I read the following letter to my congregation this morning. I post it here for the information of all, likewise asking for your prayers during my deliberation.
My Dear Friends in Christ at Grace Lutheran, Racine,
I have received a divine call through the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod's Board for International Mission to serve as a Strategic Mission Developer in the South Asia region.
Some of the details are unclear at this point, but I would either be serving as a theological educator in Indonesia or a church-planter in Singapore . In any case, there's plenty of work to do in this region of the world, where Lutheranism faces great challenges and opportunities.
Over the next few weeks I will be prayerfully deliberating the call. Please keep me and my family in your prayers as we seek to discern how (and where) to best serve God in His kingdom.
We'll also be attending a “New Missionary Orientation” in St. Louis for the next 2 weeks. This will give us lots of information should I accept the call to serve as missionary, but is not a guarantee or commitment that I will do so.
I plan to announce my final decision to either accept or decline this call on Sunday, July 29th.
We welcome any questions you have about the process, the possibilities, and the details of the opportunity which is before us. But most of all we ask your prayers for us – that God would grant us wisdom toward our decision, and peace with whatever the outcome may be.
I
don't know about you but I have really been enjoying these readings
from the Gospel of John this past month or so. John has a way of
getting at the mysteries of God in a simple but profound way. Here,
on Trinity Sunday, we again hear from John – relating a
conversation with Nicodemus, who comes to Jesus one night.
Nicodemus
was a pharisee, a teacher of Israel, a religious authority of his
day. We don't know exactly why he came to Jesus at night, but it was
likely out of some sort of embarrassment, so as not to be seen by his
peers. At this point, it doesn't appear Nicodemus has come to faith
in Christ. Later in John 7, he appears, defending Jesus from the
other Pharisees, who wished to arrest Jesus without a fair hearing.
And finally we see Nicodemus at the death of Jesus, with Joseph of
Arimathea, bringing spices to honor our Lord in burial. Joseeph is
said to be a disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews,
and it seems by that point Nicodemus was in the same vein.
Perhaps
it was this nighttime conversation with Jesus in John 3 that sets
Nicodemus down that road. And so today we can sit with the teacher
of Israel at the feet of the greatest Teacher. Today we too, ponder
the mysteries of a God who so loved the world that he sends his only
Son. And on this Trinity Sunday, we can also see in Jesus' teaching
the importance of our Triune God's work in and among his people.
The
Father creates us, gives us our flesh. From the world we inhabit to
the air we breathe to the lungs that inhale it, we owe our existence
to the Father, the creator of all things visible and invisible. But
here is where we have a problem, too, for the flesh he created, we
corrupted. We are born, but born into sin. Flesh gives birth to
flesh. Sinful Adam brings for a son in his own sinful image, and so
on and son on, right down to Nicodemus, and to you and me. We are
outside the kingdom of God, outsiders from our very Father in heaven.
Sin separates, perverts, and kills. Creation is broken, and death
reigns in each of us. The world is a mess. The world is perishing.
But the Father loves the world, and so sends his Son.
You
know this, because you live in the world. You know this because you,
too, participate in the sins you've inherited from Adam. You know
well the Father of lies, who reigns in this world, and gleefully
cheers you on to sin. You know well the burden and confusion sin
brings. You confess it each week as we gather in this place. A
poor, miserable sinner, sinning in thought, word and deed. You are
just as much a part of the world as the next sinner. Just as much in
need of a savior. Don't be fooled by thinking that “sinner”
always means some other sinner, or even the rest of the world. When
the word speaks of sin, it always speaks of me, of you.
“For
God so loved the world” isn't “for God loved the world SO much”,
but “This is how God loved the world.... In this way God loved the
world.... that he sent his Son”. Jesus is not just the expression
of how much God loves us, but he is the very way that God loves us.
He is the expression of God's love for a fallen world. And there is
no other way to the Father's love.
To
receive it, Jesus says, to enter this kingdom of the Father, we must
be born again. Nicodemus takes this literally. But others miss the
point, too, making such born-again-ness into a work you can do. How
many times have other Christians asked, “brother, are you born
again?” And a Lutheran doesn't know what to say. Or a survey asks
us to check a box, “born-again Christian” and we bite our lip,
wondering. What they often mean is a conversion experience, a
watershed moment in which we make a decision or commitment to turn to
God. Pray a certain prayer, feel a certain feeling... and make the
appropriate testimony of such. Oh and then be baptized to show it.
But
this gets it wrong. We must listen closely to what Jesus says. “Be
born”. It's passive language. And isn't birth always passive?
What child decided to be born from his mother's womb, anyway? So too
with Baptism. A gift received from God. A washing of sins that God
does to you and for you. A rebirth of renewal in the Holy Spirit,
that God provides and enacts and initiates. This is the “born
again-ness” that we Lutherans confess, and receive. Are you born
again? Yes, in baptism. The free gift of God in Christ.
How
can a man do this? How can a man enter into his mother's womb and be
born again? Of course he can't. Even more impossible is that he can
be freed from sin and made wholly clean and perfect before God. Of
course he can't, on his own. But with God all things are possible.
And in baptism, that's just what he does.
And
we are baptized in the name of the Trinue God. The only God.
Father, Son and Holy Spirit. This is a great mystery. But like all
the other mysteries of our faith, it is not to be fully understood
but simply received and confessed, believed and cherished. I can't
explain it to you. I can only say what Scripture says. God is three
in one, and one in three. But his three-ness and his one-ness is for
you. And you bear his triune name upon you – sealed by water,
word, and Spirit. And in this name you have eternal life.
The
Catechism explains that our Baptism is also a daily rebirth –
“It
signifies that the old Adam in us should, by daily contrition and
repentance, be drowned and die with all sins and evil lusts, and,
again, a new man daily come forth and arise; who shall live before
God in righteousness and purity forever.
Where
is this written?--Answer.
St.
Paul says in Romans, chapter 6: We are buried with Christ by Baptism
into death, that, like as He was raised up from the dead by the glory
of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life.”
By
the work of the Holy Spirit, who creates faith and works in Baptism,
we receive the “goods” of Christ's death and resurrection. For
the Son of Man, Jesus, was lifted up. He was sent so that the
whoever believes would not perish but have eternal life. He is the
one who comes from Heaven, the only one with the credentials to know
all about salvation and to actually accomplish it for all. Yes, for
all. No matter your origin or your sins along the way. No matter
whether you are a teacher of Israel or a prostitute, a tax collector
or pharisee. Young or old, wise or fool. There's plenty of room at
the feet of the rabbai and at the font of rebirth. So live in your
baptism, you sinners, reborn. And live in Christ and his Spirit, to
the glory of God the Father. Amen.
A
blessed Pentecost Sunday to you. Today is an important day in the
church calendar, perhaps the third most important. After Easter
(including Holy Week), and Christmas, the Sunday of Pentecost is one
of the chief festivals we observe each year.
