Sermon - Easter 5 - Luke 15:1-8

In John's Gospel Jesus gives a number of speeches on his own identity. Some of these are the great “I AM” passages – in fact we had one last week, in which Jesus declared, “I AM the Good Shepherd”. He also says, I am the Bread of Life, I am the Light of the World, I am the Resurrection and the Life, Way the Truth and the Life, 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 comparison extends a bit more - 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 knowing what it means to be a branch grafted into him. So let's examine it more closely.

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 both 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. In fact by outward standards, we might even say many unbelievers are far better than Christians!

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. They are, 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? Even if it's just for the warm fuzzy feeling of satisfaction, the good vibes we give ourselves when we do something nice? 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. I do it so as to avoid some more negative scenario. But how commendable is that?

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. The outward works count for nothing. God sees the heart. He can't be fooled.

“Apart from me you can do nothing” Nothing good, that is. Nothing but sin, rebel, and make your situation with God worse. Apart from Christ is not where you want to me.

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”. There are plenty of places in Scripture where good works are commanded, but this is not one of them. Here, instead is a promise. 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. The closer we inspect our fruit, the more fault we'll find with ourselves (if we're honest). And it will look like no good fruit at all. But there is this promise of Jesus that we will bear much fruit. And so we believe it. No matter what our life 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, if it could.

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 cross and 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 faithful, 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.

Sermon - Easter 3 - Luke 24:36-49

Not a Ghost!

Luke 24:36-49

Jesus again appears to his bewildered disciples. He saw them in the upper room. He walked with two of them to Emmaus and revealed himself in the breaking of the bread. Those two ran back to Jerusalem and told the 11 what they had seen. They were talking about these things. Perhaps in the middle of telling the whole story, again, now, at least the third time, Jesus appears.

They were shocked... again. Trying to make sense of it all. Well, a resurrection doesn't make much sense. They are troubled. Doubts arose in their hearts. And they were also afraid – phobic, in the greek. Even though Jesus, alive and well, was standing in their midst. Even though their eyes told them – it's really him, he's really here! They literally couldn't believe their eyes. They thought he was a ghost.

The disciples were a superstitious lot.

This wasn't the first time they thought Jesus was a ghost. Remember when he walked on water late in the night – they freaked out. He had to assure them, “Fear not, it is I!” In their minds, the appearance of a ghost was more likely than a human being (even if he is the Son of God) walking on water. But this was Jesus – who turned water into wine, who fed thousands with scraps of food, who rebuked demons and fevers, even raised the dead. Why should they be surprised? Why should they think it was a ghost? Why shouldn't they believe?

But when you think about it, superstitions are pretty common among men. Unwarranted fears of spirits and spooks, things that go bump in the night – people of all times and places have been susceptible. They've dug up clay charms with good luck phrases written in Hebrew that ancient Jews used to hang around their homes. The Chinese culture is practically fixated on good luck and bad luck. Martin Luther grew up in a world full of superstitions. Even in our modern “enlightened” era – you don't have to look far to see people under the same influences. We just had a Friday the 13^th 2 days ago. I bet you heard someone mentioning it, who was at least partly serious about it being bad luck.

Some would look at us Christians as pretty much the same – Superstitious. I know some do. They see our faith in Christ as no more solid than an imaginary friend or boogie man under the bed. They mock Christianity by parodying it with a flying spaghetti monster. And they say our prayers are useless. Our churchgoing is a waste of time. And the Bible is full of fairy tales and lies. Might as well throw some salt over your shoulder and knock on wood.

What superstition really is: looking for the spiritual, the mystical in all the wrong places. A lucky rabbit's foot? A golfer who always wears red on Sunday? Playing the lottery with the lucky numbers on your fortune cookie? We might laugh at those who turn to such things for tangible benefit or good luck – as if we're so much better, but we're not. Fear of evil spirits? Don't break a mirror, walk under a ladder, or do anything important on Friday the 13^th? Anxieties about forces beyond your control, or perhaps, that even God himself is “out to get you” for some past sin or offense? Yes, we can even be superstitious about God himself, if we look for him to work where he hasn't promised to do so.

Imagining some message from heaven that God has laid upon your heart? A modern form of superstition. Seeing in the coincidences of life a message that God is sending you about some decision or action? Putting God to the test – if so and so happens, God, then I know that you mean such and such? Superstition.

Any ideas about the spirit world, the things that are unseen, that go beyond what God has revealed in his word are not to be trusted. We have no reason to believe – from God's word - that dead humans come back to haunt us. In fact it's just the opposite, “It is appointed for a man to die once and then the judgment”. We have no evidence for such a thing as luck – good or bad – or that doing anything can bring you good or bad luck. A Christian doesn't look to the constellations for his answers or listen to a palm reader to plot out his life. These things are all, at best, a distraction. They are, at worst, damnable lies of the devil. And yet every sinner has a tendency to fear, love and trust in other things – other gods – besides the true God.

What is sure and certain? The word of God. Jesus himself. Even my own heart and mind can fail me, lead me astray. But Christ never will.

And make no mistake: Jesus is no ghost. He is truly alive, and he goes on to prove it. Not that he needs to. Blessed are those, like you and me, who have not seen, and yet believe. But he proves it nonetheless. So that our faith is based on the word – the word of testimony. The eyewitness accounts of those who have seen him alive, and many of them died for their testimony. A famous unbeliever, Carl Sagan, once said, “Extraordinary claims, they say, require extraordinary evidence.” Well, Jesus gives it. St. John tells us he gave “many convincing proofs” that he was alive. Here in our text we see just a few examples.

He showed them his hands and his side. The wounds. The marks of nail and spear. You should check out how some of the artwork imagines these wounds must have looked – especially paintings of doubting Thomas. Somehow, even though Jesus was fully healed and restored to life, even though now in a glorified body, he still bears the marks of his death. He still retains the evidence of his crucifixion, his sacrifice. For him, it is to his glory and honor. And for us, it is an identifier of who he is. Even in John's vision of the heavenly throne room in the book of Revelation – he sees Jesus depicted as “a lamb who had been slain”. These wounds serve as a reminder of his great work of salvation for us. They show that it's not some imposter – but it's really Jesus! And that someone could live and breathe just fine with gaping wounds in hands and side – it is further evidence of the miracle of the resurrection.

But he goes further. They thought he was a ghost, but he answers that falsehood directly. Just has he answers Thomas' objection word for word. So also now, he says, “I'm not a spirit! I have a body! Look, does a spirit have flesh and bones? Does a spirit eat fish?” They touched him to see. Yes, he's really here, flesh and bone! And he ate broiled fish right in front of them. Sight, sound, touch, all confirmed – Jesus bodily risen from the dead.

You see, with God, the body matters! For too many Christians, even today, Jesus is only a spiritual savior, not also a bodily savior. That's part of the reason so many think of heaven only as a spiritual reality – that your spirit floats around with God forever. But they forget or haven't heard, or it's never emphasized what we confess in the creed every week – we believe in the resurrection of the body. That's our body! We have a bodily resurrection to come. If Jesus was only a spirit, then that's all we could look forward to. But Jesus is risen, bodily, and so too will we live forever in resurrected bodies. As Job said, “I know that my redeemer lives and that in the end he will stand (that means bodily) upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh (in a resurrected body) I will see God.” The body matters. Jesus saves the whole person – spirit and body.

