Sermon - Lent 5 - Mark 10:32-45

Lent 5, March ^25th, 2012 

Mark 10:32-45

“Game of Thrones”

There's a popular series of books and tv shows out there called “Game of Thrones”. In it, rulers and would-be rulers of various kingdoms jockey for position and influence. And you can imagine why our pop culture goes crazy for stories like this. We all have those desires for power and glory. We all have our own little game of thrones. It's part and parcel of our sinful nature to seek out power and control, to go after glory.

Take James and John, they come to Jesus with a request. And you know its going to be trouble when they try to get him to agree before they even say what it is. But they're gunning for their spot in the game of thrones. They want the best seats in the new kingdom. When Jesus conquers the Romans, they want to be at his left hand and his right hand – his #1 and #2 go-to-guys. They want the power and the glory and the influence that they deserve for being his faithful followers all this time. And they want to make sure it's them and not Peter or Matthew or God forbid, Judas.

Oh, but as the disciples usually do, they have it all wrong. Even though he continues telling them plain as day what's coming – suffering, death, cross.... As Jesus says, they don't know what they are asking. They think Jesus coming into his glory will be one thing, when it will be quite another.

“Can you drink the cup I am about to drink, or be baptized with the baptism I am about to undergo? Are you able to do such a thing?”

“Oh yes! We are able!” But they still don't know what he means.

Jesus has in mind his suffering and death. He has on his mind, the cross. “Drink the cup” reminds us of Jesus' prayer in Gethsemane, where he prays that this cup would pass, but not my will but yours be done, oh Father. That cup of suffering. That cup of God's wrath which is about to be poured out on him A bitter cup, indeed.

And a baptism – a cleansing – of sin. Jesus was already baptized by John. A baptism which identified him with us, showed him as the lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Now the lamb of God was about to take those sins to another baptism. A baptism of suffering and death. A sacrifice of himself. A shedding of his blood. And there with him all sin would die. Can you do that, James and John? Of course not.

You don't know what you are asking. They will bow down before me, but in mockery. They'll dress me in fine robes of purple, only for a sadistic show. I'll have a scepter in my hand, but they'll beat me with it. And I won't be sitting on a jeweled throne of high honor, I'll be seated, rather, hung, on a cross, in shame. I won't be wearing a golden crown, but one of thorns. And while it will be written, “This is the king of the Jews”, that too will be further derision.

No, in my glory, it won't look very glorious. I'll be a pitiful picture, a stricken, smitten, afflicted wretch of a man. But there will be a place at my right and left hand – places for thieves. That's already been appointed.

In fact all of this has been appointed by the Father. It's his will. And it's good news!

See, life in Christ's kingdom is different. In the world, the greatest have servants. In his kingdom, the greatest serve. And the greatest is the servant, the slave of all. Who serves by giving his life as a ransom for many. Jesus is a king, but what a different kind of king he is. He is glorified, but his glory is in the suffering of the cross to forgive the sins of the world. Your sins, too.

We sinners are so concerned about our own little kingdoms, our own little thrones. We want to be our own masters, set our own rules. We re-define sin as what someone else does wrong, and not what I do wrong. Might as well make up your own commandments, but don't write them in stone, keep them flexible. You're in charge, remember.

And in our arrogance we would even make God the servant, that we could tell him how to do his job, and snap our fingers for him to do this that and the other thing for us. We want him on to act in our time, by our deadline. And that usually means, “right now”.

This calls for repentance. A turn-around, a change of mind. Jesus said, “you don't know what you're asking.” But they would learn.

James and John, and the other disciples, would soon see Christ in his glory, on the cross. They would seem him exalted in resurrection. And they would stand amazed as he ascended into heaven, to take back his heavenly throne. From there he rules his church in love, even today, seated at the right hand of the Father.

And from there he gives us his gifts, even today – a cup to drink, and a baptism to be baptized with. Gifts of grace and life. From there he would send his Holy Spirit, who empowered those power-hungry disciples with a different power – the power of the Gospel. The power of Christ's own message that the kingdom is at hand, and has now arrived.

But still, there is the cross we take up when we follow him. In Christ our own little thrones become our own little crosses. And it will be so until we too pass through the gate of death into the promise of life to come.

James would suffer his own cup and baptism – killed by the sword, the first of the 12 apostles to die. John would go on to die of old age, but still suffered persecution and imprisonment. For the apostles, and for us, glory is found not in a trouble-free life, but amidst the troubles and suffering.

It's found not in taking one's throne, but in putting others above you, before you. It means stooping down and washing feet. Just as the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve.... so do we his servants, come not to be served, but to serve. For his sake, in his name. Amen.

Sermon - Numbers 21:4-9 - Lent 4

Lent 4, March 18^th, 2012 

Numbers 21:4–9

Look, and Live!

 

Ungrateful. Maybe that's the best way to describe the people of Israel. After all God had done for them. They grumbled. But let's just remember:

He had sent not 1, but 10 miraculous plagues. He brought Pharaoh, the most powerful man in the world, to his knees. In all of the plagues, God protected the Israelites. Then he brought them out of Egypt. First they took spoils from the Egyptian people. Then he led them safely across the Red Sea, on dry ground. Oh, and destroyed their enemies who were right behind them. He brought them to his holy mountain, Sinai. He gave them his law, and a system of sacrifice for them to deal with their sins. Oh yes, and he was bringing them to the promised land, where the promised Messiah would be born and live and die for them.

But none of that mattered. Because they didn't like the food.

The food that God provided for them, each and every day without fail. The food that he sent from heaven to sustain them in the wilderness. The food that they didn't work and slave for, but just went out and picked up, free of charge. That food. It wasn't good enough. Waah.

So God sends the snakes. And people get bit, and die. You thought you were suffering before? A not so gentle reminder gives them some perspective. They repent. The confess their sin, in no uncertain terms. We were wrong. We're sorry. Please forgive us.

And no questions asked, God provides. He instructs his servant Moses to make the fiery bronze serpent and put it on the pole, and anyone who is bitten has only to look and live. God's forgiveness is immediate and free and as easy as looking in faith where he promises to give that forgiveness. By grace they were saved, not by works.

