. But let's not. Let's face the facts. Let's be what we are – poor miserable sinners worthy of temporal and eternal punishment. Let's be who we are, people who actually need help, actually need a Savior. And let him be who he is – the Savior. The one who does come to help, and save.

He could give us crumbs, and we'd be happy with that. But he gives us so much more. He could give us a rich feast, but he gives us so much more. He lives perfection and gives us all the credit. And he dies on the cross in ultimate humility to bring us from the lows to the highest high. To rescue us from sin, death, hell, all the forces of evil. To destroy the demon that possessed that little girl, and to defeat the prince of demons who holds all sinners in his clutches. Jesus give us everything he has – and more.

And he does give us a feast of forgiveness – his own body and blood. Far more than crumbs from the table, but only the best for us, his children.
Here according to his promise, he is present for us. Here, just as he says, we receive forgiveness. And where there is forgiveness, there is always life and salvation. Even for sinners. Even for dogs. For people who see the need, even the desperate. For people who are humble enough to see it, by faith, that we need what he gives. And he gives so much more than we could ask.

On Submitting to One's Husband...

Conservative Christians who take the Bible seriously and live in modern American society have to wrestle with what it means in Ephesians 5:22-24, where God says through St. Paul "Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord".

Most of us pastor types who teach this concept are good at pointing out what "submission" DOESN'T mean. It's not that a cowering wife whimpers in fear of her abusive and misogynistic husband. It's not, "honey, get me a beer and rub my feet", "Oh, yes, dear."

We're also pretty good at pointing to the overall principle of Christians submitting to one another (Eph 5:21) out of reverence for Christ.

The rest of the chapter goes on to talk about the Husband's particular role as Christ to his wife. And what does Christ do for his bride, the church? He loves her, protects, nourishes her, and ultimately dies for her. So there is an emphasis on self-sacrifice for the husband that isn't nearly as culturally upstream as the submission.

But none of that tells us directly what this principle of the submissive wife actually looks like in action.

Michelle Bachmann, when asked about submitting to her husband recently, said it basically means "we respect each other". Thus she dodged the question, really, and reinterpreted the distinction of spousal roles with the equalitarian (and oh-so-American) principle of mutual respect. Maybe a good political tactic, but a dreadful theological answer.

So what DOES it mean to submit? What are some positive examples? What kind of thing is a wife called to do that a husband isn't?

Sermon - Matthew 14:22-33 - Pentecost 8

Matthew 14:22-33
Pentecost 8
August 7th, , 2011
“Why Did You Doubt?”

It all happened so fast. The disciples were probably still trying to figure out what had happened. Jesus fed 5000 men, plus the women and children, with just 5 loaves and 2 fish. And they had 12 baskets full of leftovers. A miracle. They must have been a-buzz.

Then Jesus dismisses the crowds, puts his disciples in a boat and sends them to the other side of the sea. He goes off alone, to pray. And when night falls, the disciples are probably not thinking about the miraculous feeding anymore. The wind is against them. The waves are lapping the boat. These experienced fishermen know that this isn't ideal sailing weather, but Jesus sent them out here anyway. It seems that one way or another, they usually find trouble out on the sea.

When Jesus sends us out, it is also into a world full of danger an trouble. But more than just wind and waves, and dark of night. We face spiritual forces of evil, the devil, the sinful world. Even the enemy within us. Yes, I believe I am my own worst enemy. My own dark heart provides quite enough for me to contend with, and more. I need more than an ally or a helper in this fight. I need a savior. You need a savior.

But Jesus knows what he's doing. And he miraculously comes to his struggling disciples. Why weren't they expecting him? Because he came in an unexpected way. People don't walk on water. But Jesus is also the Son of God, and the Lord of Creation. He comes to help his people, and he comes how he pleases. No laws of nature or forces of physics stand in his way.

So too, Jesus comes to us, as he pleases and also as he promises. He comes in the strong word of the Gospel, a word which cleanses and creates and gives life to dead sinners like you and me. A far greater miracle than mere water-walking. He comes in the water of holy baptism, a one time washing which lasts forever. And he comes, miraculously, in the bread and wine of his sacrament. He comes to help, to forgive, to bless, to give, and encourage and to save.

But we doubt it. Things get in the way. The disciples didn't think it was really him. They thought it was a ghost. Superstition got in the way. Fear blinded them. They didn't trust him.

Have you ever seen those “trust exercises”? Where someone in the group is told to fall backwards while someone else will catch them? I've never been a fan of those. You couldn't pay me to do it. Besides, the bigger they are, the harder they fall.

But you can always fall back on Jesus. You can always trust him to do what he says, and give what he requires. He asked Peter to do something impossible – walk on water. But he also gave him the ability to do it. Likewise, he calls us to do something impossible – to trust him with our lives, our very eternal lives. But he also gives us the faith to do it.

And when did Peter start to have problems? When he took his eyes off of Jesus. When instead of looking at Jesus, he looked at the wind and wave. When he began to trust rational logic, “uh, men don't walk on water” over the clear word of Jesus. When he doubted Christ and looked to his own devices, he began to fall, to sink, to die.

But his faith knew enough to call out, “Lord, save me!”

Just when it seems the darkest, the most fearful, the most overwhelming wind and wave are about to do you in. Jesus is standing right there, with his strong arm, grabbing you from death's clutches.