And now that they have that settled, Jesus interprets all this for them. In fact, he interprets his entire work – his life, death and resurrection for them. He shows them this all happened in accord with the scriptures.

that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance for  the forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed rin his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things.  And behold, I am sending the promise of my Father upon you. But stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high.

First, Jesus connects his death and resurrection with the message of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. This wasn't just some circus, or dog and pony show. Jesus didn't go to all this trouble for nothing. His death and resurrection are the foundation for, the basis of, repentance and forgiveness of sins.

Without the cross and the resurrection, sin still reigns, death is our master, and the devil the prince of this world. But with Jesus and his salvation accomplished – repentance and forgiveness become a reality. The world's sin is paid. Death is destroyed. And the devil's might unraveled. Men are called to turn away from sin, and turn to Christ in faith. Children of Adam, conceived in sin and soaked in sin's sewage are washed clean in the blood and baptism of the Second Adam. Buried with Christ, only to be raised with Christ. Repentance and forgiveness come, only through the crucified and risen Christ.

Second, this message is to be proclaimed – in Christ's name – beginning at Jerusalem. It is a message that cannot be kept under wraps. Unlike when Jesus, early on would heal a leper or cast out a demon and then strictly charge them to tell no one. Now, the witnesses of the resurrection are sent. That's what apostles are – sent ones – and it is on the foundation of their witness, their teaching of Christ, their writing of these gospels, their founding of churches, sealed with the blood of their martyrdom – that Christ builds his church. And he has done so – brick by living brick – built his one, holy, apostolic church down through the ages, to the ends of the earth. Beginning at Jerusalem, but ever marching on, even to here and now, even to you.

Finally, for this great task, he doesn't leave them on their own. He will, and very soon, send the Helper. The Promise of the Father. The One who clothes with power from on high – the Holy Spirit. They have that Spirit already, who works in the word and creates and sustains faith. He breathed it on them again with the power to forgive and retain sins. But soon, Pentecost, and he will give the Spirit yet again as the message of the risen Christ who forgives sins will go out to every corner of creation.

And one more thing. The same resurrected Jesus who comes to be physically present among his disciples, comes also into our midst today. The same Jesus who showed them his body – gives us his body and blood. The same Jesus who died and rose for the repentance and forgiveness of sinners, bids you to his altar in repentance to receive his forgiveness.

He's not here to prove it to you – for indeed, we receive him by faith. But he is here to comfort and strengthen you, to give you that same peace. The same Jesus who ate with his disciples now invites you to his meal, where he is both host and feast. So welcome to the Lord's table. Seek him where he promises to be for you – not in mystical superstitions, but in sacramental reality. Not in superstitions of your imagination, but in the certainty of his promise. Taste and see that the Lord is good. In Jesus' name. Amen.

Sermon - Mark 16:1-8 - Easter Sunday

Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed. Alleluia!
Death lies in shambles. But Jesus is alive!
Your sins are distant memory. Jesus has paid the price!
The devil has been brought to ruin. And Jesus has won the victory!
Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed. Alleluia!
Easter is the great surprise of history. Oh, battles have been won before. Enemies have been defeated, even at the last moment, even when little hope remained. Last-second, shot-made at the final buzzer triumphs do happen from time to time. But this victory is different.
This man was the God-man. He was the Christ, the son of the living God. And for him to die... it was the darkest hour of the darkest day. It was the great injustice of all history. It was the ripping away of all hope. If even one so pure as Jesus couldn't escape the jaws of foul death, then what hope is there for someone like you or me?
We had hoped he would be the one. We had hoped he would deliver Israel. We had hoped he would bring comfort and peace, but it seemed, all that Friday brought was violence and humiliation. Darkness. Sorrow. Death. The disciples were scattered and hiding in fear. The women who stayed behind could only wail and cry. At least they got to bury his body hastily. Then the stone shut the tomb with a loud thud.... and... silence.
And then bright Easter morn breaks through! And all of that is forgotten! The nails, the spear, the flogging, the bleeding, the shame.... gone... because... because Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
It is the great surprise of history. But it shouldn't be. He had predicted it, many times. He promised them the sign of Jonah – who was in the belly of the whale three days and nights. He spoke to his disciples plainly – the Son of Man must be handed over to the chief priests and scribes, and he will suffer, and he will die, but on the third day he will rise again!
How much plainer could he be? But they tried to rebuke him. Or it went in one ear and out the other. They just couldn't wrap their minds, their hearts, their faith around it. The Christ must suffer, die, and rise again.
Let us wrap our minds and hearts and faith around it as best we can today. By faith in God's word, rejoice with me that Jesus has won the victory over our sins. That his death satisfies God's righteous wrath. That the devil can go fly a kite, but he has no claim on you or me. For Jesus is alive, never to die again. Jesus is the victor, our champion in the fight. And through him, we too share the victory!
Let's start with the women at the tomb. The first to hear the news of his resurrection. They were flabbergasted. They had come in grief, to finish up a hastily prepared burial. Their grief was such that they didn't think about all the details – they forgot about that stone that sealed the grave. How would they roll it away? Just another disappointment to add to their list of miseries. But still, somehow, they came to the tomb.
And imagine their surprise to see the stone rolled away! What were they to do now? Obviously something wasn't right.
But there was a messenger, a young man, an angel – sitting in the tomb (who sits around in tombs dressed in white anyway?) and he had a message for them. It was a surprise to them, too, but it shouldn't have been.
“Don't be alarmed. You seek Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here. He has arisen! See the place where they laid him. Now, go tell Peter and the disciples that he'll meet you in Galilee, just as he told you.”
And friends, this angelic message is for us, also, on this Easter Sunday.
“Don't be alarmed!” No don't you be alarmed either! With Jesus there is nothing to fear. With Jesus there is nothing that can harm you – ultimately, for even though you die, yet shall you live! Don't let your own sins alarm you. They've been buried with Christ. Don't let the accuser accuse you. All his might has come unraveled. Don't fear the one who would ridicule or shun you, discriminate against you or even behead you.... for Christ is Risen.... and that makes all the difference in the world.
“You seek Jesus, who was crucified.” Yes, friends, you too seek Jesus who was crucified. You seek him, not of your own reason or strength, but because the Holy Spirit has called you to faith in baptism, and by his mysterious working in the word. And you seek a Jesus who was crucified. For without the cross none of this matters. Without the payment for sin, there is no saving from sin. And Jesus' crucifixion is the only thing that could do it. Without Easter, the cross is a big question mark, and our faith is in vain. But without the cross, Easter matters even less.