Some
have said that Good Friday and Easter, as a unit, especially
correspond to the work of the Son, Jesus Christ. And that Christmas
corresponds to the work of the Father, who sent his Son into the
flesh. But Pentecost is certainly the day in which we highlight the
work of the Holy Spirit.
It
was on the first Christian Pentecost that the Spirit was poured out
on the believers, empowering them to speak the Gospel in languages
they never learned. And so it is also considered the birthday of the
Christian Church, a major turning point in the New Testament, and in
God's plan for his people.
We
learn from God's Word that the Holy Spirit is a person, like the
Father and Son, of the Godhead. He is associated with the
forgiveness of sins, the creation of faith, and the calling and
gathering of the church. He is sent by the Father and the Son as a
helper, comforter, and to bring light or understanding. He is, in a
way, mysterious, like the wind – you can't see him but you can see
his working. But the Spirit's work is not apart from the Word and
Sacraments. He doesn't simply work in us, out of the blue, apart
from these promised means of grace.
And
as we get toward our text from Ezekiel, we can see one more aspect of
the Spirit's work: He is the Lord and Giver of Life, as we confess
in the Nicene Creed. Yes, the word, “Spirit” means wind, or
breath – and the same Spirit who breathed into Adam's nostrils the
breath of life, the same Spirit who will breathe into our flesh the
breath of eternal life on the last day, is the same Spirit here
pictured in Ezekiel's vision of the dry bones.
Take
a look at that valley with Ezekiel. A vast army of dead, very dead
people. Not freshly slain soldiers, among whom you might find some
living but injured survivors. No they are quite dead. Not merely
dead, but really most sincerely dead. Dead and decayed, just bones
left, and dry ones at that. They are not even close to alive.
Kind
of like you, in your sins. In fact, just like you, in your sins.
Sometimes visions like this paint an even truer picture of reality
than our eyes do. Just like the Israelites of Ezekiel's day were a
hopeless and defeated nation with no life left in them, exiled to
Babylon, powerless, hopeless, as good as dead. So are you, and so is
every sinner, who may look alive but is very much dead in sin.
That
valley of dry bones is the human condition apart from God. Just as
dead and hopeless. Just as far from life and breath as anything.
Might as well be a rock or some dirt. Your everyday experience tells
you you're alive and just fine. But God's word shows the true
reality. Sin brings death. It clings to us. It infects every part
of us. We are dead men and women walking. Because we are sinners
who sin daily and sin much. And no matter how hard the skeleton
tries, it can't come to life. No matter how hard, you, the sinner,
try, you can't come to life. What we need is a miracle. A divine
intervention.
And
God is in the business of doing just that. From death he brings
life. From the cross, first and foremost. There in the hopeless,
helpless, death of Jesus on the cross, he brings help and hope and
life to all people. There in the valley of the shadow of death,
Jesus dies to bring the light that chases away death forever. And as
his dead flesh would rise to life again, so does he bring life to
dead sinners who die in him.
Ezekiel's
vision wasn't without hope, because he had God's word. The prophet
spoke, by God's command and promise, to the wind, that is, the
Spirit. Who came and brought life to those lifeless bones. Just as
the pastor speaks the word of God to lifeless sinners, and the Spirit
works through that word to bring life to you again. The valley of
dry bones is a vision of how God works in all times and places,
bringing life to the dead, through word and spirit, because of the
life from the dead won by his Son at the cross.
As
a pastor, I could look out on you, the people in my care, and see a
pile of bones – sinners who are hopeless and struggling with all
their own faults and failings, grieved by the sorrows of living in a
world where death reigns. You tell me your troubles, and I listen,
but I usually can't do anything much about it. It's like Ezekiel
looking at a femur and a skull. The troubles can be so much. And I
am just a man.
But
I have one thing for you, and it is enough. Not my word, but his.
Now hear this, you dried up and dried out dead people: Jesus Christ
has died and Jesus Christ lives and Jesus Christ promises you new
life. So hear the Gospel, now, and live! Hear the life-giving word
of the Spirit, who creates life where there was only death. Hear the
life-renewing hope and the sin-forgiving declaration. You are not
dead. You are not lost. You are forgiven. You are in Christ, and
Christ is alive. So, too, do you live through him!
You
are baptized. There you first rose from the death of sin to new life
in Christ. And one day your flesh will die, only to rise again
because of the promise of Christ. The fanciful picture of dry bones
coming back together, and breathing the breath of life again – is
not so fanciful compared to the promise of the last day. That at the
trumpet call of God the dead in Christ will rise and meet him face to
face, in a glorified body, and see him as he is, being like him.
This is our hope. This is our destiny.
Son
of man, can these bones live? Yes. Can Christ conquer death and
live? Yes. Can he, does he, promise the same for you? Yes. So
believe it, and live in him always. Amen.
Love.
Love is in the air. With wedding season upon us, there's plenty of
opportunity to talk about love. But Jesus isn't talking about
romantic love here in John 15, but the self-sacrificing love he has
for us, and calls us to have for each other.
Perhaps
Mothers' Day, too, is a good day to thing about this kind of love.
For mothers often sacrifice of themselves for the good of their
children. We give thanks to God for the good gift of mothers, and we
honor them especially today. But even more important that our love
for mom or her love for us, is the love of Christ for all.
There's
lots to love about our Gospel reading this morning... as we listen to
Jesus' teaching about love.
Love
begins with the Father. The Father and the Son, who love each other.
Indeed, John tells us in his epistles that God is love. It's such a
part of who he is and is part and parcel of his nature.
The
Father loves the Son, and the Son, Jesus, loves us. And he commands
us to love one another. As your teenagers might say, “how's that
workin' out for ya?” Not too well, I suppose.
If
your daily life is anything like mine, it's incredibly difficult –
no, impossible - to love as Christ loves. Loving others takes a far
back seat to the real priority, which is me. Aren't you the same?
Call it selfishness, or self-absorption, most of us, most of the time
are metaphysical navel-gazers, concerned mostly about how life
affects us, first and foremost. We're not preoccupied with what we
can do for others, how we can help others, what others need, how we
can serve them. No, we're looking out for #1. How I feel. What I
need. What I want.
Our
culture encourages this self-absorption. Whitney Houston sang that
learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all. Advertisers
tell us to have it your way, you deserve a break today. We are
taught to seek convenience and comfort and fulfillment in all the
pleasures of life. And while no one would saying love is a bad
thing, all this self-centeredness is the very opposite of what love
truly is: self-sacrifice.
We
see that, most perfectly, of course, in Jesus. “Greater love has
no one than this, that someone lays down his life for his friends”.
And Jesus did just that. He wasn't the tragic victim of human
injustice, if only he could have gotten away. No. He set his face
toward Jerusalem. He handed himself over to his enemies. He laid
down his own life. “no one takes it from me” he said, “but I
lay it down of my own accord”. He is the ultimate self-sacrifice,
the Lamb of God offered up on the altar of the cross. True love.