Now us. We grumble and complain. We are just as ungrateful. For how much more has he given us. What blessings we enjoy. Physical blessings like no other people in history. Greater wealth and health even though these are relatively tough economic times. God still provides our daily bread. Not manna from heaven, but gifts aplenty. If you counted all yours you probably couldn't finish, but still there's never enough.

And while he gave the Israelites his law on Mt. Sinai, he gives us his holy word in its revealed entirety. What people on earth have ever had such free and easy access to Bibles and preachers and teachers of his word? And yet, it's not enough. We don't get the answers there we want – we don't like the laws he gives – we don't get the promises we desire. We neglect its study. We pompously think we've learned all we need to, or that a sermon a week is roughly enough. Ungrateful for the word, for the most precious of gifts.

After all God has done for us – and we don't have time to rehearse it all – but let's just get to the crux of it. He gives us his own son, sends him in our flesh, lives for us, suffers for us, dies for us. He bears the sins of the world, indeed even becomes sin itself – and receives God's condemnation (a condemnation we all deserve). He suffers the unimaginable anguish of God's wrath, and pays the dearest price.

In light of all this, how can we complain about anything? When things don't go my way, what right do I have to grumble? When I don't get what I want, who am I to gripe? Even if death should come, don't I deserve it, and worse? Did Jesus complain when he hung on the tree for my sins? No, instead he said, “Father forgive them”.

But here is the good news. For as Moses held up the serpent that those bitten by the snake's venom could look and live, we who are bitten by the venom of Satan himself, mingled with the poison of our own sinful grumbling, we have only to look to Christ and his cross to live. It's that simple.

God provides our salvation, and he holds it up for us all to see. He speaks the eternal word of forgiveness through humble servants like Moses, and now pastors. He washes sins away in water and word. He gives and sustains life, by feeding us the true bread from heaven that is Christ's body and gives us his blood as our very lifeblood. Look and live. Even if you are dead in trespasses. See and hear and believe. Trust in the free and full forgiveness that comes to us from Christ, through word and sacrament. Not a pole with a serpent, but bread, wine, water, word. Delivering the goods that Jesus won on the cross, where he was held up for the world. Where he became sin to defeat sin and serpent. Where God so loved the world.

Whoever believes in him will not perish, but will have eternal life. We hear those familiar words again, and we believe. By his grace. In his name. Look, and live! Amen.

Sermon - John 2:13-22 - Lent 3

Lent 3, March 11^th, 2012

John 2:13-22

Cleaning House

Grace and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Get out of my house! He yells. He makes quite a scene. Overturns tables. Change goes jingling on the hard ground. Animals go scattering everywhere. Oh, and he's got a whip. Jesus takes charge of his Father's house. He puts the smack down on the money-changers. This is a house of prayer, not a swap meet. This is a place of God's holy presence in and among his people, not a den of thieves and robbers. Get. Out. Now.

The disciples start to piece it together, “Wasn't there a prophecy about this? Zeal for your house will consume me?” Yes, disciples, all Scripture is about Jesus.

“And just who are you?” They ask, “What gives you the authority to do this? Who do you think you are?” Not that they argue the substance of the point. When you know you're in the wrong, shift the focus of attention. Let's not talk about our sin. Let's talk about you – what's your authority? Who are you to judge?

“Destroy this temple and I will build it up again in three days.” Oh yes, I have the authority. And you will see it when I show my ultimate authority over death. You will destroy this temple, this body, this place where God and man dwell together. But I will rebuild it, raise it up, and conquer death. That sign – the sign of Jonah – is the only sign this wicked generation will get, but it's the only sign he needed to give.

He fulfills all the scriptures, does everything perfectly. Only later do the disciples connect the dots. About the temple. About his crucifixion and resurrection. Hindsight is 20/20 they say, and spiritual hindsight perhaps all the more. “You do not understand now what I am doing, Peter, but later on you will understand”.

Jesus is rightly angry about the misuse of his and his Father's house. And while we're not changing money and swapping animal sacrifices in most churches today, I bet Jesus could still come into any church and turn over some tables. For in every church are sinners who want to make the house of God into a place of trade.

God, you give me what I want, and I'll do something nice for you. Or God, look at how good I am, and now in return give me your favor. And I'm not just talking about those other churches out there.

We do it too. We think our service to the church, our offerings, our weekly worship are so impressive to God. But there's only one thing that can be given in exchange for the price on our lives- there's only one currency that can purchase us from destruction – and that is the blood of Christ.

No, God doesn't deal with us in bargain fashion. He's not into the quid pro quo. You give me something, I'll return the favor, no. He's the giver. Out of his pure grace and mercy he gives Christ, who gives all, even his life, for ours. He turns the tables on our sin. Drives out the devil. Whips the enemy, ultimately, by taking the whipping we all deserve.

An English poet once wrote, “Wherever God erects a house of Prayer, The Devil always builds a Chapel there: And 'twill be found upon Examination, The latter has the largest Congregation.”

Whether it is a church that turns its focus from Christ and cross to growth and glory, or a temple that turns from the merciful presence of God for a mercantile enterprise of pseudo-religion. Or the individual believer, sitting in church, who turns his thoughts from Christ crucified for you to some other way of salvation. Any way the Devil is happy to distract us, and turn us away from the one to whom the house belongs.

But this is Jesus' house. His Father's house. The Spirit's house. The Triune God, in whose name we gather, in whose name we are called and baptized. In whose name our sins are forgiven. And we are built by Christ on the confession of his name, gathered by his Spirit around his word, strengthened and fed by his holy meal. This is where it all happens. Here, in his temple, his body, his church. The temple that took 46 years to build is only a shadow pointing to him, Jesus, the true temple, the dwelling of God with man.

And Jesus is angry – justifiably angry. Righteously angry at sin. He has no place for it, just like his Father. One day, he will cast the wicked, the goats, away from his presence forever. “I don't know you people. Depart from me”. This temple-cleansing foreshadows that final judgment. But he saves us from all that, making us sheep, and working through us to serve the least of these, our neighbors in need.

He is a zealot – a word that has a bad connotation today - But he's zealous when the place where he promised to forgive sins is being polluted. Because what he wants more than anything is for you to hear, loud and clear, his good news. He's driving away YOUR enemy with that whip. He's over turning the tables that would stand between you and his holy table. He wants you to have access to him, here, now, in his presence. For your eternal good.