“He is not here. He is risen” the angel said. He has risen from death. He's passed through it, and come out on the other side. Who does that? What a miracle! A precious few had been raised from death before – the widow's son raised by Elijah. And then those raised by Jesus – Jairus' daughter, the widow's son at Nain, and Jesus' friend Lazarus. But never before had one called his own resurrection ahead of time, and delivered the good. He is risen, just as he said.
And not just for him, friends, this is also for you. The reason Jesus' resurrection is so great is that it's not just for him, it's for you, too! He goes before you – to death, and to resurrection, and to eternal glory with the Father.
“See the place where they laid him” The place. A real, historical place, where his real, historical body was laid. The place, a borrowed grave, belonging to a rich man, Joseph. But it wasn't his place for long. Long enough to take his rest on the Sabbath. Long enough to prove he was really, truly, dead. But not forever. He lives, now, forever. His place, now, is his rightful place in heaven. And he prepares a place for you there (John 14) – where you will live, resurrected body and soul together. A place with him forever.
“Now, go tell the disciples he'll meet you in Galilee, just as he told you”
Yes, everything is always just as he told you. He was arrested and suffered, just as he told them. He was crucified and died, just as he told them. He even rose from the dead, just as he told them. And now he would see them again soon, just as he told them.
Everything is just as he tells you, too, Christian. He forgives your sins, just as he told you when you were baptized in his name. He gives you his body and blood in Holy Communion, just as he told you – that's what it is - given and shed for you, for the forgiveness of sins. And here, he meets you, just as personally as he met those fearful disciples in the upper room and in Galilee. His mysterious but very real presence, to bring you peace.
And just as he told them, so does his forgiveness tell you, “fear not”.
And so today's Gospel ends with this cliffhanger – the women leaving the tomb afraid, confused, not knowing what to make of it all. But we know their grief would soon be turned around, as Jesus' resurrection sunk in. As they and the other early Christians came to see just what it meant that Jesus had lived and died for them, and rose again for them and for all. This good news has to be shared, proclaimed, preached even to the ends of the earth.
And so it was. And so it still is today. That Christ Crucified for sinners and raised again in glory is preached – and that all the promises of Christ are fulfilled – just as he has told us. Christ is preached in all the world, even to the ends of the world. The word of his law and gospel, the forgiveness delivered in the mystery of the sacraments. All the gifts of God for the people of God. And for you. And the victory that he wins – is ours. Just as he said. There and here. Now and forever. So do not be afraid.
For Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed. Alleluia. Amen.

Sermon - Palm Sunday - Philippians 2:5-11

“The Triumph of Christ's Humiliation”

Philippians 2:5-11

Today we observe Palm Sunday – and especially that time when Jesus came to Jerusalem shortly before his death, we call it his triumphal entry. But triumph, with Jesus, is not what it looks like to the world. For him, it is found in humility. It is a strange sort of triumph, a very odd celebration, in which most of the participants have it right, in spite of having it wrong. He is the king, but not the way they think. He is there to save them, but not from whom they think. He is the Son of David. But David's son is also David's Lord. And his humility is ultimately his glory.

Humility – the overarching theme.

Today, humility is almost universally regarded as a virtue. Even outside of religious circles, humility is held up as a worthy character treat, and important component of leadership. It is seen as the opposite of arrogance. A willingness to admit you're wrong. An attitude that doesn't make yourself to be so important and worthy, but regards other people as just as important. It's a nice idea, but hard to truly find among humans, and difficult to practice.

Humility related to the word for the ground. It means to be brought low or made low. The ultimate posture of humility is kneeling down, or even lying down prostrate in front of someone higher. So even the body position can indicate that you are lower, more humble, than your superior.

But sin wants to be like God. Sin wants to puff us up. It wants us to call the shots. It wants us to receive the worship and praise. The devil whispers all sorts of self-aggrandizing lies in your ear, and your sinful nature gobbles them up. Who wants to be the servant? I'd rather be the master. Sin says, humiliate others to raise yourself up. But Jesus humbled himself, to exalt us.

“Have this mind (attitude)...”

Here, in our text, Paul encourages the Philippians to have a mindset, an attitude, a way of thinking that is formed and informed by the Gospel. Similar to Jesus' words to the disciples from last week's Gospel reading, that with the gentiles people lord power over one another, “but not so with you”. Likewise Paul says to the Philippians, and to us - “among you, with you, in your midst – there ought to be a certain mindset, and one that is different from the world out there.”

It derives from Jesus – who knows more about humility than anyone. Think of it. He has sat higher than anyone. His greatness and glory and power and majesty are from eternity. By him all things were made. He is God of God and Lord of Lords. He is, and always has been, and always will be, the highest and the best. As Paul says, he was “in the form of God”. He had equality with God.

But he didn't consider that something to be grasped. He didn't “hang on to it”. He didn't consider that he should grab on and hold tightly to his high station, and never let it go. Instead, he did something astounding. Something we can't comprehend. He came down, down from his throne. Down to the ground. Down to become human. He put aside his divine rights.

Emptied himself. Only Jesus wasn't emptying himself of breads and sweets, or fasting from meat on Fridays. He was putting aside divine glory and majesty. He was swearing off his omnipotence, omnipresence, omniscience, at least for the most part. He still had it all, of course. But he would not fully use or exercise these divine rights during his sojourn on earth. And so he entered a state of humiliation.

The creed describes the high points in his work for us, in the state of humiliation: He was conceived by the Holy Spirit of the Virgin Mary. Yes, he began his course on earth as we all do – in the lowest, smallest way – a single conceptus. He was born. Just as we are. He suffered – not just during Holy Week, but all his life – he knew the grief of loss. He knew poverty and rejection. But certainly in his passion, he suffered the humiliations of his enemies. Mocking, spitting, beating him for sport.

Obedient unto Death

Through it all he was obedient. He obeyed everything the Father asked him to endure. He drank the cup to the bitter dregs. Never wavering, never flinching, never turning aside from anything thrown at him.

He was obedient even unto death. If you're like me, you don't like being told what to do. Sometimes I want to not do something just because someone tells me I have to. But who among us would be obedient unto death? Who among us would willingly, unquestioningly march forth to our certain doom because we are told to?

No doubt, some do – like soldiers in battle. And we rightly regard those as heroes who lay down their lives this way. But they are all a shadow and taste of the obedience in suffering and death that Jesus showed. They are a small glimpse of the humiliation he endured for us.

He was obedient unto death, EVEN death on a cross. Not a quick, painless execution. The cross was designed to prolong the suffering. It was meant to be a public statement, for all to see. It intended to maximize humiliation. There's a good reason the Jews recognized that a man hanged on a tree is cursed (Deuteronomy 21:23). That's never more true than with Christ. Who suffered the humiliation of a tortured death, and also bore the sins of the world, the wrath of the Father, and the just punishment for all. He who knew no sin became sin. All of it, bound up in him. All of it, put to death, in his body.

Obedient, even unto death, even death on the cross.

Therefore Exalted

And then the turn. Paul says, “therefore”.

Therefore – God has exalted him. Therefore, because of his perfect obedience and atoning death – therefore, he is exalted, lifted up again.

Up to life. Exalted in his resurrection, which is history's greatest vindication. It is the victory cry of life over death. It is the triumph of triumphs.

He is exalted, also, to his due glory, honor, might, and status as the Son of God. We see him, from this point onward, taking back more and more, exercising ever more fully – those divine attributes he had hidden in humility.

He is exalted. Up again to heaven's high throne. As his disciples watched him go to the clouds, and as the angels appeared to promise his glorious return. Christ now sits at the right hand of the Father, ruling all things for the good of his church.

And God the Father has bestowed on him the Name above all names. That is to say, the highest honor and glory of all. And that glory will be made manifest, that is all eyes will see it, at his second coming.

At his name – all will bow, willingly or not. All will be humbled, willingly or not. All will – either willingly by faith, or grudgingly and by force, acknowledge him as God and Lord. All angels. All humans. Even the devil and his demons. Every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of the Father.

Here will be his final triumph. Palm Sunday's triumphal entry is a foretaste of his final coming in glory. We, his people, will welcome him then – not riding a donkey, but riding the clouds. Not coming to be tried, but to judge the living and dead. Not coming to die, but to usher in eternal life for all his resurrected and glorified people. The ultimate, that is the final triumphal entry.

