Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed.
Alleluia, Amen.
Jesus said to her, “Mary.”
I will never forget one Grace member,
93 year old Esther. Like many of our members who can’t make it to
church, Pastor and I would visit Esther monthly in her home. And as
is so often the case, I would get as much out of our visits as she
did. She was a long time Sunday School Teacher, a life-long
Lutheran, and even at this age, an avid student of the Bible.
It must have been sometime in the
Easter season that we had one particular visit in which we started
talking about Jesus’ resurrection. And as we did, she brought up
this very passage from John 20 where the risen Jesus meets Mary
Magdelene, who is weeping in the garden. Mysteriously, she didn’t
even recognize him, and we aren’t told why. But then he says her
name. I remember Esther saying, “I just think it’s so profound,
so tender, how he calls her by name. Mary.” And as she said it, a
tear came to her eyes.
It’s always stuck with me, that
Esther would be so touched by this small detail of the Easter
account. Jesus says Mary’s name. But it’s not just Mary that he
knows by name. It’s you, and me too.
Jesus had died a horrible death that
his followers were powerless to stop. Their grief was fresh and deep
and bitter. They loved him. The believed in him. For these women
who had cared for him during the years of his public ministry, it
must have been especially heart-wrenching to have front row seats to
his execution. To see his hasty burial on that Friday evening before
the feast. And now, Sunday, still in great sorrow, they return to
his tomb to pay final respects, and finish a proper burial. And now
to rub salt into all the wounds, to find his body had been stolen!
Or so it appeared…
Grief can overwhelm. It happens to us,
too. We are just like Mary. We forget what God says. We forget who
he is. Life's troubles pile up on us and like weeds seek to choke
out God's word planted in our hearts. What about Jesus' many
promises that he would rise? Why didn't they find comfort in those
words?
Or, our own sins weigh us down with
regret – what could I have done differently, or better? If only I
had said this... If only I was stronger. And so we live in the past
sins, rather than the present forgiveness and future hope that he
brings. Surely Mary felt some of this, too.
But Jesus doesn't live in the past –
in fact your sins are of no concern to him. They were left behind at
the cross. And Jesus isn't overwhelmed by the world, he's already
taken it on – even death – and now stands victorious. And Jesus
doesn't forget his promises to you, but repeats them softly and
faithfully. And Jesus knows who you are, even when you forget him.
“Mary.” he said. He called her by
name. It's the little moments that are so poignant in the Easter
account. The details that come only with a tru account like this.
John beating Peter as they run to the tomb. The burial cloths being
neatly folded. Mary thinking Jesus was the gardener. Like the
moments in the stories we tell about our loved ones – the little
memories that stick with us. “Mary.” he says.
He calls you by name, too. First, in
your baptism. There you became a partaker of his resurrection. When
your old sinful nature drowned and died, and the new creation was
born of water and the spirit. We were buried with him, in baptism,
and raised from the dead in his resurrection.
Jesus lives. He lives and stands and
speaks – Mary – he says. And simply by mentioning her name, he
says so much. He says, for one, that he's here, and everything is
ok. I'm alive, just like I said I would be. He says, I know you. I
love you. You're not dead to me, either. He says put away your
sorrow, and rejoice with me in the victory that stands before you.
Victory over sin. Victory over death. Eternal life that death
cannot contain. And where I have gone, you too will follow.
Surely, Mary would remember that day
forever. When her weeping turned to joy on a dime. And it all
happened by one little word, her name. When the Lord of Life spoke
it to her, from his own living lips. Now, Mary would still, one day,
die. But even then she would rest secure in the care of the one who
knew her name. The one who lives, and reigns to all eternity, with
his Father and our Father, his God and our God.
Not long after our visit, Esther went
into a nursing home. Her health was declining, but her faith never
wavered. I'd see her a few more times, and after that, she too,
died. I was called to the nursing home and I stood next to her
husband as we watched the funeral directors respectfully take her
body away. But even in death, I knew she was with Christ, her Lord.
And I couldn't help but think that Jesus welcomed her with one
tender, loving word – Esther.
May the risen Christ, who knows your
name, keep you in his care, strengthen your faith, and bring you also
at last to himself. For even death is not the end of us. And when
we, too, rise from death in our bodies, we will rejoice all the more
in the victory of this day. A blessed Easter to you, in Christ our
Lord, Amen.
“How Could Jesus Find Time to Think
About His Mother?”
The wages of sin is death. And death
is a bitter paycheck. All the more bitter for those you know and
love, especially your family. While we don't cheer at the death of
an acquaintance or associate, we are struck deeply at the death of a
loved one. Not only when it happens, but as we see it coming. At
the diagnosis. Through the course of the disease. Even at the
deathbed.
That's where Mary and John stand, now.
At the deathbed, or the death-cross of their loved one. And a bitter
death it is. No one could say, “well at least he died peacefully”
or “thank God he didn't have to suffer much.” On that dark day
it was hard to find any silver lining in this cloud of death.
Creation, too, witnessed in agony at the impending death of its
creator. Even the sun itself mourned and dressed in black. But his
mother, Mary, would perhaps feel it most deeply. A sword would
pierce her soul.
Sin and death are bitter, and ugly.
The lenten hymn says it well, “ye who think of sin but lightly, nor
suppose the error great, here may view its nature rightly, here its
guilt may estimate”. That's your sin that made him suffer so.
It's your guilt and shame he bears. And mine. And John's too. And
Mary's. The whole world's. And it is ugly and bitter and wretched.
Well, how could Jesus find that time to
think about his mother? Here at the cross, everything seems to
matter more. Like most people, his last words are some of his most
important. But a cross wasn't a place for long conversations. Each
word was a struggle. Every breath a painful labor. So Jesus chooses
his words carefully. There is intent and meaning in them all.
And this is more than just a bitter
farewell of a loving son to his mother. It's more than just showing
that Jesus cares about his family. To be sure, Mary, a widow, would
be more vulnerable now without Jesus to care for her. So on one
level, Jesus si simply providing for her needs. John, you take care
of her now.
While it seems Jesus did have other
brothers and sisters to care for Mary, it also appears none of them
believed in him like his mother did. But Mary had faith in her son.
In John's Gospel, she appears only twice. Here, at the foot of the
cross, and earlier at a happier occasion, a wedding, in Cana. At
Jesus' first miracle, it was Mary who placed faith in her son saying,
“do whatever he tells you”. And they did. And Jesus saved the
day, turning water in to wine and the wedding feast could go on.
Here at the cross, there is much more
going on than meets the eye. Here Jesus is doing more than just
suffering and dying. He is sacrificing himself, the lamb of God, for
the sins of the wortld. He is laying down his life, of his own
accord. He is the true Son of God, forsaken by his Father. He is
making all things new. And... he is establishing his church.