The same Jesus who brings Peter up from certain death to the safety of the boat brings us, his people, from certain death to the safety of his church. He pulls us, renewed, out of the water of Baptism. He calms the wind and storm and chases our fears away with his presence and his promise, given in his meal. With Jesus as our Savior, there is nothing to fear.

Even if you should sink down into the grave, it doesn't matter. His promise stands and his strong arm will prevail. This is our hope. This is our confidence. For he went down the the grave. He faced the depths of death for us. And he rose victorious. No small miracle. But even more, he promises us a resurrection like his. We will rise and live, because he is alive!

Jesus gently chides Peter, and us: “Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?” Yes, we have little faith. We pray for more. We have far more fear and doubt than we want. We pray him to take them away. But more than a lecture, these gentle words of Jesus are a reminder that there's no need for doubt. With him right there, everything was always going to be ok. Why did you doubt? It's a rhetorical question. It's another way of saying, you don't need to doubt. You don't need to fear. I am with you always, to the end of the age.

Notice, the disciples see Jesus, and he's not how they expect him – so they fear. He says fear not. He tells them who he is. Dear, impetuous Peter asks for more proof, and is willing to go out and meet his Lord. But he, too, begins to fear. And Jesus does what Jesus does – he saves. He shows, and he tells – why there is no need for fear.

And so for you, dear Christian. There's no need to fear the wind and wave. There's no need to fear death and punishment. Jesus has already sunk down to the depths of death for you – only to raise you up with him. He has already faced our worst possible fears, and come out victorious. His strong arm will rescue you, too. When they lay your cold clay in the ground, and a doubting world would say you are a goner. Then the same Jesus will take you in his arms and welcome you to the safety oh his eternity. He'll wipe away every tear, and one day return to make all things new – restoring even your body to live and walk again. Maybe he'll even gently chide you, too. “Why did you doubt it?” In Jesus Name, Amen.

The Gentle Art of Eliciting Confession

A question of pastoral practice. How does one, in a counseling situation, bring someone who is caught in a sin, to confess it as such? Especially for your average church-goer who isn't accustomed to actually confessing his sins before a pastor in person (apart from corporate confession).

I believe it usually takes a gentle approach. It takes a keen sense of where the person is "at" in regard to his sin. Is he just fine with it? Does he even know it's a sin? Would he defend it? I believe this is what Luther meant when he said anyone who could rightly divide Law and Gospel deserved a doctorate in theology. He wasn't talking about in the sermon - but in dealing with the individual sinner.

Often times, however, there's a situation in which the sinner knows his sin, but doesn't know how to put it into words. This is where the pastor can help.

Start with the commandments. Explain, in humility, how all have sinned. But also, gently, show what commandment is being, or has been broken. Body language will often clue you in to the sinner's response to the law. Often times when they don't say anything, you can still see they are stricken. Experience will help the pastor to discern here.

It can be helpful to give them the words. "When I have sinned, I find it helpful to confess, by saying..." or "Would you say that you feel such-and-such?" Acknowledge the awkwardness of this kind of conversation. Be kind. Imagine yourself in the penitent's shoes.

In the end, I don't think we need to burden people by dragging out an actual, verbal, specific confession from THEIR lips (though it would be preferable). I think it's enough to ascertain that they agree with your assessment of it:

"This is how I see it. You have committed a sin. You are here today, having this awkward conversation with your pastor about it. But you seem sorry for it, and you want to do better. Right?" This sort of thing. Basically you're only asking them for an "amen". And if you can, give them the words of the rite of private confession and absolution. But even that won't happen all the time.

After all, the liturgy gives us the words to speak - when we speak our corporate confession. When we confess our faith. We are saying, "amen".

What a blessing it is to pronounce that absolution, "I forgive you your sins..." But an even greater blessing for the penitent to hear. May we help them to receive those words of absolution by helping them to articulate, to verbalize, even if only a little... to confess that sin.

Sermon - Matthew 13:44-51 - Pentecost 6

Matthew 13:44-51
Pentecost 6
July 24th, 2011
“A Keeper”

Growing up in Baltimore, near the Chesapeake Bay, we would on occasion go “crabbing”. There are various ways to catch Maryland Blue Crabs, but one way is in basket-trap. You bait it, and then you come back later and pull it up.

But you can't just keep whatever you find in that crab-pot. Sometimes you have to throw the females back, during a certain season of the year. And for the males, there's a minimum size of 5 inches from point to point. I'm sure when you go fishing for other kinds of fish, similar rules apply. But when you get that one that meets the requirements, you can consider your fishing or crabbing excursion a success. It's a keeper!

We continue with a series of Jesus' Parables from Matthew 13. Today we have several shorter parables. The Hidden Treasure, the Pearl, the Parable of the Net, and the New Treasures and Old. In all of these, the parable hinges on the idea of a “keeper” - that is, what is so valuable that it is kept – sometimes at great cost.

In the first two parables, which are very similar, a man goes to any possible lengths to obtain that which is so valuable to him. A treasure in the field, or a pearl of great worth. And you can imagine that the man knew to take care of his newly purchased property. It was his keeper.

In the parable of the fish in the net, the good fish are the keepers, and the others are thrown back. Again something of value is found, identified, and kept.

Finally the man who brings out his new and old treasures – he has accumulated these keepers over the years. He wants to show how much he has, how valuable it is. He sets them out on display, for others to enjoy.