Christ's humiliation and Christ's exaltation are both a comfort for us, as Christians. He made himself low to save us who are rightly low. He was exalted by the Father, and will bring us with him into exaltation.

So we know that whatever humiliations we suffer in this world, we too have a greater day ahead. However low your sins have brought you, Christ pulls you out of the muck and mire, redeems your life from the pit, and gives you a firm place to stand. However low this world takes you, into depression or rejection or anguish or even death. Christ will raise you up, and give you a share in his triumph over sin and death.

So have this mind among you, which is yours in Christ Jesus. Don't grasp on to greatness, but live in his humility. Humbly confess your sins. Humbly serve your neighbor. And he who has done it all for you, will lift you up.

Sermon - Lent 5 - Mark 10:35-45

Mark 10:35-45

“The Cup and the Baptism”

Peter isn't the only one of the disciples that makes a fool of himself from time to time. James and John, the sons of Zebedee, could give him a run for his money. Jesus called them the “sons of thunder”, perhaps because they wanted to call down the fire of heaven on some Samaritan villagers who wouldn't welcome Jesus. This earned them a stern rebuke from Jesus, as they just moved on to another village.

Here, James and John come with a request of Jesus. Matthew's parallel account tells us they even got their mother involved in making this request. And they tried a little trick - to get Jesus to agree to the request before saying what it was they wanted – which, even today, is never a good thing to agree to. “Promise me you won't be mad” or “Promise you'll keep this a secret”. We try to use these little tactics to get people to react the way we want, give the answer we want them to give. But Jesus won't be so easily manipulated.

The request is a simple one, though bold. They want to sit at his right hand and left when he comes into his kingdom. They want the #1 and #2 places of honor, the top two spots of power. They want to be his right-hand man, and his left-hand man. No wonder the other disciples were indignant when they heard. James and John just beat them to the punch. These are the same disciples who liked to argue amongst themselves who was the greatest.

And their request tells us quite a bit about their thinking. It shows us that they didn't have their listening ears on when Jesus told them what kind of Messiah he was. He spoke plainly about his arrest, crucifixion, death and resurrection. He repeated this, giving more details about the involvement of the Jews AND Gentiles, the spitting and the flogging. He continued to repeat, over and over again, that he had come to die, and that he would rise from death. But they would not, perhaps could not hear it.

They looked for an earthly kingdom, a worldly sort of Messiah, a king who would restore the glory and give the people good things, and preside over peace and prosperity. Like so many others who can only see the vain things of this life, and therefore end up looking for a savior who is really quite small. Jesus has come to do far more than all that. His kingdom is not of this world. Sure he's the king of this and every world. But he is no mere earthly king. No savior for only this world. His mission has a far greater scope. He comes to save the world, not just Israel. He comes to save from sin, not just from poverty and want. He comes to conquer, not the Romans, but death itself.

And don't you forget it, either Christian! Though we often do. How often do we aim so low in our prayers and expectations of God. Our eyes can only see the things of this world. The temporal troubles that distract us and occupy us. The pursuit of worldly good, worldly glory, worldly peace, worldly happiness. So often we think, if only _______, then I would be happy. Then I would be fulfilled. Then everything would be all right.

But your biggest problem isn't ________. Your biggest problem is sin. Sin that corrupts every corner and facet of your life. Sin that drives a wedge between you and your loved ones, your coworkers, your neighbors. Sin that drives you to continually look out for #1. Sin that inheres to your very nature and will ultimately bring you down to the grave. Luther called our sinful flesh the man that always hangs on our neck. He's a burden. He's a drag. He's the problem. And won't just go away.

Jesus said to them, “What do you want me to do for you?” And their answer should have been, “Save us, Lord. Renew us. Cleanse us from sin. Have mercy on us.” But no. They wanted to sit at his right and left.

Jesus has the cross on his mind. And he knew it was coming. He told them so many details. You have to wonder if he even knew, specifically, that his cross would be flanked by two others, two thieves – one on his right, one on his left. However it would be, whatever it would look like, it was all part of the plan – it was already prepared, appointed, ordained.

And so he challenges James and John, “Can you drink the cup I'm about to drink? Can you handle the baptism I'm about to undergo?” Not having a clue, they say, “We are able!” Jesus uses these figures of speech – the cup, the baptism, to speak of his suffering and death. He drank the cup of God's wrath – the cup that he prayed about in Gethsemane – that it might pass from him, yet not my will be done but yours, O Father. And the baptism, also a picture of death, as we too in our baptism – in a very real way - are baptized into Christ's death. The early Christians called martyrdom the “baptism of blood” and so forth.

Can you suffer what I'm about to suffer? Can you face the foul breath of death? Can you sustain the physical whipping and the verbal lashing? Will you stand as an innocent man condemned? Can you accept the rejection of your people? Could you bear the brunt of it all? Can you bear the sins of the world? Can you absorb the wrath of the Father? Can you endure the pangs of hell itself? “We can!” No, James and John. You can't. And thanks be to God and to Christ that he has done it for us all. We can't even imagine that kind of suffering – bearing the sins of the world.

But Jesus does use this moment, and turns the conversation another way – to indicate to them that they will indeed, in a way, share his cup, and his baptism. And really this goes for them, for all the disciples, and even for all Christians. So take note. Following Christ means taking up your own cross. Being united to Christ means being united to him in suffering. He is the head, and we are the body – connected always – and so where he goes, we go also, at least in some sense.

James, we know from Acts 12, would suffer a martyr's death. King Herod Agrippa had him put to death by the sword – beheaded, according to other sources. He is considered the first of the apostles to die. But in this way he, too, shared in the cup and the baptism of Christ, dying for his confession of Christ, an innocent man murdered at the hands of the wicked.

And then there's John. The only one of the 12 apostles not to die a martyr's death. But that doesn't mean he escaped the cup or the baptism. John knew the torments of persecution in his own way – as he was exiled to the prison island of Patmos in his later years. It was there that he received the vision he recorded for us, and we know as the book of Revelation. And so out of his suffering, God worked great blessing. The visions of Revelation are some of the most powerful words of hope for Christians who face suffering – some of the most comforting words in all of the New Testament.

Yes, James and John would, in a sense, have a share in Christ's cup and baptism, and a place in his kingdom. But it wasn't the honored seats of worldly glory they sought. It was a part in his suffering, and a blessed death in Christ, and now we know they enjoy the blessings of paradise with all the other believers who have gone before us. In a way, they do sit at his right and left hand, sharing his reign and glory, wearing a crown of righteousness, and awaiting the resurrection with all the saints.

James and John, it seems, would also learn the lesson eventually – that greatness comes in service to others. Whoever would be great among you, must become your servant. Whoever would be first, must be slave of all. Christ, first of all, firstborn of Mary and only Son of God from eternity – he who was greatest by right – didn't exert his greatness. Instead, he became servant of all, laid down his life for all. The cross is the greatest service ever rendered – the death of God for the life of all men.

And following in Christ's path of service, James and John, along with all Christians – means we serve one another. We don't all do it, literally, unto death – though some do! But we lay down our lives in many ways – small and large – not seeking greatness, but seeking the welfare of our neighbor. It's diametrically opposite of seeking the places of honor and glory, the right hand and the left. It means seeking the lowest place, the place of dishonor, coming underneath and even washing feet if necessary. This is simply another way of describing what love is. We serve because we've been served. We love, because we've been so loved. Consider how you might follow Christ in this way. What needs does my neighbor have? How might I serve him?

