Sermon - 14th Sunday after Pentecost - Matthew 18:1-20

 

“How Serious Is Sin?”

At first it may seem that this section of Matthew’s Gospel is a bit of a patchwork – 20 verses in four paragraphs – touching on different topics that seem to have little to do with each other.  Who’s the greatest?  Temptations to sin.  The Parable of the Lost Sheep.  And what to do if your brother sins against you.  I have to confess that as I studied this text I also grappled with which direction to take things this morning.  What, if anything, connects these thoughts?

And the best I can say is this:  In each section here, Jesus teaches us to take seriously the problem of sin.  

It’s a lesson we need to learn.  We live in a world that thinks about sin less and less.  Let alone the secular world – which by and large doesn’t consider sin to be a major problem.  For that matter we see churches that barely ever mention the word “sin”.  Instead they may talk about “mistakes” or even “poor ways of thinking”.  

Moral relativism has destroyed the once universally held concepts of “right and wrong”, and now we have “what’s right for me, and what’s right for you”.  For many, no external objective standard determines what is sin anymore, as each person must simply be “true to himself”, whatever that means.

And if sin is even acknowledged on some level, is it really even a big deal?  There’s maybe about 2 or three sins left that seem to outrage most everyone – and even those things are becoming more accepted.  Sins that most people only whispered about decades ago are today shouted out and paraded about, as our depravity and decadence seem ever more out of control.

But it’s not just the culture or the prevailing moral philosophies out there today that teach us this.  It’s not just the mushy churches that have sold out to the culture.  Let’s not think that because we go to Messiah Lutheran Church in Keller, that we are somehow above all this, better, smarter, more holy.  We have the same problem with minimizing sin.  It’s rooted in our own sinful nature.  Sure, on paper, Lutherans have a strong teaching about sin – we confess what scripture teaches.  Thought, word and deed, and all that. In theory we say all the right things about sin in our catechism and our confessions.  But in practice we fall far short of it. If you’d look at our lives, our actions don’t seem as if we consider sin to be all that serious.  

Man has been minimizing his own sin since the fall into sin.  He has been blaming others since he pointed the finger at Eve, and she at the serpent.  He has been denying it since he retorted, “am I my brother’s keeper?”  We have been rationalizing sin away, comparing our sins with others who certainly sin more, and sometimes even calling evil good.  And in the hypocrisy of legalism, we imagine that if we follow some set of man-made laws that it makes up for our shattering of God’s law, like little Pharisees on our own self-righteous pedestals.

Jesus knocks this all down in Matthew 18.  He shows us how serious sin really is.

First he teaches humility.  That the greatest in the kingdom is the least.  That we would be like – a child.  Helpless.  Humble.  Lowly.  Someone who comes with nothing to offer, but only has needs.  Greatness in the kingdom consists of such things.  Turn, he says, and become like children.  This is talk of repentance.

And then a warning – sin is so serious that if you lead another into sin, especially one of these little ones, it would be better for you to get the millstone treatment.  A sure and certain death.  Sin is that serious.

Then on to temptations – woe to the world, and to the one by whom temptations to sin come!  Jesus doesn’t speak woes very often, but here the woe is earned.  Sin is such a cancer that the treatment is also severe – cut off whatever causes you to sin, pluck it out – eyes, hands, feet, whatever.  Better to be crippled or maimed than to go with all your members into the hellfire.  Here again the language is strong – but not literal.  As if cutting off sinful parts could make us clean – when even our heart is corrupt.  No, the remedy here is the same – repentance – an entire renewal of our being that only Christ can accomplish.  Death and rebirth, really.

When we humble ourselves in repentance and faith, we become one of the “little ones” the Lord cherishes.  We become the lost sheep that the Lord seeks out.  Sin is so serious, lost-ness is so bad, that he forsakes the 99 to go looking for that one.  He takes extreme measures.  He goes to great lengths.  He humbles himself and becomes obedient even unto death, even death on a cross.

There’s the ditch where he finds the lost sheep.  A ditch so deep it’s really the grave.  Jesus faces death – which is really the wages of sin – physical, spiritual, even eternal death – he takes death, in all of its seriousness and fullness, and takes it all on himself at the cross.  He wears the millstone.  He is cut off.  He suffers the woes we deserve.  He is lost so that we are found.

One of our great Lenten hymns, “Stricken, Smitten and Afflicted” says it well:  

Ye who think of sin but lightly

nor suppose the evil great

here may view its nature rightly,

here its guilt may estimate.

Mark the sacrifice appointed,

see who bears the awful load;

'tis the Word, the Lord's Anointed,

Son of Man and Son of God

Thanks be to God Jesus took sin seriously for us.  Thanks be to God that the Father sent his beloved Son.  Thanks be to God for the Spirit who convicts us of sin and calls us to faith in Christ, that we would not perish, but have eternal life.  

Sin is serious business.  But our Lord Jesus Christ is equal to the challenge, and takes care of business for us.  In him our sin is covered, atoned for, forgiven.

So then there’s this last section of our reading – which is the sort of “so what” of it all.  The implications of all this for life in this Christian community we call the church.  We might put it this way:  take sin seriously when it comes to your fellow Christians.  But be Christlike in your handling of it.

Notice, sin is not ignored between Christian brothers.  It’s not something we pretend doesn’t ever happen.  It’s still very real and present among us – though some may find that surprising.  Jesus forgives sin but he doesn’t eliminate it from our midst.  We still struggle with sin daily, and Christians in community will still sin even against one another.  

But how do we address it?  If your brother sins against you, do you pay him back in kind?  No.  If your brother sins against you, start gathering your forces and make sure you have a mob with you when you go to get your revenge? No. Post about it in a rant on social media? No.  But back to humility.  You seek to win the brother back.  You seek reconciliation.

If your brother sins against you… and it will happen…. Go to him privately.  Sin is serious and it should be addressed – but with care for your brother’s reputation.  Show him his sin, with the hope that he will listen – that is, repent – and you will win back your brother.  

And yes, sin is so serious that if repentance and forgiveness can’t follow, then what is bound on earth is bound in heaven – and the church on earth treats the sinner as one who is no longer in the church – a “Gentile or a tax collector”.  Yes, we still pray for them and encourage them to repent – but we can’t consider someone a Christian who refuses to do so.  Sin is just that serious.  In fact, the whole point of such a drastic step as excommunication - is for the church, the whole church, to show the unrepentant sinner his sin – to intervene, and speak with one voice, and urge him toward repentance, and life.

So how serious is sin?  Deadly.  It’s “amputations and millstones” serious.  It’s maybe even excommunication serious.  But it’s also “let me drop everything and find the lost sheep” serious.  For Jesus, it’s lay-down-his-life on the cross serious.  And for us who are in Christ, we would follow his lead.  May we ever have the courage to reconcile with our brother who has sinned, since Christ has reconciled each of us to the Father by his blood.  