There's a hint of it in the
relationship of loving care that he establishes between beloved
mother Mary and beloved disciple, John. Love one another as I have
loved you, he might have said to them. This is how all men will know
that you are my disciples, if you love one another. And we love, of
course, because he first loved us. And he loves us most perfectly in
his death on this day.
But there's more. He is the true
bridegroom, and we are his bride, the church. Remember how marriage
is established according to Scripture? “Therefore a man leaves his
father and mother.... and is united to his wife.” Yes, Jesus is
leaving his mother even as he is united to his bride, the church.
Very soon Jesus would be dead. A sword
would pierce Mary's heart. And a spear would pierce his side. Blood
and water will flow forth. The Gospel of John is full of these
sacramental notes, pointing us again to Baptism and Communion. From
Jesus' side flow blood and water – from Jesus' sacrifice flow Holy
Baptism and his Holy Supper. And these mysteries and promise, these
holy things, these sacraments – establish his church. Just like
Eve was taken from the side of Adam, so the bride of Christ is born
from his side, at the cross. And just as Adam said of his bride,
“this is now bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh”, so too are
we, the church, the body of Christ – and he is our blessed head.
Mary knew from Jesus' infancy, even
before, that this Son of hers was also the Son of the Most High. She
knew from Simeon, that a sword would pierce her own soul – and now,
a mother's worst nightmare, watching her son suffer and die.
But she also once sang at his
conception,
“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my
spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked on the humble
estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will
call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.”
Yes, Mary is blessed. John is blessed.
The whole Christian Church, the bride of Christ, is blessed. You
are blessed. For God our Savior has done great things for you. And
the greatest was on this day when he died your death, paid your
price, and made you his forever.
May his suffering and dying love be not
bitter to you, but a blessing. And may you show that same love your
your mother, father, sister, brother, friend and neighbor, even your
enemy... and especially to your family in Christ. For in Christ we
are untied with each other and with our Bridegroom forever. Amen.
Good Friday
April 6, 2012
“The Perfect Day”
Hebrews 9:11-12, 15, 27-28; John 19:30
If you got to design your own perfect day, what would it look like? Maybe it would start by finding out you won the Mega Millions lottery. Then you’d spend the day at Disney World having fun with your family, and finish it all off with your favorite meal and favorite dessert. There would be no pain, sadness or stress. It would be the best of all your fondest memories all rolled up into one, right? The perfect day. A fantasy, but something most of us have day dreamed about once or twice.
Some may think it strange that we Christians call this day, “Good Friday”. For it would appear to be anything but good. In fact, the account we hear from the Gospels paints a picture of the very worst day one could imagine. Betrayal, insult, dishonor. Bitter blows that come one after the other, as Jesus is run through the mill of shame trials, public humiliations, physical and emotional torture, and an unjust sentence of death. The sour wine that he tasted at the last moment was part and parcel of this whole bitter day.
But we do not see as the world sees. We Christians see it all through the eyes of faith – faith in his words – which paint a far different picture. And through such a lens, we can say that today is not only a good day, but a perfect day. Let us meditate on our Lord’s death, this Good Friday, this Perfect Friday.
It was a good day when God created Adam. All of creation was good, but with Adam God declared it, “very good”. But then with Eve, Adam sinned. And what was once very good became very broken. The image of God in which Adam was created – no longer a perfect image, but marred by sin. The creation which God had placed under Adam’s care, no longer a paradise but a patch of thorns and a place of pain. Not nearly as good as it was. Sin made things and people go terribly wrong, and decay and even die.
Since then, death has reigned. Pain in childbirth and pain in daily work, thorns and thistles are just the start of it. Each of us faces the same fate. Let today be a reminder. You will die.
But for Adam and Eve there was a seed of hope, and so also for us. The seed of the woman would crush the head of the serpent. The offspring of the woman would come and make it right. Where Adam went wrong, the Second Adam Jesus Christ, would once and for all secure eternal redemption. Perfection would be restored.
Our reading from Hebrews provides a commentary on just what Jesus meant when he said, from the cross, “it is finished”. It shows Jesus as the High Priest of the New Covenant, in contrast to the old. There, the priest would enter the Holy of Holies once a year to pay for the sins of the people, by the blood of an animal sacrifice. But on the cross, Jesus our High Priest, deals with all sin, by his own blood, once and for all, and he does so perfectly.
When we hear the word, “perfect”, we often think of it as meaning, “without sin”. We say things like, “O well, nobody’s perfect” (except for Jesus, of course). But here, the perfection of Good Friday is something else. It is a perfection of completion. It means God’s master plan of salvation is done, finished in Christ. It is finished. It is.. perfect.
It’s perfect because of who it is that pays the price – the perfect, spotless lamb without blemish. He who had no sin. The only offering that could suffice. A more noble sacrifice than all the blood of beasts on Jewish altars slain. But this isn’t just a perfect man, this is also the Son of God. And there is nothing more precious than He. No offering more perfect.
Every jot and tittle of prophecy is fulfilled by him. Strike the shepherd and the sheep will scatter. Dogs surround me. They have pierced my hands and feet. I thirst. They divide my garments among them. A man of sorrows, stricken, smitten and afflicted. Everything is perfect.
Every last bit of sin is covered. No evil thought, no hurtful word, no dark misdeed now stands. It’s all washed away in the holy precious blood and the innocent suffering and death.
From the thief to the murderer, the liar and scoundrel. Every criminal and rebel. The mother who aborts her own child, the husband who defiles his marriage. The old woman and her years of gossip, the old man his head full of sinful pride. The thoughtless sins, the purposeful sins, the downright mean words and actions. The selfishness, greed, the lust and perversion. Don’t forget the sins we rationalize away as something good. The log in our eye as well as the speck in theirs. Even the things that we should be doing and should have done that didn’t get done because we forgot or were too lazy or had some other excuse.
All of this. Completely, fully, totally… wiped away. On this good day. On this perfect day. At the cross.
The divine liturgy of the execution of God’s judgment is complete. And it is perfectly done, by the perfect priest, who makes a completely perfect sacrifice. It is finished.
So, forgiven sinner, your perfect day isn’t winning the lottery and going to Disney World. Your perfect day, is Good Friday. The day that Jesus did all things perfectly for you. The day that Jesus declared, “it is finished” for you. Your salvation is complete, even perfect, in Him. And an eternal inheritance is yours. Amen.
