Sermon - Luke 11:1-13 - 7th Sunday after Pentecost

“Some Points on Prayer”

Luke 11:1-13

Our readings today focus our attention on the topic of prayer.  Our Gospel reading is the second version of the Lord’s Prayer found in the New Testament.  Perhaps the more widely referenced is in Matthew 6, amid Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount”.  And then in our Old Testament reading we have Abraham speaking to God – praying – for mercy on the city of Sodom where his nephew Lot and family lived.  Although it seems less like prayer, and more like haggling. 

So let us consider what God’s word shows us about prayer this morning, acknowledging, like all matters on which Scripture teaches, there is always more for us to learn.

Do Lutherans have a “theology of prayer”?  I seem to remember a Roman Catholic friend accusing Lutheranism of NOT having such theology.  I don’t know exactly what he meant by it, but of course I disagreed.  We have a robust theology of prayer that is faithful to Scripture and, like all theology, deeply rooted in the chief teaching of Christian doctrine – namely, Justification by grace through faith in Christ.

A comprehensive study of prayer, in Scripture, would be tantamount to learning the entire Bible itself, for prayer runs through so much of God’s written word. 

What can we say about prayer?  What makes a good prayer?

Christian prayer is an expression of our faith, that is, our trust in the one to whom we pray.  It flows from faith.  You might say prayer is just “faith speaking to God”.  And it is one reason that the unbeliever can’t truly pray, at least in the same sense as Christians do.  In parts of God’s word faith is synonymous with “calling on the name of the Lord”.

We are also taught, by the word, to be persistent, in our prayers, as when Jesus uses the example of the old widow who pesters the unrighteous judge until she gets what she wants.  How much better will it be from the true righteous judge if we, too, persist.  Or the rude neighbor in the second half of our Gospel reading, the fellow who comes knocking at midnight.  Is there ever a time God is not open to hearing our prayers?

Christian prayer asks for what is right and good – we pray for things that tend to the glory of God and good of neighbor.

Christian prayer is not based in pride and show, like the Pharisee, but humble, like the tax collector, confessing our sins.

Prayer is not better when it is long and rambling, again as Jesus criticizes the Pharisees who expected to be “heard because of many words”, but sometimes a faithful prayer is just a few words, even simply, “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner” or just, “Lord, have mercy.” 

We could say much more about prayer, as it is taught in Scripture.  But also, it’s worth noting that the Lord’s Prayer occupies a special place in our doctrine.  It’s ensconced in Luther’s Small Catechism.  It’s one of the 6 chief parts of Christian doctrine, in which every Lutheran is instructed.  There Luther summarizes and teaches this doctrine well – and many of us have even memorized the questions and answers.

One thing Jesus teaches us by giving us this model prayer is that the content of our prayers matters deeply.  We seek first the things of God, his hallowed name, his kingdom, his will… and only then do we pray for our needs of daily bread, forgiveness, deliverance from temptation and evil.  In teaching us to pray he tells us not how to feel, or what our experience of prayer ought to be – but he shows us what is most important, and teaches us to pray for it.

All well and good.  But it’s not far into our survey of the Scriptures about the teaching of prayer – that we begin to notice a problem.  If we are honest, we find our prayers are lacking.  And what would you expect from sinners like you and me?  We could easily confess our prayers are not as fervent or as frequent as they ought to be.  We do not call upon God’s name in every trouble, pray, praise, and give thanks as we should.  We pray, not, “thy will be done” but, “MY will be done!”

We are not persistent, we pray for selfish things, and not always for the good of neighbor and to the glory of God.  Our prayers are a reflection of our love which is often cold, and our faith which so often flags and fails.  

But fear not, children, for we have a Father who delights in our prayers, for the sake of Christ.  Fear not, for we have a Father who wants to give us good things.  And far more important than our impure and imperfect and infrequent manner of prayer, is the character of the one to whom we pray! 

Jesus calls us to pray, and pray in this way, because he has come to bring us to the Father, to make us dear children once again.  And he forgives our faulty prayers and calls us again to pray, pray, pray to the Giver of all good things.

