Sermon - Midweek Lent 1 - Matthew 21:1-11

 

Matthew 21:1-11

The Donkey

Holy Week begins with Palm Sunday.  And of course, the animal that draws our notice on that day is the donkey.  The animal chosen by our Lord as a means of transportation when he came into Jerusalem.

Now, this is not the first donkey mentioned in Scripture.  There was the donkey that Abraham used to carry Issac to Moriah when God tested his faith – we heard that story Sunday. 

There was Balaam’s donkey, the one who made a donkey out of Balaam.  When Balaam was riding that donkey on his way to curse God’s people, the pre-incarnate Christ barred his way, and the donkey spoke to Balaam. 

The story of Saul’s ascent to the throne began with him looking for his father’s wandering donkey’s, when he met Samuel, who anointed him as king.

David brings a donkey-load full of supplies to his brothers who are at war with the Phillistines. 

And as King David’s death drew near, and questions of succession swirled, Solomon is established as his heir when he comes riding into Jerusalem on King David’s own donkey.

While it’s usually pictured on greeting cards, Luke doesn’t mention a donkey at all when Mary and Joseph go to Bethlehem in the nativity account.  But it’s not a stretch to imagine that Joseph would have provided a donkey for Mary, being great with child.

We seem to hear about the donkey most often in our Palm Sunday sermons, where the animal receives at least a passing mention.  Then the donkey appears again on the first Sunday in Advent, which also recalls the Palm Sunday triumphal entry.  It makes sense to hear it also in Advent, because that is the season of Christ’s “coming”, and his notable coming, or advent into Jerusalem is loaded with meaning.

For starters, there is the prophecy of Zechariah 9:9.  This is loosely quoted by Matthew in our reading, but here it is more directly from Zechariah:

Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!

Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!

^zBehold, ^ayour king is coming to you;

righteous and having salvation is he,

^bhumble and mounted on a donkey,

on a colt, the foal of a donkey.

The colt was unbroken, according to Mark.  Therefore, it would have been difficult to ride.  But not for Jesus.  Creation always submits to the Creator.  He who walks on water has no problems riding an unbroken donkey.

Also, animals that had not been used were set aside for holy purposes (perhaps for a special sacrifice).  Here the holy purpose of the donkey is to serve Jesus.  Even so, Jesus himself is set aside for a holy purpose, the high priest come to make the high sacrifice of himself.  The Holy One of Israel.

And so while he needs only one animal to ride, Jesus has the disciples bring both, with Zechariah’s prophecy in mind.  Jesus fulfills prophecy, here doing everything according detail, every last part of an age-old plan.  Zechariah’s prophecy of some 500 years prior is now fulfilled. 

And Jesus’ own prophecy to his two disciples about finding this mother donkey and her colt is also fulfilled.  Luke tells us that the owners did question the disciples who took the donkeys, but that when they said, “The Lord has need of it” they let them go, just as Jesus said.  Things are always just as Jesus says they will be, aren’t they?

So what else does the donkey teach us about Christ?

It is often said that the donkey stands in contrast to a horse.  A horse is a steed of war, a donkey a beast of burden.  A horse bears a conqueror, a donkey bears one in humility.

The donkey assists Jesus in confessing his true nature and true purpose in arriving at Jerusalem.  He came not to overthrow Pilate and Caesar.  He came not to depose the Sanhedron and make himself the new big dog in town.  Had he come to conquer, his Father would have sent legions of angels.  He would barely have to lift a finger, even say a word. 

He therefore also helps us to remember Jesus’ true mission for us.  For we also look for Jesus to come in triumph, but not in suffering.  We want Jesus to serve us in might and success, not in weakness.  We look for a savior who will impress the world, bring honor and glory, not a savior who is stricken, smitten and afflicted.  We, like the disciples, like the ancient Jews, like so many worldly pundits and observers ever since, want a Jesus who is anything other than the man of sorrows who goes to the cross. 

The donkey bears not a victorious conqueror, but a humble sacrifice.  No war-horse in military regalia.  A beast of burden with only a peasant’s coat for a saddle.  And the donkey bears him ever closer to the cross.

For Jesus to Hosanna us, that is, to save us now – he must go to the cross.  He cannot turn away. 