Tuesday, April 03, 2012
Palm
Sunday – Sunday of the Passion
April
1st,
2012
Mark
15:1-47
“Passion
Moments”
Palm
Sunday and The Sunday of the Passion, a busy day for us. Let's
consider our Lord's suffering according to Mark's Gospel, and take a
verse by verse approach this morning. Follow along as we consider
his “passion moments”:
1
And as soon as it was morning, the chief priests held a consultation
with the elders and scribes and the whole council. And they bound
Jesus and led him away and delivered him over to Pilate.
They
waste no time – first thing in the morning. Let's get this over
with. Jesus is bound like a thug, though he willingly gives himself
over to their wicked design. This day will bring many more bitter
moments that Jesus could have avoided, but he suffers for you and me.
2
And Pilate asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” And he
answered him, “You have said so.”
The
puppet king of Caeser tries the King of the Jews and the King of
Kings. The irony is thick. Everything that Pilate is not, Jesus is.
But even for this weak man, Jesus would soon die.
3 And the
chief priests accused him of many things. 4 And Pilate again
asked him, “Have you no answer to make? See how many charges they
bring against you.” 5 But Jesus made no further answer, so
that Pilate was amazed.
Like
a lamb before the slaughter, he is silent. Nothing he could have
said would have mattered. Their course was set. But so was his.
This was his plan. He used their wicked words, their false charges,
like God so often uses evil for good. Pilate is amazed. But more
amazing things are to come.
6 Now at
the feast he used to release for them one prisoner for whom they
asked. 7 And among the rebels in prison, who had committed
murder in the insurrection, there was a man called Barabbas. 8 And
the crowd came up and began to ask Pilate to do as he usually did for
them. 9 And he answered them, saying, “Do you want me to
release for you the King of the Jews?” 10 For he perceived
that it was out of envy that the chief priests had delivered him up.
11 But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him
release for them Barabbas instead. 12 And Pilate again said to
them, “Then what shall I do with the man you call the King of the
Jews?” 13 And they cried out again, “Crucify him.” 14 And
Pilate said to them, “Why, what evil has he done?” But they
shouted all the more, “Crucify him.” 15 So Pilate, wishing
to satisfy the crowd, released for them Barabbas, and having scourged
Jesus, he delivered him to be crucified.
The
Great Exchange. The criminal is freed. The innocent is punished,
and slain. It doesn't take a theological rocket scientist to see in
Barabbas every sinner and lawbreaker, including yourself. But Jesus
takes our place. In the great injustice of it all, God's perfect
justice is done. A murderer they save the prince of life they slay.
The
leaders and the people alike are against him. There is no ally on
this day for Jesus. The crowds that once shouted Hosanna are now an
angry mob calling for his blood. The leaders of the Jews and Romans
alike find enough common ground to destroy him. Jesus is truly
alone, as alone as anyone will ever be. Even the Father is turning
his back on him.
16 And the
soldiers led him away inside the palace (that is, the governor's
headquarters), and they called together the whole battalion. 17 And
they clothed him in a purple cloak, and twisting together a crown of
thorns, they put it on him. 18 And they began to salute him,
“Hail, King of the Jews!” 19 And they were striking his head
with a reed and spitting on him and kneeling down in homage to him.
The
irony is bitter. He really is a king. He really deserves a crown
and scepter and throne. But the mockery just shows the ugliness of
sin. And we are no better. Even our “harmless”, and “little”
sins make a mockery of God, of Christ. As if his commands are a
joke. As if his righteousness isn't serious.
But
Jesus is suffering and dying even for these tormentors. Those who
spit in his face. What sins could you commit that are too great to
be forgiven? What dark evil in your closet of skeletons is not paid
for here in these dark hours?
20 And when
they had mocked him, they stripped him of the purple cloak and put
his own clothes on him. And they led him out to crucify him.
It
had to be crucifixion. The most bitter. The most painful. The most
public and shameful. But what more fitting altar of sacrifice for
the Lamb of God to take away the sins of the world? There suspended
between heaven and earth he would bridge the gap of sin between God
and man. There held up for all to see, he would draw all men to
himself. There, at the crossroads of all history the God-Man is the
center of everything. We preach Christ crucified for sinners, and
this is the point of it all.
21
And they compelled a passerby, Simon of Cyrene, who was coming in
from the country, the father of Alexander and Rufus, to carry his
cross.
An
“innocent bystander”, but who's really innocent? Simon carries a
cross for Jesus, who bears the cross for him and for all. Simon is
compelled by the Romans, but Christ is compelled by holy love for
you. Simon, like all Christians, carries a cross, but only Christ
bears the punishment of it to pay for sin.
22 And
they brought him to the place called Golgotha (which means Place of a
Skull).
A
fitting place for death to meet its death by the death of the Lord of
Life.
23 And they
offered him wine mixed with myrrh, but he did not take it.
This
last small kindness offered to the condemned was a mild anesthetic.
But Jesus would endure the full measure of suffering, nothing to take
the edge off. No cutting corners when it comes to your salvation.
24 And they
crucified him and divided his garments among them, casting lots for
them, to decide what each should take.
Fulfilling
the prophecies of the Old Testament down to the last detail. Jesus
is stripped not only of life, but also of clothing. He has nothing
left but the sins of the world. No honor or dignity. Truly a man of
sorrows.
25 And it
was the third hour when they crucified him. 26 And the
inscription of the charge against him read, “The King of the Jews.”
Further
mockery.
27 And with
him they crucified two robbers, one on his right and one on his left.
He
is “numbered with the transgressors”, and crucified with common
criminals. They deserve it. He does not. But he who had no sin has
become sin. He's now the biggest criminal of all. And all your
crimes against God and man are on him. Here they will die. At the
cross.
29 And
those who passed by derided him, wagging their heads and saying,
“Aha! You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three
days, 30 save yourself, and come down from the cross!” 31 So
also the chief priests with the scribes mocked him to one another,
saying, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. 32 Let the
Christ, the King of Israel, come down now from the cross that we may
see and believe.” Those who were crucified with him also reviled
him.
The
satanic voice of mockery reaches a crescendo. But he will raise the
temple in a few days. And he will save others, and after dying, he
will rise. He could come down from the cross in an instant. But
even if he did, they wouldn't believe. Even if someone should come
back from the dead, they wouldn't believe. Unbelieving sinners
always reject and mock and shake their fist at God. Only through the
gift of faith can we see the truth behind this ugly picture of
suffering and shame.
33 And when
the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until
the ninth hour. 34 And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud
voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my
God, why have you forsaken me?” 35 And some of the bystanders
hearing it said, “Behold, he is calling Elijah.”
No,
he's not calling Elijah, he's declaring the ultimate suffering. Not
physical pain or emotional despair. This is far worse. In an
unfathomable mystery of unimaginable bitterness, God the Father
himself forsakes his own Son. You are dead to me. You are cut off.
This is hell. This is what we deserve. This Jesus endures, so we
never have to.
