Sermon - The Feast of St. Lawrence

At that time, Jesus spoke unto His disciples

saying: “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain

of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains

alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever

loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life

in this world will keep it for eternal life. If

anyone serves Me, he must follow Me; and

where I am, there will My servant be also. If

anyone serves Me, the Father will honor him.”

John 12:24-26

The Feast of St. Lawrence

A river, a gulf, and a seaway are named in his honor. A number of Christian congregations and almost anyone known as "Larry" likewise owe their names to this martyr of the ancient Christian Church.

Early in the third century A.D., Lawrence (also often known as "Lorenz," "Laurence," or "Lorenzo"), who was most likely born in Spain, made his way to Rome. There he was appointed chief of the seven deacons and was given the responsibility to manage church property and finances.

The emperor at the time, thinking that the church had valuable things worth confiscating, ordered Lorenz to produce the "treasures of the church." Saint Lorenz brought before the emperor the poor whose lives had been touched by Christian charity. He was then jailed and eventually executed in the year 258. Most accounts tell of his being roasted on a gridiron until dead.

His martyrdom left a deep impression on the young church. Almost immediately, the date of His death, 10 August, became a permanent fixture on the early commemorative calendar of the Church.

(Thanks to Aardvark Alley for the background info)

So the story goes, after being roasted for a while he said, “I'm well done now. Turn me over!”

“Where I am, there will my servant be also.”

Hard words from Jesus, today, and a challenging example as we commemorate the saint and martyr, Lawrence.

Like Jesus, the martyrs died – and their lives and deaths would bear great fruit. One ancient church father, Tertullian, famously said, “the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church”. In other words, when nonbelievers would see Christians dying for their faith, this powerful witness was used by the Holy Spirit to open ears and soften hearts to the word of the Gospel. And rather than stamping out the Christian faith, those who persecute Christians only make the church stronger.

If you follow the news, you know that Christians are persecuted today perhaps even more so than they were in the fourth century. We see news reports (though sadly, too few) of the recent purging of Christians in areas of the middle east. Homes are marked with the arabic letter which stands for “Christian”. Some are beheaded, others are crucified. Some are unfairly taxed, much as they were in St. Lawrence's day.

We may have several reactions when confronted with the example of the martyrs, either from antiquity or the modern day. For starters, their faithfulness calls us to account. What a terrible Christian I am, when I am embarrassed to admit that I think homosexuality is a sin. What a weak witness I give when I can't confess to my politically correct friend that Jesus is the only way to heaven. The martyrs shame us by their bold witness when we are so easily intimidated and cowed by the world we live in – a world which doesn't even threaten us with the sword – at least not yet. It's one thing for us to fail when compared to Christ's example of faith. We can easily let ourselves off the hook by saying, “oh, well, he was perfect – he was God, after all”. But when mere humans can confess Christ even in the face of death, we are left without excuse for our failures under far less threatening circumstances.

On the other hand, the witness of the martyrs can embolden us. We can look to their strong faith as examples to follow. So the government wants to shut down your churches and make your life difficult? Look to St. Lawrence, who stood firm against the heavy Roman hand and would not sacrifice the poor for the sake of peace with the pagan. He loved God and his neighbor more than even his own life, and remained steadfast even in a torturous death. So too, Christian, stand up for your Lord and your neighbor in the face of the enemy. Fight the good fight of faith!

And on yet another hand, we must acknowledge that whatever heroics of faith the martyrs exhibited, whatever bold and brave testimony they gave, whatever courage of conviction they showed even unto death – it is not to their own credit, but to Christ's. Faith itself is a gift. And the one who gives us faith also sustains it, sends his Spirit to strengthen us especially in times of trial. That the martyrs like Lawrence could stand up to violent persecution is a credit to the Lord, not the martyrs themselves. Thanks be to God for their faithful witness. Thanks be to him for all good things.

And finally, we can pray that God strengthen them and grant us this same faith – in the face of death, persecution, trouble, nakedness, danger, or sword. Whatever challenges to our faith may come, from the devil, the sinful world, or our own sinful selves, we pray for the strength to bear up and remain faithful, as were the martyrs, as was Jesus Christ.

When we fail, and we will fail, we rely on the blood of Christ to cover our guilt and shame. When we do stand – we give all honor and glory to Christ for giving us the strength of faith to do so. For without him we are nothing. But with him, we are promised all good things. So that even out of death, comes life, for those who are in Christ.

For Christ's own part, some would say he was the greatest of the martyrs. But I would argue with that. His death was not simply a “witness”, but a once-and-for-all sacrifice for sin It was the basis for all the martyrs who would come. Their death hearkens back to his saving, atoning, world-saving sacrifice. Their blood is precious to him, who shed his precious blood for all. Their deaths are precious to him, who died that they would live eternally.

“Where I am, there will my servant be also” These words go not only for persecution and suffering and death. They go also for what lies beyond. For where Jesus went – to resurrection, we too will go. Where Jesus went – to heaven and glory, we will also go. And where Jesus is, even today, present in his word and in his body and blood at this altar – here we come also, in faith and in witness. To proclaim his death until he comes, and to receive the fruits of his cross, which guarantee us eternal life.

Thanks be to God for St. Lawrence, and all the Christian martyrs. Thanks be to God that each hated his own life, but keeps it for eternal life. And thanks be to God for Christ our grain of wheat, who died and was buried, but who rose again on the third day and ascended into heaven, and who will come again with glory to judge the living and the dead, whose kingdom will have no end. May the fruits of his work be multiplied here, in your lives, in your church, and in his holy church throughout the world.

In Jesus' Name, Amen.

Sermon - Pentecost 8 - Matthew 14:13-21

We, in modern America, if anything have too much food. You learn this in a new way when you go to places like Singapore where the portions are smaller – you know, normal sized. But in super-sized America it is hard for us to relate to people who truly live in hunger. We might be tempted to immediately jump to a spiritual application of this miracle – but let's not be so hasty.

The catechism teaches us in the First Article of the Creed, and in the Lord's Prayer petition, “give us this day our daily bread”: we acknowledge that each day, our food comes not from the fridge or the grocery store, but from the giver of all good things. This is one reason we pray before and even after meals – to acknowledge and give thanks for such blessings.

And sin is always there – crouching at our door – tempting us to make the lesser gifts into the greater gifts. To turn wants into needs. To prioritize poorly. To love the treasures of this world over the treasures of the world to come. To love ourselves and despise our neighbor. To make the created, the phyiscal things into gods, and fail to fear, love and trust the Creator.

The people who ate the miraculous fish and loaves that day were no different. If we were to read the parallel account of John 6, we'd see the people chasing Jesus around, trying to make him king by force – a “bread-king” who kept their bellies always filled. But they miss the point. Do we?

Jesus Christ himself is the bread of life. He himself is the only true sustenance for the soul. His bodily death on the cross, his shedding of blood, his atonement for our sins – this alone satisfies the deepest hunger of the human soul. Without such food, there is no life in us anyway. Without the cross you have, ultimately, no need of bread.

But just as there were more leftovers in the baskets than the food they started with, his provision is over-abundant. He gives all that we need and more. He provides for the salvation of our souls, as well as the resurrection of our bodies. And he sustains us with blessings too many for us to gather up in baskets. Blessings physical and spiritual, temporal and eternal. All from Christ, crucified for sinners.

And yet there are still more lessons to draw from this miraculous feeding long ago... Let's consider four:

We are dependent upon him.