Jesus tells us to pray, we can see, for what we already know God gives us:  His hallowed name.  We are privileged to call upon him in the first place!  His kingdom, which comes to us in the Gospel and which will come in glory when Christ returns.  His will is done, especially when sinners repent and believe and are saved in his Son Jesus Christ.  He gives daily bread to us, and even to the wicked.  He forgives sins and prompts us to reflect and share that forgiveness with others.  He bears us up in times of temptation.  And he does deliver us from evil, most especially when he delivers us from this vale of tears and ushers us into the perfect pastures of eternity. 

The Lord’s Prayer, you see, is a blessed vehicle for the promises of a loving God and Father to his dear children.  He calls us to pray for what he wants us to have – blessings physical and temporal, spiritual and eternal.

And we know our prayers are heard because of Jesus Christ.  If not for Jesus, we’d have no reason to think God would hear our prayers or grant our requests.  Why would a holy God give a thought to rebellious and wicked sinners, or grant them even a single request?  But we are in Christ, and God sees us through Christ, and God grants us all good things for the sake of Jesus Christ.  This is exactly why we pray in Jesus’ name, and not in our own.  “Hear me, Lord, not because I’m so great (I’m not).  Hear me because of Jesus.  The Jesus who lived a perfect life of righteousness for me – on my behalf. 

The Jesus who died a sacrificial death with all my sins in tow.  The Jesus who becomes sin to put sin to death, and with whom I am buried and raised in Baptism.  “Forgive my sins, because of Jesus.  Give me daily bread, because of Jesus.  Deliver us from evil, through your Son Jesus.”  And God will answer favorably. 

In his time, of course, and in his way.  He will answer according to his wisdom, which is far beyond ours.  And some prayers aren’t answered, some promises fulfilled until the life of the world to come.  But faith knows to whom we pray, and through whom we pray, and in whose power we pray.  And faith continues to pray, trusting the goodness and mercy of Our Father, who art in heaven. 

So pray, Christian.  Pray early and often.  Pray boldly and humbly.  Pray in the confidence of the Gospel, knowing your prayers are acceptable to God through the merits of our savior Jesus Christ. And that you pray to a loving God who wants all the best for you, according to his good purposes.  Pray thus, and you will be blessed.  In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Sermon - Colossians 1:21-29 - 6th Sunday After Pentecost

“The Mystery Revealed”

Colossians 1:21–29

This section of Paul’s Epistle to the Colossians is really an extension of his introduction – in which he describes, first of all, the Colossian church (and, by extension, all Christians), and then second of all describes his own ministry among them, and to all the Gentiles.  What struck me about this reading was all the adjectives – and so I want to highlight them for you as we drive toward the point of it all:  the mystery that is revealed to the saints:  Christ in you, the hope of glory.

First Paul describes the previous state of the Colossians.  How they once were.  And while many of us don’t have the experience or memory of our own conversion, and were perhaps raised in the church or even in this particular congregation – nonetheless, when scripture speaks this way it’s talking to all of us.  We can all consider our previous state of being. YOU were once lost, alienated, hostile doers of evil deeds.  For even if you were baptized as a little baby, you were still conceived and born in sin.  You still bear in your flesh the inheritance of Adam, the legacy of sin, and the stink of death.  A corrupted nature that needs more than just a little helping hand, but must be completely renewed and regenerated.  Just look closer at how bad this condition is.

We were aliens.  People who don’t belong.  People from outside.  People with no claim of citizenship in the kingdom of God.  Another translation might be “you were once utterly estranged” from him.

If you’ve ever had an estranged family member, you know the grief this can bring in human terms.  Families are not meant to be torn apart in such a way, but sin tends to separate us.  And sometimes nothing in this world can bring reconciliation and restoration.  The Christian, for his part, will forgive.  But that doesn’t always heal the relationship.  That doesn’t always make everything better. 

We were hostile in mind.  Even our very thoughts are full of corruption.  And while it’s possible at times to keep your outward actions in check, and keep up the appearance of goodness.  Your thoughts betray you.  The sinful mind is not so easily brought to heel.  Moreover, the sinner naturally is at odds with God, hostile, hateful. 

And then the evil deeds come.  They are outward fruit of the corrupted nature.  They are a tell-tale outward sign of the sinner.  Sinners do as sinners do.  And evil deeds isn’t just blowing up buildings or murdering people, it includes even the “smallest” most harmless little sins that we tell ourselves don’t really matter.