36 And
someone ran and filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a reed and
gave it to him to drink, saying, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah
will come to take him down.” 37 And Jesus uttered a loud cry
and breathed his last.
The
King James puts it poetically, “he gave up the ghost”. He
willingly died. Only he could give up his life. Now that all was
accomplished, his suffering complete, he paid the wages of sin. And
that loud cry we know from the other Gospels was the single word,
“tetelestai”, or in English, “it is finished.” Well done,
good and faithful servant of all.
38 And the
curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. 39
And when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he
breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”
The
Old Covenant is now fulfilled in Christ. Access to God is no longer
found in the Holy of Holies, but in Christ's holy, precious blood.
We meet God at font and altar, in water and bread and wine. And even
the Roman Centurion confesses, the first of many other Gentiles who
would, this man was and is the Son of God.
40 There
were also women looking on from a distance, among whom were Mary
Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and
Salome. 41 When he was in Galilee, they followed him and
ministered to him, and there were also many other women who came up
with him to Jerusalem.
The
women, who on Sunday Morning would be the first witnesses to
resurrection. They serve him, even in death, who served them,
especially by his death.
42 And when
evening had come, since it was the day of Preparation, that is, the
day before the Sabbath, 43 Joseph of Arimathea, a respected
member of the council, who was also himself looking for the kingdom
of God, took courage and went to Pilate and asked for the body of
Jesus. 44 Pilate was surprised to hear that he should have
already died. And summoning the centurion, he asked him whether he
was already dead. 45 And when he learned from the centurion that
he was dead, he granted the corpse to Joseph. 46 And Joseph
bought a linen shroud, and taking him down, wrapped him in the linen
shroud and laid him in a tomb that had been cut out of the rock. And
he rolled a stone against the entrance of the tomb. 47 Mary
Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses saw where he was laid.
Even
in burial, he fulfills the prophecy, buried in the borrowed tomb of a
rich man. Jesus had no need of his own tomb, since the death he died
was in our place anyway. So he is buried in our place. So he will
rise to give us a place in his resurrection.
This
Holy Week, ponder the passion moments. Reflect on your sin, and
Christ's bitter suffering for you. Repent. And know how deep his
love runs, deeper than death. And look forward to the glory of
resurrection – his and yours. It's coming soon. In Jesus' name,
Amen.
There's
a popular series of books and tv shows out there called “Game of
Thrones”. In it, rulers and would-be rulers of various kingdoms
jockey for position and influence. And you can imagine why our pop
culture goes crazy for stories like this. We all have those desires
for power and glory. We all have our own little game of thrones.
It's part and parcel of our sinful nature to seek out power and
control, to go after glory.
Take
James and John, they come to Jesus with a request. And you know its
going to be trouble when they try to get him to agree before they
even say what it is. But they're gunning for their spot in the game
of thrones. They want the best seats in the new kingdom. When Jesus
conquers the Romans, they want to be at his left hand and his right
hand – his #1 and #2 go-to-guys. They want the power and the glory
and the influence that they deserve for being his faithful followers
all this time. And they want to make sure it's them and not Peter or
Matthew or God forbid, Judas.
Oh,
but as the disciples usually do, they have it all wrong. Even though
he continues telling them plain as day what's coming – suffering,
death, cross.... As Jesus says, they don't know what they are asking.
They think Jesus coming into his glory will be one thing, when it
will be quite another.
“Can
you drink the cup I am about to drink, or be baptized with the
baptism I am about to undergo? Are you able to do such a thing?”
“Oh
yes! We are able!” But they still don't know what he means.
Jesus
has in mind his suffering and death. He has on his mind, the cross.
“Drink the cup” reminds us of Jesus' prayer in Gethsemane, where
he prays that this cup would pass, but not my will but yours be done,
oh Father. That cup of suffering. That cup of God's wrath which is
about to be poured out on him A bitter cup, indeed.
And
a baptism – a cleansing – of sin. Jesus was already baptized by
John. A baptism which identified him with us, showed him as the lamb
of God who takes away the sins of the world. Now the lamb of God was
about to take those sins to another baptism. A baptism of suffering
and death. A sacrifice of himself. A shedding of his blood. And
there with him all sin would die. Can you do that, James and John?
Of course not.
You
don't know what you are asking. They will bow down before me, but in
mockery. They'll dress me in fine robes of purple, only for a
sadistic show. I'll have a scepter in my hand, but they'll beat me
with it. And I won't be sitting on a jeweled throne of high honor,
I'll be seated, rather, hung, on a cross, in shame. I won't be
wearing a golden crown, but one of thorns. And while it will be
written, “This is the king of the Jews”, that too will be further
derision.
No,
in my glory, it won't look very glorious. I'll be a pitiful picture,
a stricken, smitten, afflicted wretch of a man. But there will be a
place at my right and left hand – places for thieves. That's
already been appointed.
In
fact all of this has been appointed by the Father. It's his will.
And it's good news!
See,
life in Christ's kingdom is different. In the world, the greatest
have servants. In his kingdom, the greatest serve. And the greatest
is the servant, the slave of all. Who serves by giving his life as a
ransom for many. Jesus is a king, but what a different kind of king
he is. He is glorified, but his glory is in the suffering of the
cross to forgive the sins of the world. Your sins, too.
We
sinners are so concerned about our own little kingdoms, our own
little thrones. We want to be our own masters, set our own rules.
We re-define sin as what someone else does wrong, and not what I do
wrong. Might as well make up your own commandments, but don't write
them in stone, keep them flexible. You're in charge, remember.
And
in our arrogance we would even make God the servant, that we could
tell him how to do his job, and snap our fingers for him to do this
that and the other thing for us. We want him on to act in our time,
by our deadline. And that usually means, “right now”.
This
calls for repentance. A turn-around, a change of mind. Jesus said,
“you don't know what you're asking.” But they would learn.
James
and John, and the other disciples, would soon see Christ in his
glory, on the cross. They would seem him exalted in resurrection.
And they would stand amazed as he ascended into heaven, to take back
his heavenly throne. From there he rules his church in love, even
today, seated at the right hand of the Father.
And
from there he gives us his gifts, even today – a cup to drink, and
a baptism to be baptized with. Gifts of grace and life. From there
he would send his Holy Spirit, who empowered those power-hungry
disciples with a different power – the power of the Gospel. The
power of Christ's own message that the kingdom is at hand, and has
now arrived.
But
still, there is the cross we take up when we follow him. In Christ
our own little thrones become our own little crosses. And it will be
so until we too pass through the gate of death into the promise of
life to come.
James
would suffer his own cup and baptism – killed by the sword, the
first of the 12 apostles to die. John would go on to die of old age,
but still suffered persecution and imprisonment. For the apostles,
and for us, glory is found not in a trouble-free life, but amidst the
troubles and suffering.