Without Christ, we have nothing; we are nothing. We must look to him for all good things. This goes for the mundane food and clothing as well as the salvation itself. It's not as if Jesus gets us started and then it's up to us. We are and we ought to depend on him for daily bread, the air we breathe and the lungs to breathe it in. We have no more reason to expect any of this than the people he fed would expect a full and free meal – except that we know the giver gives abundantly, and loves to provide for our needs.

And it goes for the spiritual, as well. We cannot come to faith without His Spirit who calls us. We cannot make a decision to follow Christ that is of any value, but instead he chooses us. We cannot bring any good works that will wipe out our bad works and tip the balance in our favor – but only Christ's righteousness can suffice. And we cannot pay enough to cover our debt – only the blood of Christ has such value. We depend on him entirely.

And here we have even more reason to depend on him – for we have strong promises of forgiveness, salvation and eternal life with our God. Life in this world may bring trouble and hardship and nakedness and danger or sword, but no one can separate us from the love of God in Jesus Christ!

He has compassion.

Christ always has compassion on those in need. He never turns a cold shoulder to one who has faith and seeks his aid. This doesn't mean you will always have plenty and will never be in want of bread, or health, or that no sorrow will ever come your way. It doesn't mean the Christians will never suffer. But it does tell us where to go with our suffering, and who has the only and final answer to it, and the inclination to do us good. He knows our suffering, for he suffered it himself – he took it all to the cross . And so he sympathizes with us in our weakness, in all things.

Working through means.

Jesus very well could have hand-fed each of those 5000 plus all on his own, but he appointed the disciples to do it. He made them the go-betweens to distribute, to minister if you will, to the people. So today does he charge pastors, “you give them something to eat”. So do we often feel ill-equipped to do it, but so must we rely on the word and promise of Christ that in him there will always be plenty. As we distribute to you the blessings of salvation in word and sacrament, even greater miracles ensue – Christ's abundance is given freely, sinners are forgiven, and faith is strengthened. We can give only what we receive from Christ.

He taught them first, then fed. Today he teaches, then feeds.

First Jesus preached, taught – proclaimed the kingdom to these thousands. It must have been quite a day, as he had much to say and they stuck around to hear it all. Then he fed them as only he could. And we follow the same pattern today – we gather to Christ – around his word, to hear it, receive it. The word is read and proclaimed, sung and prayed. And then he feeds. We come to the table to feast on the word made flesh – and his body and blood are multiplied to far more than 5000, and stomachs and souls are sustained.

Whatever pangs of suffering you feel in your stomach or pangs of sin in your soul, turn again to the one who provides bread – daily bread for our bodies, and the bread of life for our bodies and souls. He himself is that bread – and he gives himself freely, on the cross, in the word, the water, and the meal of his altar. Come, eat and drink and live. In Jesus Christ, Amen.

Sermon - Pentecost 7 - Matthew 13:44-52

Grace, mercy and peace....

Dear friends in Christ, do you love the parables of Jesus like I do? Who can resist these stories which illustrate great truths about the kingdom of God? Some of them are longer – like the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son. And others are quite short – in fact today our Gospel reading groups four together. The “Hidden Treasure” and “Pearl of Great Value” - these two make the same point. Similar is the “Parable of the Net”, which extends the same point. Then there's the “Parable of New and Old Treasures” takes it in a different direction. Let's briefly examine these this morning.

For the parables of the treasure and pearl, let's first set aside a wrong interpretation. The point of the parable is NOT simply the First Commandment – love God above all things. Nor is it that you have found God and you should therefore put him first in your life. You're not the man who finds God and gives up everything to follow him. You don't sell all your possessions to posses Christ or his kingdom.

Sure, salvation is beyond value. Sure, we SHOULD value our faith and our Lord as more precious than all our worldly wealth. But the problem is, that's not how it works. We are sinful and selfish and dead in our sins. We are unable to come to Christ on our own, of ourselves. We confess in the Catechism, “I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength, believe in my Lord Jesus Christ, or come to him... but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel....”

No, to say that the believer is the man who finds the treasure in the field, or the pearl of great value – is to get this parable wrong. Instead, who is the one who gave up everything he had to acquire what he valued the most? Jesus Christ. He gave up his heavenly throne. He gave up his divine power and glory, at least for a time. He gave up being over all things to take the form of a servant, born in humble fashion, submitting to poverty, the derision of man, injustice, suffering and finally death on a cross. He who had no sin became sin for us. He gave up all that he had, why? Again in the words of the Catechism, “that I may be his own...”.

One of my favorite Christian artists, a Lutheran named Ed Riojas has tapped into this understanding of the parable, and painted a scene that expresses it beautifully. I'll show you this more closely on the way out of church. But the picture here is of a cemetery, with a church steeple in the background. And the main figure is Christ, who is doing something amazing. He's pulling a coffin out of a grave with his bare hands. And the banner at the bottom of the scene reads, “For joy he went and sold all that he had and bought that field”. Ed writes about his painting as follows:

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“The Parable of the Buried Treasure” painting explanation by Ed Riojas

...This small painting is something I started after pondering the parable of the buried treasure in light of Christ’s love for us.

I couldn’t get around the idea of the field being a cemetery, with its scattered stones, and the man -- Christ Jesus -- coming to claim his hidden treasure. “For joy, he sold all he had and bought that field.”

Holy Scripture sometimes contains the most understated truths. “All he had” was his very life, given for us, “Not with gold or silver,” as we are told, “but with His holy, precious blood.” So that man pulls out a treasure with His pierced hands. The wounds are permanent, but His crucifixion and death are not.

The painting points to Holy Scripture with another finger: It illustrates just how much we contribute to salvation -- nothing. We were dead. Not only were we dead, but we were dead in our trespasses. If that were not enough, we were bound in satan’s chains. We were in a box from which we could not escape.

Yet Christ calls us His treasure. The English language helps us in this scenario -- the words “coffin” and “casket” are derived from the same words that are used for containers of wealth. Furthermore, “vaults” are used to inter this wealth.

What points to Christ’s love for us is not only His payment for our sins through His sacrifice, but also the reality of what He considers valuable. He treasures not gold or silver, but the sinful, the lost, the dregs of humanity, the rotting, the forgotten, the discarded for convenience, the destroyed by design, the consumed by disease, the consumed by conflagration, the consumed by woe. This mess of ugliness He treasures. Not only did Christ Jesus give His all for it, but He also enfolds it in His arms and holds it to His breast.

This is what the kingdom of heaven is like.

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Dear friends, there once was a man who found a treasure, and you are that treasure. Though you bring no merit or worthiness of your own, the Triune God, in his grace, has valued you. He has esteemed you worthy of the blood of Jesus Christ.

Then we have the parable of the Fish in the Net. Here again, Christ shows that those who belong to him are valued. But it also shows the separation between us and the unbeliever. Like fishermen separate the fish caught in the net – throwing away those not worth keeping, so the angels with separate the believers from the unbelievers on the last day. And what separates us from the unbelievers, but faith alone. Those who believe in Christ as savior and realize we can't win salvation for ourselves but receive it as free gift from him. He saves us from the weeping and gnashing of teeth, from the punishments we deserve, from being lost forever – and he makes us his treasured possessions. Here is hope for us – when it seems that the wicked prosper and the believers only suffer. When you see Christians persecuted here and abroad. When you feel like the liars and cheaters around you enjoy all the good things in life while your honesty and hard work never pay off. Take heart. For the one who assigns true value to men has esteemed you – and has your future secured.