No this is not your peaceful Jesus, the one we usually see depicted with a smile and open arms. This is angry Jesus, angry at sin. A terrifying sight if you're on the receiving end of his whip. But a blessed comfort for us who trust in him.

For we know the rest of the story – that he becomes the object of divine wrath, himself. He gives his own back to be scourged. He gives his own life as the ultimate bloody sacrifice to end all sacrifices. To put away God's anger at your sins. To cleanse what is impure and unholy in the temple of your body, and to make you into a temple of his spirit.

Sermon - Mark 8:27-38 - Lent 2

Lent 2, March 4^th, 2012

Mark 8:27-38

A Lenten Epiphany

(Guest Preaching at St. James, Overlea, MD)

(Audio for this sermon is available here)

Grace and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

And greetings from your brothers and sisters at Grace Lutheran Church in Racine, WI. It's always an honor and privilege for me to return to St. James, where I grew up and was confirmed, and share the Gospel among you.

Today, we are but a week or so into the season of Lent. Our preparations for Holy Week and Good Friday, and ultimately Easter Sunday – have begun. The paraments are purple. The Alelluias are gone for a while. And the Wednesday night services are back on. Maybe you've given up something for Lent. Or maybe you're taking some extra time to pray or read the Bible, or some other spiritual discipline.

Lent is a sober time, a serious business. But I have to admit, I like it anyway. Not that I don't like Epiphany, which we just finished. In Epiphany, we saw the unfolding revelation of Jesus – who he is, and what he is about. We heard, “This is my son” at his baptism and transfiguration. We saw him as the true bridegroom, and the one who preached with authority. He is the one Moses and the prophets wrote about. He's the stairway to heaven. He's the one who makes lepers, and us, clean.

But now it's Lent. And as the mood has turned, yet again we come to the question in our text today, “who is Jesus?” He asks it himself, of his own apostles. “Who do people say that I am?” And after all the speculation, then he presses them, “who do you say that I am?” Peter confesses, “You are the Christ!” But Jesus isn't done yet.

For the first time in Mark's Gospel it's made entirely clear that yes, Jesus is the Christ. He's the one. The Lord, the Savior, the Messiah. Not just any old prophet, but the one they've been waiting for. The one that was promised for so long. Now he's here. Here he is. The Christ. But...

What does this mean? A good Lutheran question, which Jesus means to answer.

Immediately he begins to teach them, plainly, what it means that he is the Christ. He tells them, straight out, this means suffering, and it means death. Oh, and resurrection, too.

And Peter's head almost explodes. He can't stomach it. He has other things in mind. Not suffering, shame, betrayal, death... he's thinking of self, and profit, and success and glory! But in this Lenten Epiphany, in this great moment of revelation Jesus shows them not only that he IS the Christ, but just what kind of Christ he will be. A suffering, bleeding, dying Christ. A Christ of the cross.

What kind of Jesus are you looking for? A Jesus of the easy button? Who takes all of life's troubles away and puts you on easy street? A rock-star Jesus, loved and admired by all? A Jesus who affirms you and tells you you're good enough and just believe in yourself? A Jesus who is a bright shining example of what to do, so that you can do like him and be all bright and shiny, too? Perfect little pious people who always smile and seem cheerful? As if we could...

Or do you want the real Jesus who gets down and dirty and bloody, and is hoisted up and humiliated and crucified – for all to see and mock. A man of sorrows. A man forsaken, even by God the Father. A worm of a man, surrounded by dogs, pierced hands and feet and bloody head and back. A Jesus condemned by Jew and Roman alike. A Jesus rejected by the crowd who called for his blood. Only a few women and one disciple stick around. And even that brings more bitterness. That may not be the Jesus we want, but he's the Jesus we get, and the Jesus we need. The Christ of the cross.

Because by all this, it is finished. By all this, your sins are put away. By his suffering and bleeding and dying, life is yours.

God has a strange and mysterious and wonderful way of doing things. He reveals his power in weakness. He brings glory through shame. He wins life by death. He kills death by dying. And he forgives sins by becoming sin.

St. James, you're not the biggest congregation. You don't have all the programs and glitz that some others do. People aren't busting down your doors in droves. Some would say you're not that successful, or even that you're failing. But they have in mind the things of men, not the things of God.

You are a faithful congregation. Sinners, yes, but forgiven sinners who proclaim the suffering servant Christ. People who know that it's not about you anyway, but always, only, about Christ. You are a group of believers gathered around what is most important – his Word and his Sacrament – his true Body and Blood, given and shed for you, according to his promise. You are his baptized and believing children, and that is enough.

Just as Christ himself had a different idea of what it meant to be the Christ, we Lutherans have a different idea of what it means be the church. It may not mean outward success or worldly glamor. Instead it means faithfulness to his truth. Sometimes it means suffering, and even dying. But that's ok, because that's what our Savior does for us. None of this makes you better than anyone, but in Christ, it does make you blessed.

The Lenten Epiphany – the great surprise – the big reveal – is not that Jesus is the Christ, but that the Christ came to suffer and die. And this is good news, no matter what Peter or the world thinks. This is the will of God, to save you, the sinner. This is his plan from the foundation of the world. This, the cross, is what Jesus is all about. And so it's what we're all about. A blessed Lent to you. In Jesus Christ, Amen.

Sermon - Mark 1:9-15 - Lent 1

Lent 1, February 26^th, 2012

Mark 1:9-15

40 Days

Lent begins. Our 40 day time of preparation and prayer, penitence and fasting. A time of testing and probing, that leads us, with Jesus, to the cross.

The New Testament tells us of a 40 day sojourn in the life of our Lord. Mark tells us that after Jesus is baptized the Spirit drives him, or more literally “casts him out” into the wilderness.

It reminds us of another time, long ago, when another man was cast out. Adam, and his wife Eve, fresh with the stain of sin, and death, the fruit of their sin, they are cast out of the Garden of Eden. No longer to have access to the tree of life, for in his mercy, God didn't want them to eat of it and live forever in sin. So what seemed like exile was really also an act of love. God placed an angel with a fiery sword to block the way back. And now Adam would bring food to the table only with great trouble. Work had become labor. The ground produces thorns. Life is tough.