It's
found not in taking one's throne, but in putting others above you,
before you. It means stooping down and washing feet. Just as the
Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve.... so do we his
servants, come not to be served, but to serve. For his sake, in his
name. Amen.
Ungrateful.
Maybe that's the best way to describe the people of Israel. After
all God had done for them. They grumbled. But let's just remember:
He
had sent not 1, but 10 miraculous plagues. He brought Pharaoh, the
most powerful man in the world, to his knees. In all of the plagues,
God protected the Israelites. Then he brought them out of Egypt.
First they took spoils from the Egyptian people. Then he led them
safely across the Red Sea, on dry ground. Oh, and destroyed their
enemies who were right behind them. He brought them to his holy
mountain, Sinai. He gave them his law, and a system of sacrifice for
them to deal with their sins. Oh yes, and he was bringing them to
the promised land, where the promised Messiah would be born and live
and die for them.
But
none of that mattered. Because they didn't like the food.
The
food that God provided for them, each and every day without fail.
The food that he sent from heaven to sustain them in the wilderness.
The food that they didn't work and slave for, but just went out and
picked up, free of charge. That food. It wasn't good enough. Waah.
So
God sends the snakes. And people get bit, and die. You thought you
were suffering before? A not so gentle reminder gives them some
perspective. They repent. The confess their sin, in no uncertain
terms. We were wrong. We're sorry. Please forgive us.
And
no questions asked, God provides. He instructs his servant Moses to
make the fiery bronze serpent and put it on the pole, and anyone who
is bitten has only to look and live. God's forgiveness is immediate
and free and as easy as looking in faith where he promises to give
that forgiveness. By grace they were saved, not by works.
Now
us. We grumble and complain. We are just as ungrateful. For how
much more has he given us. What blessings we enjoy. Physical
blessings like no other people in history. Greater wealth and health
even though these are relatively tough economic times. God still
provides our daily bread. Not manna from heaven, but gifts aplenty.
If you counted all yours you probably couldn't finish, but still
there's never enough.
And
while he gave the Israelites his law on Mt. Sinai, he gives us his
holy word in its revealed entirety. What people on earth have ever
had such free and easy access to Bibles and preachers and teachers of
his word? And yet, it's not enough. We don't get the answers there
we want – we don't like the laws he gives – we don't get the
promises we desire. We neglect its study. We pompously think we've
learned all we need to, or that a sermon a week is roughly enough.
Ungrateful for the word, for the most precious of gifts.
After
all God has done for us – and we don't have time to rehearse it all
– but let's just get to the crux of it. He gives us his own son,
sends him in our flesh, lives for us, suffers for us, dies for us.
He bears the sins of the world, indeed even becomes sin itself –
and receives God's condemnation (a condemnation we all deserve). He
suffers the unimaginable anguish of God's wrath, and pays the dearest
price.
In
light of all this, how can we complain about anything? When things
don't go my way, what right do I have to grumble? When I don't get
what I want, who am I to gripe? Even if death should come, don't I
deserve it, and worse? Did Jesus complain when he hung on the tree
for my sins? No, instead he said, “Father forgive them”.
But
here is the good news. For as Moses held up the serpent that those
bitten by the snake's venom could look and live, we who are bitten by
the venom of Satan himself, mingled with the poison of our own sinful
grumbling, we have only to look to Christ and his cross to live.
It's that simple.
God
provides our salvation, and he holds it up for us all to see. He
speaks the eternal word of forgiveness through humble servants like
Moses, and now pastors. He washes sins away in water and word. He
gives and sustains life, by feeding us the true bread from heaven
that is Christ's body and gives us his blood as our very lifeblood.
Look and live. Even if you are dead in trespasses. See and hear and
believe. Trust in the free and full forgiveness that comes to us
from Christ, through word and sacrament. Not a pole with a serpent,
but bread, wine, water, word. Delivering the goods that Jesus won on
the cross, where he was held up for the world. Where he became sin
to defeat sin and serpent. Where God so loved the world.
Whoever
believes in him will not perish, but will have eternal life. We hear
those familiar words again, and we believe. By his grace. In his
name. Look, and live! Amen.
Grace
and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior
Jesus Christ. Amen.
Get
out of my house! He yells. He makes quite a scene. Overturns
tables. Change goes jingling on the hard ground. Animals go
scattering everywhere. Oh, and he's got a whip. Jesus takes charge
of his Father's house. He puts the smack down on the money-changers.
This is a house of prayer, not a swap meet. This is a place of
God's holy presence in and among his people, not a den of thieves and
robbers. Get. Out. Now.
The
disciples start to piece it together, “Wasn't there a prophecy
about this? Zeal for your house will consume me?” Yes, disciples,
all Scripture is about Jesus.
“And
just who are you?” They ask, “What gives you the authority to do
this? Who do you think you are?” Not that they argue the
substance of the point. When you know you're in the wrong, shift the
focus of attention. Let's not talk about our sin. Let's talk about
you – what's your authority? Who are you to judge?
“Destroy
this temple and I will build it up again in three days.” Oh yes, I
have the authority. And you will see it when I show my ultimate
authority over death. You will destroy this temple, this body, this
place where God and man dwell together. But I will rebuild it, raise
it up, and conquer death. That sign – the sign of Jonah – is the
only sign this wicked generation will get, but it's the only sign he
needed to give.
He
fulfills all the scriptures, does everything perfectly. Only later
do the disciples connect the dots. About the temple. About his
crucifixion and resurrection. Hindsight is 20/20 they say, and
spiritual hindsight perhaps all the more. “You do not understand
now what I am doing, Peter, but later on you will understand”.
Jesus
is rightly angry about the misuse of his and his Father's house. And
while we're not changing money and swapping animal sacrifices in most
churches today, I bet Jesus could still come into any church and turn
over some tables. For in every church are sinners who want to make
the house of God into a place of trade.
God,
you give me what I want, and I'll do something nice for you. Or God,
look at how good I am, and now in return give me your favor. And I'm
not just talking about those other churches out there.
We
do it too. We think our service to the church, our offerings, our
weekly worship are so impressive to God. But there's only one thing
that can be given in exchange for the price on our lives- there's
only one currency that can purchase us from destruction – and that
is the blood of Christ.
No,
God doesn't deal with us in bargain fashion. He's not into the quid
pro quo. You give me something, I'll return the favor, no. He's the
giver. Out of his pure grace and mercy he gives Christ, who gives
all, even his life, for ours. He turns the tables on our sin.
Drives out the devil. Whips the enemy, ultimately, by taking the
whipping we all deserve.