Finally, Jesus commends the teachers who have learned these things well, that is, the truths of the kingdom. Those who have received from him the treasures of his grace. And those, who then, set these treasures before others. Your pastor is privileged to set these treasures before you week in and week out. To proclaim to you the grace and mercy of Christ, crucified for sinners like you. To show you in new and old ways the unchanging truth that the blood of Christ covers all, renews all, revives all. To set before you the precious gifts of Christ's body and blood, given and shed for you, precious treasures which renew and sustain you, his precious treasures.

And having been so treasured, and having received such treasure, each of us daily sets these treasures before the world by our witness and faith. As we fulfill our callings in life, and as we give answer for the hope within us. All in Christ, and Christ in all of us, until the last day when all true treasures are no longer hidden but revealed.

Got grant us faith to believe all these things, and the Spirit to enlighten us to such treasures, and the will to set them before us always, in Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

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You can view and purchase artwork by Ed Riojas here.  Great gift ideas for your favorite pastor!

Sermon - Trinity 5 - Luke 5:1-11

Called and Caught by Jesus

You know, I've been a pastor 15 years now. And in one sense I figure I know what I'm doing. I'm familiar with the liturgy, I can preach a passable sermon. I can give a decent off-the-cuff answer to a Bible question. I've done weddings and funerals, taught confirmation classes for years. I am certainly not perfect, but I know my trade. Just as you probably know yours.

Now imagine if someone tried to tell you how to do your own job. Someone with no experience whatsoever. Someone who didn't know the first thing about doing whatever it is you do day in and day out. And imagine if their unsolicited advice was just crazy. You've learned the hard way not to do it how they're suggesting. But here they are telling you the business. As if they have a clue.

So begins the scene in Luke 5 when a Carpenter tries to tell fishermen what to do. They are washing their nets – packing it in after a hard and disappointing night's labor. Their experience tells them the fish just aren't biting. Come back another time. Get some rest. Cut your losses. But this carpenter turned preacher is giving out fishing advice – and it makes no sense at all.

You or I might be offended at being told how to do our jobs. Especially by this – whoever he is. But he's not just some whoever-he-is. And he knows more about fishing and men that anyone can imagine.

Put out into the deep water. I don't care that you're tired. I pay no mind that the fish aren't biting. Take your nets, which you've just washed and put away, and get back in your boat and cast them there in the deep again.

And for some strange reason, that also makes no human sense, Simon Peter responds in faith. He trusts the word of this carpenter-turned-preacher, he takes the unsolicited fishing advice, and he is not disappointed. In fact, he's terrified.

But why? Shouldn't he be overjoyed at the miraculous catch of fish? Shouldn't his eyes light up with the ch-ching of the money he would make selling these fish? Shouldn't he jump up and hug Jesus, thanks for the miracle, my friend?

No, instead, Peter senses the fearful presence of holiness. He may not be sure exactly who he's dealing with, but he knows that he is a sinner, and not worthy. He says as much, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.”

It's the same reaction Isaiah the prophet had when he beheld a vision of God's glory filling the temple. “Woe to me, I am ruined!” Isaiah said, “For I am a man of unclean lips...”

And it is the same reaction that you should have, as a sinner yourself, when confronted with the holiness of God. For you and I are also unworthy. You and I are also poor sinners. You and I are of unclean lips and hearts and minds and hands. And we don't deserve the miracles of God either. We think we know better than God's law, and act as if we are our own little gods. We'd so often rather play by our own rules, even though we can't win the game. But only when we admit it, when the law shows us our sin and we confess it, are we ready for the wisdom of God – the foolishness of the Gospel. I said I will confess my transgressions to the Lord...

Peter says, “Oh, I'm too sinful for you to be around me, Lord!” But Jesus hears none of that. He simply encourages, “Fear not.” “Do not be afraid.” And behind the simple “fear not” is much more: I'm not here to smite you. I'm here to save you, and all these others, too. I come not in judgment, but in grace and mercy, preaching a kingdom that is not of this world. I bring rest for the weary, love for the outcasts, healing, blessing, peace. I did not come to condemn the world, but to save it by my blood. I came to die, so that you might live. I came to destroy death, that you need never fear again.

Peter would soon learn all that is behind the “fear not” of Jesus. And even when in that dark hour of Jesus' passion, Peter would show just how big of a sinner he is by denying Jesus three times – still Jesus would return. resurrected, and meet Peter once again on the shores of this sea, and amaze him further with a catch of fish and a restoration. “Peter, do you love me? Then feed my sheep”

First the call to faith, the call to trust in the words of Christ. However crazy may seem and unsolicited they may be. However much it flies in the face of your own sinful self-pity. However much fear and doubt grip you and make your heart want to scream. However tired and weary from laboring all night with nothing to show for it. “Fear not,” he says. “With me, there is nothing to fear.”

And then the call to action. The call to serve. The call to put our faith to work for the love of neighbor. To be fishers of men, not just fishermen anymore.

But here too is a promise! Notice he doesn't say, “You better be good fishers of men.” or “get busy now, fishing for men”. He promises, “I will MAKE you fishers of men”. For even here, Jesus is doing the doing. He builds expands his kingdom. He builds his church.

But that doesn't mean you don't have a part in it. That doesn't mean he leaves you out of the fun. Christ calls us all, in various ways, to take part in the great casting of his Gospel net. Some may tend the nets. Some may cast them out. Others row the boat. And still others haul in the catch.

In other words, some are pastors fishing waters and streams nearby. And some are missionaries, pushing boats out to waters far away, even across oceans. Some are public proclaimers of Christ crucified for sinners. Some support this proclamation with prayers and gifts. But also called to the fishing industry of Christ are teachers and parents, friends and family. Some give their shoulder to cry on, or change diapers and wipe runny noses. Some invite others to come and be caught in the promises of Christ, and all are witnesses of what he has done for us.

You and I have been caught by Christ. Caught out of the deep water of our sin and cleaned, washed in the holy water of baptism. Fed with the body and blood of Christ. We are safely carried in the ark of his church through the dangerous waters of this world, until our ship comes in to the final port of life eternal. And along the way he catches us again and again as we confess with Peter, “I am a sinful man!” and his word of forgiveness answers, “Fear not!”

He who created fish and men and wood for boats and water to float them on – he knows his craft. He knows what you need, and comes to catch and keep you in his net of salvation, by his Spirit in his word of promise. So fear not, forgiven sinner. Fear not, in Christ. Amen.

Sermon - Pentecost 4 - Romans 7:14-25

Pentecost 4

Romans 7:14-25

St. John's Lutheran Church, Beloit, WI

“Who will rescue me?”

The Christian life is a life of conflict. We are at war. The battle is for the ultimate prize, your eternal soul, and so this is serious business. The Devil is out to get you. The world that hated Christ hates you too, Christian. And if all of that is not enough. You are at war with your very own self. Even St. Paul himself was. And there is only one that can rescue us from this body of death, Jesus Christ! Thanks to him for the victory!

Paul sets up a contrast for us in Romans 7 that is universally instructive. Every Christian should read and mark these words carefully.