Perfect love. Ultimate superlative, better-than-any-other-love –
the real greatest love of all – is Jesus on the cross for you.
And
it's his loving death for you that is the antidote for all your
unloving-ness.
First
of all, to forgive you. Yes, I am an unloving, self-absorbed sinner.
What of it? Jesus died for me. Yes, I fumble and stumble and
shatter his commandments every single day, but my debts are paid –
Jesus died for me. Yes, you too are a poor, miserable sinner, turned
in on your own sinful self, too, rebelling, wandering, resenting his
law – but Christ laid down his life to forgive you. He loves you
that much, even in your unlovingness.
Second,
he calls you to abide in his love. To abide means to live in, to
make it the center of your existence. To receive, continually, from
his loving abundance. Abiding in his love means cherishing the word
that he speaks to you – and gathering with others to hear it.
Abiding in his love means daily repentance and faith by your baptism,
living each day as a new creation in Christ. Abiding in his love
means receiving his gifts of body and blood, given and shed for you –
the very lifeblood of the Christian – and drawing your life from
him alone. Abiding in Jesus' love doesn't mean doing good, so much
as it means receiving his good gifts, and trusting in him constantly.
And
yes, he calls you to love one another, as he has loved you. And
remember what kind of love that is – self-sacrificing love. A love
that lays down one's life for another. These disciples of Jesus
would know that kind of love first hand, as they would in the coming
years, lay down their lives for the sake of his Gospel, that is, for
the sake of others. They knew and believed Christ's words and
promises. They preached the cross, and lived it. Despite
persecution and imprisonment and martyrdom, they remained rooted in
his love and his self-sacrifice.
He
calls you to love in the same way, with the same love that first
loved you. And it's not easy. It means laying down your life for
others. It means putting others ahead of yourself, your wants and
desires. It means seeing the bigger picture of God's will for you
and your life in the little moments and opportunities he sets before
you. Love your spouse. Love your children. Love your co-workers,
including that really annoying one. Love even your enemies. Speak
the truth in love, even when it's a hard truth.
Hard
to do, and we do it far from perfectly. We certainly don't die for
others. The law convicts us all. But then we return to his
forgiveness. And then we recall his promise from last week's reading
earlier in this same chapter - “abide in me and you will bear much
fruit”. Yes, God works through us to love people, over against our
sinful, unloving nature. In spite of our self-absorption, his Spirit
accomplishes his purposes.
If
you want to love others, the trick isn't to first love yourself. The
real way to know love is to know Christ's love. To abide in his
love. To receive it constantly, to live and breathe it. Only then
can we and will we truly love one another.
In
John's Gospel Jesus gives a number of speeches on his own identity.
Sometimes these are call the great “I AM” passages of John – in
fact we had one last week, in which Jesus declared, “I AM the Good
Shepherd”. Today he uses another grand metaphor to illustrate who
he is, and what is his relationship with us, his people.
Jesus
is the true vine, and we are the branches. The Father is the
gardener, and the fruit we bear is good works. Some vines,
unbelievers, bear no fruit. They are condemned to the fire. Simple
enough?
And
yet there is much to learn from this teaching. There is great
comfort in knowing Jesus the Vine, and know what it means to be a
branch grafted into him.
But
first a reminder – that apart from Christ, there is no fruit.
Severed from the True Vine, there is no hope. These are the
unbelievers, who have no connection to Christ, no faith or trust in
him. Their destiny is destruction. And this would be you... if not
for God's grace in Christ!
This
takes faith to see. For the eyes of the world will see all sorts of
“fruit” in our lives and the lives of unbelievers. You don't
have to be a Christian to feed the poor, care for the sick, be a good
citizen, or raise your children to be respectful. You don't have to
believe in Jesus to be nice to people, or to be regarded as a “good
person”. The world looks at the outward things, the surface, and
sees what it considers good according to its own standard.
But
don't be tempted to do the same! Jesus is quite clear. “Apart
from me you can do nothing!” In other words, apart from Jesus,
none of these so-called good works amount to a hill of beans. You
could win all the accolades of man and affect the lives of millions
of people for the better and it would still not be fruitful in the
eyes of God. Your good works, even the best of them, would be filthy
rags. Your towering moral achievements wouldn't stand the test of
God's perfection. You are, after all, like all of us, sinful. And
even your best is corrupt and wicked and stinks of death.
If
I do good, am I not proud of it? Haven't I done it with some
expectation of selfish gain? Am I doing it truly out of love for
neighbor, or with some other motivation or agenda? Or perhaps I do
it, but grudgingly, and only to avoid looking bad or some other
punishment. Sinful man can appear to do all sorts of good things,
when the fruit is rotten on the inside, and is really no fruit at
all.
“Apart
from me you can do nothing” Nothing good, that is. Nothing but
sin, rebel, and make your situation with God worse.
But
Jesus is the true vine. And we are not apart from him, we are in
him. We are in him by the grafting in of Holy Baptism, where we are
made members of his kingdom. The word he speaks to us cleanses us.
That word is his Gospel – the good news of salvation that comes by
the fruits of his cross. His blood shed for you and me, his life
given for you and me, there, is the source of our life. And we are
in him, and we have that life, as we abide in his word, believing and
trusting that what he says is true – even when it doesn't look to
be.
So
when he says, “Whoever
abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit”. We
believe that too, even though it doesn't look like it. And here is
great comfort. I know that, looking at myself, my good works amount
to little. Against the perfect standard of the law, they don't stand
up. But there is this promise of Jesus that we will bear much fruit.
And so we believe it. No matter what it looks like, we know that in
him, abiding in him, the fruit will come.
One
commentator puts it this way, “From
God's point of view the entire life of the Christian, by virtue of
the fact that he is attached to Jesus, the Vine, is a good work. No
wonder Jesus uses the expression "MUCH fruit" twice... It's
either MUCH
fruit
or none.”
But
he never says it's our job to assess our own fruitfulness. What
branch does that anyway? That's the gardener's job. We are directed
to trust in the word, to remain in Christ, and thus receive our life
from the True Vine.
The
fruitless branches he casts away and burns. And the fruitful
branches, he makes even more fruitful – by pruning.
Here
again we call on faith to trust the word where our eyes say
different. The branch probably doesn't like being pruned. It's
damaging. It probably feels like being cut off. Why would that
crazy gardener come and cut off parts of me, the branch might think.