But the real burden was on Jesus.  He carried with him the awful load of sin.  Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.  And what a good for us that he did!  Who would want to bear his own sin, who could?  The crushing weight of just a small portion of my sin is too much for me.  It crushes conscience and weighs down the heart with guilt.  And that’s just the sin we know.  We can’t comprehend the true depth or breadth of our sin.  Who can know his errors?  Who can enumerate all his iniquity? 

But Jesus bears it all.  And he doesn’t just carry sin, he becomes it.  God made him who knew no sin to become sin for us.  He becomes it, only to destroy it.  So when Jesus dies – sin – it is finished.

What does Jesus say to those who are weak and heavy laden?  He says, “Come to me and rest.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.  I’m gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls”

The Christian life is not one in which we are loaded up and encumbered again with the burden of law and a load of necessary works.  Jesus doesn’t take our sins with one hand and give us other burdens with the other.  He gives rest.  He gives reprieve.  He doesn’t demand of us, but gives to us.  He doesn’t pile on – he relieves the burdened soul.

And perhaps one more aspect of a donkey that we do well to consider.  Of all the beasts, the donkey is perhaps best known for its stubbornness.  A mostly annoying quality, I’d imagine, if you’re trying to get the donkey to go somewhere.  It sort of reminds me of the stubbornness of sin.  By nature, opposed to God’s will.  But perhaps there’s another comparison, and that to the stubbornness of faith.  That in Christ, we are steadfast and immovable.  That by the Spirit, we may be ever planted and rooted in the promises of Jesus, holding firm to everything he does and is for us.  Never wavering, never veering from fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of that faith.  May your faith be ever as stubborn, unmoving from Christ and his gifts.

The lowly donkey.  The beast of burden who bears the kings of Israel, and especially the Son of David.  The donkey bears the Christ to Jerusalem, the Son of David, ever closer to the cross.  But Christ bears the burden of our transgressions, freeing us from stubborn sin, and calling us to steadfast faith in him.  Glory be to Jesus.  Amen.

Sermon - Ash Wednesday - Genesis 3:11-15,19

The Serpent

Genesis 3:

11 He said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” 12 The man said, “The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit of the tree, and I ate.” 13 Then the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this that you have done?” The woman said, “The serpent deceived me, and I ate.”

14 The Lord God said to the serpent,

“Because you have done this,

    cursed are you above all livestock

    and above all beasts of the field;

on your belly you shall go,

    and dust you shall eat

    all the days of your life.

15 I will put enmity between you and the woman,

    and between your offspring[e] and her offspring;

he shall bruise your head,

    and you shall bruise his heel.”

(and to Adam):

19  By the sweat of your face

  you shall eat bread,

till you return to the ground,

  for out of it you were taken;

for you are dust,

  and to dust you shall return.”

 

A blessed Ash Wednesday to you, dear Christians.  Today we remember we are dust and to dust we shall return.  It is a day of repentance.  It is a day of sorrow over sin, and turning away from sin and toward Christ in faith.  It is also the beginning of Lent, a season of repentance, in which we prepare to observe Holy Week, Good Friday, and celebrate with joy the Resurrection of Christ our Lord.

As is our tradition, we have a midweek series following a theme.  This year, we are looking at the passion of Christ through the lens of different animals that either appear in the passion narrative, or else have a close association with it. 

The Bible is full of stories that include the animals.  They are mentioned as part of creation (days 5 and 6).  They are saved with Noah in the flood, 2 of every kind, and after the flood, also given us for food.  They are divided into clean and unclean categories.  They are used in sacrifices, and they are a major form of wealth for the partriarchs – Abraham, Issac and Jacob were all herdsmen.  Even King David grew up as a shepherd.

God cares for the animals, and distinguishes them from plant-life.  For in them is also “the breath of life”.  When Jonah wanted Nineveh destroyed, God asked, “should I not care about the thousands of people that lived there and also many cattle”?  Surely humans are worth more than animals, even many sparrows, for instance.  After all we are created in the image of God, and they are not.  But God still regards his creation, and has a special place in his heart for the animals.

But animals are also used as pictures of spiritual truths.  Christ and Satan are both pictured as a lion.  The Lion of the tribe of Judah, and the lion looking for someone to devour.  Jesus is the lamb who was once slain.  We have birds and insects and fish and horses and all manner of animal life in the pages of Scripture.  They are a blessing to us as fellow creatures, and part of the earth we are given to subdue and rule.  But they also serve to teach us about the God whom we serve.