You, Christian, have a share in Christ's cup and baptism. Though you may, in your sin, seek worldly things – the fame, the fortune, the pleasures of this world. You may be, like the sons of Zebedee, focused on the things below, and if so - repent. Turn your eyes to the things above, and see Christ as he truly is – the suffering servant sent by the Father, to lay down his life as a ransom for many.

Yes, because of Jesus' cup of suffering and Jesus' baptism of death, you have another baptism and another cup.

You, Christian, are baptized into Christ's death – and life! A baptism, not of judgment, but of mercy. Though you received it long ago, you live in it every day.

You, Christian, are invited to drink the cup of Christ's sacrament – not a cup of wrath, but a cup of mercy. The very blood of Christ for the forgiveness of sins. Come and receive it, even today.

You are united to Christ in his baptism, and by his cup. And you may suffer for it. Your faith may cost you friends. It may cost you time and treasure. It may bring you the scorn of men and divide your own family. It may even mean you taste of death. But the one who laid down his life for you will not forsake you. And remember, where he goes, you go. Not just to death, but also to life. Jesus' resurrection is your resurrection, too. He laid down his life to take it up again. And when your life is finally laid down, however it happens, he will take it up again. He will raise you up. He will bring you with James and John and all the other believers into resurrected glory. He will do better for you than anything you could ask.

In Jesus' Name, Amen.

Sermon - Ash Wednesday - Matthew 6:1-6; 16-21

Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Lenten Disciplines

Discipline is sort of an ugly word in our context.  It has the connotation of punishment, or strictness.  Maybe you think of a mean old school teacher who runs a tight ship in the classroom.  Or maybe we think of the military as imposing discipline in new trainees, marching in step and keeping their uniforms flawless.  You make like a little discipline.  But who wants to be disciplined?

But discipline is a good thing for the Christian to practice.  Self-discipline, as St. Paul taught it, for example, is not letting sin have mastery over you, but fighting it.  Pressing on, like an athlete who disciplines himself for the race set before him.  Christians are indeed, also like soldiers who must be disciplined for the fight we face – for the enemies rage about us.

And Lent is a good time to engage in such disciplines.  It's no accident that our reading for Ash Wednesday, from the Sermon on the Mount, has Jesus teaching us about some particular Christian disciplines – fasting, praying, and giving.  Surely, these are appropriate at any time for the people of God.  But let's take a closer look as we begin the 40 day journey to the cross.  This evening – let us consider Matthew 6 and “Lenten Disciplines”.

Jesus calls these disciplines, in general, “practicing your righteousness”.  We do these things because we are righteous, not to earn righteousness.  And we are righteous only by grace through faith in him.  Nevertheless that faith produces works, and the word instructs us many things about how to do it all.  We might call it the “third use of the law”.  We might call it spiritual discipline.  Or the good habits of faith. Or practicing righteousness.  It flows from faith, and is instructed by Christ.  Here, today, are three examples:  giving, praying, and fasting.

Giving
The first spiritual discipline Christ teaches here is that of giving.  And while he especially mentions giving to the poor and needy, we could expand the principle to include all the good causes a Christian endeavors to support with our giving.  And such giving is a discipline.

We are taught by Scripture to give.  We are taught to give in grateful response to the gifts we've been given, especially in Christ.  We are taught principles of giving.  For instance we are to give sacrificially, proportionately, joyfully, and of our first-fruits.  And we are warned of the dangers of giving wrongly.

Many times Jesus encourages giving to the poor and needy, indeed teaching that in giving food or drink or clothing to even the least of these, we do it unto him. 

Here, Jesus attacks the temptation to give in order to be seen. We are tempted to turn even the most righteous spiritual disciplines into an opportunity for self-serving, self-aggrandizing.  Don't blow your own horn, Jesus warns.  Do it in secret if you can, to avoid the temptation of doing it to be seen by men.  And such discipline, anonymous giving, can help guard of from sin even in the practicing of our faith, and in the serving of others, and in our giving to God and our neighbor.

Praying
The next spiritual discipline he teaches is prayer.  Of course the Christian prays.  Scripture teaches us much about this activity of faith, the speaking to God in words and thoughts.  The asking and thanking and confessing and adoring of God in our private and public prayers.

Here too, to avoid the temptation of doing it falsely, to be seen, he urges prayer be done in secret.  Now, he's not telling us never to pray in public, or to pray with other Christians.  Indeed, the very words of the “Our Father” indicate it is a corporate prayer – prayed by “us” to “our” Father.

The danger is in taking something good and holy – in this case prayer itself – and twisting it into a show, looking for glory, prattling on in order to impress others.  If that's your temptation – then have some discipline, and control the temptation by making your prayers in private.  For God will still see and hear, and answer according to his will.  Thus, you are rewarded and not led into sin.

Neither is he critiquing the particular posture.  Of course, we sometimes stand to pray out of respect.  Sometimes we may kneel.  But the point is, not to pray to be seen – no matter where or how – but rather as a deep expression of faith.  Discipline yourself.  Practice righteousness.

What is omitted from our text, but you surely well know, is the Lord's Prayer itself.  Jesus says, “when you pray, pray then like this:” And gives us the model prayer.  But more than a prayer to be repeated, the Lord's Prayer teaches us also about prayer – what to pray for – who God is, and what to expect from him.  There is no better prayer to include in your Lenten discipline than that prayer he has given. 

Fasting
The next one Jesus mentions if fasting.  Fasting and Lent were almost synonymous in the church for many years.  The 40 days of Lent are indeed patterned after Jesus' own 40 days of fasting following his baptism.  Most Lutherans I know don't practice fasting much nowadays, but a common practice with the same idea is “giving something up for Lent”.  It might be a kind of fasting, a self-chosen self-denial of one thing or another. 

There isn't any command or mandate that Christians fast a certain way or from certain foods at certain times.  There is great freedom for the Christian when it comes to our personal practice of piety.  Paul makes it clear that each Christian's spiritual discipline is his own: (from Romans 14)

One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind. The one who observes the day, observes it in honor of the Lord. The one who eats, eats in honor of the Lord, since he gives thanks to God, while the one who abstains, abstains in honor of the Lord and gives thanks to God.

Take note, however, like the practices of giving and prayer, Jesus does assume his people will fast.  He says, “when you fast...” not, “if you fast”.  For the Christian who sets his mind on things above, and not on things of this earth, it seems only natural to have times of discipline that follow the pattern of our Lord and exert discipline in our lives.  Fasting is a time-honored way for us to discipline ourselves in the faith.

He tells us not to fast in order to be seen by men, like the hypocrites do.  This, too, is not an exercise in puffing oneself up, “hey everyone look at me”. Nor is it to earn merit or favor from God, however, at least not as some have tried to teach it.  The reward that Jesus speaks of for fasting is not unto salvation.  But it is the reward that discipline offers – deeper faith, better appreciation, a more grateful heart. 

It can also bring us to greater joy in the gifts of God when the fast ends.
Take the example of a practice we have here at Messiah:
The church also“fasts” from its Alelluias during the Lenten season, only to welcome them back with joy on Easter. 