What is Jesus getting at here? What are we supposed to take away from these parables about the “keepers”?

One wrong direction often taken here is when the preacher decides that the kingdom of heaven is the great treasure in the story. That we should do whatever it takes to get Jesus, and keep him. That we should sell our possessions, and everything of value, and that our faith is what is really most important. So, come on you people, make God first in your life!

But that doesn't really work. First of all it doesn't work because we can't and don't do it. But more importantly, that's all law talk. And Jesus is getting at so much more.

It's true. We SHOULD put God first in our lives, and we don't. It's true, we do take our faith for granted. We do fail to treasure the treasure that is his forgiveness, life and salvation. We let other things distract us, and we're very good at rationalizing it all away. Yes, we're sinners. Poor and miserable. If we only acted like the people God has made us in baptism. If we'd only live up to that name that has been placed on us. If we could only be like Jesus. But we can't. Which is why we need him.

The real point of these parables, like all of Scripture, is not what you do or should do (even though you fail to do it). The real point is what Jesus Christ does, and does for you.

Jesus finds you. He's the main character here, the one who finds and keeps the thing of value. Just like the shepherd goes looking for the lost sheep. Just like the woman sweeps her house looking for the lost coin. He takes the initiative in finding you. You don't find Jesus. He isn't lost, you are. He seeks you out, finds you, and claims you, not the other way around.

And you are the thing of value to him. No, you have no value in and of yourself. If you look in the mirror, you'll see your sins. You don't see a treasure, you see a pile of dirt. You don't see a pearl, you see something an oyster spat up. But Jesus sees the real value. Not the value intrinsic to you in your sin, but the value he imparts. You are worth everything to him.

So much so, that he “sold all that he had”. Yes, he gave up his heavenly throne. Yes, he gave up earthly pleasures and luxuries, and lived a poor, humble life. And most importantly, he gave up his life. He shed his blood, to purchase and win you from sin, death, and hell. So that you may be his own, and live under him in his kingdom, in perfect righteousness, innocence and blessedness, forever.

You might be wondering, as you read your bulletin today, what that strange picture is next to the Gospel reading. And what is it doing there? I don't know the artist or exactly what he was thinking, but it was the suggested graphic for this reading, and I think I know why. That's a coffin. It's a coffin that has been buried in the field. Presumably there's a body inside it. Maybe it even stinks. But Jesus sees a stinky corpse, like you, and he sees one bought and paid for by his blood. And he doesn't leave you to the grave. He sells everything he has to get you – and to keep you – and to raise you to life and to eternal life. Such is the strangeness of the kingdom of God. So is his wonderful blessing.

And these last two parables – the fish in the net – much like the parable of the weeds from last week. Here we see, again, God separates the keepers from the wicked – and the wicked are cast away. It's another reminder of the coming judgment, and that in that judgment we are not cast away.

And finally, the scribe who is trained, that is, the one who becomes a disciple. He brings out his treasures, new and old. The believer in Christ treasures what Christ has done. Even as Christ has treasured us, loved us, by sacrificing all. Setting out the treasures happens here in the Divine Service, as we read his word, as we receive his sacrament, as we preach and hear the sermon, as sins are forgiven, and hymns and prayers respond. It happens when we live our lives in repentance and faith, and confess in word and action the love he has already shown us.

He has found you and he values you. He treasures you, and gave himself, his all, for you. And he will always keep you. Finders keepers – in Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

He Must Be... Hospitable

1 Timothy 3:2, in the midst of a long list of qualifications for the office of overseer (i.e., bishop, i.e. pastor), mentions that he must be "hospitable". So says the English translation.

In the course of a conversation with my lovely wife, we got to talking about what exactly this means for a pastor and pastor's wife. Perhaps it was my foggy recollection of what life was like in the home of Martin Luther, in which his wife Katie was often frustrated by Martin's liberal hospitality - and on her fell the burden to feed the frequent guests at their table. For instance, there's this passage from the historical fiction novel, "Kitty, My Rib":

Even the mealtime offered no opportunity for them to talk to each other because the table was always surrounded by students and visitors. The discussions at mealtime were nearly always of a theological nature, with Luther talking and the students, wide-eyed, hanging on his every word.

Katherine finally concluded that parsonage life was not conducive to a normal, happy family life. A parsonage couple had to work harder than other married people to remain happy and be close to each other.

Luther would even pawn wedding gifts to give money to the beggars at his door. Today, I doubt many would do the same. Well, my wife would kill me. And rightly so, for such a picture of life in the pastor's home, if accurate, certainly doesn't seem balanced. After all, a pastor has a vocation to be a husband and father as well. "Kitty, My Rib" makes it seem like Dr. Luther got the balance wrong here.

Nevertheless, times do change. Much of what was expected of a pastor then and there is different than here and now. But that doesn't change the words of Holy Scripture. A pastor is to be hospitable. So, Lutherans, "what does this mean?"

The Greek word from 1 Timothy 3, "Philo-nemos" literally means, "lover of strangers". Forms of it are also used in Titus 1:8 (a parallel passage to this one) and Romans 12:13 "contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality" (more on this later).

Jesus emphasizes this in Matthew 25 (the Sheep and the Goats), "I was a stranger and you welcomed me". Likewise Abraham showed hospitality to the strangers who visited him. There are other Old Testament examples.