Martin
Luther expanded the pruning metaphor, and imagined the gardener also
applying manure. But it all starts with Christ himself. Here's how
Luther said Christ could put it:
"
(They) will throw manure at Me and will hack away at Me. They will
shamefully revile and blaspheme Me, will torture, scourge, crucify,
and kill Me in the most disgraceful manner, so that all the world
will suppose that I must finally perish and be destroyed. But the
fertilizing and pruning I suffer will yield a richer fruit: that is,
through My crossand
death I shall come to My glory, begin My reign, and be acknowledged
and believed throughout the world. Later on you will have
the same experience. You, too, must be fertilized and cultivated in
this way. The Father, who makes Me the Vine and you the branches,
will not permit this Vine to lie unfertilized and unpruned."
And
for Luther, the Devil is God's manure: "God
takes him in hand and says: “Devil, you are indeed a murderer and
an evildoer; but I will use you for My purpose. You shall be My hoe;
the world and your following shall be My manure for the fertilization
of My vineyard.”
So
too, the believer, when God “prunes” us to make us more fruitful.
He does things in our lives, allows troubles in our lives, that we
don't always understand or like. He allows suffering, perhaps even
sends it at times. But the purpose and end of it are his own – to
make us more fruitful. Though it may be painful, though it may
require endurance, God is in charge of his vineyard, and he knows
better than we do. So trust. Endure. And abide in Christ.
One
final comforting promise, “If you abide in me, and my words abide
in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” Ah,
but words that are often misunderstood and misapplied. This isn't
Jesus as the wish-granting genie of the lamp, “your wish is my
command”. It's not “Jesus make me rich”, “Jesus if you're
real heal my disease” or even, “Jesus take my suffering away”.
He
says whatever you ask, abiding in my word, it will be done for you.
But what kind of prayers do we pray, abiding in his word? Prayers of
faith. Prayers that trust him to do what is best. Prayers of thy
will, not my will be done, Oh Lord. Prayers that know he will
answer, in his way, at his time. Prayers that know and trust that in
the end he will make all things new, and right, and good.
Prayers
that are rooted in the true vine – the source of our life- Jesus
Christ. Apart from him we can do nothing, no good works, not even
pray. But in him is all hope and comfort and life. Even when we are
pruned, we know it is for God's good purposes. We have the promise
that more fruit will come.
Jesus
is the Good Shepherd. And the Good Shepherd lays down his life for
the sheep. A blessed Good Shepherd Sunday to you, as it's often
called. Today our lectionary sets before us this grand metaphor of
shepherd and sheep - which begins in the Old Testament and culminates
in Jesus.
Most
of us are familiar with sheep and shepherds not first hand, but
beginning in Sunday School. And while you may have been to a farm or
a petting zoo here or there, sheep and shepherds aren't as much a
part of our daily life as they were for people in Jesus' day. Still,
it's a universal relationship that we can easily understand –
caretaker and care receiver. Him, and us, respectively.
In
fact Jesus contrasts himself with a mere hired hand. An employee who
is only a temporary caretaker, but really doesn't care. Jesus cares.
He cares for his sheep A LOT. He cares so much that he lays down
his life for the sheep, as he says over and over in the passage. Who
is the hired hand?
Here
Jesus is speaking to both his own disciples and his opponents,
including the pharisees. The “hired hand”, who doesn't sacrifice
for the sheep rather sacrifices the sheep for his own sake – let
the wolf have them while I run away – is the false teacher and
false messiah of any age. Anyone who's not pointing you to the Good
Shepherd, and speaking the words of the Good Shepherd, leads you only
to danger and destruction.
And
there is danger in this field. There's a wolf out there. Sometimes
he comes in sheep's clothing, sometimes as a serpent, sometimes a
roaring lion looking for someone to devour. He is our ancient enemy
– that's what “devil” means, “adversary”. He wants to
snatch the sheep and scatter the flock. He wants to destroy your
faith, and isolate you from each other.
Do
you feel the danger? Sheep often can't. Sheep need the guidance of
the shepherd. They need the staff to direct us. We need that
curbing law, but also to be shown our wandering ways. God's law
judges us rightly as lost sheep. People so lost and hopeless in our
sins that we have no future but death.
And
sheep are needy – incapable of caring for themselves. Sinners,
too, are incapable of solving our own spiritual dilemma. We will
always, only wander away into danger and death – were it not for
our Good Shepherd.
The
Good Shepherd's way to rescue the sheep is not to simply lead the
way. It's not that he simply calls us to follow, or worse, brutally
herds us into a pen.
Our
Good Shepherd is a good, kind, loving shepherd. He comes to rescue
us. Here's how:
First,
he knows us. Yes, a good shepherd knows each and every one of his
sheep. He knows you. Jesus doesn't forget you or ignore you. He
isn't your part-time savior, only there when you need him. Unless
you realize you need him all the time! He knows you better than you
know yourself. He knows the number of hairs on your head. He knows
your weakness. He knows your temptation. He knows your suffering.
“I know my sheep” he says. Believe it.
Second,
he cares for us. It may not always seem so. It may seem he's making
your life miserable, or at least allowing it to be. It may seem like
words, words, words, and that he is as distant and absent as the
Devil wants us to believe. But his promise stands, “I am with you
always”. And if you ever doubt his love and caring you need only
look to the cross. There he shows us his love in the biggest and
best way.
For
finally, and most importantly, the Good Shepherd rescues the sheep by
laying down his life. This is so important Jesus says it three times
in the passage – beginning, middle and end. He dies... for you.
And what a strange and wonderful thing it is that a shepherd would
die for a sheep. But greater love has no one than that he lay down
his life for his friends. And greater still that he lays it down for
us when we are his enemies. And as helpless and hopeless as the poor
lost sheep are, dirty, injured, bleating out our woes in the ditch of
our own making.... Jesus lays down his life for ours.
The
Good Shepherd is also the perfect lamb. The Lamb of God who takes
away the sins of the world. The Lamb seen in the foreshadowing of
passover, a perfect male lamb, whose blood marked the doors of
Israelite homes and chased away the destroyer. So too, the blood of
Christ routs the enemy of his sheep, that howling wolf who would have
us. Death destroyed by his death. Victimhood averted by the perfect
Victim.
The
blood of the Lamb covers the sins that would deny us entry into the
pastures of paradise. The blood of the Lamb sustains us, along with
his body given for us. The blood of the Lamb forgives our sins,
gives us life, and salvation.
And
then there's the flock. Comprised of many sheep from many folds.
But all with one great, good shepherd. All whom he knows, and who
know him. All who hear his voice, and listen to him. The church.
The people who are known by Christ. The people who belong to him,
claimed as his own in Holy Baptism. The people who gather around his
voice, his word, and listen to it. The people for whom he has laid
down his life, and who believe and trust in him. You and I are of
that one flock of sheep, for whom the shepherd died. You and I are
known and cared for by the Good Shepherd. In his holy name, Amen.
The
joy of Easter echoes today in our Gospel reading with yet another
appearance of the risen Christ to his disciples. Jesus continues to
give convincing proofs of his resurrection. He stands before them in
the flesh. He shows his wounded hands and feet and side. He lets
them see, and even touch him. And he even eats with them –
something no ghost or spirit would do. He's real, and he's alive.