Laying Up Treasures
And finally, what's this talk about laying up treasures?  The contrast is clear.  The things of earth are temporary and fleeting.  They are treasures that cannot last.  They are destroyed by moth and rust as time ravages on.  They are stolen by thieves, or lost in some other way.  You can't take it with you, they say, but many times you can't even keep it here.  Food goes bad.  Money slips away.  Fame before men is fickle and fades.  Even you, yourself are dust, and to dust you shall return.

Impermanence is just one reason Jesus directs our hearts away from the things below, to the things above.  The things that last.  The things of heaven.  And so Christian disciplines like giving and prayer and fasting all serve this same end.  To turn our eyes from below – to above.

To point us away from this earth which is passing away, and to turn our hearts toward Jesus – who will never die.  To tune our ears to his promises, which will never be broken.  To remind us of the hope of glory, where nothing fades but the righteous shine like stars forever. 

Where your treasure is, there you heart will be also.  Our treasures, Christians are not the things of this world which is passing away.  Our treasures are things like:  the Word of the Lord which endures forever.  The resurrection of Christ, over whom death has no more dominion.  The sacraments – by which Christ uses earthly things to do heavenly things.  Common things, to bring heavenly treasures.  And the Gospel itself, by which we are saved and through which the Spirit works to call and gather, to enlighten and sanctify.  You have a treasure trove, a great hoard of heavenly goodies that moth or rust cannot destroy, that no thief can steal away.  So set your heart here, on these, by faith.  And discipline that faith all the more, practice your righteousness, this Ash Wednesday, this Lenten Season and always.

Sermon - Transfiguration - Mark 9:2-9

Transfiguration Sunday

Mark 9:2-9

February 11, 2018

“It's good to be here.” Peter is one of those guys who has to say something in every situation. When everyone else is puzzled or awed or too fearful to utter a sound, Peter's mouth opens up and the words just start flowing out. Maybe some of you can relate. Sometimes this works out well for Peter. He was, after all, the one to exclaim, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God”. Peter confesses boldly! Sometimes, not so much. But if there's a chance to say anything, odds are, Peter is going to be the one to say it. And so here on the mountain, with bright shining Jesus, with Moses and Elijah, a glorious glimpse of heavenly reality, Peter blurts out, “it is good to be here”.

And this time, his words convey more than he likely meant. This time, he spoke a truth more profound than he imagined. But in another way, these words leave something lacking, they beg for something more, they are a shadow of something even better, yet to come. Let's consider those words as a theme this morning, “It's good to be here”.

We say that phrase, or something like it, often enough. It's a throw away greeting, like, “nice to see you”. But even so, they're truer than we mean, aren't they? It's good to be here. It's good that God has created me and given me this life. It's good that God has placed me here, in this creation he called “good”. On this planet he created, with the sun and moon and land and sea and plants and animals. It's good to be here, another day, breathing and eating and working and playing – an existence we owe to God. Sometimes it's nice to stop and smell the roses of our very being – that God has made me, and still sustains me each day. This life is a gift. Thanks be to God.

And there are many places we'd rather not be. It's good to be here in a country that allows us the freedom to practice our faith. It's good to be here in a land of plenty, where we want for no bodily need. It's good to be here in a time of medical miracles, technological conveniences, and relative peace and prosperity that the world has never known. At least it's good on some level, and yet do we thank God for the gifts of his creation?

It's good to be here, wherever we are, but some places are better than others. And Peter found himself on a mountaintop – in more ways than one. It's a spectacle, for sure, something that must have gobsmacked this simple fisherman. But what does it mean? Why is it so good to be here?

“After six days...” the reading starts out. But that begs the question of context. What had happened just six days before? We read:

And he began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes and be killed, and after three days rise again. And he said this plainly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and seeing his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you bare not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man.”

And calling the crowd to him with his disciples, he said to them, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.

The Transfiguration begins to look a little different in its immediate context. Peter had just confessed Jesus to be the Christ. Jesus began to tell them what that actually means – suffering, death, and a resurrection. Peter tried to rebuke him but Jesus made it clear – if anyone wants to follow him – it means self-denial, it means a cross, and then a resurrection.

Also after they came down from the mountain Jesus told them not to speak of it until after the resurrection. And they wondered amongst themselves what he meant by, “rising from the dead”.

Peter's words, “It's good to be here” show us the temptation common to all men – and sadly to many Christians – to see Christ's glory apart from the cross. We like the bright and the shiny. We like the successful and powerful. We like the mountaintop moments, the high points, the glory. But the cross? Suffering? No thanks, that's not for me. In fact when it came time for Jesus to die – most of his disciples scattered like roaches. Would they stand at the foot of the cross? Only John remained. Would they stay with Jesus then, and say, “It's good to be here?” No.

And you can see this in the churches people flock to, and the books that sell in Christian book stores, and the preachers that get all the media attention and the examples that are held up for us of growth and health and success. But if there is no cross – it's a sham, and a shame. If there's no Christ crucified for sinners, all the worldly glitz and glamor, all the bright and shiny trappings of success are only a distraction and a detriment. They can get behind Jesus, Satan. No cross means no Christ.

Yes, it's good to get a peek behind the veil. Yes it's good to see Moses and Elijah testifying to Christ. Yes it's good to see a glimpse of his true glory as the Son of God, and to hear the Father's voice confirming it. Yes, in a sense, it's good to be here. But we may not remain, as they hymn says. This is just a pit stop on Jesus' journey, for his true destination, his ultimate goal, was not the mount of glory, but the hill of calvary, the place of the skull, the place of death – our place.

Could you stand there, watching Christ suffer and die, and say those words, “It's good to be here”? To watch as he cried out, forsaken by God, to hear him mocked by men? To see him thirst. To watch him bleed. And finally to cry out, commending his spirit to God? As the sun darkened and the earth shook and the curtain ripped and the tombs opened. You might say, rather, it's good to be anywhere else. But here was God's salvation accomplished. Here, at the cross, the ultimate good for sinners like you and me. Here in the darkness, not the light, Jesus brought us back to the light.

The Epiphany season begins and ends with the voice of the Father, “This is my Son”. First at his baptism, now at the Transfiguration, the Father confirms exactly who this Jesus is. But now, in today's reading, he adds this little phrase, “listen to him”. And if we listen, closely, to what Jesus says and teaches and preaches. If we sit with his disciples at his feet and learn – not who we want him to be, but who he says he is – we will hear him plainly showing forth the cross. A sacrificial death, a substitutionary atonement – one man's life paid as ransom for many. This is why he came. Any time we hear this good news – his Gospel – we can say those words of Peter, “it's good to be here.”

This is why we gather. This is why we come to his house each week. It's good to be here – not to be seen by men, so that our friends and neighbors think of us as good church-going types. It's good to be here – not to get all the answers of how to live the good life, the happy family, health, wealth, and all the success of life. We come not for the glory. It's good to be here, because here we hear of the Jesus of the cross. Here we listen to him – and he speaks to us – not just words of condemnation, but finally a word of restoration, reconciliation, even resurrection.

It's good to be here – in his presence. Wherever he is, that's where you want to be, Christian. And he is here in a special way for you, today. A real presence, a sacramental presence, bodily and bloodily here for you in bread and wine. Here's your mountaintop – at his altar. Here is your peek at true glory. Here's your word from heaven. Here – listen to him – when he says, “This is my body; this is my blood, given and shed for you – for the forgiveness of your sins.”