This Lent, we will take six of these animal stories, and examine them in connection to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ – especially in connection with his passion – his trial, his suffering and his death for us. 

The first of these animals, the Serpent.  The first animal that takes any prominent place in Scripture is the one the Devil uses to tempt our first parents into sin.  There is nothing inherently evil in snakes, but here the Devil either possesses a serpent or comes in the form of one, slithering into Eden to sow his seeds of doubt.

Treacherous but clever words, filled with truths but also a deadly lie, “you will not die”.  The Serpent becomes a bitter reminder for us of temptation and sin, of the bitter fall of Adam and Even into sin and death.  That sad day in which everything changed, the bliss of Eden was shattered, and the human race became doomed to judgment. 

But don’t just blame the Serpent, or even old Adam and Eve.  Though you and I inherit their sin, we also participate in it.  We are guilty of original sin, yes, but also of the actual sins we commit.  The same serpent who worked on them works on us.  The same devil who drove a wedge between God and man would do the same today, and when you sin you become his willing accomplice. 

And we are also like our first parents in trying to shift blame for our sins, “It’s not my fault, it’s the woman you gave me”  “It’s not my fault, the Serpent tricked me!”  It’s not my fault, because I was born this way.  It’s not my fault, because it was just too hard not to sin.  It’s not my fault, since the game is stacked against me – the commandments can’t be serious. And bedsides, I’m only human.  And the next guy’s a worse sinner than I am.  Did God really say? 

Yes, that old evil foe has some tricks up his sleeve, some lies in the repertoire of his forked tongue.  He knows what levers to pull, and he will stop at nothing to see you, too, fall – not only into sin, but away from faith in Christ, away from your baptismal birthright of salvation.  He would like to see nothing more. His eternal misery wants nothing more than your company.  Since he can’t hurt God, he goes after the ones God loves.

But he is crushed.  He is a defeated foe.  A roaring lion with no claws, no teeth.  For Christ has conquered.  Christ has won the victory over sin and death and devil.

Oh, sure, the devil bruised his heel, yes.  And a nasty bruise it was.  Deadly, even.  Pierced hands and feet.  A crown of thorns.  A soul sorrowful, even unto death.  Surely the serpent shouted in triumph when Christ died in humble agony. 

But the revelry of hell would be short lived.  As one hymn puts it, “The foe in triumph shouted when Christ lay in the tomb, but lo, he now is routed, his boast turned into gloom!”

The bruised heel didn’t stop Jesus.  The death he died on the cross wasn’t the end of him.  For he is stronger than death, and he has come not to be crushed, but to crush.  To trample the serpent’s head in fulfillment of the ancient promise of God.  And I’d far rather have my heel bruised than my head crushed.

God accepted the sacrifice of his Son.  Jesus’ full atonement for sins was mission accomplished.  Therefore God raised him up.  Therefore Jesus, who laid down his life of his own accord, took it back up just as easily.  Death’s strong bands could no more hold him than a paper chain could restrain a body-builder, but he burst forth from the grave in power and glory. 

And first on his agenda was to announce his victory.  So he descended into hell.  He went to meet that old serpent on his home turf.  And what a shock it must have caused.  When Jesus proclaimed to the spirits in prison, as 1 Peter puts it, after being made alive by the Spirit.  He showed them by his very presence there in the halls of Hades – “I am alive!  You didn’t win after all.  Death and sin and you, devil, are done for.  Your fate is sealed.”

And so the same God who cursed the serpent, and proclaimed to Eve and then Adam the penalties for their sin – pain in childbirth, thorns in the ground – the same God announces resurrection victory first to the Serpent, then to the women at the tomb, and finally to the men in the upper room.  He undoes the effects of sin and curse as he undoes death.  He robs the satanic strongman, ties him up, and plunders his house – winning for himself a people – his church, righteous and holy by his blood.

Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.  You were made from the dust, in a sense – for Adam was formed from it.  That’s not such a bad thing. 

But the dust and dirt is where we return after death takes our bodies and decay does its work.  This sinful flesh must go its way.  But that isn’t the end of us.

For the Christ who crushed the Serpent is the Christ who rose from death, and who will bring you, even you, from the dust of death in a resurrection like his.  And the serpent can’t stop that. 