And then if you look at the rest of the adjectives, you can see by implication or contrast how Paul would further describe our previous state of being:  Unholy.  Full of blame.  Worthy of reproach.  Unstable.  Wavering and shifting.  Hopeless. 

But the Christian is different.  The Christian is not like all that.  The new creation is holy – and that means “set apart”.  Set apart for God.  The Christian is blameless – there’s no charge that can stick, no finger that can be pointed at us.  We are above reproach – no one can call us out or correct us, because we are in Christ – steadfast, unshifting and full of hope.  We are no longer aliens, but citizens of God’s kingdom, insiders, people who belong.  A perfect relationship with our heavenly Father is restored.  Everything is as it should be once again.

But you might say, “yeah right”.  I think I sound more like the first guy.  I see more of the old way of life in me than the new.  And you may be right.  Because we still have the flesh clinging to us.  We are both Old Adam and New.  We are both sinner and saint.  We are both Alien and Citizen.  This is part of the great mystery.  And Paul, himself, knew it well.

But what counts is the new creation.  How God sees us, is in Christ.  And we are in Christ, and Christ is in you.  So stand firm in this Gospel, steadfast in the faith that God has revealed to you.  And remain in the word which you have received, and which will continue to reveal the mystery to you, his saints.

That is what Paul is all about, and that is what any minister of the Gospel is all about:  revealing the mystery to the saints.  Now, a few comments on the biblical idea of “mystery”.  We’re not talking about some Agatha Christie whodunit type of mystery.  But rather, something that is hidden and inaccessible until it is revealed.  It’s not like Thomas Acquinas and the medieval Scholastic theologians taught – that natural human reason, if done correctly, could ultimately arrive at the conclusion of the Gospel.  It’s actually quite unlike that.  It’s something that we could never access or grasp without God’s action of revealing.  It’s something that makes no sense to human reason, and must instead, be received by faith.

Nor is it something that you haven’t heard before.  Indeed, many of you have been Christians since before I was ever born.  But all of us need to sit at the feet of Jesus, like Mary who chose the better part, and hear from the word of God, be strengthened in the mystery of Jesus Christ.  We need the word proclaimed and explained, rehearsed and repeated.  Because it’s not just an intellectual exercise which we understand fully and then move on to something deeper.  Rather, it is a mystery to be embraced, appreciated, and ultimately lived out.

Think of it – that Christ is in you.  In you!  Sinful old you!  That salvation comes as a free gift, even though you bring so much of the baggage we mentioned before.  And that he would forgive you and keep you even though you fall down like a spiritual house of cards at the slightest temptation.  That your baptism still counts, a little water and a few words, maybe decades ago – but a power that still covers you with the seal of God’s grace and mercy.  And that Christ still welcomes sinners like you to his table, to take and eat, take and drink, of his very body and blood – why?  Not because you deserve him, but precisely for the forgiveness of your sins. 

And what a mystery that Jesus did all this in the flesh!  So many modern thinkers and theological innovators would spiritualize the Gospel.  Or make salvation about bettering yourself, your own spiritual journey of improvement – but really very much in the abstract.  But Paul says here, that Christ reconciled us to God in his body of flesh – by death!  This is the scandal of the cross that so many find hard to swallow.  That God would bring salvation to a wicked world, to every creature under heaven, and do it by offering up his son to die – in the flesh, shedding his blood, buried in a tomb. That this spiritual and physical reality of our salvation is effected by a physical, bodily death and resurrection - it defies logic.  But it is what God reveals.

Here, Paul speaks especially of the mystery that God would invite gentiles into the same kingdom, the same church, the same body of faith in Christ.  That God would proclaim to everyone, warn everyone, and powerfully work within everyone and anyone according to the riches of Christ.

For so many of those ancient Jews, that’s a message that would knock their socks off.  But even today, the Gospel is just as much a mystery, just as much to be received by faith.