The Lutheran Study Bible offers the following note on the 1 Timothy passage:
"hospitable - Not one who merely likes to entertain, but, in the first century, one who would take in Christian strangers who were traveling or fleeing from persecution".

Professor Buls collects some excellent commentary on "hospitality":

"Entertain strangers" literally means "love of strangers." The world is not inclined to love a stranger. In fact in many cases it is not inclined to love the one who is well known.

Lenski: Public hotels and lodging places were unknown at this time.

Guthrie: In the environment of the early church it was essential, since alternative facilities for travellers were such that Christians would not choose to make use of them. Wayfarer's hostels, where they existed, were notorious for immorality.

Kretzmann: The hospitality of the early Christians was commented upon favorably even by heathen writers.

Bruce: In the New Testament hospitality is incumbent on all Christians, and Christian leaders in particular must be 'given to hospitality, 1 Timothy 3:2, Titus 1:8.

Christians should open their homes to each other. This was a common practice in the early days of the Lutheran Church - Missouri Synod. Pastors, with their whole families, would often stop at each other's houses and even spend the night or two with each other. In those days people would often spend Sunday afternoons visiting each other. Modern living has curtailed much of earlier hospitality.

The second part of verse 2 explains the first part. That is the purpose of the word "for."

Lenski: In Genesis 18:3 Abraham, and in Genesis 19:2, Lot actually entertained angels unawares.

Bruce: The incidents of Gideon, Judges 6:11ff, and Monoah, Judges 13:3ff, and Tobit, Tobit 3:17ff; 5:4ff, at a later date, may also have been in our author's mind.

There are two important points in this verse: kindness to strangers and the blessing which God may have in store for us.

Lenski: It is sufficient to say that, as some were unexpectedly blessed by receiving strangers, so we, too, may be thus blessed. Matthew 25:38, 40.

Bengel: An unknown guest is often more worthy than he appears, and has angels as attendants, although they are unseen. Matthew 25:40, 45.

Love for strangers is not limited to welcoming people into our houses. Love for strangers can be exercised just about any place.

So it seems clear that our modern American connotation of "hospitality", that we would welcome people into our home, doesn't quite get at the heart of it.

Romans 12:13 seems to be the key. Here we have a "this and that" sort of phrase, a polarity - between the "needs of the saints" and "seek to show hospitality". In other words, help those you know, and those you don't. Love the congregation as well as the stranger.

That's hospitality, in the biblical sense. It's not about the people you know, it's about the people you don't. It's just another application of the second greatest commandment, "Love your neighbor as yourself". Only this time it is the neighbor you've just met. The stranger.

Sometimes this might mean opening your home for them to stay. Maybe even feeding or clothing them. But neither is the Christian a doormat, to be taken advantage of by those whose needs aren't real (see 2 Thessalonians 3:10). Today there are many and various ways of "helping the stranger" that do not entail turning one's home into a bed and breakfast. Hospitality might not even have anything to do with your home - for "loving the stranger" can be done out and about in various places we go.

And yet, with all that said, we will still fail. The daunting list of qualifications for a pastor are just as much accusatory as the pointing finger of the Ten Commandments are to every sinner. Here too, the pastor and his family have an opportunity to model Christian living by repentance.

We pray the Lord to forgive our lack of love for strangers, and by His Spirit work to make us more like Christ. That our eyes would be opened to the true needs of others, and how we can serve them.

For Jesus Christ has done us the greatest service, and offers us the ultimate welcome - strangers that we were, separated from him by our sin. In Jesus we go from, "depart from me I never knew you" to "enter into your rest, those who are blessed by my Father". By his cross and resurrection we go from being outsiders, aliens and even enemies - to dearly beloved children of God.

So Lord, help us to love our neighbors - the ones we know, and the ones we don't. Help us, pastors and people, to be hospitable - to love the stranger.

Do I still think it's a good idea for a pastor and his family to be "welcoming"? Yes. Does that mean we are like Luther, with an open house every night? No.
A pastor who is standoffish and inaccessible doesn't serve his sheep as well as he could. But a pastor who is a husband and father must see to his family's needs as well. For everything there is a season, a time, and a purpose under heaven.

Common sense, experience, and your wife's elbow in your ribs (apologies to Kitty) will go a long way to finding the right balance.

Sermon - Matthew 13:24-30,36-43 - Pentecost 5

Matthew 13:24-30,36-43
Pentecost 5
July 17th, 2011
“Weeds!”

We're in the green season of the church, and the parables are showing it. Last week we heard the parable of the sower – about how the Word of God is spread to all sorts of different “ground”, and received or not received by various people. Some reject, some believe and then fall away, and some receive it and produce a great harvest. By the grace of God alone we count ourselves as part of that harvest, and pray the seed we spread will find more good soil.

Today another agricultural parable about seeds – and this time the point is different. This time more attention is given to the weeds. Again, Jesus decodes the parable for us, he tells us who all the elements represent. And the parable helps to explain to us why things are the way they are in his kingdom. And the parable gives us hope that Christ will sort it out in the end. So let's look at it more closely...