 

 

Sermon - Epiphany 5 - Mark 1:29-39

Jesus the Healer

Epiphany has been a time of shedding light on the true identity of our Lord Jesus Christ.  He is God’s own Son, with whom the Father is well pleased.  He is the Lord of Life.  The one who calls us to follow him.  He is a prophet like Moses.  He teaches with authority, and casts out demons with authority.  Like a diamond with all its facets, we’ve been seeing Jesus from all these different angles.  Thanks be to God for the brilliant beauty of such a picture as Scripture paints of him.

In today’s Gospel reading we see Jesus in yet another light. The healer.  The Great Physician.  Let’s consider this more deeply this morning.

This year has put a fine point on it for most of us – the importance of our health.  Even without a pandemic, a pastor knows well the way illness and disease can disrupt the course of life.  We pray special prayers most every Sunday for those who are sick and suffering.  I visit with most people especially when they are hospitalized.  It seems that the gift of good health is often taken for granted, and we appreciate it most keenly when we fall ill.

And so apart from doctoring and distancing, mask-wearing and vaccinating, we pray for our own health and for others.  It is really quite humbling, isn’t it, that there is in the end not much we can do about our health.  Eventually some illness or disease will take us, even if it’s just old age.  Life in this world is fragile and fleeting, we cometh up like the grass and are cut down. 

The cause of the trouble is always sin, of course.  Sometimes our own sin.  Sometimes the sin that first marred the world.  The wages of sin is death, and death creeps in through disease and maladies of all manner – leprosy, fever, paralysis, blindness, deafness, and on and on.  Today we’ve cured many of these, but are still far from understanding others.  We have vaccines and treatments, but in the end, there’s always an end to us.  Death comes knocking.  The real disease is in our hearts, it corrupts our entire being.  And it is always terminal.

But Jesus is here, in Capernaum.  And he has authority even over sickness, and even over death.  He heals Peter’s mother in law.  He heals people with all manner of disease.  His great compassion moves him.  But it is not why he came.

After a long day of addressing the needs of so many who came with their trials and diseases, Jesus retreats for a time of prayer.  He does this not only for himself, but also for us.  Healing and prayer of course go together.  We know it well.

But when the disciples find him, he says it’s time to go.  Because his real mission is not to stay put and open a divine hospital.  His real mission is to go and preach.  To announce the good news of the kingdom that is at hand, and that in him, has now arrived.  The Gospel is the real medicine.

Today we find many Christians who teach a wrong-headed gospel of faith healing.  That if you just believe hard enough, pray earnestly enough, and often, give generously enough – that God will answer your prayers and heal you.  I’ve even seen a commercial on TV from some group offering a little packet of magic spring water – drink it – and all your problems will go away! 

But if you listen carefully to the prayers at church, you will hear some important words when we pray for the sick.  “According to your will, Oh Lord”.  So here is the important distinction. 

When we pray for things that God has revealed as his will – that sinners be forgiven, that faith is strengthened, and the like… we simply ask for these things.  For we know he wants us to have them. 

But if we pray for a certain disease to be healed, or a certain person to be restored to health – we always pray “according to God’s will”, humbly recognizing that he doesn’t reveal his will in such matters.  Sometimes it is his will to heal, and when he does so, thanks be to God. And sometimes he allows us to suffer an illness for a very long time. But sometimes even Christians get sick and die.   Sometimes it’s not God’s will to heal our bodies, but rather to receive us into his nearer presence.  And when that happens, thanks be to God, his will is done.

In fact, even Peter’s mother in law, and all those other people Jesus healed, eventually got sick again and died.  Even the ones Jesus raised from the dead, the widow’s son at Nain, Jairus’s little daughter, and his own dear friend Lazarus, we can only assume again faced death some day.  So no matter the person, no matter the healing he gives, whether our body’s own natural devices to overcome disease, or modern medicine, or some fantastical miraculous instance of healing… all of it is temporary.  Even for the best and most faithful among us.

But all of this is only part of the story.  This only regards the healing of the body here and now, this side of eternity.  The great good news for us is that all who are in Christ will receive perfect healing, restoration, life, and fullness – on the last day.  At the resurrection of the dead – death and all of its subsidiaries will be destroyed.  When our bodies are restored, and glorified, death will no longer have hold of us in any way shape or form.  And so disease and suffering will be left behind, as God himself wipes every tear from our eyes.  This is our true and final hope.  This is the promise God has made and will fulfill. 