Long ago God appeared to Abraham and Sarah and promised them a miraculous son in their old age.  Their human reason found it laughable.  But God is true to his promises.  Jesus Christ promised he would be crucified, but on the third day rise, and his disciples couldn’t handle the truth, even tried to rebuke him.  But Jesus did just what he said.  And now, today, some still doubt his word, disbelieve or even scoff at the promises that we proclaim.  But fear not, Christian, and doubt it not, believer.  For in Christ, the mystery is revealed – and revealed even to you.  In him, you receive the riches of his glory.

Sermon - Luke 10:25-37 - 5th Sunday after Pentecost

5^th Sunday after Pentecost, July 14^th, 2019

Luke 10:25-37

"Who Is My Neighbor?"

There’s a lot of law in today’s readings.  You look at Leviticus and it’s like the second table of the 10 commandments written in an expanded form – with law about sexuality, stealing, courtroom justice, and more.  It sums it all up, “Love your neighbor as yourself”.  And amidst the pleasantries of Paul’s greeting in Colossians 1, there’s some fine law, too, including the encouragement to “walk in a manner worthy of the Lord”.

And then you come to today’s Gospel reading, in which we have the famous parable of the Good Samaritan. We will get to that in a minute.  But first notice that Jesus tells this parable in the context of a conversation with a young lawyer about – the law.  The man asks that universal question of the human soul, “What must I do to be saved?” and Jesus refers him to the law – something he is, as a lawyer, well familiar with.  He sums up the law perfectly, too – in much the same way Jesus once summed it up – Love God, and love your neighbor.  Jesus even commends him for answering correctly. 

But then the hitch:  “Do this and you will live!”  And here’s where the man should have stumbled.  Here’s where he, and all of us, could fall down under the crushing weight of the law’s demands.  Where we can and should admit, “I haven’t done this.  I can’t do this.  And for the most part, I don’t even WANT to love God and my neighbor as myself.  I mostly want to love myself.  Me first.  You second, and only if I have time and if it makes me feel good.  But I know that’s not right, and I know I should do better.  If I have to do this law to live?  Where does that leave me?  Where can I go for help, consolation, mercy?  Or am I simply doomed to die?”

But not this guy.  Instead he does what sinners so often do:  he seeks another way out.  A loophole.  An addendum or exception by which he doesn’t really have to do what the law demands.  He seeks to define away, “who is my neighbor”.  He presses Jesus on the question.  And so Jesus answers with the parable of the Good Samaritan.

Now, many preachers and theologians have treated this parable from a rather law-oriented perspective.  They see this Good Samaritan character as an example for us to follow, a standard of treating our neighbor in kindly ways when even the supposedly “good” people of the world do not.  Loving the unlovable, those people who we don’t really identify with – as Jews and Samaritans were like oil and water.  And so the sermons and bible studies that run this way end up heaping on more law, digging you further into the grave, because which of us can say we’ve been a good Samaritan?  Which of us can say we’ve loved our neighbor even close to this?

But there is another perspective from which to see this parable.  And that is to consider Christ.  Where is Christ, you say?  Well look a little closer at this figure of the Good Samaritan.

Here’s someone who comes from the outside.  Here’s someone who brings healing, binds up wounds, shows compassion.  He takes the poor man to the inn and provides for his ongoing care.  And he promises to come back.  Do you see Jesus? 

And then think again about the man left half-dead in the ditch.  Maybe you can identify with him.  For we are beset by enemies far worse than robbers.  We are under the assaults of the devil, the sinful world, and even our own sinful flesh.  We are far worse off than half-dead.  The ditch in which we lie is far deeper. 

And yet our Good Samaritan comes and pulls us up out of the muck and mire, heals our every wound with the balm of his grace and mercy, and brings us to the church, where his appointed servants care for us.  And Jesus doesn’t pour oil on us, but he does wash us in Holy Baptism.  And he gives us wine and bread that are his true body and blood.

In fact our Good Samaritan goes even further, for he takes our place.  He becomes subject to beating and theft and indignation in our place.  He goes to the cross, obediently, in our place.  He becomes the one who is beaten and bloodied and left for dead, in a borrowed tomb.

All this to show his mercy to sinners.  All this to win for us healing and wholeness.  Thanks be to God!

And seeing Christ and his work for us first – and coming to the parable in a Gospel framework – now the example of the Good Samaritan can stand for us – not as a terrifying indictment of our failures, but as an encouragement to do likewise for so Christ has loved us.