Why so many weeds? I often wonder that when mowing my lawn. I understand the dandelion is an invasive species that came over from Europe – so maybe we can blame it on them. Or maybe I can look into a neighbor's yard and see the creeping charlie creeping over to mine. But what if someone was sneaking into my yard and actually, purposefully, planting them there at night? That's the ridiculous scenario Jesus paints in his parable. It's laughable, but it's true. It's not just an accident of nature that there are weeds in my field. There's an enemy. And he's out to make my life miserable.

Your life is the same. There is someone out to get you. Someone who doesn't like that you belong to Christ. Someone who can't have you, so wants to make your life bitter and painful. Oh he would uproot you and choke away your faith if he could. His misery loves company. But since he can't, he'll settle for what misery he can get for you. He is the old evil foe who seeks to do us deadly woe.

I don't say this to make you paranoid. Nor did Jesus. Nor did St. Paul, when he said, “our struggle is not against flesh and blood”. No, we contend with the spiritual forces of evil. Sin, death and the devil – spreading their seeds of weeds into your life. So the pain may be physical, but the danger is spiritual.

And we look around and are amazed. There's so many weeds around us. But then we wonder, why doesn't God just spray the lawn? Why doesn't he just make sure all the bad people get what's coming to them? And why doesn't he get rid of all the trouble and hardship? Why doesn't he take away my bad memories? Why won't he make my boss treat me nicer? Where's that job I've been praying for? Why won't the cancer treatments work? When will I get over the death of my spouse? Why is it so hard to get out of bed each day? Why doesn't he just stop all evil right now?

Life is short and full of misery. Man is like a flower of the field that comes up one day and is cut down the next. And to make it worse, there's all these weeds around and about. Yes, even in the church, in the kingdom of God.

You'd think that here, at church, would be a haven from weeds. That the people here would always get along and treat our neighbors with love. But we don't. You'd think that only the true believers would hang around, get involved and run the place. But you never know. Sometimes the weeds grow right alongside the good plants. And the thing is – you can't even tell them apart! Only the farmer can.

What's worse is that we all have quite a bit of weed in us. And really what is a weed, anyway, but a plant that you don't want? That which is undesirable. It's an apt metaphor for sin. There is much in us that we don't want. We do the evil we hate, and not the good we desire. Until that final day, the weeds are so close to us, they adhere to us, they are in this sinful nature that constantly struggles against the Spirit.

There is much in us that God doesn't want – and can't stand. He hates sins, and will have no part of it. In the end he takes the sinners - the weeds - and throws them into the fire.

But we are not cast away. Instead, he changes us. He forgives the weed out of us. He washes the sin away from us. He plants the good seed in us, the seed of his word, the seed of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. He waters us in Holy Baptism. He feeds us with Holy Communion. And by his Spirit he grows us and makes us fruitful. We're a changed plant. We are ready for the harvest.

So the new creation begins with us, even now. Jesus Christ dies on the tree of the cross to save us from the pile of weeds to be burned. He endured the fire of God's wrath for all. And his life reclaimed is our life restored. We will never be uprooted, when we are rooted in him. We are grafted into the true vine, who always sustains us.

But there are still weeds. There are those who reject Christ, and persecute his people. Troublemakers and evildoers, yes, even appearing in the midst of the church. Sons of the evil one. God will deal with them when the time is right. And yes, there are the devil and all the spiritual forces of evil. And these too will receive what is coming to them. When we feel the injustice of it all, when we wonder why the wicked prosper while the child of God suffers. Remember this parable. The farmer has a reason.

In the parable, the farmer planned to separate the harvest from the weeds at the end, so as not to accidentally uproot any good plants before the proper time. And in the kingdom, our wise Lord has his reasons for dealing with evil in his way, and on his timetable. We don't know all the whys and wherefores, but we believe that God knows best. Faith trusts him to do all things better than we could. Rather than look at the weeds and despair, trust the sower to grow us and harvest us and keep us always in his possession. He has his reasons, and we have his promise to make it right, at the right time. Trust the farmer. Don't worry about the weeds. In Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.

Come Slowly, Lord Jesus?

A question for my fellow pastors, especially:

We regularly use the LCMS "Let Us Pray" resource for our Prayer of the Church.

This Sunday, Pentecost 5 year A, the provided prayer includes this petition:

P For those outside the Christian faith, that God would remain patient with them and delay Judgment Day so that the Holy Spirit may have opportunity to bring them into God’s family of believers, let us pray to the Lord:

C Lord, have mercy.

Does it strike anyone else as possibly inconsistent that we would pray that God would delay the Judgment Day - even for the sake of unbelievers?

Is this another instance of "mission-mindedness" gone overboard, which ignores God's promise that none of the elect will be lost (single predestination)?

Isn't such a sentiment inconsistent with the ancient prayer of the church, echoing the words of Revelation 22:20, "Even so, come quickly, Lord Jesus, Amen"?

Or is this one of those Lutheran paradoxes? Can we pray God's patience for the sake of the unbeliever, while also praying that day to come quickly for the sake of the believer?

Take They Our Wife...

12 years ago today I was installed as Associate Pastor at Grace Lutheran Church, Racine, Wisconsin.

The time has flown, and yet in some ways has crept. There have been many joys, as well as some times of frustration. Overall I am thankful for the blessings God has bestowed on me, and I pray I have been of service to these people.