Not a figment of their imagination, but a fulfillment of his promise
to die and rise again.
Why
did the disciples need to see Jesus again and again? Why wasn't it
enough to see the empty tomb? Or to hear the women's report of the
angels, and of the risen Christ himself? Why were they startled when
he stood among them, since they'd already been “talking about these
things”, that is, his appearance to the disciples on the road to
Emmaus? And even as he stood there, speaking to them, he says they
are troubled, and there are doubts in their hearts!
Why
do you doubt? Why do you not believe, with your whole heart, his
words, his promises, his resurrection? The spirit is willing, but
the flesh is weak. We want to be faithful followers, to do his will.
We want to keep the commandments. But then again, we don't, really.
This is the condition of all sanctified sinners, all lost and found
sheep. We are the disciples. Even when we are raised from birth to
hear the word and believe it, we doubt it. Even when we are taught
right and wrong, from God's clear word, we muddy it up with our own
custom morality. And even when Jesus makes clear and convincing
promises – well, why don't we fully and completely trust him? Do
you think your problems are bigger than God's ability to handle them?
Do you think your sins are too great for the blood of Jesus to
cover? Do you think God's too weak to carry you through even this
dark, fearful hour?
Why?
Jesus gently chides them, but not so much in a scolding manner as in
consolation. Their faith is weak and their minds are confused. They
had been through so much, and were still wrestling with fears. But
they are still his disciples. And he is still their Christ. All
that he did, he has done for them and for us. But he won't just walk
away, or ascend into the clouds and be forgotten. He continues to
speak, to comfort, and to strengthen his frail followers. Even you,
even now.
He
comes in peace. He says, “peace to you!” And it's more than a
feeling. It's not just a sense of peace. It's a real peace – a
cessation of hostility. The warfare has ended. God's not going to
smite us any more. For Jesus was stricken, smitten, and afflicted.
God is not our enemy any more, for Jesus is our champion - victorious
over sin and death. The peace that he brings is himself – and all
that he has done, including his resurrection, for us.
But
it's much more than that. These are not only his words, but they are
the words of Scripture. All of which has been written for our
instruction, encouragement, reproof, correction, hope and comfort.
The law in all its demands and accusations, but also the Gospel in
all its sweet promise. All of it, all of God's word is about Christ,
and it is for us. All of the Law of Moses, the Prophets and the
Psalms. And we could add the Gospels and Epistles and even
Revelation. These are the words that point us to Christ. These are
the things written, for us, about him.
So
many today would make the Holy Bible into a rulebook for living, or a
guideline for goodness. To others, it's perhaps a bunch of quaint
stories that are probably myths and fables. Still others find only
symbolism and metaphor. And for some it's simply outdated and
useless. But these are not open, but closed minds. Closed to the
truth. Jesus opens his disciples minds to see, to understand, to
find in all of scripture the testimony about the Christ.
We
believe, and we confess, that these written words are the very word
of God, and they are life! John tells us, at the end of his Gospel,
that these things are written that you may believe and, believing,
have life in Jesus' name.
Then
he opened their minds to see it. He showed them what they couldn't
see on their own, in their confusion and doubt and fear. Jesus
summarizes it all for us here. This is the point of all of God's
word: “that the Christ should suffer, and on the third day rise
from the dead, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins should be
proclaimed in his name to all nations...”
In
other words, that Jesus died and rose for you – and that his Law
and Gospel should be preached to everyone, including you.
So,
sinner, repent! Turn from your sins, again, today. Confess your
sins. Plan to do better. Whatever that sin is, turn away, and look
to Jesus who has conquered it. Forgiveness of sins is yours, in him.
Find it in his nail scarred, outstretched, but very much alive
hands. Receive it in his body and blood, given and shed for you.
Hear it in the words of the liturgy, the readings, the hymns, the
sermon. Your sins are forgiven, in Christ, who lives!
And
where there is forgiveness, there is life. They go together. Just
as Jesus who rose from the dead comes to bring forgiveness, so does
his forgiveness bring life to you. Death and sin go together, and
they are no more. They are done. It is finished. You are made
alive in baptism, renewed and reborn. You are made alive in the
waters of baptism, a daily washing and regeneration. You are kept
alive in the life of Christ, by his lifeblood and his living body.
The
disciples were witnesses. They saw and heard. And so they were
sent. We haven't seen, but we've believed. We haven't seen, but we
have heard. And we too are sent, the holy apostolic church. We are
sent to serve our neighbor. We are called to show mercy to the least
of these. And we are called to give answer to the hope within us.
And that hope is the risen Christ.
Whatever
door you've locked up for fear of whomever or whatever. Whatever
question you struggle with, or doubt that plagues your mind. If the
cold breath of death is on your neck, or the weight of a sin is
bearing down on you. Jesus says, “Peace”. For Jesus is alive.
And Jesus brings forgiveness and life. Believe in him, and be
blessed. Amen.
Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed.
Alleluia, Amen.
Jesus said to her, “Mary.”
I will never forget one Grace member,
93 year old Esther. Like many of our members who can’t make it to
church, Pastor and I would visit Esther monthly in her home. And as
is so often the case, I would get as much out of our visits as she
did. She was a long time Sunday School Teacher, a life-long
Lutheran, and even at this age, an avid student of the Bible.
It must have been sometime in the
Easter season that we had one particular visit in which we started
talking about Jesus’ resurrection. And as we did, she brought up
this very passage from John 20 where the risen Jesus meets Mary
Magdelene, who is weeping in the garden. Mysteriously, she didn’t
even recognize him, and we aren’t told why. But then he says her
name. I remember Esther saying, “I just think it’s so profound,
so tender, how he calls her by name. Mary.” And as she said it, a
tear came to her eyes.
It’s always stuck with me, that
Esther would be so touched by this small detail of the Easter
account. Jesus says Mary’s name. But it’s not just Mary that he
knows by name. It’s you, and me too.
Jesus had died a horrible death that
his followers were powerless to stop. Their grief was fresh and deep
and bitter. They loved him. The believed in him. For these women
who had cared for him during the years of his public ministry, it
must have been especially heart-wrenching to have front row seats to
his execution. To see his hasty burial on that Friday evening before
the feast. And now, Sunday, still in great sorrow, they return to
his tomb to pay final respects, and finish a proper burial. And now
to rub salt into all the wounds, to find his body had been stolen!
Or so it appeared…
Grief can overwhelm. It happens to us,
too. We are just like Mary. We forget what God says. We forget who
he is. Life's troubles pile up on us and like weeds seek to choke
out God's word planted in our hearts. What about Jesus' many
promises that he would rise? Why didn't they find comfort in those
words?