“It's good to be here.” We can say that now, for Christ is with us always, even to the end of the age. But we can say it all the more, and with all of its fullness, at the end of the age - when he comes again in glory. Then, it won't just be a glimpse of his glory, a peek behind the veil for a small group of his disciples. It will be Christ coming in the clouds with an angelic entourage, the trumpet call of God and the shout of the archangel. Then all eyes will see him, every knee will bow, and every tongue will confess that he is the Son of God to the glory of God the Father.

There in the mansions of heaven, there in the eternal home of our God, with God himself wiping every tear from your eye, with no more hunger or thirst, no sun or scorching heat, with the Lamb at the center of the throne our shepherd, where there are streams of living water, the tree of life with its fruit in season, and leaves for the healing of the nations. Where rest and life and joy are eternal, there we will be home forever.

There all the righteous will dwell – not in temporary tents, but in a glorified body no longer subject to death. There we'll be clothed in the righteousness of Christ. And there we'll live in perfect communion, along with the prophets, the patriarchs, Moses and Elijah, the martyrs and apostles, even Peter, James and John. But most importantly we will in the presence of our God who sits on the throne, and of Jesus. And we can truly, and finally, and most profoundly say, “it is good, Lord, to be here”.   

Sermon - Epiphany 2 - John 1:43-51

2^nd Sunday after the Epiphany

“Calling and Confession”

John 1:43-51

There are two threads that run through this reading from John 1. The first is the prominence of “calling”. Both the calling to faith – and the calling to service, or what we often speak of as “vocation”. We'll explore that a bit first.

Then there is the Epiphany emphasis, the unfolding of Christ's identity – as the one who calls, the one who knows all, the one about whom the prophets wrote, the man from Nazareth, the Son of God, the King of Israel, and the ladder to heaven. That's a lot to cover, so let's get started.

When Jesus calls us to faith, much like when he calls the disciples, he also calls us to service. The call is “follow me”. First, this invites a trust in him as one worthy of following. They would follow him, first of all from Bethany, across the Jordan, to Galilee. But more than physically following him, they would follow him by faith. They would become Christians. They would follow him, thus, even to death.

We, too, have been called to faith. We confess as much in the Small Catechism, concerning the Holy Spirit – who has called me by the gospel. I can't believe in Christ of my own reason or strength. I can't decide for myself to follow him, as my will is bound in sin. The Old Adam in us is at war with God and in rebellion against him. There's no reason to think we'd follow him, believe in him, or trust him. But God breaks into that with his calling – the Spirit calls us to faith, just as Jesus called those disciples to follow. And by this Gospel call, grace is extended to us, each of us, and we are saved.

But the call to faith is never alone, just as faith is never without works that follow, so the call to faith is always coupled with a call to serve. In the case of the apostles, Christ called them to serve in a very particular way – first as disciples and witnesses, learning and observing everything for 3 years - then as preachers and even fathers of the church, through whom he would build and establish his body on earth.

But the call to you and me also comes with work to do. For all Christians are servants, first of God, but also of one another. All of us have a place in the body, a calling to fulfill, a role to play. These vocations – husbands and wives, parents and children, teachers and students, preachers and hearers... all Christian vocations are callings from God to be done in faith and for the benefit of our neighbor. Faith doesn't sit in the vacuum. Faith is active and living. It seeks to fulfill its calling.

Notice how, when Jesus calls Nathanael, he doesn't do so personally and immediately. He uses a go-between. Phillip, who himself had just been called to follow, now calls yet another. So also, we are called by the Spirit through the agency of another Christian. Perhaps it was your parents who taught you the faith. Maybe a pastor or teacher. Maybe a faithful friend or neighbor. Sometimes we are the Phillip. Sometimes we are the Nathanael. Sometimes we are the one who invites others to hear Christ – to come and see. Sometimes we are the one being called.

The calling of Nathanael also teaches us that Christ's call to faith is by grace. What was Nathanael doing when Jesus called him? Sitting around, under a tree. What qualifications or bragging rights did he have? What mighty works or holy credentials? Nothing we are told. Although, Jesus did pay him a high compliment – he called him a true Israelite in whom there is no deceit. High praise compared to the many in Israel who were full of deceit.

When it comes to deceit, self-deception is among the worst of it. If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. But here was Nathanael, who appeared to be a true believer – waiting, like all true believers of old, for God's promise of the Messiah to be fulfilled. A true Israelite would have humbly acknowledged his sin, and sought the mercy of God for his salvation. And this true Israelite would find it in the one who now called him.

That calling leads to confession. At first, Nathanael was skeptical. What good can come from Nazareth? Perhaps he knew that the Messiah was to be born in Bethlehem. What good can come from the son of a carpenter? But little did he know, this was truly the Son of God. Until he did. When Jesus demonstrates his divine knowledge to Nathanael, the new disciple confesses just that – that this Rabbi is the Son of God!

Notice all the titles Jesus receives in this brief reading: Messiah. Rabbi. Son of God. Son of Man. It's the Epiphany season, after all, so why not mention some of the many aspects of who Jesus is?

He's the Rabbi, the great teacher. He has something to teach us – namely, the Word of God. He knows it like no one else does. He fulfills it like no one else can. Indeed, these scriptures are they that testify to him. He would spend years teaching these hard headed disciples he had just called, and only after his resurrection, by the power of the Spirit, would they come to understand so much of what he had been teaching them.

He's “him of whom Moses in the Law and also the prophets wrote”, that is to say, the Messiah. He is the one, the anointed one, set aside to save his people Israel. He's the one and only savior, who does what no one else can do. And he was appointed to this from the very foundation of the world. He's the fulfillment of their hopes and expectations. He's the one the prophets saw from afar, now arrived, in the flesh. Jesus himself would teach us of the scriptures, “these are they that testify to me”.

He's the Son of Man. He is a true man, like us in every way yet without sin. He is the one man, in whom all men are represented. He is the one man, to become the scapegoat for all men's sin. The one man to bear the iniquity of us all. That as in Adam all men fell into sin, now in the one man, the Son of Man, Jesus, all men would be saved.

He's the Son of God. Not just a favorite or high ranking son. The only Son of the Father. Not a created offspring but the eternally begotten Son.

And it is important that the Messiah be both Son of Man and Son of God. Man, to live and die for us. God, to conquer death for us and have it count for all of us.

But there's one more moniker or description of Jesus in this reading – and it is from Jesus himself. He identifies himself as the ladder or stairway to heaven.

Remember Jacob's dream as he left the promised land to flee from his angry brother Esau and to find his wife and fortune in the land of Padan-Aram, in the house of his uncle Laban. On his way, he stopped to sleep and with his head on a rock – had a dream of a stairway to heaven, angels ascending and descending on it. God reiterated to Jacob his promises to Abraham, and that this land would be his and his offspring's. Though Jacob was about to go away for some time, God would be with him always.

Jesus uses this story, of which a true Israelite like Nathanael would have been very familiar, and he applies it to himself. He says, “Hey Nathanael. You think it's so great that I showed you a little divine knowledge. You'll see greater things that that. You'll eventually come to see that I, the one standing before you, that I am the very stairway to heaven. That it is through me and only through me is heaven is opened to sinners.”

Heaven is opened at Jesus' Baptism and Transfiguration, as the voice of the Father confirms his Son. Heaven is opened to receive Christ's Spirit, when he commits it to the Father in death. Heaven is opened to receive the resurrected and glorified Christ, as he ascends there to regain his rightful place. And in Christ, heaven is opened to us his people, for he has promised to prepare us a place and to come to bring us there.