So who, then, is your neighbor, Christian?  We now ask the question again, but not from the stance of, “How can I wiggle out of this?” but in faith, “how can I serve, who can I best serve, who would God have me love and serve?”  And the answer might surprise you.

Some Christians might answer the question, “Who is my neighbor?” by simply saying, “everyone!”  And while there’s a good intention there – and I think it’s well-meaning, it isn’t quite right.  In fact it makes the word “neighbor” mean nothing.  Rather, your neighbor is simply whoever is near you.  That’s the only qualification.

While in a very tenuous sense the starving beggar thousands of miles away who you don’t know or know of is your neighbor – for he’s a fellow human on the same planet – he’s not nearly your neighbor like the needy friend down the street, or coworker in the next cubicle, or your fellow church member, or even family member.

We might want to qualify who “deserves” to be our neighbor, but that’s not how it goes.  Don’t love people because they deserve it anymore than we deserve Christ’s love.  But we do it simply because we are given to do it.  The Samaritan in the parable didn’t plan on helping the man who was robbed – but God placed him there and so he did what he could.  What neighbor has God placed before you?

And then think also of the question, “who is my neighbor?” through the lens of vocation.  This can help us discern not only who is my neighbor, but how I might serve him.  Am I a father, husband, brother or friend?  A mother, daughter, co-worker, or citizen?  A pastor or hearer, an office or magistrate, a solider or nanny?  Each vocation has its appointed neighbors to serve, and its way of serving.

I saw a bit of humorous wisdom this week:  a sign said, “Forget world peace; visualize using your turn signal!” 

And maybe the point is made well:  Christian love and mercy for the neighbor begins with the simple, the everyday, the lowly forms of love and service.  It means caring first of all for your family, raising children in the fear and nurture of the Lord.  It means supporting the grieving, encouraging the fearful, even just listening with a friendly ear.  It might mean a denarius out of your own pocket here and there, or a little of your own oil or wine.  But whatever the means of service, and whoever the neighbor, you’ll never do it better than the author of the parable who is the ultimate Good Samaritan from above. 

Which really brings us back to Paul’s prayer for the Colossians, and a good prayer for you and me, that we would “walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him: bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God; being strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy; giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light.”

In Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.

Sermon - Luke 10:1-20 - 4th Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 10:1-20 - “Life in the City”

Are you a country boy or a city slicker?  Do you like life in the great big open sky, or does the hustle and bustle of people and traffic really ring your bell?  Are you more like “welcome to the jungle” or “take me home, country roads?” 

Today our readings set before us a number of different cities – Chorazin and Bethsaida, Tyre and Sidon, Sodom, and Jerusalem. And in each of these cities, Holy Scripture instructs us in matters of faith.  Let’s consider this morning, “life in the city” from a biblical perspective.

The first city mentioned in Scripture was founded by Cain.  After he killed brother Abel and was cursed to wander, he eventually settled down and build the first human city – naming it after his firstborn Enoch.  Once a farmer, and we saw how that ended – now the children of Cain are described for their achievements and inventions.  But what they lack is the seed of promise – that inheritance now passes through Seth.  And so for all of his notoriety, and for all of his descendant’s successes – they end up missing that one thing most needful.

The next city mentioned is Babel, with its tower.  Another exercise in human pride that brought the judgment of God and now the scattering of peoples and confusing of languages.  So far cities aren’t doing so well in Scripture.

There’s Jericho – a city of pagans that God’s people conquer by God’s action alone – knocking down the walls with trumpet blast.  It is the first of many pagan cities to fall as the Israelites conquer the promised land.

There’s Nineveh “That Great City”.  Capital of the infamously cruel Assyrian empire.  The prophet Jonah is sent there to preach a short sermon, “yet 40 days and Nineveh will be destroyed”.  Only four words in the Hebrew!  And yet, these wicked people declared a fast from the king to the peasant and even the livestock.  And God relented of the disaster he had planned for them.

There’s Babylon – another imperial capital, where the Jews were taken in Exile.  It boasted of many wonders, and was known for its famous  Hanging Gardens.  But it, too, becomes a symbol of wickedness and opposition to God’s people – “Babylon, the whore” as she is called in Revelation.