Or, our own sins weigh us down with
regret – what could I have done differently, or better? If only I
had said this... If only I was stronger. And so we live in the past
sins, rather than the present forgiveness and future hope that he
brings. Surely Mary felt some of this, too.
But Jesus doesn't live in the past –
in fact your sins are of no concern to him. They were left behind at
the cross. And Jesus isn't overwhelmed by the world, he's already
taken it on – even death – and now stands victorious. And Jesus
doesn't forget his promises to you, but repeats them softly and
faithfully. And Jesus knows who you are, even when you forget him.
“Mary.” he said. He called her by
name. It's the little moments that are so poignant in the Easter
account. The details that come only with a tru account like this.
John beating Peter as they run to the tomb. The burial cloths being
neatly folded. Mary thinking Jesus was the gardener. Like the
moments in the stories we tell about our loved ones – the little
memories that stick with us. “Mary.” he says.
He calls you by name, too. First, in
your baptism. There you became a partaker of his resurrection. When
your old sinful nature drowned and died, and the new creation was
born of water and the spirit. We were buried with him, in baptism,
and raised from the dead in his resurrection.
Jesus lives. He lives and stands and
speaks – Mary – he says. And simply by mentioning her name, he
says so much. He says, for one, that he's here, and everything is
ok. I'm alive, just like I said I would be. He says, I know you. I
love you. You're not dead to me, either. He says put away your
sorrow, and rejoice with me in the victory that stands before you.
Victory over sin. Victory over death. Eternal life that death
cannot contain. And where I have gone, you too will follow.
Surely, Mary would remember that day
forever. When her weeping turned to joy on a dime. And it all
happened by one little word, her name. When the Lord of Life spoke
it to her, from his own living lips. Now, Mary would still, one day,
die. But even then she would rest secure in the care of the one who
knew her name. The one who lives, and reigns to all eternity, with
his Father and our Father, his God and our God.
Not long after our visit, Esther went
into a nursing home. Her health was declining, but her faith never
wavered. I'd see her a few more times, and after that, she too,
died. I was called to the nursing home and I stood next to her
husband as we watched the funeral directors respectfully take her
body away. But even in death, I knew she was with Christ, her Lord.
And I couldn't help but think that Jesus welcomed her with one
tender, loving word – Esther.
May the risen Christ, who knows your
name, keep you in his care, strengthen your faith, and bring you also
at last to himself. For even death is not the end of us. And when
we, too, rise from death in our bodies, we will rejoice all the more
in the victory of this day. A blessed Easter to you, in Christ our
Lord, Amen.
“How Could Jesus Find Time to Think
About His Mother?”
The wages of sin is death. And death
is a bitter paycheck. All the more bitter for those you know and
love, especially your family. While we don't cheer at the death of
an acquaintance or associate, we are struck deeply at the death of a
loved one. Not only when it happens, but as we see it coming. At
the diagnosis. Through the course of the disease. Even at the
deathbed.
That's where Mary and John stand, now.
At the deathbed, or the death-cross of their loved one. And a bitter
death it is. No one could say, “well at least he died peacefully”
or “thank God he didn't have to suffer much.” On that dark day
it was hard to find any silver lining in this cloud of death.
Creation, too, witnessed in agony at the impending death of its
creator. Even the sun itself mourned and dressed in black. But his
mother, Mary, would perhaps feel it most deeply. A sword would
pierce her soul.
Sin and death are bitter, and ugly.
The lenten hymn says it well, “ye who think of sin but lightly, nor
suppose the error great, here may view its nature rightly, here its
guilt may estimate”. That's your sin that made him suffer so.
It's your guilt and shame he bears. And mine. And John's too. And
Mary's. The whole world's. And it is ugly and bitter and wretched.
Well, how could Jesus find that time to
think about his mother? Here at the cross, everything seems to
matter more. Like most people, his last words are some of his most
important. But a cross wasn't a place for long conversations. Each
word was a struggle. Every breath a painful labor. So Jesus chooses
his words carefully. There is intent and meaning in them all.
And this is more than just a bitter
farewell of a loving son to his mother. It's more than just showing
that Jesus cares about his family. To be sure, Mary, a widow, would
be more vulnerable now without Jesus to care for her. So on one
level, Jesus si simply providing for her needs. John, you take care
of her now.
While it seems Jesus did have other
brothers and sisters to care for Mary, it also appears none of them
believed in him like his mother did. But Mary had faith in her son.
In John's Gospel, she appears only twice. Here, at the foot of the
cross, and earlier at a happier occasion, a wedding, in Cana. At
Jesus' first miracle, it was Mary who placed faith in her son saying,
“do whatever he tells you”. And they did. And Jesus saved the
day, turning water in to wine and the wedding feast could go on.
Here at the cross, there is much more
going on than meets the eye. Here Jesus is doing more than just
suffering and dying. He is sacrificing himself, the lamb of God, for
the sins of the wortld. He is laying down his life, of his own
accord. He is the true Son of God, forsaken by his Father. He is
making all things new. And... he is establishing his church.
There's a hint of it in the
relationship of loving care that he establishes between beloved
mother Mary and beloved disciple, John. Love one another as I have
loved you, he might have said to them. This is how all men will know
that you are my disciples, if you love one another. And we love, of
course, because he first loved us. And he loves us most perfectly in
his death on this day.
But there's more. He is the true
bridegroom, and we are his bride, the church. Remember how marriage
is established according to Scripture? “Therefore a man leaves his
father and mother.... and is united to his wife.” Yes, Jesus is
leaving his mother even as he is united to his bride, the church.
Very soon Jesus would be dead. A sword
would pierce Mary's heart. And a spear would pierce his side. Blood
and water will flow forth. The Gospel of John is full of these
sacramental notes, pointing us again to Baptism and Communion. From
Jesus' side flow blood and water – from Jesus' sacrifice flow Holy
Baptism and his Holy Supper. And these mysteries and promise, these
holy things, these sacraments – establish his church. Just like
Eve was taken from the side of Adam, so the bride of Christ is born
from his side, at the cross. And just as Adam said of his bride,
“this is now bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh”, so too are
we, the church, the body of Christ – and he is our blessed head.
Mary knew from Jesus' infancy, even
before, that this Son of hers was also the Son of the Most High. She
knew from Simeon, that a sword would pierce her own soul – and now,
a mother's worst nightmare, watching her son suffer and die.
But she also once sang at his
conception,
“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my
spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked on the humble
estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will
call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.”
Yes, Mary is blessed. John is blessed.
The whole Christian Church, the bride of Christ, is blessed. You
are blessed. For God our Savior has done great things for you. And
the greatest was on this day when he died your death, paid your
price, and made you his forever.
May his suffering and dying love be not
bitter to you, but a blessing. And may you show that same love your
your mother, father, sister, brother, friend and neighbor, even your
enemy... and especially to your family in Christ. For in Christ we
are untied with each other and with our Bridegroom forever. Amen.