Jesus is the Second Adam. He comes to repair the damage. Fresh with the baptismal water of his anointing with the Spirit - a baptism not for his own sins, but which identified him with us sinners.... and fresh with the declaration of the Father, “This is my Son, whom I love” ringing in his ears, Jesus is driven out to the wilderness. His public ministry begins with a fast. A time of testing, probing...fasting. Satan gets a chance to have at him. And Satan fails. We know from Matthew's Gospel many of those details. But Mark doesn't fill us in. It's enough, here, to know that he was tempted. But unlike the first Adam, Jesus does not fall for it.

The first Adam named the animals. God brought them to Adam, and whatever he called them, that was their name. But with Adam's fall, all creation fell, and even the animals now have become wild. Paul says all of creation groans in expectation, like a woman in labor, waiting for the end, the renewal of all things. All that happens in Christ. Even the wild animals in the wilderness, with him in his temptation, seem to bear witness that this Jesus is about to bring blessing to all creation. The Second Adam, the Son of Man, the Savior of all. And the angels minister to him.

This stuff matters to you and me, too. We are the children of Adam. We are the heirs to his fallen nature, and we live in this fallen creation. In sin did our mothers conceive us, and we are born in iniquity. Life for us is a wilderness, filled with thorns and pains and dangerous beasts both literal and figurative. Satan, too, would tempt us, and rule over us. And always hovering over us is the curse of death that Adam's sin and our own sin have brought.

Every day your Old Adam rebels against God, shakes his fist in anger at the law, and blames everyone and everything but himself. Every day the Old Adam seeks to deceive and deny and destroy your very faith. But every day the same Spirit that drove Jesus into the wilderness drives you back to the waters of your baptism, where that Old Adam is drowned and dies. By repentance and faith. By sorrow for sin and believing in Christ's forgiveness.

Jesus defeats Satan, conquers sin, and destroys death – beginning in the wilderness, until “it is finished” on the cross. There he is finally cast off from God, who forsakes him. There your sins are finished, and Satan's head is crushed. There the Second Adam deals death to death and by a tree restores us who were defeated at the tree.

In this wilderness temptation, Jesus prepares for all this. He prays, and he fasts. During the season of Lent, many of us will do the same. Martin Luther says. “Fasting and bodily preparation are certainly fine outward training.” And it is true. But the best preparation is the inward training of faith, and that faith in the word of God.

Jesus doesn't just stay off by himself. He comes back and preaches: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel.” Those words are still in effect. They are still training us for righteousness. They are still convicting us of sin – yes, repent of your sins, even this day! And they are still calling us to faith – to believe in his Good News.

What's more, there is no fasting from his table. There's no reason to refrain from eating and drinking the gifts of his body and blood. But there is great reason to take and eat, take and drink! Jesus gives you himself – here – for your forgiveness. To starve to death the Old Adam and feed the New Adam with his own life. To sustain you for your wilderness wanderings in this world, until he brings you safe at last to the promised land.

40 days of Lent – they lead us to the cross. Where Jesus deals with sin, decisively. 40 days of preparation – so prepare. Hear his word. Receive his gifts. Repent of your sins. Believe his Good News. It is for you. In Christ, Amen.

Sermon - Mark 1:40-45 - Epiphany 6

Epiphany 6 – February 12^th, 2012

Mark 1:40-45

Clean

Hand sanitizer. One of the accoutrements of modern American life. Some might say it's a convenient way to wash your hands, prevent the spread of disease, and promote health. Others might say it's a sign of our neurotic culture. When kids can get fashionable colored bottles of the stuff to clip on to their school backpacks.

But our culture wants to sanitize more than just hands. We like our food clean and fresh and pure, too, don't we? If you bring home a package from the store and it's already been opened.... what do you do? If that little safety seal or bump on the lid of the spaghetti sauce is up – you're not supposed to use it. We like our cars clean, clothes clean – our dishes clean – our bodies clean. I bet Americans shower and bathe more than most cultures throughout all history.

The people of Jesus' day may not have been as obsessed with clinical sanitization as we are today, but they thought a lot about what was clean and unclean. And if anything was unclean, gross, repulsive to them, it was a leper. They wanted no part of these skin diseases – a very public and outward kind of disease for all to see. So they cast out the lepers, ostracized them, and that was that. Lepers were unclean. And the way they dealt with it was to take out the human trash.

We like to think of ourselves as clean people. But the truth is that we aren't. I won't gross you out this morning, but simply remind you that for all our efforts at sanitizing our lives – we are still subject to all kinds of germs, all manner of impurities, in the air we breath and the food we eat, and even within our very bodies. I'm sure the scientists could paint quite a picture of how unclean life really is, all our illusions aside.

But it's worse than that, for we are unclean at a much deeper level. Our bodies, our minds, our hearts, our very souls are tainted, through and through, with sin. Any outward filth we see pales in comparison to the mucky mess within us. The squalor of filth in which we are conceived, and born, and continue to live. We're far worse than lepers. Especially to God, who really is pure and clean.

So what's a God to do about such uncleanness? What does Jesus do with the leper?

“If you are willing, you can make me clean”

“I am. Be clean.”

What an expression of faith from this man. He knew Jesus well enough (how? By faith!), he knew him well enough to know that Jesus had the power to cleanse. That he had the ability to bring that outward cleansing of body, that healing of disease the man so desperately wanted.

But did he know that Jesus meant so much more, when he said, “be clean”. That the uncleanness of the leper, and the filth of you and I, runs much deeper than the surface. It's not just a skin disease. That's just a symptom. We are rotten to the core. We are thoroughly corrupted. We are the creepy crawlies that should make God turn away in disgust.

Even death itself is a symptom of this infection. Sin is the cause. And the more you look in the mirror of God's law, the closer you study it, the more you will see just how caked on and baked on and stuck on it is.

But Jesus is willing to make us clean. That's why he came. To make it happen. To say, “be clean”, and we are.

We are clean because he not only washes us, but he takes the dirt of sin himself. He bathes in it. Becomes it. He gets his hands dirty in a way we never could, “God made him who was without sin to become sin for us”. Talk about dirty laundry! And the cross is his washing machine.

Jesus was the only one clean, the only one without spot or blemish... But God made him so stinking filthy in the fullness of all our sins, and all sins ever. Then God had to take out the trash. In disgust, he turned his back on his own son, and all sin. “Why have you forsaken me?” “Because you disgust me. You're sin.”