In Jesus Name.  Amen.

Sermon - Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost - Matthew 16:21-28

“Taking Up Crosses..."

Crosses hurt.  They are not pleasant.  You know, the Romans designed crucifixion to maximize pain and suffering.  We sometimes forget this.  We see crosses as decorative artwork to hang on the wall.  We might wear them as jewelry.  We have so many around us, perhaps they lose their sting. But it is a reminder of something very bitter. A cross is an instrument of death. 

Jesus knows this, of course.  When Peter makes his great confession, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God”, Jesus begins to explain what that means – the Christ is the one who will be dying.  He will suffer many things.  He will be killed. And on the third day he will rise.  Yes, I’m the Christ, Peter, but this is what being the Christ means. It means a cross.

And then Jesus gets to something else unpleasant.  He says, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.”  Following Jesus might not sound so bad if it just means going for a walk.  If it just means trying to follow his example of good deeds and compassion for people.  If that’s all Jesus meant by “follow me”, he could have stopped there.  But he says “deny yourself” and “take up your cross”.  And there’s where the suffering comes.  There’s where the trouble begins. Crosses hurt.

Again we’re often like Peter.  He didn’t want any talk of suffering and death.  He didn’t want any crosses.  Not for Jesus.  Not for himself.  Not for anyone else, mind you.

Even today, for some Christians, talk of the cross is a downer.  It’s too depressing.  It’s not the main thing.  We’d much rather hear about God’s love and mercy.  We want the blessings, not the curses.  Let’s have life and salvation and glory.  Not shame and suffering and death.  There’s enough of that going around already.  Look at the news.  The pandemic.  The riots.  The shootings.  Wars and rumors of wars.  Hurricanes.  Fires.  Abortions.  Injustice.  Corruption.  Families in disarray.  Economic woe.  Stress.  Anxiety.  Depression.  Addiction.  No thank you, Jesus, we have enough troubles without talking about all these crosses you want us to take up.  We’ve reached our quota of corsses already, thank you very much.  Now if you could kindly get back to the puppies and rainbows we’d appreciate it.

But Jesus rebukes Peter.  And he would rebuke us too if we try the same tricks.  He says, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance to me. For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man.”

Don’t get in the way of Jesus going to the cross.  That’s Satanic.  Don’t think that there’s a Christ without the cross.  That’s having in mind the things of man, not the things of God.

Rather, receive the Christ on his own terms – Christ crucified for sinners like you and me.  A humble, lowly, man of sorrows.  A lamb of God led to the slaughter who opens not his mouth.  A willing and obedient victim, honoring his Father’s will, drinking the cup of wrath down to the dregs.  Stricken for you.  Smitten for you. Afflicted for you.  By his stripes, you are healed.

You need this Jesus of the cross.  For your sin problem runs deep, as deep as mine and anyone else’s.  The ugliness of the cross is the only ugliness ugly enough to match your sin.  And we need to see our sin.  We need to see what it cost Jesus.

Sometimes I think this is why Christians balk at the sight of a crucifix – you know, a cross depicted with the corpus, the body of Christ still on it.  Oh they’ll say it’s “too Catholic”, when really, there’s no truth in that.  Maybe we’re just not used to it from growing up, or it brings up certain associations in our mind, and that’s fair enough.  But I do think some people want their cross bare so they don’t have to be reminded of what that cross really means – that their Savior had to die an excruciating death – and that on account of sin – yours, mine, everyone’s.  For some, it’s maybe just too stark a reminder.

But we preach Christ crucified.  Just as Jesus preached a Christ that would be crucified.  And anything less, anything other, was of the devil.  Anything that got in the way, or offered another way, was the things of man, and not the things of God.

So what does it mean for us to take up our crosses and follow him?  Well, it doesn’t mean that we go out asking for trouble.  We don’t seek suffering, or pursue martyrdom.  Rather we pray for peace and well-being, for protection and provision, indeed as Jesus taught us, for daily bread.  He never taught us to pray for tribulations.  Rather, to pray that we would withstand them when they do come.

And taking up your cross certainly doesn’t mean you get to be the Savior from sin.  Your cross always follows in the wake of his.  Your cross is never bigger than his, more effective, more worthy.  Your crosses are merely an echo of the true cross, a participation in the sufferings of Christ, but only ever a small part.

But taking up one’s cross means accepting the sufferings of this life, and especially those we undergo for the sake of Christ – and still walking in faith.  It means seeing the silver lining of the clouds of life – and knowing that God who worked so much through the sufferings of Christ, will also work for good through your own suffering, just as he promises.  It means holding on to our joy, even in the midst of sufferings, persecutions, and trials.  For we know that all of our sorrows are fleeting, and cannot last forever.  One day we will put down all these crosses, and the final cross of our death will become the gate to eternal life. 

Yes, even the most bitter thing for most people to face – death itself – is redeemed by Christ and used for his good purposes, for his people.  If you are in Christ, you don’t need to fear death.  For you have the promises of Jesus – promises of life, even though you die, if you believe in him.  Promises of a place in the Father’s house which he prepares for you, even now.  And you can trust Jesus to be stronger than death for you, because he conquered the grave himself – that’s the kind of Christ he is.  That’s also what he told Peter and the disciples – that the Christ must suffer, die, and on the third day rise.  And he did. Just. That.

Whoever will save his life will lose it.  Whoever loses his life for the sake of Christ will gain it.  So we take up our crosses with joy, we face death all day long, we are as sheep to the slaughter – because even then, especially then, we know Christ comes with life, abundant, eternal life, for his people.  With Christ we can’t lose, even if we lose our life, we gain it, for eternity.

And finally Jesus promises that some who heard all this would live to see it.  Surely, Peter would.  Though he would deny Christ to the servant girl, and run away for fear his cross would be next.  Though he and the other disciples would scatter like sheep when their shepherd was struck.  Though they locked themselves up and away for fear of the Jews.  Still they would live to see the words of Jesus fulfilled.  The Son of man would suffer and die and rise on the third day.  Coming in his kingdom.  It began at the cross – where he was crowned with thorns and enthroned in his suffering.  Where his glory was revealed in perfecting our salvation.  But it would not stop there.

For the Christ who predicted his suffering, death and resurrection, also promises a return in glory with all his angels – a return to judge the living and the dead.  Then each will be repaid. Then all that is wrong will be made right.  All who have shunned the cross of Christ will be repaid.  We, who are in him, will receive the full measure of our inheritance. 

So take up your cross, Christian, whatever it may be, and follow Jesus.  For he has taken up his cross for you.  But the cross was not the end of him, and your crosses will likewise come to an end.  Remain faithful to him, for he is always faithful to you, and his promises always come true.