Good Friday
April 6, 2012
“The Perfect Day”
Hebrews 9:11-12, 15, 27-28; John 19:30
If you got to design your own perfect day, what would it look like? Maybe it would start by finding out you won the Mega Millions lottery. Then you’d spend the day at Disney World having fun with your family, and finish it all off with your favorite meal and favorite dessert. There would be no pain, sadness or stress. It would be the best of all your fondest memories all rolled up into one, right? The perfect day. A fantasy, but something most of us have day dreamed about once or twice.
Some may think it strange that we Christians call this day, “Good Friday”. For it would appear to be anything but good. In fact, the account we hear from the Gospels paints a picture of the very worst day one could imagine. Betrayal, insult, dishonor. Bitter blows that come one after the other, as Jesus is run through the mill of shame trials, public humiliations, physical and emotional torture, and an unjust sentence of death. The sour wine that he tasted at the last moment was part and parcel of this whole bitter day.
But we do not see as the world sees. We Christians see it all through the eyes of faith – faith in his words – which paint a far different picture. And through such a lens, we can say that today is not only a good day, but a perfect day. Let us meditate on our Lord’s death, this Good Friday, this Perfect Friday.
It was a good day when God created Adam. All of creation was good, but with Adam God declared it, “very good”. But then with Eve, Adam sinned. And what was once very good became very broken. The image of God in which Adam was created – no longer a perfect image, but marred by sin. The creation which God had placed under Adam’s care, no longer a paradise but a patch of thorns and a place of pain. Not nearly as good as it was. Sin made things and people go terribly wrong, and decay and even die.
Since then, death has reigned. Pain in childbirth and pain in daily work, thorns and thistles are just the start of it. Each of us faces the same fate. Let today be a reminder. You will die.
But for Adam and Eve there was a seed of hope, and so also for us. The seed of the woman would crush the head of the serpent. The offspring of the woman would come and make it right. Where Adam went wrong, the Second Adam Jesus Christ, would once and for all secure eternal redemption. Perfection would be restored.
Our reading from Hebrews provides a commentary on just what Jesus meant when he said, from the cross, “it is finished”. It shows Jesus as the High Priest of the New Covenant, in contrast to the old. There, the priest would enter the Holy of Holies once a year to pay for the sins of the people, by the blood of an animal sacrifice. But on the cross, Jesus our High Priest, deals with all sin, by his own blood, once and for all, and he does so perfectly.
When we hear the word, “perfect”, we often think of it as meaning, “without sin”. We say things like, “O well, nobody’s perfect” (except for Jesus, of course). But here, the perfection of Good Friday is something else. It is a perfection of completion. It means God’s master plan of salvation is done, finished in Christ. It is finished. It is.. perfect.
It’s perfect because of who it is that pays the price – the perfect, spotless lamb without blemish. He who had no sin. The only offering that could suffice. A more noble sacrifice than all the blood of beasts on Jewish altars slain. But this isn’t just a perfect man, this is also the Son of God. And there is nothing more precious than He. No offering more perfect.
Every jot and tittle of prophecy is fulfilled by him. Strike the shepherd and the sheep will scatter. Dogs surround me. They have pierced my hands and feet. I thirst. They divide my garments among them. A man of sorrows, stricken, smitten and afflicted. Everything is perfect.
Every last bit of sin is covered. No evil thought, no hurtful word, no dark misdeed now stands. It’s all washed away in the holy precious blood and the innocent suffering and death.
From the thief to the murderer, the liar and scoundrel. Every criminal and rebel. The mother who aborts her own child, the husband who defiles his marriage. The old woman and her years of gossip, the old man his head full of sinful pride. The thoughtless sins, the purposeful sins, the downright mean words and actions. The selfishness, greed, the lust and perversion. Don’t forget the sins we rationalize away as something good. The log in our eye as well as the speck in theirs. Even the things that we should be doing and should have done that didn’t get done because we forgot or were too lazy or had some other excuse.
All of this. Completely, fully, totally… wiped away. On this good day. On this perfect day. At the cross.
The divine liturgy of the execution of God’s judgment is complete. And it is perfectly done, by the perfect priest, who makes a completely perfect sacrifice. It is finished.
So, forgiven sinner, your perfect day isn’t winning the lottery and going to Disney World. Your perfect day, is Good Friday. The day that Jesus did all things perfectly for you. The day that Jesus declared, “it is finished” for you. Your salvation is complete, even perfect, in Him. And an eternal inheritance is yours. Amen.
Tuesday, April 03, 2012
Palm
Sunday – Sunday of the Passion
April
1st,
2012
Mark
15:1-47
“Passion
Moments”
Palm
Sunday and The Sunday of the Passion, a busy day for us. Let's
consider our Lord's suffering according to Mark's Gospel, and take a
verse by verse approach this morning. Follow along as we consider
his “passion moments”:
1
And as soon as it was morning, the chief priests held a consultation
with the elders and scribes and the whole council. And they bound
Jesus and led him away and delivered him over to Pilate.
They
waste no time – first thing in the morning. Let's get this over
with. Jesus is bound like a thug, though he willingly gives himself
over to their wicked design. This day will bring many more bitter
moments that Jesus could have avoided, but he suffers for you and me.
2
And Pilate asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” And he
answered him, “You have said so.”
The
puppet king of Caeser tries the King of the Jews and the King of
Kings. The irony is thick. Everything that Pilate is not, Jesus is.
But even for this weak man, Jesus would soon die.
3 And the
chief priests accused him of many things. 4 And Pilate again
asked him, “Have you no answer to make? See how many charges they
bring against you.” 5 But Jesus made no further answer, so
that Pilate was amazed.
Like
a lamb before the slaughter, he is silent. Nothing he could have
said would have mattered. Their course was set. But so was his.
This was his plan. He used their wicked words, their false charges,
like God so often uses evil for good. Pilate is amazed. But more
amazing things are to come.
6 Now at
the feast he used to release for them one prisoner for whom they
asked. 7 And among the rebels in prison, who had committed
murder in the insurrection, there was a man called Barabbas. 8 And
the crowd came up and began to ask Pilate to do as he usually did for
them. 9 And he answered them, saying, “Do you want me to
release for you the King of the Jews?” 10 For he perceived
that it was out of envy that the chief priests had delivered him up.
11 But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him
release for them Barabbas instead. 12 And Pilate again said to
them, “Then what shall I do with the man you call the King of the
Jews?” 13 And they cried out again, “Crucify him.” 14 And
Pilate said to them, “Why, what evil has he done?” But they
shouted all the more, “Crucify him.” 15 So Pilate, wishing
to satisfy the crowd, released for them Barabbas, and having scourged
Jesus, he delivered him to be crucified.
The
Great Exchange. The criminal is freed. The innocent is punished,
and slain. It doesn't take a theological rocket scientist to see in
Barabbas every sinner and lawbreaker, including yourself. But Jesus
takes our place. In the great injustice of it all, God's perfect
justice is done. A murderer they save the prince of life they slay.