As I think back on the day of my installation, I don't remember too much. I know it was a fairly typical installation service (and it was hot!). Then District President Ron Meyer preached, using the "beautiful feet" text from Isaiah. Other clergy members were in attendance, including the one older pastor whose first words to me we're, "You're YOUNG!" And we sang "Thy Strong Word" and "A Mighty Fortress".

I will always remember singing "A Mighty Fortress" on that day - our recessional hymn. These words were especially poignant for me: "Take they our life, goods, fame, child and wife, let these all be gone, they yet have nothing won, the kingdom ours remaineth"

At the time, my wife Brenda wasn't able to attend the installation, as she lay in a hospital bed in St. Louis. Under treatment for cancer, it really was touch and go for a while. The future was uncertain.

But one thing was certain. "The kingdom ours remaineth" in Christ. For me, and for her, this life's troubles were not worth considering, compared to the glory to be revealed.

God is good. Brenda recovered fully. She very soon joined me in Wisconsin and it's been all downhill since. The congregation was very kind to us, and years later, people still inquire particularly about her health. Three children and 12 great years later, we've hardly looked back.

But it's good to remember those moments of uncertainty - when life stands on a precipice. With hindsight, we can more easily see God's hand of blessing at work . And this can help us look forward with faith, and trust his promises. We know that nothing, not height nor depth, nor angels nor demons, nor hospital beds, nor unemployment, nor natural disaster, no not even death itself, can separate us from God's love in Jesus Christ. The kingdom ours remaineth.

“God of the Prophets, Bless the Prophets' Sons”

-Pastor as Prophet, Priest and King

Introduction

While in many ways the Office of the Holy Ministry is diminished or undermined in modern Christian circles, there are still those of us who cherish this precious gift of Christ to His Church, for the purposes of preaching His word and administering His sacraments. No, everyone is not a minister, at least not everyone holds the Holy Office of the Ministry. Not everyone is given to preach and teach, and exercise the Power of the Keys.

But in seeking to defend the Office, we must not do so for the sake of the Office itself. For the Office only exists to serve Christ and His people, and in service to the Gospel. Therefore it is good to avoid the opposite error of “putting too much into the Office”, or ascribing to it honors and powers which our Lord himself does not. All too often our sinful nature would twist God's good gifts. It's very tempting for the pastor to allow his authority to become “power” and to wield it for selfish purposes.

With that in mind, however, I offer a perspective on the Office which incorporates the three-fold Office of Prophet, Priest, and King. What I mean to demonstrate, is that these Old Testament offices are reflected in the New Testament and modern day Office of the Holy Ministry, not only in its functions, but in its connection to the three-fold Office of Christ himself. This is not to add functions or aspects to the Ministry, but to recognize that which has always been there and draw out connections for a deeper understanding of this precious gift Christ gives to His church.

“God of the Prophets, Bless the Prophet's Sons”

Perhaps at an ordination of installation of a pastor, or on some other occasion, you've sung the 1884 hymn by Reformed pastor Denis Wortman:

God of the prophets! Bless the prophets’ sons,
Elijah's mantle, o'er Elisha cast.
Each age its solemn task may claim but once;
Make each one nobler, stronger, than the last.

Anoint them prophets! Make their ears attent
To Thy divinest speech; their hearts awake
To human need; their lips make eloquent
To gird the right and every evil break.

Anoint them priests! Strong intercessors, they
For pardon, and for charity and peace.
Ah, if with them the world might, now astray,
Find in our Lord from all its woes release!

Anoint them kings; aye, kingly kings, O Lord.
Anoint them with the Spirit of Thy Son.
Theirs not a jeweled crown, a blood stained sword;
Theirs, by sweet love, for Christ a kingdom won.

Make them apostles, heralds of Thy cross,
Forth may they go to tell all realms Thy grace;
Inspired of Thee, may they count all but loss,
And stand at last with joy before Thy face.

O mighty age of prophet kings, return!
O truth, O faith, enrich our urgent time!
Lord Jesus Christ, again with us sojourn;
A weary world awaits Thy reign sublime.

The hymn can be found in the current Lutheran Service Book hymnal at #682. The language has been updated and the last verse omitted, no doubt to avoid any chiliastic confusion:

God of the prophets, bless the prophets' sons;

Elijah's mantle o'er Elisha cast.
Each age its solemn task may claim but once;
Make each one nobler, stronger than the last.

Anoint them prophets, men who are intent
To be your witnesses in word and deed,
Their hearts aflame, their lips made eloquent,
Their eyes awake to every human need.

Anoint them priests, strong intercessors they,
For pardon and for love and hope and peace,
That, through their pleading, guilty sinners may
Find Jesus' mercy and from sin release.

Anoint them kings, yes, kingly kings, O Lord.
Anoint them with the Spirit of Your Son.
Theirs not a jeweled crown, a blood-stained sword;
Theirs, by sweet love, for Christ a kingdom won.

Make them apostles, heralds of your cross;
Forth let them go to tell the world of grace.
Inspired by You, may they count all but loss
And stand at last with joy before Your face.

History of the threefold office distinction

We must note that the three-fold office of Christ, as an idea, does not originate with Lutheran theologians.

E.F. Karl Miller writes:

From the earliest times Jesus has been recognized as the representative of a twofold and yet unitary theocratic function, as king and priest. The spiritual kingdom of the Messiah has its foundation in the sacrifice of his life (Matt. xvi. 16-25, xx. 25-28). This thought may be traced f rom the second century to the time of the Reformation. But as early as Eusebius a threefold office is ascribed to Christ, that of prophet, priest, and king, and this is traceable to Jewish sources.