In Jesus Christ, Amen.

Sermon - 12th Sunday after Pentecost - Matthew 16:13-20

 

Today we focus on Jesus comments in answer to Peter’s great confession, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.”  Jesus says,

“Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.  I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.”

There’s so much that could be said based on this short commentary of Jesus.  Here he teaches us about the confession of his name, the building and function of his church.  Today we will consider four lessons:

1.      The Confession of Jesus is never revealed by flesh and blood

2.      The Confession of Jesus is the rock on which Jesus builds his church

3.      The Church storms the gates of hell

4.      The Church and its ministers unlock heaven with the forgiveness of Jesus Christ

The Confession of Jesus is never revealed by flesh and blood

Peter’s great confession that Jesus is the Christ is not something that he concluded on his own.  It didn’t come to him through reason or logic.  It wasn’t something he arrived at after weighing out all the evidence and considering it carefully.  Surely Christians may and even should do all that.  But in the end what Jesus says of Peter here is the ultimate truth, and ultimately true of all Christians.

We don’t come to faith on our own.  We can’t establish ourselves, make Christians out of ourselves, or confess Jesus as Christ of our own devices.  We cannot by our own reason or strength believe in Jesus or come to him.  We are like Peter.  We need a revelation from above.

Jesus says Peter’s confession was revealed by the Father.  We know that our faith is planted by the Holy Spirit.  But there’s no conflict here, since our Triune God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit – is one God with one purpose.  The revelation of Christ – the very Gospel itself – is his desire for all men – to be saved and come to a knowledge of the truth.  To know Christ crucified for sinners, and by faith in him, to be saved.

Thanks be to God for such a revelation, that we, too, confess Christ.  We take no credit for our own.

The Confession of Jesus is the rock on which Jesus builds his church

The second point is really related.  For Just as Peter didn’t confess on his own, but it was revealed to him… so also the Church doesn’t build herself, but she is established and built by Christ alone.  Christ is the divine monergist – the sole doer of the work – to build and raise his church. 

A well-known Lutheran pastor in Germany who opposed Hitler – Dietrich Bonhoeffer – comments on this truth.  He says,

It is not we who build. Christ builds the church. No man builds the church but Christ alone. Whoever is minded to build the church is surely well on the way to destroying it; for he will build a temple to idols wishing or knowing it. We must confess–he builds. We must proclaim-he builds.

We do not know his plan. We cannot see whether he is building or pulling down. It may be that the times which by human standards are times of collapse are for him for him the great times of construction.  It may be that the times which from a human point of view are great times for the church are times when it is pulled down.  We must pray to him–that he may build.

It is a great comfort which Christ gives to his church: you confess, preach, bear witness to me and I alone will build where it pleases me. Do not meddle in what is my province. Do what is given to you to do well and have done enough. But do it well. Pay no heed to views and opinions. Don’t ask for judgments. Don’t always be calculating what will happen. Don’t always  be on the lookout for another refuge!

Church, stay a church!!! But church, confess, confess, confess!

And how does he build this church, except by the preaching of the Gospel?  The proclamation of his birth, life, death, and resurrection for the salvation of the world.  Just as Eve was taken from Adam’s rib, so is the Bride of Christ, the Holy Church, born out of the side of the crucified Christ – by the water and blood of Holy Baptism and Holy Communion.

Thirdly, Jesus teaches us, that the Church storms the gates of hell.

One of the most iconic scenes in military history is the invasion of France that we call “D-Day”.  There, the allies stormed the beaches of Normandy in a heroic and perilous effort to establish our presence on the continent, and begin to bring a world war to an end.  The great sacrifices that were made by so many against such fierce opposition – will hopefully never be forgotten. 

But the church, according to Jesus, does even more.  We storm the gates of hell.  Notice, it’s not that hell is coming at us (though that’s true in a way, too).  But the picture Jesus paints here is of a church on the offensive.  A church knocking on the very gates of hell.  He implies an army ready to do battle – the church militant – assembling with all her forces and preparing to confront the enemy where he lives.  This is no passive defense.  We are on the attack!  We are a conquering force.  And with Jesus our captain in the well-fought fight, we can’t lose.  The gates of hell cannot prevail against Christ and his church.

Here’s a great promise for us.  Not only is the confession of Christ given us.  Not only are we, as his church, built up by him on this confession.  But we also have the promise that not even the gates of hell can withstand the Church.  Here, too, faith is required to see it.  For the church often looks like it’s failing.  Crumbling spires in every land.  Buffeted by the storms of the world – Rationalism, Pietism, Communism, Modernism, Post-modernism, and whatever other isms the devil wears as a cloak.  The gates of hell will not, cannot prevail. 

But just how does the church fight?  Certainly this spiritual war is not fought with the weapons of flesh and blood.  Then we would surely fail.  We’re a different kind of army.  And we fight a different sort of foe.

Really, this last statement of Jesus ties it all up:

The Church and its ministers unlock heaven with the forgiveness of Jesus Christ

The super-weapon that the church brings in its battle with evil is the forgiveness of sins for the sake of Christ.  The Gospel itself, and the forgiveness that flows from it. 

Whatever you loose on earth – Jesus here speaks of the forgiveness of sins.  It’s a charge he gives, not just to Peter as the first pope, but to the apostles as the public ministers of the church.  He will repeat this charge again in John 20, on the evening of Easter. “If you forgive anyone’s sins they are forgiven”.  And it’s just as real on earth as it is in heaven.  It’s just as sure when the pastor absolves you as if Jesus himself was doing it.  That’s why we say, “in the stead and by the command of my Lord Jesus Christ… I forgive you…”  It’s not my own authority – it’s the forgiveness of Christ.

So much is packed into this brief commentary that Jesus gives on Peter’s great confession.  The confession of Jesus is by revelation alone.  The building of the Church is by Christ alone.  The church that he builds cannot fail, even against the forces of hell.  And the greatest power he gives to that church is the forgiveness of sins in his name.

So many promises.  So many gifts.  What a blessing to be a part of it all, like Peter, as we too confess what we are given, and live out the faith in the church that Christ has both established and empowered.  Go in the peace that knows your sins are forgiven, not just on Earth, but even in Heaven.  For Jesus’ sake, and with his promise, amen.

Sermon - 11th Sunday after Pentecost - Matthew 15:21-28

"Children and Dogs"

The Word of God is always relevant.  Often times, and maybe you’ve noticed this too, the particular passage chosen and appointed for a given Sunday somehow seems eerily pertinent to the happenings of the day.  I’ve seen this happen with individual Christians – who notice that whatever problems they are facing sometimes are addressed by that passage of the day.  I’ve also seen it happen many times with the broader issues we face in the public square, in the culture wars, or the news headlines of the day. 