An
English poet once wrote, “Wherever
God erects a house of Prayer, The Devil always builds a Chapel there:
And 'twill be found upon Examination, The latter has the largest
Congregation.”
Whether
it is a church that turns its focus from Christ and cross to growth
and glory, or a temple that turns from the merciful presence of God
for a mercantile enterprise of pseudo-religion. Or the individual
believer, sitting in church, who turns his thoughts from Christ
crucified for you to some other way of salvation. Any way the Devil
is happy to distract us, and turn us away from the one to whom the
house belongs.
But
this is Jesus' house. His Father's house. The Spirit's house. The
Triune God, in whose name we gather, in whose name we are called and
baptized. In whose name our sins are forgiven. And we are built by
Christ on the confession of his name, gathered by his Spirit around
his word, strengthened and fed by his holy meal. This is where it
all happens. Here, in his temple, his body, his church. The temple
that took 46 years to build is only a shadow pointing to him, Jesus,
the true temple, the dwelling of God with man.
And
Jesus is angry – justifiably angry. Righteously angry at sin. He
has no place for it, just like his Father. One day, he will cast the
wicked, the goats, away from his presence forever. “I don't know
you people. Depart from me”. This temple-cleansing foreshadows
that final judgment. But he saves us from all that, making us sheep,
and working through us to serve the least of these, our neighbors in
need.
He
is a zealot – a word that has a bad connotation today - But he's
zealous when the place where he promised to forgive sins is being
polluted. Because what he wants more than anything is for you to
hear, loud and clear, his good news. He's driving away YOUR enemy
with that whip. He's over turning the tables that would stand
between you and his holy table. He wants you to have access to him,
here, now, in his presence. For your eternal good.
No
this is not your peaceful Jesus, the one we usually see depicted with
a smile and open arms. This is angry Jesus, angry at sin. A
terrifying sight if you're on the receiving end of his whip. But a
blessed comfort for us who trust in him.
For
we know the rest of the story – that he becomes the object of
divine wrath, himself. He gives his own back to be scourged. He
gives his own life as the ultimate bloody sacrifice to end all
sacrifices. To put away God's anger at your sins. To cleanse what
is impure and unholy in the temple of your body, and to make you into
a temple of his spirit.
Grace
and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior
Jesus Christ. Amen.
And
greetings from your brothers and sisters at Grace Lutheran Church in
Racine, WI. It's always an honor and privilege for me to return to
St. James, where I grew up and was confirmed, and share the Gospel
among you.
Today,
we are but a week or so into the season of Lent. Our preparations
for Holy Week and Good Friday, and ultimately Easter Sunday – have
begun. The paraments are purple. The Alelluias are gone for a
while. And the Wednesday night services are back on. Maybe you've
given up something for Lent. Or maybe you're taking some extra time
to pray or read the Bible, or some other spiritual discipline.
Lent
is a sober time, a serious business. But I have to admit, I like it
anyway. Not that I don't like Epiphany, which we just finished. In
Epiphany, we saw the unfolding revelation of Jesus – who he is, and
what he is about. We heard, “This is my son” at his baptism and
transfiguration. We saw him as the true bridegroom, and the one who
preached with authority. He is the one Moses and the prophets wrote
about. He's the stairway to heaven. He's the one who makes lepers,
and us, clean.
But
now it's Lent. And as the mood has turned, yet again we come to the
question in our text today, “who is Jesus?” He asks it himself,
of his own apostles. “Who do people say that I am?” And after
all the speculation, then he presses them, “who do you say that I
am?” Peter confesses, “You are the Christ!” But Jesus isn't
done yet.
For
the first time in Mark's Gospel it's made entirely clear that yes,
Jesus is the Christ. He's the one. The Lord, the Savior, the
Messiah. Not just any old prophet, but the one they've been waiting
for. The one that was promised for so long. Now he's here. Here he
is. The Christ. But...
What
does this mean? A good Lutheran question, which Jesus means to
answer.
Immediately
he begins to teach them, plainly, what it means that he is the
Christ. He tells them, straight out, this means suffering, and it
means death. Oh, and resurrection, too.
And
Peter's head almost explodes. He can't stomach it. He has other
things in mind. Not suffering, shame, betrayal, death... he's
thinking of self, and profit, and success and glory! But in this
Lenten Epiphany, in this great moment of revelation Jesus shows them
not only that he IS the Christ, but just what kind of Christ he will
be. A suffering, bleeding, dying Christ. A Christ of the cross.
What
kind of Jesus are you looking for? A Jesus of the easy button? Who
takes all of life's troubles away and puts you on easy street? A
rock-star Jesus, loved and admired by all? A Jesus who affirms you
and tells you you're good enough and just believe in yourself? A
Jesus who is a bright shining example of what to do, so that you can
do like him and be all bright and shiny, too? Perfect little pious
people who always smile and seem cheerful? As if we could...
Or
do you want the real Jesus who gets down and dirty and bloody, and is
hoisted up and humiliated and crucified – for all to see and mock.
A man of sorrows. A man forsaken, even by God the Father. A worm of
a man, surrounded by dogs, pierced hands and feet and bloody head and
back. A Jesus condemned by Jew and Roman alike. A Jesus rejected by
the crowd who called for his blood. Only a few women and one
disciple stick around. And even that brings more bitterness. That
may not be the Jesus we want, but he's the Jesus we get, and the
Jesus we need. The Christ of the cross.
Because
by all this, it is finished. By all this, your sins are put away.
By his suffering and bleeding and dying, life is yours.
God
has a strange and mysterious and wonderful way of doing things. He
reveals his power in weakness. He brings glory through shame. He
wins life by death. He kills death by dying. And he forgives sins
by becoming sin.
St.
James, you're not the biggest congregation. You don't have all the
programs and glitz that some others do. People aren't busting down
your doors in droves. Some would say you're not that successful, or
even that you're failing. But they have in mind the things of men,
not the things of God.
You
are a faithful congregation. Sinners, yes, but forgiven sinners who
proclaim the suffering servant Christ. People who know that it's not
about you anyway, but always, only, about Christ. You are a group of
believers gathered around what is most important – his Word and his
Sacrament – his true Body and Blood, given and shed for you,
according to his promise. You are his baptized and believing
children, and that is enough.
Just
as Christ himself had a different idea of what it meant to be the
Christ, we Lutherans have a different idea of what it means be the
church. It may not mean outward success or worldly glamor. Instead
it means faithfulness to his truth. Sometimes it means suffering,
and even dying. But that's ok, because that's what our Savior does
for us. None of this makes you better than anyone, but in Christ, it
does make you blessed.
The
Lenten Epiphany – the great surprise – the big reveal – is not
that Jesus is the Christ, but that the Christ came to suffer and die.