Miller goes on to explain that at the time of the Reformation, Christ as priest and king was roundly accepted. But John Calvin led the charge in adding the prophetic office back into the formulation. For some time there was debate in Lutheran circles as to the propriety of speaking in terms of the three-fold office. Later Lutherans, particularly Paul Gerhard, began to embrace the framework of the three-fold office.

Today, the casting of Christ in his three-fold office is regularly taught among Calvinists, Roman Catholics and Lutherans, alike.

Luther's Small Catechism with Explanation, published by CPH (and the go-to textbook for most of our LCMS catechetical instruction) devotes several pages to an explanation of the three-fold office of Christ.

Definitions

While I can't disagree with any of our textbook definitions, it might also be helpful to add some other thoughts concerning each office and its role or function:

Prophet – We are shown that Christ preached, and still preaches, through the Gospel. So, the chief function of the prophet is to bear a message. Though modern connotations of prophecy entail “predicting the future”, just as often, prophets speak a word concerning the present reality. In all cases, the prophet speaks what he is given to speak, and therefore serves as a representative.

I've found it useful to use a “downward arrow” in describing the prophet's role of representing (speaking for) God to the people.

Priest – Our textbook explains that Christ is priest, in that he fulfilled the law in our stead, died in our place, and pleads for us before God. All well and good, and again, representative functions. In his active and passive obedience, he is our vicarious Atoner. His intercessory prayer “represents” us to the Father. Indeed, there is but one Mediator between God and man, the man Jesus Christ.

But here, it is an “upward arrow”. As the priest offers up sacrifices and prayers, he also stands between God and man, but this time as representative of people to God.

So in a way, the priest is the opposite of the prophet. Or perhaps we could say they are complementary.

King- Modern American conceptions of monarchy are laden with negative connotations, mostly having to do with the power of law (and, in sinful hands, the abuse of such). Of course, Christ's kingly office holds no such negativity.

Our textbook outlines the “three kingdoms” of power, grace and glory, over which Christ the King reigns. Again, without disagreeing, I offer another understanding of this office through the lens of “Law and Gospel”, informed by the example of the Old Testament kings.

The Law function is obvious – rulership and authority. But how does a king function in a “good news” sort of way? The king, especially in Old Testament times, was expected to defend the kingdom. So David would ride to battle with his armies (and when he shirked this duty found himself in trouble with Bathsheba!) The king would even lay down his life to defend his kingdom, his people, from the enemy.

Likewise, the way Scripture speaks of the Old Testament kings as the “Shepherds of Israel”, clues us in. A shepherd protects the sheep, even as he leads and guides them. He drives off the predators, and provides for the sheep to be well-fed and watered. Here Christ is, of course, rightly seen as the Good Shepherd – a kingly function, for the leading and protecting (Law and Gospel) of His sheep.

One clue then, of Christ's desire for his ministers to reflect these same functions is his charge to Peter, “feed my sheep”. And so Lutheran ministers rightly are called “pastor”, that is, shepherd.

The Office of the Ministry as representative of Christ

Without re-establishing everything Lutherans teach about the Office of the Holy Ministry, we can first approach its exercise of the three-fold office by understanding that the Ministry is derived from Christ's own office(s). The 1981 CTCR document, “The Ministry - Offices, Procedures and Nomenclature” explains:

2. The office of the public ministry is grounded in the ministry of Christ and is an extension of the apostolate established by Him.

The office of the public ministry of the church is rooted and grounded in the ministry of Christ. He was the Suffering Servant, the God-man, who not only taught about God's love but completely satisfied the demands of God's holy Law by vicariously living a perfect life and dying a sacrificial death for our transgressions of God's Law. His priestly, prophetic, and royal actions (emphasis mine) are the essential content and power of the ministry of the church. God not only provided salvation and declared the whole world just for the sake of Christ, but He also provided the means of grace and the ministry of the Word and sacrament "to offer and apply to us this treasure of salvation" (LC II, 38).

Similarly, Jesus says, “he who receives you, receives me”. Also our liturgy confesses this connection when the pastor absolves, “in the stead and by the command of my Lord Jesus Christ...” The pastor is a “little Christ” to his congregation, and in accord with his office, exercises rightful authority. But the authority of Christ is always used to serve others, not self. It is even the call to die for the sheep, if needed.

With all this in mind, let us consider:

The Pastor as Prophet – Perhaps the Old Testament office most easily aligned with the pastor, for its concern to speak the Word of God is the same. While an Old Testament prophet received that Word in “many and various ways”, we constrain ourselves to the canonical books of the Bible. But in his preaching, the faithful, prophetic pastor proclaims that word he is given – for the present and the future – and points always to the ultimate prophet, even the Living Word, himself, Jesus Christ.

The pastor is the under-prophet of the Ultimate Prophet, and always subjects his word to the Living Word.

The Pastor as Priest - “strong intercessors, they” they hymn declares. As priest, the pastor speaks the prayers of the people in representative fashion during the public services, in the liturgy. In fact, any time the pastor faces the altar, back to the congregation, it is not to be rude – but likely to express the priestly character of his actions at that point - representing you to God.