Sometimes preachers get blamed for not speaking directly enough to the issues in the national conversation.  And sometimes, preachers seem to find every excuse to shoehorn the word and make it speak to their pet issues according to their own agenda.  But let’s avoid either of these extremes.  Rather, our aim should be to preach the word as it is given.  To apply it where it applies (and of course, it always does).  And to let the chips fall where they may.  Sometimes the connections are right in front of us, easy to make, and we should have the courage to say what God’s word says to our world.

And so today, perhaps you noticed that all three of our readings, somehow or another, touch on the topic of race.  No, it’s not Black and Hispanic and White and Asian.  It’s Jew and Gentile.  The Israelites and the “Goyim”, that is, the “nations”. 

In the reading from Isaiah, we hear that God intends his house to be a “house of prayer for all nations”.  It’s sort of the Old Testament version of the Matthew 28 “Great Commission”, where Jesus sends his disciples to baptize and teach “All Nations”.

In our Epistle, Paul discusses his ministry to the Gentiles, and his sorrow for his own people, the Jews, who as a whole rejected Christ.  But the underlying theme is the desire of God to have mercy on all, and that all would be saved – Jew and Gentile alike.

Then there’s Jesus and the Canaanite woman in our Gospel reading.  And at first, it seems very out of character for Jesus to deny the woman’s request.  Even worse, it seems he’s denying her because she’s of the wrong race!  Not a Jew but a Canaanite.  Not one of the children, but one of the dogs, as the Jews called them – no nicer a smear today than it was then.

Is Jesus here being a racist?  Is he asserting the superiority of his own people over their neighboring tribe?  Is he withholding his blessings from someone who isn’t deserving because of her ethnic origins?  No.

The best understanding is that Jesus is testing her faith, or proving it – by his apparent unwillingness to help.  He knows, of course he knows, that he will help her.  But he gives her faith a chance to shine.  What a good confession she makes.  She traps the Lord Jesus in his own analogy:  “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the table”.  Great is your faith, woman!  Your daughter is healed. And Jesus is anything but a racist.  His compassion knows no such barriers.

Jesus is the same God who proclaimed salvation for all nations in Isaiah 56 and wants disciples of all nations in Matthew 28.  He’s the same Savior who was hailed as king of the Jews, and even named so on his cross.  But he’s also the savior of the nations, who desires all to be saved and come to a knowledge of the truth.  God so loved the world that he sent his only Son, not just some of the world, but all men and women, young and old, rich and poor, all races and peoples and tribes and languages.

So why is this so hard?  Well because of sin, of course.  Sin touches every corner of our experience, every aspect of our humanity – and not just our deeds but also our words and thoughts.  And so sin corrupts how we relate to our neighbors.  Sin will use any excuse to act apart from love – and if your skin color or ethnic origin is a convenient hook – then there the sinner tends to go. 

The ancient Jews certainly had a bad case of ethnic self-assured superiority.  “We have Abraham as our father, after all!  We have Moses and the Prophets!  We have the temple!  We’re not corrupt half-breeds like those Samaritans over there.  And we’re certainly not rank pagans like that woman who begged Jesus on behalf of her daughter.  We’re better than that.  We’re the good people.”  You can almost taste the arrogance. 

Remember when Jonah didn’t want to go to Nineveh?  It wasn’t out of fear of public speaking.  It wasn’t because he didn’t think he had what it takes to be a prophet.  No, Jonah tells God exactly what it was – after he finally preached and the Ninehvites miraculously repented – and God relented from destroying them.  Jonah raged against God for have mercy on those wicked people!  He said “I knew this would happen!  This is why I ran!”  In the end Jonah looks like a fool as God calls him out for his jingoism, or as we would say today probably, his racism.

Now, to what extent racism is a problem for you I will leave you to ponder in your own conscience. Christians need not find an imagined sin under every rock, nor are we above confessing a sin when we truly commit it.  But at the root of the sins related to race is the sin of pride.  The arrogance of thinking oneself something when you are really nothing. 

Imagine if the woman who came to Jesus reacted to him in sinful pride: “Are you calling me a dog!?  Who do you think you are!  We Canaanites were here long before you Israelites came on the scene.  You’ve victimized our people for over a thousand years!”  And then one of the disciples might answer, “Who do you think YOU are!  We’re the Jews!  We’re the chosen people!  Pay some respect, lady!”  And on and on it might have gone.

When we are insulted or mistreated – for our race, or our affiliation, or our beliefs, or any other reason – sin often wants to claim rights and prove our superiority and station and denigrate another to do it.  Who do you think YOU are?  Don’t you know who I am?  Show me some respect!  I deserve that! 

But look what this woman did instead.  She humbled herself.  She admitted, implicitly, that she is indeed a dog, and a beggar.  She counted herself unworthy.  No pride here, just a need of help.  And a looking to the only one who could help, Jesus.  Friends, this is the way of faith.  We should all take note.

We too, are beggars at the Lord’s table, and unworthy of the gifts.  Not because of our ethnic heritage, but because of the corruption that goes much further back in our family tree, back to Adam.  There is the true and sad unity of all races and peoples – in the disobedience of Adam.  All are one – born under the law.  Born subject to death.  Conceived in sin and unable to escape it.  And this common condition of all men and women is far more significant than culture, heritage or what we call “race”.

We need Jesus just as this Canaanite woman did.  You may have a request like she did – for healing or freedom from spiritual oppression.  You may be praying for a fix to your marriage or a job you can depend on.  You may ask God to help your wandering children or to help you manage your stress.  And these and all our needs are good and right to bring before him.  He himself teaches us to pray for daily bread, and promises to provide far more than crumbs from the table.

But we also need Jesus to save us.  To save us from our haughty and arrogant selves.  To save us from the ridiculous pedestals on which we plop ourselves, thinking that we can be like God.  Save us from our sense of superiority – first by a right view of our own ugly nature – and then by the grace and mercy that you so freely give. Save us from the filthy rags of our own good works with the perfect obedience that only Jesus could accomplish.

This is Jesus, the living bread from heaven, who feeds the world with himself.  This is Jesus, the king of the Jews and Lord of All Nations, who by his cross removes the pall of death that covered all people.  This is Jesus, who humbles himself unto death, even death on a cross.  This is Jesus, who calls Jews and Canaanites, Samaritans and Americans and every other people group there may be – the find a new oneness in his body the church.  Here all are clothed with the white robe of Christ’s righteousness that covers our sin.