And in doing so, Jesus makes us clean. By his shed blood we are washed. We are more than sanitized. We are holy. Righteous. Shining like justice. And God will never utter a harsh word against us, never turn up his nose at us, but only embrace and welcome us in Christ.

When your sins are forgiven, you are clean. Just like that leper, only better. God sees your sin no more. He declares it gone. And he makes it more than just a word. He makes it particular, to you, in Baptism.

In your baptism Jesus said to you, “Be clean!” Sure he can preach all day about forgiving people's sins, but is he talking about me? When that water is poured on you, when those words are spoken to you, when the pastor calls you by name - Jesus brings it home that you, yes you, are clean. Your sins are forgiven, washed, wiped away. You are clean.

No, you're not a leper. You're much worse. You're a sinner. But the good news is we're sinners who know Jesus. We put our faith and trust in the one who is willing to make us clean. The one who does what it takes to make us clean. The one who says to us, “be clean”. And we are. In his blood. By his sure word. Believe it, for Jesus' sake. Amen.

Sermon - Mark 1:29-39 - Epiphany 5

Epiphany 5 – February 6^th, 2012

Mark 1:29-39

Everyone is Looking for Jesus

“Everyone is looking for you, Jesus”. So Peter said when they found him alone, praying. And how true it was. Jesus had made quite a name for himself in a short period of time. His healing touch, and his authority to cast out demons had caused quite a stir. Everyone seemed to want something from Jesus. Everyone was looking for him.

It's much the same today. Everyone is looking for Jesus. At least, everyone is looking for something, and if Jesus will give it to them, then they want Jesus. Do you want to find a job? Ask Jesus. Do you want your husband to appreciate you more? Ask Jesus. Do you want your aches and pains to go away? Ask Jesus. Do you want to get over the death of your loved one? Ask Jesus.

In Capernaum, if you had a demon, or you were sick, then you were looking for Jesus. But that's not why he came. Sure, he had compassion on so many. Sure, his heart went out to those who suffered. But his purpose was different. He wasn't there to give them what they wanted, as much as to provide for them what they needed.

When Peter and the others find Jesus off alone, praying, he says, “Let's go to the next towns so that I may preach there also, for that is why I came”. Yes. It's the preaching. That's the reason. He went to the synagogue in Capernaum and preached. He would go to the mount and the plain and the villages and towns and preach. Even in the very temple in Jerusalem, he would preach. That's why he came. To give them what they really needed – the word.

It's still the Epiphany season, and we're still answering that big question, “Who is this Jesus who was born as our Savior?” What kind of savior is he? What is he all about? What did he come to do and why? Today it's quite clear: he came to preach.

But what? We must listen closely to his words. We must take note of just what he says, even more so than what he does (although the two go hand in hand). And as we listen to Jesus we will hear the message ring out – that he came to seek and save the lost. That he came to give freely the blessings of his Father. Forgiveness of sins, new and eternal life. To make us his friends, not slaves. To call us to follow him. To defeat the strongman, our enemy the devil. To make us disciples by his baptism and teaching. To feed us in his meal, with his body, his blood. To be handed over to the Jews and Romans, to suffer for us, to die for us, and on the third day to rise from the dead, for us. This is what he preached. This is why he came. To proclaim himself, our savior, and to back up his talk with a perfect walk.

Nowadays people are still looking for Jesus to do all sorts of things for them, but not always what he means to do for them. We think small. We want this or that, not the grand gifts he offers. We want actions, not words. We want to see it now, not have to hold on to promises. We want the glitz and success and fireworks of glory, not the suffering and dying and shame and defeat of Calvary.

Our old nature, anyway, chases after a Jesus that really isn't Jesus. A Jesus of our own imagination, made in our own image. A Jesus at our beck and call for all of life's little problems, to make the boo-boos better.

But much better is the real Jesus. The Jesus who calls us and recreates us into his own image, and gives us new life forever. The Jesus who gives us his word – and what a word it is! That word, that eternal word, which is our rock in the storm, our comfort in sorrow, our fortress in the raging battle. I think of Luther's hymn, “A Mighty Fortress” and the line, “And take they our life, goods, fame, child and wife – let these all be gone, they yet have nothing won, the kingdom ours remaineth”. Yes, we have it all because we have Jesus and his word.

Last week, we included in our prayers a Pastor Jeff Geske, a classmate of mine, who was with his family in a terrible car accident. His wife and two of his three children were killed. A terrible tragedy on so many levels, for him personally, for his son, for his congregation, where he had only begun serving about a month ago. Well on Tuesday, Pastor Geske posted these words of encouragement, and I share them with you now:

“Thank you! I would like to thank everyone for the words and love shown to me during this most difficult time at the death of Laura and Joshua and Joy. I rejoice knowing that they are now in heaven with our Savior Jesus. I miss them so much, but I know that one great and glorious day, they will along with Jesus welcome me home to heaven.

May this difficult time for me remind you and encourage you to continue to express your love to your family. They are so precious and truly a gift from God on loan to us. May God comfort you as He is comforting me. Never forget how much God loves you! John 3:16-17

Take comfort in the five most important words you can ever know which are, "Jesus died for my sins! Jesus loves you and so I ask and encourage you to love others and share His love, forgiveness, and salvation with them. Heaven is our home!”

What a powerful word Jesus preached, that it brings comfort even to this family tragedy. A Savior who came not just to wow us with miracles, or to make our lives free of trouble, but to proclaim an eternal word of forgiveness and salvation. That's the Jesus we know. That's the Jesus we look to, and listen to. That's Pastor Geske's Jesus, and yours, and mine. In His Name, Amen.

Sermon - Epiphany 4 - Deuteronomy 18:15-20

Epiphany 4 – January 29, 2012

Deuteronomy 18:15-20

What Would Moses Do?

Moses says, in his farewell address: “The Lord will raise up a prophet like me from among you”. Well first there's the history.

The 40 years of wandering in the desert was coming to an end. God would lead his people across the Jordan River and into the Promised Land. Moses had been their leader, well, their human leader, all this time. From the Exodus and the Passover, through the parting of the Red Sea to Mt. Sinai and the giving of the 10 commandments, the establishment of the Tabernacle and the whole sacrificial system. Moses was the guy. And now as he approached 120 years old, it was time for the people to enter Canaan. And Moses wouldn't be going with them. It was time for a new leader.