On the one hand Paul speaks of his “mind”. By this he means the new man or “new Adam”. The new creation in Christ that began at Holy Baptism. The Christian, the saint, the believer, the child of God. According to this nature, our new nature, we want to please God and follow his commandments. According to this nature we are righteous, holy, and without sin. This is the man that has been crucified with Christ in baptism and raised again with Christ. This is the man that clings to Christ, follows his word, and does good works with the power of the Holy Spirit. This is the man that delights in the law of God. This is our “inner being”

But Paul makes a distinction. As Christians, we are not only “new man”. But we also have this sinful flesh which clings to us. Our “outer being” if you will. The flesh, is that which we see. And not only the outward skin and bones, but that part of us that is still subject to sinful desires and words. “The Flesh” is our old nature, our “Old Adam”, which wants nothing to do with God and his word and his ways. This is the man who rebels against God at every turn. This is the one that still sins, sins daily, and sins much. This is the man apart from God, apart from Christ, and without the power of the Holy Spirit. There is nothing good that dwells in you, according to the flesh. “Wretched man that I am!” Paul says. Or you and I might just say of ourselves, “what a mess!”

You want to be kind to your family members, but the sinful flesh finds them so downright annoying! You want to listen to the sermon in Church, but the sinful flesh would rather plan your shopping trip. You want to honor your parents, but your sinful flesh convinces you that you always know best. You want to be faithful to your spouse, but your sinful flesh has eyes for anyone else it can fantasize about. You want to be generous, but your sinful flesh is all scrooge. You want to be content with what you have, but your sinful flesh thinks what that guy has is far better, and you deserve it far more. And you want to fear, love and trust God, but your sinful flesh always seems to have other ideas. What a wretched man I am! What a mess we all are.

And so we live in this tension. As Christians, we want to do good, trust God and love our neighbor. But as sinners, we are caught in this “body of death” as Paul calls it, with a war constantly raging inside of us.

Why is this helpful to know?

For one, it helps us understand what otherwise makes no sense. Some, it seems, even some Christians, think that when you come to faith – all sin suddenly stops.

Or that once you come to faith, you should at least be making measurable progress. And that if you stumble and fall along the way, it means you aren't really saved, don't really believe, and are destined for damnation.

Or some would say that God gets you started, gets you to the point of believing, but the rest is up to you, friend. Good luck. Then what happens when your life exhibits more fallenness than faith? Are you a back slider? Are you not an authentic Christian? Do you need to take it to the next level (and how do you know when you get there)?

All this could lead us to despair. Either God's a liar, or I'm a failure. For we do continue to sin, and we can't do it on our own, and our lives never exhibit the holiness and righteousness that God declares upon us.

But do not despair! Paul, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, tells us otherwise. Sinning doesn't mean you're not a Christian. It means you are still a captive to the law of sin, and will be until this flesh goes into the ground. Your sin is not the ultimate reality about you. It's not what matters in the end. What matters is that you are baptized, you do have Christ's word of promise, you do belong to him, and your future is secure.

Mind you, none of this is an excuse to go on sinning. Paul asks and answers that question in chapter 6, “shall we go on sinning? By no means!” No, the struggle continues as we grapple with our flesh, till death do us part.

Secondly, understanding this distinction lets us know we're not alone in the fight. You think you're the only one who's struggled with sin? No, instead, you are in the good company of all God's people who are of the same flesh, from the same father, Adam. Abraham, the liar and coward. Jacob the schemer. Judah who sold his brother into slavery. Moses, a murderer. Rahab, a prostitute. David, an adulterer and murderer. Jonah, a reluctant prophet. Matthew, a tax collector. Peter, a denier. And even Paul, persecutor of Christians.

But in each and every case, the faithful of God trusted in his salvation, made known and completed by Christ. For all the saints who've gone before us, their laundry list of sin and death was washed in the blood of Christ, and only in Christ. But in him, they – and you – receive the crown of victory. In Him who conquered death, we too look past the grave to a resurrection like his, and the glory yet to be revealed.

Thirdly, all this reminds us that the only salvation is in Christ. “Who will rescue me from this body of death?” Christ alone. Thanks be to him. You can't do it yourself, nor should you try. If you did try you'd either fall flat on your face, or live in a lie of self righteousness. If you thought you could rescue yourself, you wouldn't need Jesus. The war is too much for Paul, and it's too much for you. Sin is always close at hand. But Jesus is closer. Death is breathing down your neck. But Jesus is the death of death.

And Jesus died for your sins, all of them – before baptism and after. Jesus covers you with his blood, forgives your sins, reconciles you to his Father, and squashes death and the devil under his bruised foot.

Jesus rides to your rescue. He rides on a donkey, he rides the cross to its bitter last stop. He rides to hell and back, through an open grave, to the right hand of God. And he'll ride again on the clouds when he comes to the world's final rescue, all his angels with him. He will rescue us all from death forever.

So any time you struggle with sin, remember your baptism! Remember you are in Christ! All is not lost. He will never leave or forsake you. And he will come again in glory, to bring it all to fulfillment. Thanks be to God, we say with St. Paul and all the other sinners and saints – who are victorious - in Christ alone. Thanks be to God, through Jesus Christ, our Lord! Amen.

Sermon - Pentecost 2 - Matthew 10:5a, 21-33

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me. So the childhood saying goes. But I found it to be hollow, when I was teased as a child. Names hurt. The ridicule of man has an effect on man, or else the ridiculer wouldn't do it.

Jeremiah knew it. He says he was a “laughingstock” and even his close friends denounced him. Christians know it today, too, as even our own family members can mock our faith. Oh, you're not one of THOSE people, are you?

And sometimes, verbal scorn can turn to action. Christians can bear the brunt of persecution that does bring sticks and stones, and breaks your bones. Jewish tradition has Jeremiah stoned to death in Egypt. We know for sure that the first Christian martyr, Stephen was stoned to death. And many Christians, to this day, would die for the faith. It seems we read more of it in the news every day.

We ought to pray for the persecuted church, especially that they remain faithful unto death, and receive the promised crown of life. There but for the grace of God go you and I. Even when we are not persecuted to death, still, there are crosses to bear. Still, your faith doesn't solve all your problems, make your life easy and successful, or chase all the clouds away with bright shiny rainbows. You may well suffer for Christ, for your faith, for the truth – even if you don't suffer unto death.

Do you think you are any better than Jesus? They called him the devil, Beelzebul. They mocked him and treated him shamefully. They stripped and whipped and beat and spit on him. They crowned him with thorns in a sham coronation. They gave him a scepter and royal robe to kneel down in false worship. Sticks and stones? They put him on two sticks to die, and he was buried behind a big stone.

Truly, a servant is not greater than the master. The world hated him. The world hates you, too, Christian. What Jesus got, you will get too, somehow, some way, sooner or later.

I don't mean to be the bearer of bad news, but this is the hard truth the word puts in front of us today. We preach what Luther called a “theology of the cross”, not a “theology of glory”.

I went to a mega- church here last Sunday and heard plenty theology of glory. God wants you to be successful, healthy, wealthy, happy. And if you believe rightly, and think rightly, you will have God's favor. And good things will happen to you. Nevermind the fact that every day faithful Christians are struck down by disaster and disease. Nevermind that the faithful are mocked and persecuted. Or that they die in anonymous poverty. Oh, but this church building won an architectural award, see how God favors us!

Are you better than Jesus? No. Far worse, a sinner. The good news is not that Jesus takes all the suffering away. The good news is that he has taken your sin away. The good news is not that Jesus makes your life better, or even good, now. The good news is that Jesus has swallowed up death in his victory, and brings abundant life. The gospel of Jesus Christ stands in the midst of all that is wrong and broken and perverted and dying in this world – and speaks a contrary word of hope. Even though you die, yet shall you live. “He who lives and believes in me will never die.”