And so, we are called to faith, called to service, and finally called to heaven – all through Jesus Christ – who we, like Nathanael, confess as Rabbi, Messiah, and Lord. He is the one worthy of following, both in this life and even unto death, and through the grave to a resurrection and eternity with the Father. Be faithful to your calling, Christians, for he is always faithful to you.

Sermon - Epiphany 4 - Mark 1:21-28

Mark 1:21-28

“The Faith that Believes, and the Faith that Is Believed”

There are some handy Latin phrases that every good Lutheran pastor and theologian needs to know, and which can also be helpful to laypeople. One of those phrases is “Fides Qua” (Q-U-A) and “Fides Quae” (Q-U-A-E)

The expression fides qua means “the faith which believes.” This is, simply, your trust in Christ. The saving faith which receives and holds the riches of Christ’s atonement. It is your belief, as a Christian, that Christ has won for us the favor of God through his death and resurrection. He gives this salvation to us through the word and sacrament and we grab it and hold it by faith. This faith – this saving faith - is what the theologians call fides qua – the faith which believes. It’s the fides qua which makes you a Christian.*

The fides quae is a short-hand way which theologians use to talk about, “the faith which is believed.” It is, simply, the content of our belief. Or you could say, “our beliefs”. Here the word faith is like when the pastor says, “let us confess the faith in the words of the Apostles’ Creed.” Fides quae is THE faith. *

So we could say that Christians have faith in the faith. Although it is usually a bit less confusing to say that we have faith in Christ, by the gospel.

Fides qua without fides quae is belief without content – an emotionalism with all sorts of heartfelt sentiments but no understanding of precisely what Jesus is all about. Fides quae without fides qua – content without actual trust - is heartless theological abstraction.

So what does Fides Qua and Fides Quae have to do with our Gospel reading from Mark, where Jesus casts out a demon? And just as important, what does all of this have to do with you and me? Bear with me and we'll get there...

Our Gospel reading takes place in the synagogue in Capernaum. This is actually one of the historical sites we are pretty sure we've uncovered. I was there in 2007, and they found the old synagogue that Jesus visited there. On the top level are the imported white stone foundations of the 4th century synagogue. But underneath, the black volcanic rock from the local area that built the synagogue of Jesus' day.

The contrast between Jesus and the teachers of his day could also be described as black and white. They spoke with appeals to the Rabbis who taught before them. Gamaliel quotes Simeon quoting Eleazer, etc... But Jesus spoke with authority. He taught something different, and taught it differently. “You have heard it said, but I say to you.” The teachers of men relied on the teachings of men. But he didn't need any other word to rely on, because he, Jesus, is the living Word of God, with God from the beginning but now made flesh and walking and talking among them.

And then something strange happened. An unclean spirit spoke out. Which is strange enough. But even stranger is that the demon both knew who Jesus was, and even said so! “I know who you are – the Holy One of God!” This demon, who works for the Father of Lies, is telling the truth! He has confessed rightly who Jesus is, and why he has come – to destroy the forces of evil.

And yet, no one would accuse the demons, or the devil, of being a Christian. And here we come back to the Fides Quae understanding. The devil knows the Bible, friends, better than any of us do. Luther called the devil a master theologian. He is an expert in what God's word says. As Scripture says, “even the demons believe – and shudder” (James 2). You might even say the devil has a “Fides Quae” faith in God. He knows the truth, knows it to be true, and in a sense, even believes it. But he has no “Fides Qua”, no trust in Christ as his savior.

Sometimes we might even be the same. The danger for us, the temptation for some, is to make the faith an intellectual exercise. To be more concerned about getting it right, than that what is right is “for me”. We pastors are often susceptible to this problem, especially because we've been called to oversee the public teaching of the church. But just because you have all the right confessions and all the right doctrines and all the right theological proclamations, even in Greek or Hebrew or Latin, doesn't make you a Christian. If even a demon can rightly confess Christ, in a synagogue, (to his face!) - then simply getting the teachings right isn't enough, is it? The Fides Quae without the Fides Qua.

But there is also the opposite error. And here is where many laypeople are tempted. Christ does command us to observe or obey “everything I have commanded you”. We are encouraged to know and keep the word of God, as Moses taught:

And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.

When we think that believing in Jesus is all that is important, and it doesn't really matter what you believe, we try to have the Fides Qua without the Fides Quae. This can lead to all sorts of trouble too. These are the people who think they've already learned all there is to learn about the faith. “I went to confirmation class 50 years ago, pastor!” This is the temptation to put the catechism aside, rather than to continue using it like Luther intended. The temptation to believe in Jesus, but know little of what Jesus actually said or taught. Dusty Bible Syndrome.

This is the kind of emotionalism that is all too common in the church. The idea that it's all about the heart. That we don't need any of these objective truths or these doctrines which divide. “Let's just love Jesus and that's good enough.” But it's a shallow and ultimately a false faith that pays no attention to what Jesus teaches in his word. If you're looking to believe in a Jesus who doesn't teach anything of substance, then you're looking for a false Jesus. If your kind of Jesus is one who doesn't care about whether you baptize babies, or whether you receive his true body and blood in the sacrament, or whether you think your good works get you into heaven... well, then you have the wrong Jesus, my friends.

But the two really go hand in hand. If you neglect the content of the faith, you will ultimately turn away from the faith that saves – because the faith that saves will have nothing to hold onto, or it will be holding to the wrong thing. And if you are absorbed in the content and the doctrine but only as a mental exercise, if you hold that word at arm's length as if its condemnations and promises don't apply to you – then your knowledge is pointless and meaningless.

There's plenty of guilt to go around when it comes to the Fides Qua and the Fides Quae. We are sinners, after all, and we will – even the best theologians - get things wrong. Maybe we'll focus too much on the doctrine, or we'll focus too little. We'll think to much of our own personal faith, or we will think to much of our own right doctrine. We will break the 1st commandment by turning our teaching itself or “being right” into a god to be worshipped. Or we will break the 2nd by claiming to love God but despising preaching and his word in its very content.

There's only one way out of the Fides Qua/Fides Quae Quandry for sinners, and that way is Jesus himself.

Jesus who died on the cross, and by it destroyed the powers of darkness. Jesus the Holy One of God who makes us holy ones by his blood. Jesus the one with authority over the demons, and authority to forgive sins. Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith – and of our Fides Qua and our Fides Quae.

He gives his spirit, who works through his word, to create saving faith where there was none. Whenever we try to measure and examine our faith we will find it lacking. But whenever we look to Christ for forgiveness, life and salvation – it is always enough. Faith in Christ, trust in Christ, is a gift from him. Even the smallest faith, of a mustard seed, if that faith is in Christ, can move the mountain of sin from on top of us.

And Christ gives us his word, the content of our faith. We don't develop our doctrine, but like all things of God, we receive it as a gift. We are the recipients of the Bible, and the creeds which summarize it, the catechism which teaches it, and the confessions which – confess it.

That he calls you to believe in him is good news! That he tells you what to believe about him is good news! That despite your lack of faith, weak faith, failing faith – he still saves, is good news! For he died for all your sins. He covers all your unholiness with his holiness. He silences all your enemies with his authoritative word.

Thank God, for the Fides Quae, the “what” of our faith. And thank God for the Qua, the “in whom” of our faith, even Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

*comments in these two paragraphs are largely adapted from Klemet Preus “The Fire and the Staff”