Athens, Corinth, Rome – so many cities in Scripture, we can’t mention or describe them all.  But few are as infamous as the two Jesus mentions in Luke 10: The Jewish cities of Chorazin and Bethsaida.  Cities near Capernaum in the north, and those three together are sometimes called the “gospel triangle” for there Jesus focused much of his teaching and preaching.  Indeed, he also did many miracles among them.  You would think that such familiarity and the blessings of miraculous signs would mean they embraced Jesus with great faith!  But you would be wrong.  On the whole, they did not receive him.  On the whole, they did not believe.  So much so that Jesus takes this very unusual step of placing a curse on them.

He remarks that if he had done all the miracles that he did there, in say, the gentile cities of Tyre and Sidon, that they would have repented long ago!  And Capernaum!  Don’t think you get off easy.  You, too, will receive your share in the judgment, and be brought to Hades!

History knows little of Chorzin and Bethsaida, beyond this, that they rejected the Christ.  Actually, they’ve done some archaeology in Chorazin, and unearthed a synagogue with some strange carvings there – it seems a representation of Medusa was carved into the synagogue wall.  Thus, at least at one point, it seemed they mixed their Judaism with Greek mythology.  Perhaps this is a hint of the spiritual problems from which they suffered – seeking to be like the world, rather than receiving the Kingdom of God in Jesus Christ?

In a similar way, the villages and towns where the 72 preached – some received the word with joy!  And some rejected them, and were subject to the shaking off-of-foot-dust.  What was the difference?  Repentance and faith.  Yes, the disciples did heal and cast out demons.  But this doesn’t impress Jesus.  He’s rather concerned with people having their names written in the book of life, in Heaven.  He wants sinners to repent and be forgiven, to turn from sin and live in him.

And so, in the most general sense, when Scripture speaks of a city, a town, or a village, it’s really focusing on a gathering of people there – who many times act as one.  And what’s always most important about them is spiritual.  Either repentance, or unbelief.  Either in receiving Christ, or rejecting him.  And we all know which side we’d rather be on.

But if there’s one city worth studying in all of Scripture, it’s Jerusalem.  Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills the prophets.  The city that would also condemn and crucify the Christ.  Jerusalem, the home of the temple – but also of kings who though themselves greater than the King of Kings.  The city made into a capital by King David, and the city which hailed the Son of David with their “hosannas”.

Jerusalem. Built on Mt. Zion.  It stands, in Scripture, for the sum total of God’s people.  And depending on whether the passage is speaking in judgment or mercy, showing forth law or gospel, the tone of Scripture can really change.  Take our Old Testament reading from Isaiah, which compares Jerusalem to a nursing child, comforted by her mother, carried on her hip.  Rejoicing.  So it is for God’s people in Christ.  But that same Jerusalem can also be a byword, a curse, smoke in God’s nostrils, when they turn away from him in faithlessness and sin.

Jerusalem, finally, serves as a picture of the Church in her glory – as we saw not too many weeks ago in our Easter readings from Revelation.  The Bride of Christ, the Holy City, beautifully adorned for her husband and presented to him, Jesus Christ, for an eternal union.  What a picture of our future, Christians, in that holy city.

It’s not surprising, perhaps, that the secular world has picked up on this imagery and used it in service to civil religion.  And maybe that’s not too far from our minds on this 4^th of July weekend. 

Some have borrowed this language about Jerusalem and sought to apply it to these United States: The “City on a Hill”, for instance. To speak in terms of America as they imagine it should be – or maybe is – a bright gleaming example of goodness for the world to see. 

And while it’s certainly no sin to love your home country, or to be patriotic, some would go so far, to make national pride into a idol itself, or blur the distinction between the Kingdom of God and the kingdom of this world.  Make no mistake, the Church of Christ has existed long before the USA and will exist and remain long after.  Nations rise, kingdoms fall.  But the word of the Lord remains forever.

And when we see with clear eyes the many flaws of our nation – not just the deteriorating culture and morality, killing the unborn, sexual perversions, but also the shrinking churches and declining number of Christians – perhaps we ought to be more concerned.  For if Jesus curses Chorazin and Bethsaida for their unbelief, what would he say about a nation that has been blessed as we have, and yet seems to appreciate so little? 