So have no fear. No fear of the persecutor, the oppressor, the enemy. Even the one who can destroy your body. For the Lord knows his people, even the hairs on your head. He who knows every time a sparrow dies, knows and values you far more than a sparrow. He knows your suffering. Jesus knows all suffering. And he will not forsake you in it.

Have no fear, for you already know what is out there: a world that hates Christians and a devil that would like nothing more than to devour us. To see us turn from God in despair, shake our fist at the heavens in anger, and join the true Beelzebul's company of misery. But have no fear, he can harm you none. He's judged, the deed is done. Christ has the victory, even when it looks like we are defeated.

And Jesus will confess you before his Father. He will say, “Father, this one belongs to me. And so this one belongs to you. I have shed my blood for this one. I have conquered death so this one might live. The world hates this one, but this one I love. The world has called this one all sorts of names, but I have called this one by my name. This one is baptized in your name, Father, and mine, and the Spirit's. This one is ours forever.”

No, you are not better than Jesus. But Jesus is far better than you and I, thanks be to God. And what is his, is ours. His suffering, yes, in which we participate. He had his cross, and we have our crosses. But we share in his righteousness, his holiness, his resurrection and his victory. God will not abandon us any more than he would abandon his own Son. And that is true comfort, even in suffering and persecution.

He is coming again, and until that time he has not left us forsaken. He remains among us by his word, and in the blessings of his holy meal. His true body and blood are present for our forgiveness, and to strengthen us in all the trials and crosses we bear.

And even by receiving this sacrament, we proclaim him – and his death, until he comes. As we gather to receive him, we confess him before men. We say, “I, a sinner, am saved by the promise and gift of my Lord Jesus Christ. Who gave his very body and blood on the cross, even to death - and gives his very (resurrected) body and blood- for my salvation, even now. I confess with all these other sinners, that He is the only savior. The way, the truth, the life. That all his words are true. That all his promises are forever. And I look for the fulfillment of these, when this foretaste gives way to the eternal marriage feast of heaven”.

Sermon - Luke 24:13-35 - The Third Sunday of Easter

Sermon

St. Paul Lutheran Church, Havelock, NC
The Third Sunday of Easter
Luke 24:13-35

The Road to Emmaus. One of those Bible stories that captures our imagination. It actually happened ON Easter Sunday – the same day of the resurrection. Precious few of those accounts are recorded for us. Like in the other accounts, Jesus appears, alive, but does some mysterious things. They don't recognize him at first. He's going incognito. And for that matter, we don't know much about who these 2 Emmaus disciples were, either (one is named Clopas, and a pastor friend of mine believes the other was actually St. Peter). I am particularly intrigued by Jesus interpreting the Old Testament to these men, “in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself”. Oh to be a fly on that wall, well, buzzing somewhere down the road with them, at least.

But as a Lutheran, I love this text most because already on day ONE of the resurrection, we have sacramental theology. Jesus took bread, blessed it, and gave it to them... and their eyes were opened. Later it tells us, “he was known to them in the breaking of the bread”. The Lord again presides at the Lord's Supper, their eyes are open, and they see him. This is so incredibly profound.

Doesn't it seem that some interesting things happen to God's people “on the road”? You have this, the Road to Emmaus. You have Saul's conversion to St. Paul on the road to Damascus. Phillip met and baptized an Ethiopian Eunuch along a road. The parable of the Good Samaritan happened on the road. The woman with the flow of blood was healed on the road, while Jesus was going to raise Jairus' daughter. And the crowd spread their cloaks on the road on Palm Sunday.

Perhaps all this action on the road isn't really about the road, itself, but that God acts in ways and at times we least expect, even “along the way”.

Who knows what any of Jesus disciples thought in the bewildering blur of events on that first Easter. They were certainly talking, rehearsing, “all that had happened”. But they didn't understand, especially from the Scriptures, that this had to happen. This was the plan all along. They still couldn't get their brains wrapped around this: that the Messiah had to suffer and die, and rise on the third day.

And my friends, my baptized and and believing Christian friends, I suggest you and I are no different. What Jesus said to them, he could surely say to us, even to us pastors:

“O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?”

So often we like to think we have it all together and we can look at those foolish disciples with the benefit of hindsight and, let's face it, far greater wisdom and faith. They were bumbling idiots, but after all, we are LCMS Lutherans! And Pastor Daub, you even went to seminary! A lot of good that does you. “O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken!” The Old Adam in us, the sinful nature in all of us is foolish and unbelieving. Our new nature in Christ, of course, sees and believes. But we are, in this life, both Old and New. We are both sinner and saint. Righteous and scoundrel. And we struggle, even to believe what the Word of God says about Jesus the Christ.

Jesus died for you. Jesus rose for you. Oh it sounds so simple. We all say we believe it. But we certainly act as if we don't. And how little trouble it takes to make us doubt the love of God in Jesus Christ. Some suffering in life comes, and we're convinced he's forgotten us. Some plan of ours falls to shambles, and we think he's punishing us. Or maybe you harbor some guilt for some sin that you know he died to forgive, but even though Christ's blood was shed for it – YOU can't let it go.

No, we are foolish and slow to believe. We could go even further, and admit we have false beliefs at times, and we are ignorant of much. Which of us knows the scriptures as we should? Even lifelong study can't bring us to the depth of appreciation for God's word we ought to show. “But, pastor, I learned all that in Confirmation class 50 years ago.”

To all of this, all I can say is, repent. Repent of your slowness to believe. Repent of your foolishness and carelessness with God's holy word. Repent of thinking you know better than what God actually says. Repent of hanging on to your guilt when Christ has come to set you free.

And Christ does. For even though he chides his disciples for their foolishness, he doesn't desert them on the road, nor will he desert us. Even though they are slow to believe, he is patient and kind, and lovingly teaches them, opening the Scriptures to them. Just as he gives us pastors and teachers even today to continue opening his word, and opening our eyes to it. Thanks be to God for the gifts of his word, and the testimony of that word to his Son, Jesus Christ!

For Jesus is the fulfillment of the Scriptures, from Moses – through all the prophets. He is the Lamb of the passover. He is the pillar of cloud and fire that leads and protects us through the wilderness. He is the rock from which they drank, and we drink. He is the captain of the heavenly host, who for us fights, the valiant one. He is David's son and David's Lord. He is the wiser king than Solomon, the more prophetic prophet than Elijah, and the more priestly priest than Aaron or Melchizidek. He is the Suffering Servant of Isaiah. He is the temple of God – the dwelling of God with man. He is the Son of Man, whose own new life will bring life to all the valleys of dry bones there ever were or will be. He is the one of whom the Psalmist writes, “My God, why have you forsaken me... they have pierced my hands and feet.... dogs surround me.... they divide my garments among them.... my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth”. But he is the Holy One who would not be abandoned to the grave. Nor will he abandon you.

And yes, he continues to teach us in his word, even today, who he is and what he has done for us, and what he still promises to do. But even more. He feeds us. He is made known to us in the breaking of the bread.

Why did Jesus only flip the switch when they had broken bread? Why was he only known to them at the table? Surely, as a sign also to us – to seek him where he promises to be. For you can go to Jerusalem today and see the places where he walked, the roads are mostly buried or lost, and I don't think Emmaus is around any more either. Or you could try to find Jesus in your heart, but good luck sifting through all the other garbage there to find him. Or you could even try to find Jesus in your neighbor, but remember the sheep were surprised, themselves to hear he was present in the least of these. No, instead, Jesus promises to be found where he has made himself available and accessible to us. Where he says he will be. In the bread and wine. This is my body. This is my blood. For the forgiveness of your sins.