I don’t have the solution to racism in our world.  I’m not here to opine about public policy or what kind of activism you should undertake.  And I certainly don’t have a slogan for you to put on your bumper sticker.  Scripture does inform the Christian’s view of race relations, but there are many aspects of it that we’ll continue to have to work through.  What we can say for sure is this.  All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God and all are justified freely by his grace.  And the picture of heaven we see in Revelation 7 makes it clear that it consists of believers of all tribes and peoples and languages.  Race as we think of it simply isn’t an issue for God.  He calls all people to faith in Christ.  May we follow in the example of that Canaanite woman, trust in Christ to give us far more from his table than we deserve, and live in and by the same faith.

Sermon - 10th Sunday after Pentecost - Matthew 14:22-33

 

2020 has been a year of fear.  Most of us on some level or another fear this virus that’s turned everything upside down.  Perhaps we fear getting it and even dying from it.  Perhaps we fear giving it to others.  Perhaps we fear the effects – the dominoes that have fallen, the damage to our economy, the loss of work and wealth, the effects on our mental health, the unrest in our nation that may or may not be related.  Maybe you fear the government’s response to all this and the threats to your freedom.  Maybe you fear even to bring any of this up in polite conversation, as people have been so much set at odds.  And maybe you also fear that this will drag on and on, and we’ll never get back to normal.  Yes, fear has loomed large for many of us lately.

When Holy Scripture speaks of fear, though, it’s almost never a good thing.  Except for the command to fear God, I can’t think of any other time we are told to fear.  Rather, the command to “fear not” is common.  Fear not, say the angels when they appear.  The Psalmist writes, “yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil… for thou art with me…”  And of course Jesus himself tells his disciples to “fear not”.  We see it today as a key word (phobos – fear) in the story of when he walked on the water.

It was late, and it was dark.  That alone sets some people in a fearful mode.  The darkness means we can’t see, or can’t see as well.  And so there is the unknown.  Add to that, the wind and waves were kicking up.  The disciples, experienced fishermen among them, began to grow concerned.  They well knew the danger of the sea. 

But then they had an even greater freak-out.  They saw Jesus.  But they thought he was a ghost.  Well of course normal people don’t appear walking out on the water.  So another explanation sprang to mind – a ghost!  Even these disciples of Christ were under the sway of superstitions.  We sinners seem to know there’s a world of spirits and supernatural forces at work – and that some of those spirits are not our friends.  They fearfully jumped to a conclusion.

Jesus, for his part, calmed their fear.  “Take heart!  It is I!”  Take courage!  Be not afraid!  It’s me!  It’s Jesus!

What a sigh of relief and wonder they must have then shared.  What awe and amazement as once again Jesus does the impossible.  This is Christ – who can heal diseases, cast out demons, turn water into wine and multiply fish and loaves.  This is Jesus, who now shows his mastery over wind and wave, the very forces of nature.

One of the comforting things about having Jesus as Lord and Savior is that he is Yahweh Almighty – and that creation itself is under his command.  The little Greek phrase he uses to say “It is I” is “ego eimi”.  That’s the Greek way of saying Yahweh, which of course in Hebrew means, “I am who I am”.  This isn’t the last time Jesus uses this phrase which alludes to his true identity as Yahweh.

But if he is Yahweh - of course he can walk on water.  Water exists because of him.  Everything exists because of him.  While God the Father created everything by his Word – we know that Word is a Living Word, that in the beginning was with God and was God.  That Living Word by whom all things were made (as we say in the Creed). 

God asks Job (in our OT reading) that great series of rhetorical (and maybe even sarcastic) questions:  Were you there when I laid the foundation of the earth?  Do you know how I made it?  Can you explain these deep mysteries?  The point isn’t to make Job small – but rather to remind him who he is dealing with when he calls upon Yahweh.  This is the Creator of all things!  This is no small or weakling god of limited power.  This is a God in whom you can trust, and trust fully.

So, too, Jesus.  By walking on the water gives the disciples (and us) a glimpse of that divine power over nature.  He’s the creator, after all.  There is no greater friend to have.  There is no one better in whom to trust.  Of all the things that we may or might fear, of all the things that can and do make us afraid – he is over them all.  He is Lord of all.  And he’s in our corner!  Take heart, it’s Jesus!  Truly he is the Son of God. Don’t be afraid.

Sure it’s great for him to walk on water, but wouldn’t it be great if we could, too?  You wonder what exactly was going through Peter’s head (as you Texans like to say, “bless his heart”)  Did he reason that Jesus had given his disciples the power to cast out demons, and so therefore Jesus could and should also give Peter this particular power over nature, too?  Was he divinely inspired to blurt this out, like he was when he made his good confession that Jesus is the Christ?  Or did he simply not know what to say or do, and acted on impulse and without thought?

For better or worse, for whatever reason, Peter asks Jesus to invite him out of the boat, and Jesus obliges!  Peter, too, walks on water!  Another miracle!

Friends this is not the only time that Jesus would bend the laws of nature to bring us to himself.  This is not even the greatest miracle in which Jesus invites us to where he is, over and against all human reason and sense.

He calls us to himself.  He calls us to faith by his Spirit.  He calls us his own in our baptism.  He calls us to the table in his Sacrament.  By word and wondrous sacramental sign, he brings us to where we could never go alone.  To himself.

And even more.  One day he will call us – not out of the boat – but out of the grave.  Where he’s already gone.  The God who made the universe and everything in it, is the man who gave himself into death on a cross.  The Savior, who bore the sins of the world, drank death down to the last bitter drop, and three days later came out on the other side.  Standing tall over death which cannot touch him evermore.  Walking all over death with the same ease he treads the stormy waters – and bringing us along with him too.  His death is our death.  His life is our life.

Peter had no business walking on the water.  But he was with Jesus, and so it was ok.  You and I have no business dreaming of life after death.  But we are with Jesus, and so it will be as he says – “he who lives and believes in me will live even though he dies”. 

Now, of course Peter didn’t stay afloat very long.  And here is a lesson for us as well.  Why did he sink?  It wasn’t because Jesus couldn’t keep him above water.  It wasn’t because Jesus ran out of miracle-juice.  It certainly wasn’t because Jesus forgot about him, or turned his back on him.

He took his eyes off of Jesus.  He stopped trusting, and returned to fear.  He thought of the wind and wave and death creeped in on him again.  But he took his eyes off of Jesus, and so he started to sink. Or as Jesus put it, “you of little faith, why did you doubt?”

This isn’t a “shame on you, Peter”.  It’s not a wagging finger or a calling on the carpet.  It’s a gentle corrective.  A kind reminder.  Why did you doubt?  You don’t have to doubt, when you’re with me.  I’ve got you.  Take heart.  It is I. 

The same Jesus who called Peter to come for a stroll on the lake, is the same Jesus who’s there for him when he falls.  The one who both empowers and forgives, who rescues and restores.  Why did you doubt?  Why should you ever doubt him?  Rather – take heart.  This is Jesus, here!