Moses died just across the border. Mount Nebo. He never set foot on the earthly promised land (at least until he met Jesus at the mount of Transfiguration). Instead, it was Joshua, son of Nun, who would take over the mantle. Joshua was a mighty leader, too. He lead the conquest at Jericho and many other Canaanite cities, as the people came into possession of the land. Through Moses, God had done great things. Through Joshua God was about to do great things. So Joshua must have been who Moses meant when he said, “The Lord will raise up a prophet like me from among you”. Right? Not entirely.

Old Testament prophecy can often be seen as having multiple layers of fulfillment. The near fulfillment, the historical thing that happened back then for people to see, and the ultimate fulfillment, which sometimes points even to the last day itself. The promised land, for instance, was promised to Abraham, and delivered to God's people in Joshua. But the true promised land of Heaven is the ultimate fulfillment.

So too with this prophet of whom Moses speaks. Joshua was great and all, but he was still not the imposing figure that Moses was. Moses, after all, met God and lived. Moses saw the plagues and the passover and the parting of the sea. Moses received the Ten Commandments and wrote the Torah! Moses! Who can be as great a prophet as he!? No, Joshua, whose Hebrew name was “Yeshua” stood in the shadow of this giant of faith, Moses. But there would be another Joshua, or Yeshua, or as you know him, “Jesus”.

Jesus Christ is the ultimate fulfillment of Moses' words of prophecy here. But to appreciate it, let's compare the two.

Moses was the great law-giver. He brought the Ten Commandments, the moral code by which God's people were to order their lives.

Jesus was also a law-giver. Not only a law-giver, but certainly he did that. He taught us to love God, and love our neighbor. He showed by example of washing feet how we out to serve one another. How being great in his kingdom meant being the least. In fact, he even expounded and expanded the Law of Moses - “You've heard it said, do not commit adultery, but I say... lust is adultery in your heart! Moses taught you, 'do not murder', but I say that hatred of another is like murder in your heart! Moses let you get a divorce, but that was only because of your hardened hearts. From the beginning, God has joined men and women together in marriage. And what God has joined together, let man not separate!”

The problem for us, is that we break the law of Moses, and we break the law of Jesus. Neither the 10 commandments of Moses, nor any of the commandments of Jesus are attainable for us sinners. So Jesus is a prophet like Moses. But Jesus is even greater.

Moses was a deliverer. Through him, God brought the people of Israel out of slavery in Egypt. He plagued their enemies and rescued them from the angel of Death. He regarded the blood of the lamb, the lamb without blemish, as a sacrifice sufficient to save each household. And then he brought the people through the sea, and drowned Pharaoh's host which pursued them in those same waters. The memory of this salvation established the Israelites as a nation. It gave them their very identity. It made them who they were. Moses led them through all this.

But Jesus is a deliverer to exceed even Moses. Moses was a faint shadow of this true deliverer. Jesus brought us out of the bondage of sin, and into the freedom of the Gospel. Jesus rescues us from death by dying and rising, himself. Jesus is the lamb of God who is slain from the foundation of the world, and who takes away the sin of the world, and has mercy on us. Jesus is the one who delivers us by his gift of Holy Baptism, bringing us safely through the water to new life in him, and drowning our old Adam, our sinful nature, daily, through repentance and faith. Jesus makes us who we are, his people, his church. Built by him and on him and in him, sustained by His Spirit, and promised a future paradise that will never end.

And Jesus is the only law-fulfiller. He does all things well. He perfectly, obediently obeys the will of the Father, and fulfills all righteousness by living entirely without sin. And he does this, not for himself, but for you. To give you the credit for his perfect life. To give you a righteousness only he could earn. His holy life overshadows your mess of sin, just as his perfect death takes you from under the shadow of sin and death.

What would Moses Do? Well, whatever Moses did, Jesus did it better. He is truly the prophet God raised up like Moses, but even better. He is the perfect law giver, and law-fulfiller. He is the one true deliverer of the world, and of you and me individually. He is the one who brought us through the waters, and establishes us in his kingdom forever.

Hail to Jesus Christ, the one with authority, the Holy One of God, the new and greater Moses, the Prophet who speaks God's word, who is the living word, our leader, our champion, our savior. In His Name, Amen.

Sermon - Epiphany 2 - John 1:43-53

Epiphany 2 – January 15, 2012

John 1:43-53

You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet

There is much to learn about Jesus from the calling of Nathanael.

“Can anything good come from Nazareth?”

Nathanael starts his interaction with Jesus with a mild insult. Really. I mean. Phillip, you're telling me that the Messiah is from that back-water town? They're a suburb of nowhere.

But Phillip tells Nathanael to come and see, and for some reason, he does. Skeptical, probably frumping along to humor his friend. Nathanael was expecting another crackpot, some false Messiah like so many that had come before.

“Can anything good come from Nazareth?” Well, the answer to that, theologically, is “no.” Nothing good can come from Nazareth, or from Jerusalem, or Rome. Nothing good can come from New York, or Chicago, or Green Bay, or Racine. Nothing good can come from anywhere, especially from anyone in this sinful, broken, messed up world.

And that means nothing good can come from you or me, either. Out of the heart come our evil thoughts. From our unclean lips come unclean words. And our blood-stained hands can do only the filthy works of sin. We are corrupt through and through. Can anything good come from me? No. For I am just as much a part of this sinful world as the next guy. And so are you.

Can anything good come from Nazareth? No. But Jesus is not from Nazareth.

When Jesus sees Nathanael he rattles his cage of pre-conceived notions. He shows a little of that divine knowledge that only he could have. He saw Nathanael under the fig tree, before Phillip called him. And he returns Nathanael's insult with a compliment, “Here is a true Israelite, in whom there is no deceit!”

What does Jesus mean? That Nathanael is without sin? Surely not. For if we say we have no sin we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. Perhaps Jesus is here commending Nathanael for having enough honesty to call a sin a sin where he sees it. For having the guts to ask what good can come from Nazareth, and having the humility to know that the sins of his own past make him no better.

Jesus knows our past, too. He calls us before we know who he is. He saves us before we know we need saving. He knew you before you were born, after all. Yes, he knows your deep, dark secrets. No sin or shame can escape him. But he puts all that away. He chooses to deal with your sins by taking the condemnation you deserve. Jesus knows you better than you even know yourself. He knows who you really are – who he has made you to be in your baptism. He knows the plans he has for you, the place he's preparing for you.