And this is good news, no matter what Peter or the world thinks.
This is the will of God, to save you, the sinner. This is his plan
from the foundation of the world. This, the cross, is what Jesus is
all about. And so it's what we're all about. A blessed Lent to you.
In Jesus Christ, Amen.
Lent
begins. Our 40 day time of preparation and prayer, penitence and
fasting. A time of testing and probing, that leads us, with Jesus,
to the cross.
The
New Testament tells us of a 40 day sojourn in the life of our Lord.
Mark tells us that after Jesus is baptized the Spirit drives him, or
more literally “casts him out” into the wilderness.
It
reminds us of another time, long ago, when another man was cast out.
Adam, and his wife Eve, fresh with the stain of sin, and death, the
fruit of their sin, they are cast out of the Garden of Eden. No
longer to have access to the tree of life, for in his mercy, God
didn't want them to eat of it and live forever in sin. So what
seemed like exile was really also an act of love. God placed an
angel with a fiery sword to block the way back. And now Adam would
bring food to the table only with great trouble. Work had become
labor. The ground produces thorns. Life is tough.
Jesus
is the Second Adam. He comes to repair the damage. Fresh with the
baptismal water of his anointing with the Spirit - a baptism not for
his own sins, but which identified him with us sinners.... and fresh
with the declaration of the Father, “This is my Son, whom I love”
ringing in his ears, Jesus is driven out to the wilderness. His
public ministry begins with a fast. A time of testing,
probing...fasting. Satan gets a chance to have at him. And Satan
fails. We know from Matthew's Gospel many of those details. But
Mark doesn't fill us in. It's enough, here, to know that he was
tempted. But unlike the first Adam, Jesus does not fall for it.
The
first Adam named the animals. God brought them to Adam, and whatever
he called them, that was their name. But with Adam's fall, all
creation fell, and even the animals now have become wild. Paul says
all of creation groans in expectation, like a woman in labor, waiting
for the end, the renewal of all things. All that happens in Christ.
Even the wild animals in the wilderness, with him in his temptation,
seem to bear witness that this Jesus is about to bring blessing to
all creation. The Second Adam, the Son of Man, the Savior of all.
And the angels minister to him.
This
stuff matters to you and me, too. We are the children of Adam. We
are the heirs to his fallen nature, and we live in this fallen
creation. In sin did our mothers conceive us, and we are born in
iniquity. Life for us is a wilderness, filled with thorns and pains
and dangerous beasts both literal and figurative. Satan, too, would
tempt us, and rule over us. And always hovering over us is the curse
of death that Adam's sin and our own sin have brought.
Every
day your Old Adam rebels against God, shakes his fist in anger at the
law, and blames everyone and everything but himself. Every day the
Old Adam seeks to deceive and deny and destroy your very faith. But
every day the same Spirit that drove Jesus into the wilderness drives
you back to the waters of your baptism, where that Old Adam is
drowned and dies. By repentance and faith. By sorrow for sin and
believing in Christ's forgiveness.
Jesus
defeats Satan, conquers sin, and destroys death – beginning in the
wilderness, until “it is finished” on the cross. There he is
finally cast off from God, who forsakes him. There your sins are
finished, and Satan's head is crushed. There the Second Adam deals
death to death and by a tree restores us who were defeated at the
tree.
In
this wilderness temptation, Jesus prepares for all this. He prays,
and he fasts. During the season of Lent, many of us will do the
same. Martin Luther says. “Fasting
and bodily preparation are certainly fine
outward training.”
And it is true. But the best preparation is the inward training of
faith, and that faith in the word of God.
Jesus
doesn't just stay off by himself. He comes back and preaches: “The
time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and
believe in the gospel.”
Those words are still in effect. They are still training us for
righteousness. They are still convicting us of sin – yes, repent
of your sins, even this day! And they are still calling us to faith
– to believe in his Good News.
What's
more, there is no fasting from his table. There's no reason to
refrain from eating and drinking the gifts of his body and blood.
But there is great reason to take and eat, take and drink! Jesus
gives you himself – here – for your forgiveness. To starve to
death the Old Adam and feed the New Adam with his own life. To
sustain you for your wilderness wanderings in this world, until he
brings you safe at last to the promised land.
40
days of Lent – they lead us to the cross. Where Jesus deals with
sin, decisively. 40 days of preparation – so prepare. Hear his
word. Receive his gifts. Repent of your sins. Believe his Good
News. It is for you. In Christ, Amen.
Hand
sanitizer. One of the accoutrements of modern American life. Some
might say it's a convenient way to wash your hands, prevent the
spread of disease, and promote health. Others might say it's a sign
of our neurotic culture. When kids can get fashionable colored
bottles of the stuff to clip on to their school backpacks.
But
our culture wants to sanitize more than just hands. We like our food
clean and fresh and pure, too, don't we? If you bring home a package
from the store and it's already been opened.... what do you do? If
that little safety seal or bump on the lid of the spaghetti sauce is
up – you're not supposed to use it. We like our cars clean,
clothes clean – our dishes clean – our bodies clean. I bet
Americans shower and bathe more than most cultures throughout all
history.
The
people of Jesus' day may not have been as obsessed with clinical
sanitization as we are today, but they thought a lot about what was
clean and unclean. And if anything was unclean, gross, repulsive to
them, it was a leper. They wanted no part of these skin diseases –
a very public and outward kind of disease for all to see. So they
cast out the lepers, ostracized them, and that was that. Lepers were
unclean. And the way they dealt with it was to take out the human
trash.
We
like to think of ourselves as clean people. But the truth is that we
aren't. I won't gross you out this morning, but simply remind you
that for all our efforts at sanitizing our lives – we are still
subject to all kinds of germs, all manner of impurities, in the air
we breath and the food we eat, and even within our very bodies. I'm
sure the scientists could paint quite a picture of how unclean life
really is, all our illusions aside.
But
it's worse than that, for we are unclean at a much deeper level. Our
bodies, our minds, our hearts, our very souls are tainted, through
and through, with sin. Any outward filth we see pales in comparison
to the mucky mess within us. The squalor of filth in which we are
conceived, and born, and continue to live. We're far worse than
lepers. Especially to God, who really is pure and clean.
So
what's a God to do about such uncleanness? What does Jesus do with
the leper?
“If
you are willing, you can make me clean”
“I
am. Be clean.”
What
an expression of faith from this man. He knew Jesus well enough
(how? By faith!), he knew him well enough to know that Jesus had the
power to cleanse. That he had the ability to bring that outward
cleansing of body, that healing of disease the man so desperately
wanted.