But his intercession does not stop there, as the faithful pastor prays for his sheep in all their troubles and circumstances. There's no indication in Scripture that the prayers of a pastor have any more weight than of the laity (though, “the prayer of a righteous man has great effect”). A pastor must be careful not to play in to this cultural misnomer. But as a man of God called to care for a flock, it only makes sense that he would pay particular attention to prayer on their behalf, whether they know it or not.

And while he can not personally stand in their place, coram deo, for salvation – he does sacrifice worldly comforts to bring the sheep to the great High Priest, who offered Himself on the cross. Here, perhaps, we see the greatest fulfillment of priestliness, a model we do well to reflect in our showing of love to the people in our flock.

The pastor is the under-priest of the Great High Priest, of the Order of Melchizedek.

The Pastor as King – Yes, a pastor is a king. But like Christ, whose kingdom is not of this world. Following Christ, who taught that only the rulers of this world “lord it over” others, but, “not so with you!”. So putting aside our cautions about misused kingly authority, how is a pastor a king?

He handles the law, administering it. He speaks a word that curbs, shows sin, and rules. In his preaching, he points to that which God expects of us, and demands of us. Of course, we fail. And this may incite in us rebellion against the law-giver, killing the messenger because the message so hurts. But no matter. Kings have a solemn duty to uphold the law, and so will a faithful pastor.

But he will also protect the people. He will fight for them. He will identify the enemy (or enemies) and lead the charge. Our enemies are not flesh and blood, but the Devil the world, and our own sinful nature. Our defenses are given only by God (Ephesians 6). The breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, etc.

And our only offensive weapon is the sword of his word. As a king, the pastor wields the sword – not of the government to punish wrongdoers (Romans 13), but the sword of the spirit, which is the word of God. It is that sword which issues from the mouth of Christ (Revelation 1). It is the Gospel, the power of God for salvation.

The pastor as king employs both Law and Gospel, in the pulpit, and in his dealings with those of the Kingdom. The pastor is an under-king of the King of Kings, and serves all in accord with His purposes.

Finally, just as with Christ, there is overlap and complementary function in the three offices, so too, it is with the pastor. But that is because the office of pastor is derived from the office of Christ, as a whole, not in three separate parts. These are simply a framework or a lens by which to view what Christ does in Himself, and how He serves His people through the Office He establishes.

Royal Priesthood?

Luther himself emphasized the Royal (kingly) Priesthood of all believers. Unfortunately this has often been used as a club over against the Holy Office. But that's not fair to either Luther or Holy Scripture.

The reality and importance of the Priesthood of All Believers does not negate the reality and importance of the Office of the Holy Ministry.

I would submit that within each Christian's vocation, he too has kingly, priestly, and even prophetic opportunities. But the chief distinction is that the pastor is called to exercise his authority publicly, on behalf of all. The individual Christian operates within the private realm, according to his own calling or station.

You may have occasion to witness (prophetic), or to protect another (kingly). Certainly, the priestly Christian intercedes for others- praying at all times for those in authority, for the sick, for any who are in need, even for unbelievers. In all these things, the same Christ who works through the Public Office works in the lives of his people.

For example, the Christian parent is prophet, priest and king to his child. The Christian husband is the same to his wife. Even as friends and neighbors we can find these Christ-like functions peeking through as we serve others in various ways.

Christ the Apostle/Pastor as Apostle

One final connected idea – brought about by verse 5 of our hymn, apostleship. Here we can find another useful office for understanding Christ, his pastors, and his people. While the narrow definition of “apostle” includes those specifically commissioned by Jesus (the 12, plus St. Paul), still there is an apostolic character to the Office of Pastor. The word, “apostle”, meaning, “sent one”, really should point us first of all to Christ – who was “sent” by the Father on his mission of redemption. Likewise the Holy Spirit is “sent” by the Father and Son according to his purposes, but especially to testify to Christ. The 12 apostles were sent, not only at the Great Commission, but also with authority to preach and cast out demons during Jesus' public ministry. In fact, the Christian church, as a whole, is “apostolic”, not only in its adherence to the teaching of the apostles, but also in that we are “sent” to the world with the Gospel.

So, too, the pastor is apostolic. He is sent. He is sent by God, by the Holy Spirit, by means of the external call of the congregation, to be pastor in a certain place. He is sent, and given an authority that is not his own, but belongs to Christ (as does all authority). He is sent to a certain people, a certain congregation, particularly. And in his sent-ness there is comfort for him, that his labor is not in vain. And in his sent-ness there is comfort for his sheep, that they receive Him who sent him.

Conclusion

Jesus Christ, our prophet, priest, and king – now rules from heaven, intercedes for us before God, and yet still proclaims His word to the lost world He once died to save. Through His pastors, He publicly exercises these same functions, for the good of His people. Lutherans need not shun this way of describing the work of God in our midst, for through the prism of these biblical offices, we gain greater appreciation of Christ who does all things well, and for us, and of the ministers he sends to stand in his stead. And rejoicing in the Gospel, give thanks to Him for these, among so many other good gifts.

Links:

Dr. Carl Fickenscher on Issues, Etc. "The Three-fold Office of Christ: Prophet, Priest and King"

For an Orthodox Presbyterian take on “Pastor as Prophet, Priest and King”

A sermon by Rev. Brian Vos, “Why are You Called a Christian?” (United Reformed Church)