I suppose some would want a Jesus who never allows the wind and wave to come at all.  Some want a Jesus never to even bother them, but let them row their way through.  Some want a Jesus who never asks us to trust him.  But that’s not the Jesus we have.  Far better to trust that this Jesus, the real one, knows best.

Dear Peter – faithful one minute, fearing the next.  We can sympathize.  Peter is the every-man.  But there is Jesus – with a strong hand to reach out and save.  And Peter’s savior is ours.  Fear not, dear Christian, but take heart.  Don’t doubt, dear Christian, but have faith in Jesus Christ.  Amen.

Sermon - 9th Sunday after Pentecost - Isaiah 55:1-5, Matthew 14:13-21

“Something for Nothing”

It is one of the hard lessons of growing up that you rarely if ever get “something for nothing”.  If a deal seems too good to be true, it almost certainly is.  Even if a company or a business appears to be giving away some product or service, they are almost always getting something for it – either some of your information, or some marketing value, or even just some goodwill from a potential future customer.  And then, of course, there are other times when the giver is a scam-artist, and some more nefarious strings are attached to the freebie.

But just as with so many other things, the Kingdom of God is not like all the kingdoms of this world.  The economy of God flies in the face of earthly wisdom and our usual ways of doing business.  Take our Old Testament reading for starters.  Isaiah the prophet gives us an oracle which promises something for nothing:  wine and milk without money, and bread without price.

In our marketplace, you get what you pay for.  In God’s kingdom, gifts are given freely.  In our world of selfish corruption, we count and measure, we price and bargain.  Everything has a cost.  Nothing is truly free.  Perhaps the closest we get is when we feed and clothe our children, or care for our family members.

But even the love of family is not so pure in our fallen world.  Even in the home, you don’t really get “something for nothing”.  We see shades of it when we feel unappreciated.  When we other people aren’t pulling their own weight.  When you’re at odds over expectations and when you miscommunicate.  Or when selfishness overshadows love, and my own way becomes what’s most important. 

No there’s no truly perfect example of grace – pure and free grace – apart from the gifts of God in Jesus Christ.  Only he gives freely and purely of himself for all people.  Only he gives without cost, without price, without expecting or exacting something in return.  His love is unconditional.  His mercy is the only true, ontologically perfect gift there is.

Take a look at our reading from Isaiah.  Here we have the prophet speaking in poetic terms about the grace of God.  As with so many other places in Scripture, the gifts of God are depicted as food.  But here Isaiah also makes it clear – this is no ordinary food that is given for free.  This is not subsistence level.  It’s lush and lavish.  It’s sumptuous.  Wine and milk!  Rich food.  Food that delights.  Food that satisfies.

Such is what Christ gives.  Such is the character of the giver, and the quality of his gifts.  He does not give us meager grace, but only the best!  He doesn’t give you a mere bit of help toward salvation.  A nudge.  A boost.  A helping hand if only you’ll cooperate.  Oh no.  He does it all.  He fulfills the law, keeps the commandments – not just mostly, but perfectly, and then credits you with that righteousness.  Even more.  He offers a sacrifice.  Not a bull or a goat or sheep.  A sacrifice of nobler name and richer blood than they.  He sheds his own holy, precious blood.  He offers his own innocent suffering and death.  His death on the cross covers every sin.  Pays every debt.  Finishes everything.  Even death itself.  This is the lavish provision of God for you.

We see Jesus giving freely also in the Gospel reading, the Feeding of the 5000.  Now there is much we could say about this miracle, many angles from which to examine it.  But consider today how generous our Lord is:  far beyond the expectations of any that day.  Certainly beyond what the disciples had in mind.  “Hey look, we’ve barely got enough to feed ourselves!  Let’s send the crowd away to go find their own grub!”  No, you give them something to eat.  And when the disciples won’t, because they can’t, Jesus does.

And he doesn’t just feed some – the most deserving or the most needy.  He doesn’t grade the crowd on a scale of who was listening to his teaching and who wasn’t.  His generosity is indiscriminate.  Men, women and children are fed.

And all are satisfied.  He fills their bellies.  He gives even more than enough, as the 12 baskets of leftovers show. 

The generous nourishment of the Gospel – this is just one more lens through which to see and appreciate the exceeding riches of God’s grace in Jesus Christ.  And it really is what sets the Christian faith apart from every other.  What must I do to be saved?  Believe in Jesus Christ and be baptized for the forgiveness of your sins.  In other words, receive the gifts of Christ.  That’s it.  That’s all.  No works of merit.  No heroic moral achievements.  No tipping the scales in your own favor by a preponderance of good deeds over bad.  Just trust the giver.  He will take care of you.

This same God who led and fed his ancient people, this same Jesus who fed the 5000 miraculous food, also gives freely today – food and drink that is rich and lavish.  He sets a table before you of rich food without price and fine drink without cost.  He feeds you his body and gives you his blood in this blessed sacrament.

It’s like no other meal on earth.  In fact, it’s heavenly.  It’s far more miraculous than the feeding of the 5000 – for here at the Lord’s Supper he feeds the church of all times and places.  Here we join the great company of heaven – all the saints in glory – even angels and archangels – in a mystical sweet communion that transcends time and space.  All are one in Christ when we receive him here.  All who partake of this heavenly feast receive its many blessings.

You confirmands, the greatest blessing you receive this day is not that you get to wear fancy robes and a special certificate.  It’s not the accolades of your family for completing your instruction well.  Today, you are invited to the feast.  Today you join the ranks of those who have been instructed and examined, and now partake of the body and blood of Christ.  You’ve been Christians since your baptism.  Now you receive Christ in yet another way, fed and strengthened as you continue to grow in faith your whole life.  What a wonderful couple of scripture passages for you as you receive your first Holy Communion today.

And still it gets better. For as our liturgy reminds us, as wonderful as the Sacrament is, it is yet only a foretaste of the feast to come.  One day we will join that great company of heaven on the other side of death – and even bodily in the resurrection.  Then will come the great marriage feast of the Lamb in his kingdom that will have no end.  Yes, heaven itself is pictured as a feast – a banquet – in the mansions of the Father.  And Jesus himself is preparing a place for you even now.

This side of heaven, in our everyday experience, you really don’t get something for nothing.  Everything has a price, a cost, some strings attached.  The sinful world is transactional and selfish.  And we are just as much a part of it. 

But here in Christ, we do get something for free – though it cost him everything.  He gives us all the blessings of life in his kingdom – rich food, fine drink, forgiveness of sins, and a hope of even better things to come.  Thanks be to God in Jesus Christ for such great gifts!  May we receive them always in faith.  In Jesus’ name.

Sermon - Pentecost 6 - Matthew 13:1-9;18-23

One Seed.  Four Kinds of Soil.