Back to the story. This little bit of a show of omniscience by Jesus leads Nathanael to confess a great truth. To recognize the folly of his insult. “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!”

Ah, yes, true. We can confess the same with Nathanael. We know who Jesus is. We know, not on our own, but because he tells us and shows us. We know from his word, that he is true God and true man. That he is without sin, yet takes on our sin. That he is our great prophet, our high priest, and our true king. Nathanael would come to learn in more and better and deeper ways just who this Jesus was and what he came to do. Nathanael would come to see even greater things than a prophet from Nazareth.

“You think it's a big deal that I saw you under the fig tree, Nathanael? Well you aint seen nothin' yet!”

And he would. And we do. For Nathanael and for us, the minor miracle was Jesus seeing him under the fig tree. The greater miracle is us seeing Jesus on the tree of the cross.

The cross is that touchstone between heaven and earth. Jesus hangs there, right in the middle, the God-Man, between God and Man. He suffers and dies there to bridge the chasm of sin. To bring God to man and man to God. In Jesus heaven itself is open to us.

Jesus is Jacob's ladder – the stairway to heaven. Only through him does God come to be with us, to cleanse us and call us. Only in him do we have access to the Father and to eternal life.

Only at the tree of the cross can Nathanael and Phillip and all the other apostles and disciples find the true Son of God and King of Israel. Only in his cross can we see Jesus for who he is. He didn't come to do parlor tricks. He didn't come to wow us with miraculous fireworks. He came to die. To conquer death. And to speak good news to us, his people.

And like Nathanael and Phillip, he calls us to follow. To have no deceit about our sins, but to bring them to the tree of the cross. To hear and see him, Jesus, for all that he is and does. And to trust and believe and live in him, forever.

And with Jesus, we can still say, “You aint seen nothin' yet.” Yes, once again, we will see heaven opened, when he comes again in glory. Yet again will Jesus descend, now in glory. That day, that great Epiphany is coming soon. May he keep us faithful, so that at the last we too can stand and confess him, Jesus, the Son of God, and the King of Israel, our savior. In his holy name, Amen.

Jesus the Sponge?

While leading Bible Study at church today I was amazed, as I often am, by the theological acumen of some of our attendees.  We were discussing the readings for the Baptism of Our Lord (Mark 1 in particular), and the idea that in his baptism, Jesus "takes our sins" upon himself.  Almost a sort of "Reverse-Baptism".

One comment from the class, was that it was as if all the people who were baptized there by John had washed their sins into the water, and Jesus comes in, like a sponge, and takes them all to himself.  This, of course, culminates in the cross, where "it is finished".  But you could argue that it begins, in a public way, when he takes our sins upon himself in the Jordan.

Another comment, in a similar vein, was from someone who traveled to Israel with me in 2007.  Of course we saw there the Sea of Galilee, the large freshwater lake that was for many in the land over the years, a very important source of life.  The Jordan river flows from there, and afterward to the Dead Sea.  So the picture was that life comes from the clean water of Baptism, and is washed down and away with death itself.  A very cool observation!

Issues Etc. may have the "smartest listeners in radio", but I may have some of the smartest Bible Class members around!

Sermon - Christmas 1 - Luke 2:22-40

Christmas 1 – January 1^st 2012

Luke 2:22-40

The Firstborn Redeemer

For the world, Christmas is over. For the Church, it's only just begun. We are one week in to our Christmas season, which will follow with Epiphany, and several Sundays after. While the world is on to Valentine's Day, we continue to dwell on Christ, our newborn King.

Today a reading from Luke which tells an episode from Jesus' infancy. 40 days after birth, observant Jews performed the redemption of the firstborn, according to Exodus 13, our Old Testament reading. For every firstborn male a sacrifice was made – to redeem him, to buy him back. This itself was a sign pointing to Christ, the firstborn of Mary and the only-begotten Son of God. The New Adam who came to redeem the Old Adam in all of us.

So Jesus is brought to his, yes, his temple. Like his circumcision and his baptism, Jesus participates in all these rituals – though he has no need to be redeemed from sin himself. Yet he is our priest, our representative to God, and does all this and more in our place. Jesus is redeemed, in this ritual sense, even as he is your redeemer. Mary and Joseph make the ritual sacrifice of two turtledoves, for they couldn't afford the lamb. But the true lamb of sacrifice was the babe in their arms.

There they meet old Simeon, who sings a song, called the “Nunc Dimmitis”, Latin for “Now Dismiss”. Having seen and even held Jesus, the promised savior, his redeemer, he can go – he can die in peace. The glory of the Lord, that is also the glory of Israel – which had departed from the temple long ago – had now returned. The light to the gentiles, the one who brings light to all nations – had dawned upon the earth. “My eyes have seen thy salvation” - Simeon is talking about Jesus Christ!

We sing that song, too. We sing it when we, too, have seen and held the Christ – even more, after we eat his body and drink his blood. We see the salvation of God, the glory of Israel, the light to the nations. And with our sins forgiven, and our souls nourished, we too are at peace. We can now be dismissed. We are ready, even for death, having received Jesus and his gifts.

I can't tell you how many dying Christians I've spoken or sung these words to. For in the word, in our baptism, in the Supper – we see God's salvation and our promised rest. Simeon's song is the song of every Christian, every believer in Christ. We can go in peace.

Simeon and Anna remind me of Adam and Eve. People acquainted with death. Simeon was well up in years, waiting to die. Anna knew the death of her husband at an early age; death had shaped the course of her life. Like Adam and Eve who died the day they ate of the fruit, but whose bodies lived in sin and death for years to come. Simeon and Anna both awaited the fulfillment of the promises to Adam and Eve and all the other men and women of old. That the seed of the woman would crush the serpent's head. Only Simeon and Anna lived to see it unfolding in this infant Christ.

Eve thought her firstborn son, Cain, would be the one. But he, too, became known for bringing only death. It would take another firstborn to do the job. A firstborn of a virgin. Redeemed under the law of Moses at the temple, but redeeming all of Adam and Eve's children from death by his blood.