This is why Jesus is the Great Physician and the ultimate healer of body and soul. Yes, of course, we thank him for any healing and health we enjoy here and now.  But the best is yet to come.  Death, what looks to us like the final defeat, is for Christians now the gate to eternity and the shedding of the fallen flesh to make ready for the glorified body. 

This is why Jesus has come.  To preach the good news of all that he was about to accomplish.  To draw sinners to him for healing – true and lasting healing – healing of body and soul – healing that overcomes death even for eternity.

He would procure it for you, and for us all, at the cross.  Defeating death, swallowing death whole by his death.  Winning life by giving up his own. Sparing you by shedding his own holy, precious blood.  And there, in the place of all sinners, all sin is forever cured.

His resurrection is the sign and seal of that victory. It is the guarantee and preview of the perfect health and life that awaits us all on the other side of death.  Christ is risen – and so you too will rise. 

And so the healing that Christ worked in Capernaum was itself just a foretaste of the fullness of health and life that he brings to all who trust in him.  The healing that we enjoy today is likewise, but a shadow of the eternal health and wholeness we will receive when he comes again in glory. 

And yet there’s even more.  For while we wait for that day, he gives us the medicine of immortality.  We are blessed to receive his true body and blood in the sacrament of the altar.  For where there is forgiveness of sins, there is also life and salvation. 

What started in Galilee would continue to Jerusalem.  Jesus healed many along the way.  And after his time of preaching was done, and the hour appointed had arrived, Jesus would bring the only balm that heals for good the wound of sin.  By his stripes we are healed, not just now, but for eternity. 

Let us close with the words of a hymn, “Jesus Grant That Balm and Healing”, whose fourth verse is as follows:

Ev'ry wound that pains or grieves me

By Your wounds, Lord, is made whole;

When I'm faint, Your Cross revives me,

Granting new life to my soul.

Yes, Your comfort renders sweet

Ev'ry bitter cup I meet;

For Your all atoning passion

Has procured my soul's salvation.

In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Sermon - Epiphany 4 - Mark 1:21-28

 

This isn’t the first time people were amazed at Jesus, and it won’t be the last.  But on that day in Capernaum when Jesus came to the synagogue and taught, they were amazed.

They weren’t amazed that he taught.  It was common practice for synagogues to welcome visiting teachers.  Jesus had now begun his public ministry, and was attended by disciples of his own.  What amazed them was that he taught with authority.

I suppose you’ve probably heard a number of different preachers over the years.  Pastor Huebel had his own style and habits, not all that different from my own.  Some pastors tell more stories.  Some gravitate toward poetic wording, and others are better at the use of humor (and some, sad to say, are not).  I suppose these Jews had heard a variety of teachers and preachers themselves, probably with some degree of variety.  But this Jesus was different.  He amazed them.

Most Jewish teachers would approach the task by reference to other teachers before them.  Thus, they relied on the authority of others, more learned, more wise, more venerable.  Even today, Judaism is built upon layers of commentary, one upon the other, in which the accumulated wisdom of the ages is received and advanced.  Upon the Torah is built the Mishnah, the Gemara and the Talmud.  The Pharisees, we know, had many laws and teachings which they added to the Word of God – but were really the traditions of men.  Jesus wasn’t like any of these.

He taught with authority. Authority of his own.

We can see him doing this in other places, like when he says in the Sermon on the Mount:  “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil.” And so forth… (Matthew 5)

But he would also prove his authority to teach by accompanying signs and wonders.  For example, when he healed the paralytic who was lowered through the roof, he first told him, “Son, your sins are forgiven”.  But when the rabble of his Jewish opponents whispered objections amongst themselves, “who can forgive sins but God alone?”  - Jesus showed them his divine authority by commanding the poor man to walk.  Get up, take up your mat, and go home.  (Luke 5)

Here, too, in the Capernaum synagogue, Jesus would confirm his authority to teach and preach by exerting his divine power – and by silencing and casting out the unclean spirit.  Thus the people are amazed at him once again, and his fame spreads. 

So to the Epiphany question, “Who is Jesus?” this text gives us some answers already.  He is a teacher.  He is an amazing teacher.  He teaches with authority, and confirms that authority to teach by showing his power. 