Pray, Christian, for your country, your state, your town, your church, your family – whatever “city” you find yourself a part of – pray that we would all repent of our sins, turn from our wicked ways, receive Jesus Christ and live.  Individually, and as a whole!

Some years ago, Brenda and I drove through a small town in the southern part of Michigan.  And upon entering, a large sign proclaimed this town’s “claim to fame”:  “Home of the 1989, Division 2, Women’s Volleyball 3^rd place finishers” (or something like that – the story has been exaggerated over the years). 

I wonder what Keller, Texas might be known for.  I wonder even more, what Messiah, Keller might be known for.  What’s our claim to fame?  May it be this:  that we are repentant sinners whose names are written in Heaven, written in the blood of Jesus Christ crucified.  That’s worth noting.  That’s worth rejoicing over.  That’s why this place matters.  For in this gathering, we are gathered into Christ.  And in Christ, we have life, forever.  Let us therefore be that city on a hill for all who would come here, and as we go out from here.  Gathered to Christ, there is always “life in the city.”

Sermon - 3rd Sunday after Pentecost - Luke 9:51-62

Luke 9:51–62

“No Looking Back”

The Gospel of Jesus Christ, the mission of the church, and those workers in his kingdom, are always on the move.  You look at the Gospels, and Jesus doesn’t set up shop in one place and make everyone come and hear him there.  But he goes from town to town, village to village, preaching the kingdom.  He says, “that is why I have come”.

 It’s not like the Old Testament temple, where Jews would come from hundreds or even thousands of miles away to make their pilgrimages.  Jesus discussed this with the Samaritan woman at the well – since Jews and Samaritans argued over which place was the proper place to worship.  And Jesus told her that a time was coming when people would worship in spirit and in truth. 

The Christian faith has never been about sitting on our hands, resting on our laurels, keeping what we have, and simply being comfortable.  Rather, we have a mission – and we plant churches, send missionaries, and seek to fulfill the great commission – making disciples of all nations, even to the ends of the earth.  We give witness to Christ in our own vocations, to family and friends.  By our words when we can and by our actions in all things – we send a message, we live a message, that proclaims and exhibits the hope within us.  People ought to, and many people have, become open to hearing more about Christ because they’ve seen the love and faith-in-action of Christ’s followers.  Of course it can’t just stop there, but it’s always good to remember.  And so, no one is a private Christian.  All of this happens in full view of the world.  We confess Jesus before men, and he confesses us before his Father who is in heaven.

But it’s not always easy.  Look at Elijah.  He had just had this great success.  A moment on the mountaintop – both figuratively and literally – as he defeated the prophets of Baal in spectacular fashion.  Their idol-god was silent, but Yahweh sent down fire from heaven.  A miracle.  A triumph of faith.  Glory be to God!  But then wicked queen Jezebel found out about it, put a contract on Elijah’s life, and he fled into the wilderness in fear.  Now hunkered down in a cave, he throws himself a pity-party and wallows in the false idea that he’s the only one left.  Poor Elijah.  Boo hoo.

Yahweh has no time for such drama.  He has work for Elijah to do.  Speaking not in the wind or earthquake or fire, but in the tiny whisper, God sends Elijah back and gives him his marching orders.  Anoint this one, anoint that one, and get your successor Elisha ready.  Swords will be drawn.  Blood will be shed.  There’s no time for this despair, Elijah.  God is on the move.  Full forward.

And then you get to our Gospel reading, where Jesus is gathering followers.  He sends his disciples into a Samaritan town, and they are rejected.  James and John do not take this well.  They want to start dishing out the judgment.  They want fire and brimstone.  They want this town to get a whooping.  How dare they reject us, Jesus?!  Do you want us to call down fire from heaven, like Elijah did?  Can we go all Sodom and Gomorrah? 

But instead, Jesus rebukes them.  We don’t know the exact content of that rebuke, but knowing Jesus, you can imagine it.  Don’t be so quick to judge, James and John.  Don’t be so quick to condemn.  For with the measure you apply, it will be measured to you.  And you’re not free from sin, either.  You don’t follow me like you should, either.  You deserve your own portion of that fire and brimstone.  And of course we all do.  Rather than beat a dead horse, harangue sinners who’s hearts are already hardened, Jesus just moves on.  He keeps preaching.  He casts the seed into other soil, where perhaps it will take root and produce a harvest.  No looking back.