You and I are people acquainted with death. Our culture tries to make us numb to it, but death is always breathing down our necks. We are fragile. We could all go at any time. You don't have to be old like Simeon and Anna to realize this. You don't have to suffer from aches and pains or debilitating diseases to see death's shadow over life. Change and decay happen in so many ways. Things and people we love go away, deteriorate, yes, even die. Relationships fracture. All good things, they say, must come to an end. So it is in our world of death. Not only life, but everything in it is subject to the wages of sin. Well, almost everything.

Death meets its death in the Babe of Bethlehem. Death meets its death in Christ on the cross. When he says, “it is finished”, he declared the victory. He, the Son of God and Son of Man did exactly what he came to do.

And yes, Jesus died, a sword pierced his soul when he suffered for our sins and gave his life as a ransom for many. He died. But Jesus is also the firstborn... of the dead. He burst from the tomb in a glorious resurrection to never die again. And the firstborn of the dead is no only child. His brothers and sisters will follow, when he calls us forth from death. He does it, already, in our baptism. He'll do it for our bodies as well on the last day.

Simeon can go in peace from the temple, though Adam had to go in bitterness from the garden. An angel barred the way back to the tree, to paradise. But angels announce the restoration of life to us all, “he is risen, he is not here”. And angel trumpets will announce his return in glory on that triumphant day.

We see that in Christ, everything old is made new again. He even says so, in Revelation “Behold, I make all things new”. He renews old Simeon and Anna. He restores paradise. He renews and cleanses his temple, and the temples of our bodies. He brings glory where it has departed. He brings life where there was only death. And he brings sinners to God who had been exiled long ago. He brings righteousness and holiness and life to us who were so lost.

We can, and we do, depart in peace, according to his word. We know the Firstborn Redeemer. Our eyes have seen his salvation. Our ears have heard. Our hearts believe. Our lips confess, even sing, with Simeon, with Anna, with all the believers of old, with all the saints already departed, and with those who wait for him on earth.

Lord, now let your servants depart in peace, according to your word, for our eyes have seen your salvation in Jesus Christ, our Lord, amen.

Sermon - Christmas Day - Isaiah 52:7-10

Christmas Day 2011

Isaiah 52:7–10

“All I Want for Christmas are Beautiful Feet”

A blessed Christmas day to you, dear Christians. I hope and pray your celebration of our Lord's birth has been, and will be joyous. I hope you share some time with friends and family. I hope you get some good food to eat. Maybe we can even watch some good football tonight. But most of all I hope you got a nice gift this year. Yes, I know we all did. We always do.

Did you get any socks? Now there's a gift. What's more practical and boring than socks? What's more everyday? What says that special time of year less than socks? Something that goes on your feet – every day. Socks – not the pretty stockings with all the candy and goodies. Socks that cover a rather inglorious part of your body. I can't think of anything I'd rather get, anything less exciting than socks. Socks are boring. Feet are every-day. Except for a day like today.

Isaiah writes: “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, who publishes peace, who brings good news of happiness”

Picture this. Jerusalem has been at war. It's been a long fought battle. The enemy is relentless. The city is under the cloud of doom. The soldiers march off to battle. The outcome is unknown. The women and children wait in the safety of the city walls – waiting to hear word. Over the mountain, someone will appear. Will it be the enemy flag, raised high in conquering might? Will it be our own bedraggled and defeated soldiers, retreating for one last desperate stand? No.

It's a lone messenger. And he's running. He's exuberant and ebullient. His message is urgent. His news is good. He brings good tidings of great joy. Peace! Victory! The warfare is over. The people are safe. The champion has won! Death does not win the day.

The watchmen on the city walls see him, and they know what it means! They start to sing together – a song of joy – a song that hasn't been heard since this terrible war started. Soon the women and children join in and the whole city raises its voice together, “Our God reigns! He has given us the victory!”

But it all started with those feet. The feet of the messenger. When they crossed the mountaintop. Feet, which are usually dirty and dusty and smelly. But feet which bring good news are a blessed, beautiful sight for sore and weary and fearful eyes.

Jesus Christ is born. He takes on human flesh. He takes a human body. Eyes, ears, mouth, nose, hands, legs... feet. Those precious baby feet stick out of the manger, and they are such good news for us. More innocent than any human babe ever born, this holy one of God is the bearer of the best news ever to touch any mountain or valley. His arrival is the beginning of the good news. God has come to save. To comfort Jerusalem. To redeem his people.

But those baby feet would grow. They would walk the walk of a perfect life, treading where we cannot, though we stumble every day. The thong of his sandal John isn't worthy to untie. But still he walks into the river to be baptized for us. His feet carry him to the wilderness for us. He would go up to Jerusalem for us. His feet would be anointed with a woman's tears and perfume for burial. And those feet would be nailed to a cross for us. But they would also walk him out of the grave for us. And they would ascend in glory for us.

Yes, the serpent bruised his heel, but that same foot would crush the head of our old foe, destroying him and his power over us forever. The warfare is over. Jesus' feet bring peace. They are beautiful feet, indeed.

All I want for Christmas are the beautiful feet of him who brings good news. And that's just what I get, and so do you. All I want is the Gospel, the message of salvation in Jesus Christ, and that is enough. All the presents under the tree will pass away. Moth and rust will do their work. But the word of God stands forever, the promise of Christ stands forever, and we, with our humble but faithful feet, can always stand on that sure rock, forever.

Today we hear that word. Today, and each time we gather in his house, we hear the good news of great joy. We hear it from humble servants whose feet aren't anything special but the message they bring is so sweet. And whether it's the beautiful feet of pastors, teachers, parents or friend, God provides feet to keep his message coming. He sends the messengers to keep bringing that message of salvation in Jesus Christ our Lord. And no matter how gnarly and dirty and smelly the feet, the feet that bring Christ are beautiful feet indeed.

Our baptism washes us, and not just our filthy feet, but our head and hands, also. And the Lord's Supper feeds us – body and soul – giving strength to believe and live as Christ has promised. Forgiven and freed, we follow his example, and wash feet – serve our neighbor – love one another.

So maybe socks aren't so bad. Maybe feet aren't so everyday. For feet that bring good news like this are beautiful feet. This doesn't happen everyday. Christ is born for us. His work on earth began that day in Bethlehem, and would lead to Calvary and cross. But it is finished. Christ is risen. He has done all things well. So lift up your voices in the victory song, for our God reigns, and gives us all good things. Amen.