The
leaders and the people alike are against him. There is no ally on
this day for Jesus. The crowds that once shouted Hosanna are now an
angry mob calling for his blood. The leaders of the Jews and Romans
alike find enough common ground to destroy him. Jesus is truly
alone, as alone as anyone will ever be. Even the Father is turning
his back on him.
16 And the
soldiers led him away inside the palace (that is, the governor's
headquarters), and they called together the whole battalion. 17 And
they clothed him in a purple cloak, and twisting together a crown of
thorns, they put it on him. 18 And they began to salute him,
“Hail, King of the Jews!” 19 And they were striking his head
with a reed and spitting on him and kneeling down in homage to him.
The
irony is bitter. He really is a king. He really deserves a crown
and scepter and throne. But the mockery just shows the ugliness of
sin. And we are no better. Even our “harmless”, and “little”
sins make a mockery of God, of Christ. As if his commands are a
joke. As if his righteousness isn't serious.
But
Jesus is suffering and dying even for these tormentors. Those who
spit in his face. What sins could you commit that are too great to
be forgiven? What dark evil in your closet of skeletons is not paid
for here in these dark hours?
20 And when
they had mocked him, they stripped him of the purple cloak and put
his own clothes on him. And they led him out to crucify him.
It
had to be crucifixion. The most bitter. The most painful. The most
public and shameful. But what more fitting altar of sacrifice for
the Lamb of God to take away the sins of the world? There suspended
between heaven and earth he would bridge the gap of sin between God
and man. There held up for all to see, he would draw all men to
himself. There, at the crossroads of all history the God-Man is the
center of everything. We preach Christ crucified for sinners, and
this is the point of it all.
21
And they compelled a passerby, Simon of Cyrene, who was coming in
from the country, the father of Alexander and Rufus, to carry his
cross.
An
“innocent bystander”, but who's really innocent? Simon carries a
cross for Jesus, who bears the cross for him and for all. Simon is
compelled by the Romans, but Christ is compelled by holy love for
you. Simon, like all Christians, carries a cross, but only Christ
bears the punishment of it to pay for sin.
22 And
they brought him to the place called Golgotha (which means Place of a
Skull).
A
fitting place for death to meet its death by the death of the Lord of
Life.
23 And they
offered him wine mixed with myrrh, but he did not take it.
This
last small kindness offered to the condemned was a mild anesthetic.
But Jesus would endure the full measure of suffering, nothing to take
the edge off. No cutting corners when it comes to your salvation.
24 And they
crucified him and divided his garments among them, casting lots for
them, to decide what each should take.
Fulfilling
the prophecies of the Old Testament down to the last detail. Jesus
is stripped not only of life, but also of clothing. He has nothing
left but the sins of the world. No honor or dignity. Truly a man of
sorrows.
25 And it
was the third hour when they crucified him. 26 And the
inscription of the charge against him read, “The King of the Jews.”
Further
mockery.
27 And with
him they crucified two robbers, one on his right and one on his left.
He
is “numbered with the transgressors”, and crucified with common
criminals. They deserve it. He does not. But he who had no sin has
become sin. He's now the biggest criminal of all. And all your
crimes against God and man are on him. Here they will die. At the
cross.
29 And
those who passed by derided him, wagging their heads and saying,
“Aha! You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three
days, 30 save yourself, and come down from the cross!” 31 So
also the chief priests with the scribes mocked him to one another,
saying, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. 32 Let the
Christ, the King of Israel, come down now from the cross that we may
see and believe.” Those who were crucified with him also reviled
him.
The
satanic voice of mockery reaches a crescendo. But he will raise the
temple in a few days. And he will save others, and after dying, he
will rise. He could come down from the cross in an instant. But
even if he did, they wouldn't believe. Even if someone should come
back from the dead, they wouldn't believe. Unbelieving sinners
always reject and mock and shake their fist at God. Only through the
gift of faith can we see the truth behind this ugly picture of
suffering and shame.
33 And when
the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until
the ninth hour. 34 And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud
voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my
God, why have you forsaken me?” 35 And some of the bystanders
hearing it said, “Behold, he is calling Elijah.”
No,
he's not calling Elijah, he's declaring the ultimate suffering. Not
physical pain or emotional despair. This is far worse. In an
unfathomable mystery of unimaginable bitterness, God the Father
himself forsakes his own Son. You are dead to me. You are cut off.
This is hell. This is what we deserve. This Jesus endures, so we
never have to.
36 And
someone ran and filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a reed and
gave it to him to drink, saying, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah
will come to take him down.” 37 And Jesus uttered a loud cry
and breathed his last.
The
King James puts it poetically, “he gave up the ghost”. He
willingly died. Only he could give up his life. Now that all was
accomplished, his suffering complete, he paid the wages of sin. And
that loud cry we know from the other Gospels was the single word,
“tetelestai”, or in English, “it is finished.” Well done,
good and faithful servant of all.
38 And the
curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. 39
And when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he
breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”
The
Old Covenant is now fulfilled in Christ. Access to God is no longer
found in the Holy of Holies, but in Christ's holy, precious blood.
We meet God at font and altar, in water and bread and wine. And even
the Roman Centurion confesses, the first of many other Gentiles who
would, this man was and is the Son of God.
40 There
were also women looking on from a distance, among whom were Mary
Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and
Salome. 41 When he was in Galilee, they followed him and
ministered to him, and there were also many other women who came up
with him to Jerusalem.
The
women, who on Sunday Morning would be the first witnesses to
resurrection. They serve him, even in death, who served them,
especially by his death.
42 And when
evening had come, since it was the day of Preparation, that is, the
day before the Sabbath, 43 Joseph of Arimathea, a respected
member of the council, who was also himself looking for the kingdom
of God, took courage and went to Pilate and asked for the body of
Jesus. 44 Pilate was surprised to hear that he should have
already died. And summoning the centurion, he asked him whether he
was already dead. 45 And when he learned from the centurion that
he was dead, he granted the corpse to Joseph. 46 And Joseph
bought a linen shroud, and taking him down, wrapped him in the linen
shroud and laid him in a tomb that had been cut out of the rock. And
he rolled a stone against the entrance of the tomb. 47 Mary
Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses saw where he was laid.
Even
in burial, he fulfills the prophecy, buried in the borrowed tomb of a
rich man. Jesus had no need of his own tomb, since the death he died
was in our place anyway. So he is buried in our place. So he will
rise to give us a place in his resurrection.
This
Holy Week, ponder the passion moments. Reflect on your sin, and
Christ's bitter suffering for you. Repent. And know how deep his
love runs, deeper than death. And look forward to the glory of
resurrection – his and yours. It's coming soon. In Jesus' name,
Amen.