You see, Jesus does nothing by accident. And the Holy Spirit doesn't inspire the Gospels to record these events for his own amusement. These things are written that you may believe, and believing have life in Jesus Christ. We are meant to see Jesus with these Emmaus disciples. We, too, are meant to meet him in the breaking of bread. We see him made known to us there, through the eyes of faith, by the power of the Spirit.

And faith gets it right. For faith is not of ourselves. Of ourselves, we are foolish and slow. Of ourselves, we are wandering the roads of life aimlessly. Of ourselves, we are alone, confused, guilty and struggling. But Jesus comes along, and in his mysterious ways, teaches and feeds us. And it is enough. He assures us of his grace and mercy. He sets our hearts on fire with a yearning for his gifts: a love of his word, and a deep appreciation for the sacraments. It's not a pious, feel-good burning of hearts, a but a deep desire born of repentance and faith – a work of the Spirit.

His disciples would carry the word and sacraments of Christ down many more roads. They would share the Gospel in Jerusalem and Judea, to Samaria and to the ends of the Earth. I don't think any of the apostles made it to Singapore, though tradition holds Thomas preached the gospel in India. And so the church, as she goes, brings Christ with her. Or maybe it's Christ, as he goes, brings his body along. Brings his word, brings his meal.

I have no special expertise in starting churches, my friends, but that's not what is needed for Jesus to be made known. He opens eyes and hearts through the preaching of his word, in the water of baptism, and the breaking of bread. The same as your faithful pastor does here in Havelock, your missionary to Singapore will do, by God's grace and with your prayers and support.

May the joy of Easter enliven our hearts, here and now, and down whatever road we go. And may the peace of God which passes all understanding guard and keep your hearts and minds in Jesus Christ, amen.

Sermon - Easter 2014

Sermon:

The Resurrection of Our Lord

Easter Sunday, 2014

Matthew 28:1-10

Christ is Risen! (He is risen indeed! Alleluia!)

What a difference 3 days can make. Not even three days, by our modern way of reckoning. Friday afternoon to Sunday morning. Not even a whole weekend. But that's all the rest in the tomb Christ would take, before rising to life again at Sunday's break of dawn. What a difference between Friday and Sunday.

On Friday, there women mourned him, but on Sunday they were first to hear the good news.

On Friday, two thieves flanked our Lord in his dying breaths. On Sunday, two angels at the tomb appeared to announce he is alive!

On both Friday and Sunday were earthquakes – but for very different reasons. Friday's earthquake was part of creation's groaning at the death of the creator. Sunday's earthquake accompanied the stone rolling away, no heavy earth or stone could keep this grave sealed.

On Friday, soldiers had their way – even dividing up his garments as he died. Sunday – it was soldiers who were as dead men, and Christ who was alive. He left his grave clothes behind, by the way...

On Friday, nails pierced his feet and fastened him to the cross. On Sunday, the joyful women fell at those feet and worshipped.

On Friday, they went away beating their breasts. On Sunday, they departed quickly with fear and great joy.

On Friday it seemed like the end. On Sunday it was a whole new beginning.

And yet Friday and Sunday go together. You can't have one without the other.

Without the victory of Easter joy, without the triumph over death and grave, without the vindication of Christ in all things – Good Friday would not be so good. Sunday shows that Jesus' word is true, even when he talks crazy about coming back from the dead. So too when he speaks of your resurrection, dear Christian. Sunday shows that God the Father accepts his Son's sacrifice, indeed, it is the “well done, good and faithful servant” seal of approval on all that Jesus did for us. God's wrath is satisfied, by Christ, for you and me. And Sunday gives us a taste and glimmer of what our own resurrection will be. A glorious day when all the dead in Christ rise, bodily, and see him face to face – in my own flesh, with my own eyeballs – to paraphrase Job.

And without Good Friday, what does Easter mean? Bunnies and Chicks? Candy and chocolate? Brunch with the family? Sadly many have reduced Easter to this, perhaps because they get to Sunday without regarding Friday. Christ's resurrection makes no sense apart from his death – where he atoned for all sin. But the dark tunnel of death he passed through on Friday makes the bright morn of Sunday all the more radiant.

For us, many days feel like that Friday. Not the “thank God it's Friday, the weekend is here”, but “The sun just got dark and the earth beneath me is shaking. Judgment is hovering over me and death is breathing down my neck.” Fear rules the day, and sadness and suffering mark its passing. Many days end with what seems like little hope. We cause so many of our own griefs, but we are also subject to the brokenness of creation. Life's toils and troubles heap onto our guilt and shame. It's enough to make anyone cry out, “My God, have you forsaken me?”

But Easter reminds us that in Christ, Friday is tied to Sunday. Suffering will be vindicated. Death is not the end. Even on the darkest of days, there is still hope for us. We may not see it until we, too, pass through the grave. But faith believes it at his word, and rests secure. And you can trust a guy who rises from the dead and calls his shot ahead of time. You know he's got your future in his hands, too. And that's the best place for your future to be.

For the Christian, every day is a Sunday. Every day is a day in which Christ lives. Every day is a day in which he's still got his crushing foot stomped down on the serpent's head. Every day is a rebirth and renewal, a return to our baptism where we were not only buried with Christ but raised with him. Every day we live in the new life that is already ours. Every day is a Sunday, a new creation.

Christian theologians have made an interesting point about Sunday – you know it was the first day of creation. God started, not on a Monday, but on a Sunday with “let there be light”. And then he rested on Saturday, the real last day of the week. So Christ rests in the tomb on Saturday, and at break of dawn on Sunday, the one who created light and is the Light of the World, returns to bring life and light to all men. It's a pretty powerful connection.

And others have gone on to say, that in a way, Easter Sunday is the “8^th day of creation”. That is, on Easter, the renewal of creation in Christ is revealed – brought forth first in his own person. And we now live in the time of transition between that 8^th day of creation and eternity. Or to put it another way, Easter is the Sunday that never ends.

However you look at it, give thanks to God for the blessings of this Holy Sunday. May your faith be strengthened in the knowledge that he who paid your price on Friday, rested in your grave on Saturday, also Rises for your resurrection on Sunday.

Alleluia. [Christ Jesus] abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel. Alleluia.

Amen.

Sermon - Palm Sunday/Sunday of the Passion - Philippians 2:8

Sometimes I think God asks too much of me. I mean, really. What is he thinking? I can understand giving some general guidelines to follow, some flexible rules to kind of give me an idea of which way to go in life. But commandments are a different story. The law of God is just so... oppressive! What do you mean I can't have ANY other gods? What, you expect me to be kind and loving ALL THE TIME? I wouldn't argue too much if there were some qualifications on all of this. A sort of, “do unto others in the same way they do to you”. Or just, “be nice most of the time”. But he says, “Do as you would HAVE them do to you”. And “love your enemies, even pray for them”. And that's a whole lot harder to do. Sometimes it just doesn't seem fair.  Of course all this is my Old Adam talking.

And then there's Jesus. We know he was like us in every way, yet without sin. And I have to say, I can't imagine what that must be like. No sin of deed, or word, OR thought. I can't even roll out of bed for a couple of minutes without some sinful thought dumping out of this brain. I'm sure you are the same. But Jesus, though human, was also God. He was different, special, holy. He was the only one who could do this. Walk the walk, perfectly. Talk the talk, think the think – of one without sin.