Ah, the Parable of the Sower.  One of my own personal favorites, and maybe yours, too.  Jesus tells this parable first to the crowd, and then in the next part of our reading, explains its meaning to the disciples.  This alone is a bit unusual for Jesus – but it serves as a sort of Rosetta Stone for us to interpret not only this parable, but to teach us about the parables of Jesus in general.

The word we use for these stories, “parable”, or “Para-Bola” in the Greek, means something like “thrown along side” – as Jesus throws earthly elements alongside his heavenly or spiritual meaning.  The things in the stories are common enough – everyday things and people like brothers, sheep and coins, kings and servants, or in this parable as in so many – we have a picture of agriculture.

It seems like every child learns about the power of a seed from that Kindergarten project when you put a bean in a wet paper towel, and then watch it sprout on the window sill over the course of the next few weeks.  What a fitting parabolic image then, for the word of God.  In other parables he uses the same image of a seed for the word – for the word starts small, and has great effects.  It appears to go into the ground as dead, but from it sprouts life, and often abundantly so.  Good seed produces good fruit, and so forth, and so forth.

Here we also see the image of a sower.  And though Jesus doesn’t explain exactly who it is, we understand the sower to be first of all God himself, or even Jesus – who sends forth his word.  Likewise also the preacher of the Gospel follows suit and liberally casts the seed here and there, to and fro.  Now, some would say that the sower is acting here, as one of our hymns puts it, “recklessly”.  He casts the seed and doesn’t seem to care where it falls – “oh what of that?”.  Not a very sensible way of farming or gardening.  I remember planting certain seeds, carefully, so many inches apart in perfect little rows so that the plants wouldn’t get in each other’s way and would be well spaced and well watered.  This sower cares nothing for that, so it seems, he just casts the seed – he preaches the word – and whoever hears it does, and whoever doesn’t – doesn’t. 

But it’s not careless.  It’s love.  It is the gift of grace, freely given. 

This is the character of the sower.  That he gives to all, gives freely, gives generously.  This is the Father who spared not his own Son, but gave him up for us all.  This is the Christ, who laid down his life for his friends, even for his enemies, who died for the sins of the world. Whose blood covers the iniquity of us all. 

What a comfort that his grace is so recklessly sown!  For if he targeted it only to the worthy, the best, the most deserving… then we would all have cause to wonder and fear.  Is this for me?  Are my sins forgiven?  Can I be saved? 

But no, there is no doubt, he intends and desires for all to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth.  He seeks out every lost sheep.  He forgives even the unforgivable.  And so his word, his grace, his salvation is for you.  The cross procures it and guarantees it.

And yet, not all believe.  This is the question the parable addresses.  Why some, and not others?  While this parable alone may not satisfy the curiosity of the philosopher and theologian with an ultimate answer – it does shed light.  It doesn’t pierce the veil of God’s hidden counsel, or subject him to our own imagined rules of fair play.  But Jesus does show it how it is- that the word freely preached does not always produce fruitful and lasting faith in the hearer.  For there are different kinds of soil.  There are different impediments to the word.  And each of these can frustrate and hinder the working of faith:

Take first the path – the seed that falls here is quickly snatched by the birds.  Jesus teaches that these are the ones who hear the word but the Devil quickly snatches it away.  We know the devil’s aim is to do this to all – to completely obstruct the word of the kingdom for any and all.  That the word isn’t always snatched by the enemy is the real miracle here. 

Then there’s the rocks – the rocky soil – the thin and shallow dirt with nowhere for the roots to grow deep.  Jesus compares this to the person who embraces the word with joy, but then quickly falls away at the first sign of opposition from the world – persecution, tribulation.  It’s a shallow faith that cannot stand when put to the test.  The scorching sun soon withers it away. 

Or also the thorns – the cares of this world which choke the life out of faith, like the weeds and thistles that crowed out the good harvest.  We’ve seen plenty of “care of this world” in 2020.  Here also the deceitfulness of riches – the lie that having money is all that matters, all that you need.  When you worship the things of this world there’s no room left for the things above, where true treasure is found.

Now, we could take these examples of Jesus and start the task of inspecting other people’s gardens.  What kind of soil is Susie?  What kind of ground is Johnny?  Let’s all evaluate Betty and George’s harvest of fruit.  We could seek to diagnose and critique the faith of others and the problems they have and the things that get in their way and keep them from being the Christians they oughtta be. 

But here’s the secret that our Old Adam doesn’t want to hear.  We are all, at different times, and in various ways, all kinds of bad soil.  You and I are beset by the devil.  You and I are opposed by the world.  You and I are subject to cares and worries and troubles of all manner and kind.  Suffering and death are all around us.  Unbelievers and scoffers never quit.  And the devil, that prowling lion, drools and slobbers with every temptation by which he imagines he might snatch faith from our hearts.  And sometimes we even play along.  Our joyfulness in the faith waxes and wanes.  We listen, then we forget.  We understand, but we don’t.  Sin and unbelief are ever near.  We are the soil on the path, the rocky soil, the thorny soil.

But the Christian is not just that.  The Christian is sinner and saint.  The Christian is Old Adam and New.  The Christian is bad soil, but also good soil.  Not that we bring anything to the table, mind you, but the fact that we do believe by the power of the Spirit – means yes the word has been planted in us.  And that we trust in Christ, crucified for sinners, means the seed has sprouted.  And that faith which is begun as a good work within us will brought to completion at the day of our Lord Jesus Christ – means that our full fruitfulness will be see at the final harvest – whether 30, 60, or 100 fold.

Each time sinners hear the word, repent and believe, the seed goes into good soil.  Each time you confess your sins and are forgiven, what is planted sprouts and bears fruit.  Everywhere the Gospel is preached and he who has ears to hear, hears…. Hearts are changed, lives are renewed, and God works salvation.

Jesus doesn’t answer the question of why some believe and others do not.  But he does assure us, by this parable.  He teaches us how it is – and that he knows how it is – and that means we can trust him to know what he’s doing.

The Sower is not reckless or stupid or powerless as some may say.  Nor is he uncaring or apathetic about the success of his farming.  Just as Jesus wasn’t crucified because he was weak, or unlucky, or the victim of circumstance.  But he laid down his life of his own accord, in perfect obedience to the Father, to complete his mission of saving the world from sin.  As strange and reckless as it may seem.

So also his gospel – he knows exactly what he’s doing, strange as it may seem.  He sows the seed, plants the word, proclaims the Gospel freely and fully – intent that all would hear and believe, sprout and bear fruit.  That some seed falls on bad soil of whatever kind – we recognize, but leave it for the mystery that it is.

And rather, thanks be to God for the seed of his teaching, receptive souls reaching, and pray that it blossom and flourish for one and for all.  Thanks be to God for the good news of Jesus Christ, who died and rose for you and me, and makes us fruitful – to the glory of his name.  May his kingdom come, may the seed take root in good soil wherever and whenever it is cast, that many others may join us in the harvest of his kingdom.  Such is our fervent prayer, in Jesus’ name.  Amen.