But
did he know that Jesus meant so much more, when he said, “be
clean”. That the uncleanness of the leper, and the filth of you
and I, runs much deeper than the surface. It's not just a skin
disease. That's just a symptom. We are rotten to the core. We are
thoroughly corrupted. We are the creepy crawlies that should make
God turn away in disgust.
Even
death itself is a symptom of this infection. Sin is the cause. And
the more you look in the mirror of God's law, the closer you study
it, the more you will see just how caked on and baked on and stuck on
it is.
But
Jesus is willing to make us clean. That's why he came. To make it
happen. To say, “be clean”, and we are.
We
are clean because he not only washes us, but he takes the dirt of sin
himself. He bathes in it. Becomes it. He gets his hands dirty in a
way we never could, “God made him who was without sin to become sin
for us”. Talk about dirty laundry! And the cross is his washing
machine.
Jesus
was the only one clean, the only one without spot or blemish... But
God made him so stinking filthy in the fullness of all our sins, and
all sins ever. Then God had to take out the trash. In disgust, he
turned his back on his own son, and all sin. “Why have you
forsaken me?” “Because you disgust me. You're sin.”
And
in doing so, Jesus makes us clean. By his shed blood we are washed.
We are more than sanitized. We are holy. Righteous. Shining like
justice. And God will never utter a harsh word against us, never
turn up his nose at us, but only embrace and welcome us in Christ.
When
your sins are forgiven, you are clean. Just like that leper, only
better. God sees your sin no more. He declares it gone. And he
makes it more than just a word. He makes it particular, to you, in
Baptism.
In
your baptism Jesus said to you, “Be clean!” Sure he can preach
all day about forgiving people's sins, but is he talking about me?
When that water is poured on you, when those words are spoken to you,
when the pastor calls you by name - Jesus brings it home that you,
yes you, are clean. Your sins are forgiven, washed, wiped away. You
are clean.
No,
you're not a leper. You're much worse. You're a sinner. But the
good news is we're sinners who know Jesus. We put our faith and
trust in the one who is willing to make us clean. The one who does
what it takes to make us clean. The one who says to us, “be
clean”. And we are. In his blood. By his sure word. Believe it,
for Jesus' sake. Amen.
“Everyone
is looking for you, Jesus”. So Peter said when they found him
alone, praying. And how true it was. Jesus had made quite a name
for himself in a short period of time. His healing touch, and his
authority to cast out demons had caused quite a stir. Everyone
seemed to want something from Jesus. Everyone was looking for him.
It's
much the same today. Everyone is looking for Jesus. At least,
everyone is looking for something, and if Jesus will give it to them,
then they want Jesus. Do you want to find a job? Ask Jesus. Do you
want your husband to appreciate you more? Ask Jesus. Do you want
your aches and pains to go away? Ask Jesus. Do you want to get over
the death of your loved one? Ask Jesus.
In
Capernaum, if you had a demon, or you were sick, then you were
looking for Jesus. But that's not why he came. Sure, he had
compassion on so many. Sure, his heart went out to those who
suffered. But his purpose was different. He wasn't there to give
them what they wanted, as much as to provide for them what they
needed.
When
Peter and the others find Jesus off alone, praying, he says, “Let's
go to the next towns so that I may preach there also, for that is why
I came”. Yes. It's the preaching. That's the reason. He went to
the synagogue in Capernaum and preached. He would go to the mount
and the plain and the villages and towns and preach. Even in the
very temple in Jerusalem, he would preach. That's why he came. To
give them what they really needed – the word.
It's
still the Epiphany season, and we're still answering that big
question, “Who is this Jesus who was born as our Savior?” What
kind of savior is he? What is he all about? What did he come to do
and why? Today it's quite clear: he came to preach.
But
what? We must listen closely to his words. We must take note of
just what he says, even more so than what he does (although the two
go hand in hand). And as we listen to Jesus we will hear the message
ring out – that he came to seek and save the lost. That he came to
give freely the blessings of his Father. Forgiveness of sins, new
and eternal life. To make us his friends, not slaves. To call us to
follow him. To defeat the strongman, our enemy the devil. To make
us disciples by his baptism and teaching. To feed us in his meal,
with his body, his blood. To be handed over to the Jews and Romans,
to suffer for us, to die for us, and on the third day to rise from
the dead, for us. This is what he preached. This is why he came.
To proclaim himself, our savior, and to back up his talk with a
perfect walk.
Nowadays
people are still looking for Jesus to do all sorts of things for
them, but not always what he means to do for them. We think small.
We want this or that, not the grand gifts he offers. We want
actions, not words. We want to see it now, not have to hold on to
promises. We want the glitz and success and fireworks of glory, not
the suffering and dying and shame and defeat of Calvary.
Our
old nature, anyway, chases after a Jesus that really isn't Jesus. A
Jesus of our own imagination, made in our own image. A Jesus at our
beck and call for all of life's little problems, to make the boo-boos
better.
But
much better is the real Jesus. The Jesus who calls us and recreates
us into his own image, and gives us new life forever. The Jesus who
gives us his word – and what a word it is! That word, that eternal
word, which is our rock in the storm, our comfort in sorrow, our
fortress in the raging battle. I think of Luther's hymn, “A Mighty
Fortress” and the line, “And take they our life, goods, fame,
child and wife – let these all be gone, they yet have nothing won,
the kingdom ours remaineth”. Yes, we have it all because we have
Jesus and his word.
Last
week, we included in our prayers a Pastor Jeff Geske, a classmate of
mine, who was with his family in a terrible car accident. His wife
and two of his three children were killed. A terrible tragedy on so
many levels, for him personally, for his son, for his congregation,
where he had only begun serving about a month ago. Well on Tuesday,
Pastor Geske posted these words of encouragement, and I share them
with you now:
“Thank
you! I would like to thank everyone for the words and love shown to
me during this most difficult time at the death of Laura and Joshua
and Joy. I rejoice knowing that they are now in heaven with our
Savior Jesus. I miss them so much, but I know that one great and
glorious day, they will along with Jesus welcome me home to heaven.
May
this difficult time for me remind you and encourage you to continue
to express your love to your family. They are so precious and truly a
gift from God on loan to us. May God comfort you as He is comforting
me. Never forget how much God loves you! John 3:16-17
Take
comfort in the five most important words you can ever know which are,
"Jesus died for my sins! Jesus loves you and so I ask and
encourage you to love others and share His love, forgiveness, and
salvation with them. Heaven is our home!”
What a powerful word Jesus
preached, that it brings comfort even to this family tragedy. A
Savior who came not just to wow us with miracles, or to make our
lives free of trouble, but to proclaim an eternal word of forgiveness
and salvation. That's the Jesus we know. That's the Jesus we look
to, and listen to. That's Pastor Geske's Jesus, and yours, and mine.
In His Name, Amen.