Now back to this man with an unclean spirit.  What to make of this?  How did this devil get into church anyway?  Martin Luther once said that wherever God builds a church, the devil builds a chapel.  I think that means, at least in part, that the devil is never very far.  He’s always opposing God and his people.  He’s working against us at every turn, in ways and in places that may even surprise us.  But Luther also is supposed to have said, “Even the devil is God’s devil”.  That is, as much as he rages against God, he cannot ultimately prevail.  And even his work – meant to destroy – can be used by God for God’s good purposes. 

The way the demon talks is so fascinating.  One thing we might notice is that he speaks the truth!  He knows exactly who Jesus is – and he calls him by one of his proper titles, “The Holy One of God”.  The one, the ONE – set aside by God.  That’s messiah-talk.  This demon is confessing that Jesus is the Christ!  To that we can say, only, amen!

But he also suggests Jesus has come “to destroy us”.  And before you get too excited about that – look carefully.  The demon says “us”.  Does he mean to include this man he’s tormenting?  Does he perhaps even mean to include these other men in the synagogue?  Or perhaps, more broadly, us, as in “all of us.  All of us here on this planet”?  He just might.

For it’s true that apart from Christ we’re not any better than the evil spirits.  We are just as unclean in our sin.  You might say, “what’s a demon doing in church?” But you also might say, “What’s a sinner like me doing here?”  We are like Isaiah, people of unclean lips, and we dare to come into the presence of Holy, Holy, Holy God?  When Isaiah saw God he said, “Woe to me, I am ruined!”  Crying out in similar words to this unclean spirit.  And any sinner confronted with the Holy One might do the same.

This is why we confess our sins right at the beginning of the service.  It is fitting and proper.  It only makes sense.  For how else could we stand to be in the presence of God’s holiness, if our sins are not forgiven?  And thanks be to God that the one – the only one – who has authority to forgive sins – God alone – delegates that authority to his called and ordained servants, who announce and declare that forgiveness and absolve penitent sinners freely. 

And so Jesus destroys sin, but not the sinner.  He casts out the evil, and renovates and renews the man.  So he does for us, and for all who trust in him.

And while we’re speaking of Jesus’ amazing authority, perhaps we should turn to the greatest expression of it.  The most amazing and wonderful example of the authority of Jesus exercised – like always – for us.

In John chapter 10 Jesus says, “I lay down my life that I may take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This charge I have received from my Father.”

However it seemed to the observers, however it appeared to the disciples and the Pharisees.  However convinced Pontius Pilate was that he had the power over Jesus’s life or death.  Jesus makes it clear.  The cross was his own chosen destination, his life was not taken away but laid down in love.  A sacrifice he himself offered as the great high priest.  An exercise of his authority both profound and sublime.  If anyone is amazed at his teaching, amazed at his miracles, amazed at his power and authority to make even the demons tremble, then be amazed all the more at his great love that brought him to Calvary.

But even more.  Jesus’ amazing authority is not just in the dying, but also in the rising again.  His authority supersedes even death.  Oh yes, to all appearances, it seems to us that death has the final word, the last say.  When they laid his cold clay in the tomb and the stone thudded shut, it seemed all hope was lost.  But the events of Easter told another story.  The angels stood witness.  The empty tomb and folded grave clothes told the news.  He is not here, he is risen, just as he said.  He laid his life down, of his own authority.  And of that same authority, he took it right back up again. 

And dear Christian, so will he do for you.  The same authority will ring forth with the angelic shout and the trumpet call of God when Christ comes again in glory.  And the sheep who know his voice will hear that voice even in death, and will answer his call to rise from their graves, and meet him alive and glorified.  You think silencing an evil spirit is amazing?  Oh the amazement that awaits us all on that day.  When sin and death and devil are finally destroyed and life and immortality come to light in all their eternal fullness.

The author of creation, the very Living Word by whom all things were made, exercises his authority, his authorship not only in creating you but also in redeeming you.  He calls you by name in baptism, and you are his.  He calls your sins forgiven, and so they are.  And he will call you even from the dust of death to the life eternal he has in store for you in the mansions of heaven.  Such is the amazing authority of Jesus Christ, Son of God, Son of Man, Firstborn of the dead, who lives and reigns forever and ever, amen.