And so he was perfectly obedient. As Paul says, right? Though he was God, he didn't think much of that. He listened when his Father sent him to take on human flesh and leave his heavenly throne behind. He obeyed perfectly, fulfilled the law – honored God, honored his name, his day, his parents. He loved his neighbor with a compassion you and I can only dream about having. It's like they said about Jesus, “he has done all things well!” He cast out demons, healed the sick, he even raised a man from the dead. But there was one more thing God would ask of his Son.

“He humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.”

I want you to go to Jerusalem, and there you will die. You'll hand yourself over to those pompous hypocrites, and they will put you, the judge of all things, on trial. They, sinners from birth and sinners to this day – will judge you as a criminal, innocent though you are. And they, dead in their sins, will condemn you to death – by the shouting jeers of a bloodthirsty crowd, the cynical machinations of jealous and power-hungry men, and the cowardice of the one who was given authority from above.

Yes, all of this will happen, and it will all happen in spite of your holiness, my son, and you will die, and die a miserable death for them all. And I have to say one more thing, I can't even be with you at the darkest moment. When you take their place, I have to turn my back on you. I can't just wink at sin, you know, it must be condemned. And it will be condemned in your body, as you die, on that cursed tree. You'll bear the brunt of it, my condemnation for all sin, for all people of all time and place. This is your mission. This I ask of you. I am sending you to do it.

And Jesus said, “Thy will be done”. Even in the garden, with death so imminent it made him sweat blood, he prayed, “Thy will be done”.

Truly no greater love has someone than that he lay down his life for his friends. Jesus Christ laid his perfect life down not for friends, but for his enemies, to make us his friends, his people, God's children.

In this holy week, we will meditate on his sacrifice for us. In a way, it began even before he was born. But his passion puts a fine point on it, and crescendos to Calvary, where it is finished. Jesus takes the place of Barabbas. Jesus takes the place of all sinners – condemned to die – apart from God. Even in his tomb, he is our substitute. He goes in our place.

And you, forgiven sinner, go in his place. You go to resurrection. You go to an inheritance. You go to the throne room of the Father, and receive a crown of glory. You receive what Jesus has, what he deserves, what he gives freely, by grace, through faith in him. Trust in him all the more, for it is finished. In Jesus' Name.

Sermon - Lent 5 - Ezekiel 37:1-14

Lent 5

Zion Lutheran Church, Marengo, IL

Ezekiel 37:1-14

Lent is a good time to think about death. As good a time as any.

It's a topic every man must face sooner or later. A topic we like to put away, out of our sight, far from our minds. Try as we might.

One of my favorite songs by a group called the “Counting Crows” has this line,

“I got bones beneath my skin, and mister...
there's a skeleton in every man's house
Beneath the dust and love and sweat that hang on everybody
there's a dead man trying to get out”

Death is universal and unavoidable... like, well, death and taxes. No matter how we try to get out of it. For us Christians, in some ways it's the same, and in some ways it's different. Death is still an enemy. It still brings tears, even to the eyes of Jesus at the grave of Lazarus. Death is a separation from loved ones. And it is the great leveler of all men – after all, whatever wealth you have in this life, you can't take it with you.

But death for Christians is not the worst thing that can happen. For Christians, like Lazarus, there is Jesus with the answer to death. For us, death is not the end, nor is it to be feared. Where, oh death, is thy sting? Indeed, it is through his own death that Jesus brings salvation, and through his resurrection that he brings life. And so we grieve death, but not without hope.

Ezekiel's vision of the valley of dry bones shows hopelessness turned into hope. It shows us the power of the word. And it points us toward the Christ, whose death destroys death and who will resurrect his people to eternal life.

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 pastors, we could look out on you, the people in our 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 us your troubles, and we listen, but 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 the pastor has one thing for you, and it is enough. Not a man's word, but Christ's. So 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.

Sermon - John 9:1-41

Lent 4

March 30^th, 2014

John 9:1-41

Our Savior Lutheran Church, Whitefish Bay, WI

It is part and parcel of our sinful nature to get things wrong. Turned around. Backwards, even.

We make ourselves God, and try to make God answer to us. We tell ourselves that God somehow owes us, and we live in denial that we owe him everything and more. We think we please him with our good works, rather than trust that Christ has pleased God with his good work for us.

We have a keen sense of justice when we are wronged, but are quite lax and flexible with the law applied to ourselves. We selectively apply the rules of politeness, kindness, and regard for our neighbor. We know our neighbor's sins all too well, especially those sins against us. But when we sin, we are quick with excuses and rationalizations.

We think we know, when we are ignorant. We think we hear, when we are really deaf. We think we see, when we are truly blind.

The Pharisees were no different. Oh, their pride. “You were steeped in sin at birth, and you would teach us!” We are the teachers of Israel! We are the children of Abraham! We are the disciples of Moses! We are the ones who keep the 613 laws! We are the clean, and you are the unclean. We give to the temple treasury (didn't you hear the trumpets?) We aren't like those sinners – those prostitutes and tax collectors, those lepers and outcasts. We're not steeped in sin like this man born blind. And we would never do work on the Sabbath, like that sinner, Jesus.

And so such spiritual chest-thumping goes. But it is madness, and blindness. And it is us.

We are all the man born blind. We are all conceived and steeped in sin. We are all children of our father, Adam. We are sinners who sin, who can see only own spiritual navels, curved in on ourselves, who cannot see God. We are all the pharisees, blind to our blindness, but convinced we see it all, know it all. We think the good people prosper, or deserve to. And that the bad people suffer, and deserve to. And of course, we are good.

It is part and parcel of our sinful nature to get things wrong. Turned around. Backwards, even.

But God's way is different. Mysterious to us. But far better, in fact, divine.

One seminary professor, Dr. David Scaer, puts it this way:

“...The divine economy is different from ours. You cannot come to a conclusion about the morality and sanctity of any person by the amount of suffering he has experienced. The suffering sinner turns out to be God’s saint and the hawkers of holiness are rejected by God…Human suffering is not only an opportunity for God to show that He is and remains the creator; human suffering is the place where God shows His glory. Jesus dies so that through the resurrection God might finally demonstrate to the world who He really is. The Son of Man is lifted up so that all men may be drawn to him, not in the magnificence of creation, but in the glory of the suffering of the cross…God approaches us through what we find reprehensible.”

It is in Jesus that all of this senselessness makes divine sense.

So Jesus is the light. Jesus came to take the darkness away. He makes night into day. He makes blind men see.

No one has seen God except He who came from God. But in Jesus Christ, we do see God. No one comes to the Father but by Jesus. But Jesus is the perfect image of the Father, the exact representation of God, for He is one with the Father, and He is True God from eternity.

Jesus came into the darkness, born under the law, to redeem us under the law. In the dark Judean night, the Light dawned. And on a dark, but good Friday, when the sun was blotted out and the Lord of Life hung on a cross, dying... salvation came to light. It was finished, then and there, for all, forever.

And so this one “Sent by God”, sends the blind man to the pool of Siloam, which means, “Sent by God”. No matter that it was the Sabbath, for Jesus is Lord of the Sabbath. Jesus is the Sabbath-rest of God, who gives us rest from our sins. He who washed the blindness away for that man, also washes us clean and new in Holy Baptism. And the scales fall from our spiritual eyes, as faith comes, and we see and believe.