Sermon - Pentecost 3 - Matthew 10:21-33

Sometimes the Gospel doesn’t sound exactly like good news.  “Brother will deliver brother over to death, and the father his child, and children will rise against parents and have them put to death, and you will be hated by all for my name’s sake.”  This is the gospel of the Lord!  Thanks be to God?

As I mentioned last week, these two readings go together as Jesus is preparing his disciples to go out and preach.  He gives them a message, he gives them authority, and he sends them out in pairs to labor in the harvest, which he promises is plentiful.  But in this following reading, he also warns them about the opposition they are sure to face.  And the warning has broader application.  It is first for the apostles, but yes, it is also for all Christians. 

Our Lord Jesus Christ has some tough words for us this morning.  Some stark reality.  A bit of a “red pill” to use a neologism.  Being a Christian means persecution.  It means suffering.  It means the hatred of the world will be directed at you.  He doesn’t sugar coat it.  And neither should we.

A servant is no greater than his master.  If they call him the Father of lies, what will they call you? If they hate and revile and mistreat and even crucify him, don’t think they won’t do the same to you. 

But he also has some strong words of comfort and encouragement to help this medicine go down.  Fear not, Christian!  For the persecution that is sure to come - isn’t the end of the story…

I ran across a website that describes and tracks the persecution of Christians throughout the world, and they shared these typical scenarios:

A woman in India watches as her sister is dragged off by Hindu nationalists. She doesn’t know if her sister is alive or dead.

A man in a North Korean prison camp is shaken awake after being beaten unconscious; the beatings begin again.

A woman in Nigeria runs for her life. She has escaped from Boko Haram, who kidnapped her. She is pregnant, and when she returns home, her community will reject her and her baby.

A group of children are laughing and talking as they come down to their church’s sanctuary after eating together. Instantly, many of them are killed by a bomb blast. It’s Easter Sunday in Sri Lanka.

According to the same website, in the last year:

• Over 260 million Christians living in places where they experience high levels of persecution
• 2,983 Christians killed for their faith
• 9,488 churches and other Christian buildings attacked.
• 3,711 believers detained without trial, arrested, sentenced or imprisoned

(https://www.opendoorsusa.org/christian-persecution/)

We see these things happening (if we are willing to look), and it merely confirms what Jesus teachers here.  And that we don’t, at least not yet, see things like this in our own “land of the free and home of the brave” – well, the relative peace and calm we Christians in America have enjoyed is somewhat of an exception.  No Christian I know has the ability to predict the future, there are certainly some ominous signs for us lately. Are your eyebrows raised yet?

The public square becomes ever more hostile to a Scriptural worldview.  The laws of our land seem to ensconce ever more immorality.  Many Christians are afraid to speak up for fear of losing face, losing a job, or even being sued. You may even be afraid to be known as a Christian, to hold positions that the Bible clearly teaches, or even to mention the name of Jesus in certain circles or particular places.

It’s not just the public square, however, it can even divide the family.  Jesus says “Brother will deliver brother over to death, and the father his child, and children will rise against parents and have them put to death”

So what do we do?  Retreat?  Run off to a cave like Elijah?  Crawl into a hole and die? No, Jesus tells us what to do.  And in his command, there is also a message of hope for the persecuted Christian.  He says “fear not”.

Fear not.  It is the most common command in all of Scripture.  Fear not.  Spoken by many an angel, and here, in this reading, on the lips of our Lord 3 times:  fear not.  Do not fear the world.  Do not fear the persecution.  Do not fear those who are out to get you.  The most they can do is destroy the body.  It would be better to fear the one who can destroy both body and soul in hell – that’s God.  The God who wants not only our fear, but also our love and trust.

Fear not – for he cares even for the sparrow.  And if the life of a sparrow matters to God, then certainly also the least and frailest among us matter.  And certainly also those who suffer for righteousness’ sake matter.  If he has count of even the hairs on your head, then you think he won’t notice your suffering?  The all-knowing and all-powerful God is your Father, and he means you good.  You think he won’t sustain you, be with you, and carry you through?  He will.

And what’s the worst that can happen to you?  Not that they kill you – for he will raise you up.  Not that they can humiliate you, for he will vindicate you.  Take they our life, goods, fame, child and wife.  Let these all be gone, the kingdom ours remaineth.

Confess Christ.  Confess him before men, and he will confess you before the Father.  We confess Christ when we believe in him – believe in your heart and confess with your lips in Christ crucified for sinners.

Trusting Christ crucified is the precise antidote for fear.  If Christ is not your savior, if his blood is not shed for you, if your sins are not forgiven, if Christ has not been raised… well then you have every good reason to fear, both now and hereafter.  But Christ has been raised.  His blood was shed.  His life was given in your place.  And your sins are forgiven.  You have no reason to fear.  So fear not.  Fear not what God will do to you – for you are in Christ.  And fear not what man can do to you – for even if you die, yet shall you live!

The fact that Jesus warns his disciples of persecution is really a comfort.  Imagine if he didn’t warn us.  Imagine if he made it seem like Christianity would always be a walk in the park – your best life now – the magic wand that makes all your troubles go bye-bye.  And then trouble comes.  You’d think him a liar. You’d wonder whether God cared, or had any power to save at all.

But that he warns you ahead of time – is a comfort.  That he knows you will meet resistance, and suffer, and maybe even die at the hands of wicked men – means you can trust him at his word, and have no fear.

This is why Jesus can say blessed are you when they persecute you.  This is how Paul can explain that suffering produces perseverance, and perseverance character, and character hope, and hope does not put us to shame.  This is why faith clings to Christ, and even grows, in the midst of tribulations in this world.  Because faith trusts in Christ, and Christ has promised us a future beyond the suffering and persecution, a hope even beyond the grave.

Being a Christian is both easy and hard.  It’s easy in the sense that we have nothing to do, but believe, and we are saved.  All the heavy-lifting is done by Jesus at the cross.  It’s as easy for us as receiving a gift.  But it’s also hard, in that persecutions are sure to come.  It’s hard as we struggle against the wicked world, and of course also the devil and our own sinful flesh.  It’s hard in that there is suffering, there are crosses, and this side of heaven, we have to be ready for it all.

But fear not.  For Christ is with you, even if and when you are persecuted.  Fear not, for his word is always and ever true.  Fear not, for he has redeemed you, he has called you by name, you are his.  Fear not, little flock, but rather trust the Good Shepherd, who will get you out of this valley of the shadow of death and bring you to his good pastures.  Persecution is temporary but with Christ, the blessings are eternal.

Thanks be to God, in Jesus Christ our Lord.