There’s much to learn here, for us individually, and as a church, even a church body.  Don’t be surprised when Jesus is rejected, when people spurn the Gospel.  Don’t be too keen to mete out the judgment that belongs to God alone.  But don’t get bogged down when they reject you, or the Bible, or common decency, for they’re really rejecting Jesus.  And don’t dwell on the failures of the past, the sins of the past, the unfinished business.  The kingdom of God moves ahead; it has an aim, a hope, a future. Faith looks forward.

And then Jesus sees these other people, who at first, at least, want to follow him – but with strings attached.  “I’ll follow you wherever you go!”  Oh, will you?  Where do you think I’m going, to a palace?  To a great throne?  Of course you’d want to follow there.  But I don’t even have a home to rest my head.  This following may not be what you’ve cracked it up to be, friend.

And then there’s the fellow who wants to go bury his father, and Jesus gives what seems like a callous reply.  Did he mean, let me wait around until my father dies? Perhaps.  It was considered the oldest son’s duty to bury his father, and then to receive the inheritance.  Or was he interested in waiting around for a year to re-bury the bones, as was the custom of some Jews (and as is even done in New Orleans today)?  Even though the 4^th commandment teaches us to honor our parents, the 1^st commandment tells us who ought to come first.  Following Jesus is more important than following the traditions of man, however honorable they may be.

And finally there’s the one who just wants to go back and kiss his family goodbye first.  And even for this man there’s a gentle rebuke from Jesus!  “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God!”

Jesus sees the heart.  He knew what each of these men needed to hear.  Of course he answers well, even if it seems strange or harsh to us.  But the Holy Spirit also inspired Luke to write this dialogue for us, and for all Christians.  We, too, need the reminders to put Christ first, to let the dead world bury its own dead, and to keep our eyes forward and hands on the plow for service and life in his kingdom.

Of course, we don’t do so well.  Quite often, we’re like Lot’s wife, looking back to our former way of life.  Like a dog that returns to his vomit, we, too, return to the sins from which Christ has freed us.  To the sin that so easily entangles us.  The Old Adam and the New Creation in us strive and struggle for supremacy.  Who will win the day? Who will set the agenda?  Will we go forward, or are we stuck looking back?

Enter Jesus, the one who never looks back.  The one whose face is set toward Jerusalem.  And he’s not just going there for a picnic.  He’s not going there even to celebrate a solemn feast with his disciples, or teach in the temple.  And he’s certainly not going there to call down the lightning and fire of judgment.  He knows what lies ahead for him.  And so do we.

Jesus is dead-set on the cross.  His hand is on the plow, even when they drive in the nails.  His face, sweating blood, never turns aside from his mission.  He will not pass this cup to any other.  Jesus Christ, Son of God from eternity, has an appointment with death just outside of Jerusalem.  And he will not be deterred, distracted, talked out of it, or hindered in anyway.  Not even his beloved disciple Peter can turn him aside from that cross, instead he says, “Get behind me Satan!”  No, Jesus is only going forward, forward, ever forward to Calvary, Cross, and death.

For all your turning back and turning away, Jesus stays the course.  For all your conditions and strings attached – Jesus gives his grace freely.  For all your half-hearted, hard-harted, self-righteous and self-deluded attempts to find your own way – you can come up only lost.  But Jesus knows the way.  And he rescues the sheep.  He cries out to us in a clarion call of mercy that invites us forward with him.  “Follow me”.

“Follow me” is not just an invitation to go for a walk, or even on a long journey.  It is the call to faith.  But it also entails going where he goes, at least in some sense.  Jesus goes forward to his cross, but he also calls us to take up our own crosses.  Jesus passes through the grave and gate of death, and so do the sheep who follow him.  But Jesus also leaves death in the dust, breaks open the grave, and rises never to die again.  So too we those who live and believe in him – even though we die, yet shall we live.  And Jesus even promises a place for us in the mansions of his Father’s house.

Follow Jesus.  Believe and trust in him.  And never look back.  Your future is secure in Christ.  May your eyes ever be fixed on him.  Amen.