The little pharisee in our heart finds it hard to believe. But the eyes of faith see it plainly. The Old Adam in us fights against it. But Christian baptism drowns that one daily, in repentance and faith. And so it goes – and so it goes, as the old and the new continue to struggle and muddle through this life, growing in faith toward God and love toward neighbor, but always in Christ, always looking to his light, the only way we can see.

You have seen him, but with the eyes of faith. You see him in his word. You see him at the font. You see him on the altar, under bread and wine. You see him who speaks to you, and faith says, “I believe.” So turn your eyes away from your neighbor's sin, and forgive freely. And turn to see your own sin, yes, but fix your eyes on Jesus, who takes that sin to the cross. In him, we see forgiveness, life, salvation, and the peace of God which passes all understanding. May it guard and keep your hearts and minds in Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.

Sermon - Epiphany 5 - Matthew 5:17-

Grace and Trinity Lutheran Churches

Bear Creek, WI

Epiphany 5

February 9^th, 2014

Matthew 5:17-20

“All Righteousness??”

17 p“Do not think that I have come to abolish qthe Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but rto fulfill them. 18 For truly, I say to you, suntil heaven and earth pass away, not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Law until all is accomplished. 19 tTherefore whoever relaxes uone of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least vin the kingdom of heaven, but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great vin the kingdom of heaven. 20 For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds wthat of the scribes and Pharisees, you xwill never enter the kingdom of heaven.

Jesus' Sermon on the Mount continues this week. I want to focus on the second portion of our reading today, in which Jesus explains more about his purpose. It seems an Epiphany question, as the unpacking of “Who is this Jesus?” continues. He's the bridegroom at the wedding of Cana. He's the Son of God at his baptism. He's the glory of Israel and light to the nations in the arms of Simeon. He's the one who comes to preach good news to the poor. And now we see more of why he came – not to abolish the Old Testament, but to fulfill it.

Starting out, Jesus puts away the silly idea that still persists today – that the New Testament somehow invalidates the Old. I heard a famous atheist scientist, Bill Nye, imply this just this past week. But the Christian church has struggled to stamp out this false idea. There was a false teacher named Marcion in the early church who believed the God of the Old Testament and the God of the New Testament were essentially two different people. But the church, and the Lord of the church would disagree. Jesus himself says of the Old Testament scriptures, “These are they that testify to me”. It's a bold claim. “The whole Old Testament is about me. And I've come to fulfill, not abolish it.”

There's much to learn here for us. We can't set Christ against his own word. We can't cherry pick the verses we like and dismiss the rest. And we can't re-make God into our own image, or any old image we want. But even more specifically, Jesus gets to the laws and commandments of the Old Testament – which many would turn aside and disregard today, too.

Certainly, we don't perform the ceremonial laws anymore. The sacrifices culminated in Christ's once and for all sacrifice. The temple curtain was torn in two. Jesus is now our temple, our dwelling of God with man, and in Him we have access to the Father. We don't regard the clean and unclean food laws and such – Acts makes this much clear. Christ has fulfilled the ceremonial law.

What then of the moral law? The Ten Commandments, for instance? We can see that these are still in full force. And in this very Sermon on the Mount, Jesus instead of diminishing the moral law, raises the bar of its demands. Don't murder? I say don't even be angry. Don't commit adultery? If you do it in your heart, you're just as guilty.

And here's where it starts to get uncomfortable for us. Jesus didn't come to take the law away. He didn't come to make it OK for us to sin however we'd like. He didn't come to abolish the ten commandments. Instead, he is an extremist when it comes to the law. He says you can't even relax the least of the commandments. And if that's true, we sinners, even we Christians, have some explaining to do.

Do you relax his law? I know I do. Have NO other gods, oh but we have our other gods, don't we. We think maybe if we have God somewhere in the mix that's good enough. But the first commandment is all or nothing, and we fall on the side of nothing.

Do you disregard his holy name? Not just do you curse, swear, lie or deceive, but do you hold his teaching, his word about himself as dear as you should?

What about your neighbor? You know the commandment about our parents doesn't get easier when we are grown-ups, because all earthly authority comes in here. And which one of us hasn't balked at a boss, or disrespected our governing authorities as the representatives of God? Which sinner among us humbly submits to those who are over us in all aspects of life? Instead we instinctively rebel, “who are you to tell me what to do?” “Things would be so different if I was in charge around here”.

I'll leave the fifth and sixth commandments for next week's reading, but what about stealing? It's far broader than just taking something from someone else – but it goes to even trying to get things in a dishonest or deceptive way.

And when it comes to your neighbors good name – well there's a reason the Epistle of James compares the tongue to a fire and a wild beast. We are very good at cloaking our gossip in a facade of genuine concern. We are quick with a snarky taunt and slow with a kind, loving word. We fail to speak up when we should, and much of what we say is better left unsaid. There is little righteousness here, either.

And the commands not to covet leave us nowhere to hide. In the secret places of the heart, who hasn't sinfully desired something of his neighbors? Petty human jealousies, greed for goodies, and want of what's not mine.

We could go on... but to summarize, Jesus says you won't even enter the kingdom unless your righteousness exceeds that of the Pharisees. Again, he raises the bar. For the pharisees were the good Jews who followed all the laws, they were the most righteous, the most holy, the moral example par excellence' , or so one might think. It might be like Jesus saying to you today, that you can't enter his kingdom unless you are more holy than a saint, do more good works than Mother Theresa, and are a better theologian than Pastor Ruesch. Only the best of the best, the one without spot or blemish – the perfectly perfect – can do it. Which means only Christ can do it. Thanks be to God that he has, and has done it for us.

Christ fulfills the ceremonial law for us. He comes, not to take away the rules and laws we can't follow, but to be the perfect sacrifice for our sins. He comes, not to make help us help ourselves to be righteous, but to be our righteousness. He is the Lamb, not just of the passover, but the lamb of God that takes away the sin of the world. He is the priest, not just who sprinkles the blood of an animal, but the high priest who sheds his own blood. He is the presence of God, not just over the ark or in the cloudy pillar, but in the very human flesh he comes to make righteous. God with man in the God-man himself. He makes not just lepers clean, but he renews all creation. He is the one, the one, that God's people waited for those many, many years.

And he fulfills the moral law, too. He keeps the commandments that we cannot and do not. He has no other Gods. He keeps God's name holy. He is Lord of the Sabbath. He honors his Father and mother. He does not murder, but always helps. He is ever faithful to his bride the church. He never wants or take what isn't his, and always speaks well, speaks truth, speaks love. What would Jesus do? He would keep every law perfectly, every jot and tittle. He had only pure and holy thoughts, words, deeds. He didn't sin by what he did, or by leaving anything undone. He alone was not worthy of temporal and eternal punishment.

Therefore whoever relaxes uone of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least vin the kingdom of heaven, but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great vin the kingdom of heaven

Greatest in the kingdom is Christ – he who made himself least, servant of all, servant of yours. He who did not deserve death but submitted to the cross in your place. He who did not deserve his Father's wrath, but stepped in the way to shield you from being consumed by its wrath.

Jesus fulfills the law and the prophets for us. Jesus fulfills all righteousness for us. And his righteousness alone is sufficient for us to enter his kingdom. But it is sufficient, thanks be to God!

What a mystery Jesus lays out in this section of the Sermon on the Mount. A call for extreme righteousness, that at first might leave us all without hope, for we sinners sin much. But the one who demands it is the one who provides it, and in Christ, we see our righteousness – ALL righteousness – fulfilled. And through him we enter the kingdom. Through him, in him, we are righteous.